MASQUED VIRTUOSO OF MY SOUL

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MASQUED VIRTUOSO OF MY SOUL

WARNING
THIS SITE CONTAINS EXPLICIT ADULT MATERIALS INTENDED FOR MATURE VIEWERS ONLY.
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A SENSUAL STORY BY BELLADONNA

It was her thoughts of him that made her body respond...

The sun was high in the sky when Mademoiselle Lizelle Richilieu, hearing the knocker slam on the door, sends Maurice, a long time servant of her family, to answer the door. She could hear the mumbling of voices but could not discern the subject matter of their conversation. Closing the door, Maurice returns with a scroll in hand. "Mademoiselle, for you." He bows and turns to exit the room quietly, "Maurice," she calls after him, a question on her face. "Was the King's First Captain, Mademoiselle, he said it was to be delivered directly to you." Lizelle, not wanting to raise her hopes too high, was suspecting that this may be an invitation to the masqued ball the king was having at the end of this fortnight. She opens the scroll and begins to read the words, Lizelle's face brightens into a smile brighter than the sun. "I am going to the Masque," she sings lowly and excitedly. Grabbing her cloak and bag, Lizelle rushes off to have her tailor, to have him make a new dress for the occasion. In her excitement, she hugs Maurice and gives him a kiss on the cheek as she runs out the door smiling.
The sun shining more brightly and the birds singing more melodically, Lizelle rides into town, eyes flashing the brightest of blue, heart lighter and singing. Bounding from the carriage as it rolls to a stop, Lizelle bounces into the shop coming to an abrupt stop as she almost runs headlong into her tailor, and giggles lightheartedly. Beaming, she grabs Francois in here excitement rambling on about how he must make the dress of the ages for her to wear to the masque. Francois can not help but catch the infectious mood of her childlike excitement, and he ushers her to the parlor to speak to her about what she has in mind. Hours of choosing and working out designs pass and then Lizelle exits the shop face flushed with excitement and hops into the carriage to head home. She waits out the weak impatiently going through fittings and decisions of adornments to perfectly compliment her dress.
On the day of the masque, Lizelle's dress arrives, adornments accompanying it. Being the courtier she was, Lizelle gracefully thanked the delivery boy and she pays him a biding for his delivery. She shuts the door and bounds up the stairs to her room to dress for the evening, calling her maidservant to follow her. Once in her chambers, Lizelle turns to her maid-servant, Amberly, eyes flashing and and she says, "Oh Amberly, make me the most beautiful courtier you have ever seen." "Mademoiselle, I shall make you more beautiful than the queen herself," then working skillfully, Amberly quietly and quickly works her magic. When she was through, Amberly stands back and marvels at her masterpiece, she smiles, hands Lizelle her purse, and escorts her to the entranceway. Amberly hugs her, saying "Mademoiselle you are truly stunning." Lizelle graciously thanked her maidservant for her masterful help and turns to enter here carriage for the ride. Then turning to look back as the carriage pulls away, she beams a smile back at Amberly and waves her goodbye.
Gaining her composure, hiding the nervousness she is feeling and getting it under careful control, Lizelle steps from the carriage. Standing in awe of the Palace and its wonderful décorum of mystery, the king's footsman steps forward to greet her. He is barely able to hide his appreciative gaze, which took in how well Lizelle's costume complimented her every feature. She stood a mere 5'4" and mysteriously gorgeous, hair arranged in cascading golden curls down her back echoing the deep "V" cut of her deep black velvet bodice. In front, the bodice plunging to just above the peaks of her ample breast, threatening to spill out. The top edge of her bodice was lined in the vivid richness of Peacock feathers, complimenting her eyes. Eyes, hidden behind the cat-like mask with matching feathers flittering and waving off of the edges of its black velvety depths. Her eyes flashing, echoing the deep shimmering and sultry blues and greens in the feathers, shining intensely for all to see. Lips full and stained a deep crimson red. The feathers sparingly dripping along the hem of her skirt were held in place by silver inset stones and glowing beads of pearl. A Multi-strand choker of pearls hugging her neck, a large teardrop Sapphire encircled with emeralds gracing the center. The footman, standing in hypnotic awe of her mesmerizing beauty, offers Lizelle his arm and ushers her into the entranceway of the ballroom, bows to her and returns to his task.
Standing poised at the entranceway, Lizelle surveys the room looking for familiar faces. The town had been bustling with the talk of the evening's events, courtiers speaking of the masques they would wear to the ball so that they may recognize their friends when they arrived. Recognizing her friends, she makes her way through the crowds to stand by her acquaintances. Comments about the loveliness of each other's attire were exchange and as if in a dream, Lizelle chiming in when the timing is appropriate, but she was looking over the room admiring it's majestic decor that set the mood so perfectly. The music playing was of the most perfect melody and she was swept away bye it quickly. She recognized it as the music of Mozart, her favorite, light and free, then coming back to the moment, she turns to move closer to her friends and she collides into a man tall, with a physic so strongly built that it takes her breath away.
Pardon me sir," Lizelle blushes, and then words failed her, as they stand in strained silence for what seems an eternity. Then his strong voice flows through the air to her ears, breaking her reverie, as he nods saying "Mademoiselle, such a lovely lady need not apologize, for it is my good fortune to meet with one so beautiful." This exchange between the two was not missed by the courtiers that Lizelle was mingling with, as they attempted to hide their jealousy while covertly eavesdropping onto their conversation with much interest. Sir Richard Loxley was the most handsome man in the lands, and though he was new to these parts, word was traveling fast of his arrival. The courtiers were whispering about him. He was of noble blood so they said, but only few had had the opportunity to meet him. "It is the belief that he is from across the waters in England," the courtiers passed on. Seeing this as her chance to speak, Lizelle smiles and asks, "Am I correct in learning that you are the one they speak of who has come across the waters from England, sir?" Then continuing says, "I have yet to make your acquaintance," curtseys and bows her head to him, then introduces herself, "I am Mademoiselle Lizelle Adrianna of the house of Richilieu, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance." "Rather bold of me, she scolded herself silently, what is happening to my manners she thought." "Yes," Richard chuckled, "I am he." "Sir Richard Loxley from across the waters, in England." Lizelle felt her face blush in heated embarrassment at his laughing response to her question. This man was making her loose her many years of training as a courtier, she thought, while it was exciting, it was also maddening at the same time. Lizelle's deep peacock blue eyes blazing with the same fiery spiritedness as her golden curls that dance down her back, becoming a flashing beacon reaching out to him.
Feeling naked before him she turns her head, lest he see the passion he arouses in her soul, after all, Richard's effect upon her senses was that of an intoxicating drug. Slowly he raises his hand to her face, and resting it against her cheek says, "Please Mademoiselle, do not turn your eyes from me, Come, Dance with me." My God he was seducing her so masterfully, with his eyes, his voice, with his touch. Unwilling to sdeny herself the honor of dancing with this most gorgeous man, Lizelle accepts his hand, smiling. They danced so in tune with one another, as they become lost in the passion of the music playing. As the music came to an end, Lizelle sighs in resignation even though she did not want it to stop. Richard led her out of the ballroom to the surrounding gardens, turning her to face him he claims her lips in a heated kiss. The flow of tension between the two was palpable, so much so that in the next instance, she could not believe what came from her lips, "Richard," she whispered breathlessly, "I want you." "And you, my sweet, passionate Lady, are very much the object of my desires." They turn, walk to the concealment of the trees, then pressing her against the tree, he kisses her deeply and touches her breasts tantalizingly. "Oh Richard," she says in a whisper, barely able to speak. Lizelle's eyes feasted upon his strong hands and arms, which held her tightly to him. His broad shoulders and chest that dropped down to his hips ending in a V-shape, made her want to touch him so tenderly that she had to reach out and caress the fabric that covered them. Richard, is overwhelmed by her gentle exploring touch and bending his head, kisses her neck, down to the top of her breasts. Lizelle lays her head back in sensual pleasure and moans softly. Sliding down the black velvet of her peacock blue, feather lined bodice, he lays kisses all over her breasts and strokes her nipples with his tongue like a taunt, finely tuned harp string. Lizelle's breathes becoming ragged with each touch of his lips and tongue. She runs her hands urgently over his chest, her finger quickly undoing the ties of his doublet. She runs her hands under his chemise, the heat of his flesh, seers through her hands, calling her to surrender to him.
Richard looks into her eyes and says, "Mademoiselle, May I remove your masque and gaze upon your lovely beauty?" Lizelle catches her breath and smiles, "If I may remove yours my handsome suitor." He nods and she removes his masque, and leans forward for him to remove hers. They stand face to face staring at each other taking in every line and imprinting it to their memories. He touches her face, kisses her eyes, then her lips with the most delicate softness.
In the next instance, Richard sweeps her up in his arms and lays her gently on the ground, undoing her skirt and slipping it off quickly. Lizelle did not have any need, nor desire to protest. This Virtuoso was playing her like the fine instrument of heated passion she was. He brought feelings and desires out in her that she never knew she possessed. She reaches down to pull off the pants that cover his erect manhood, feeling his hot flesh against her hand, Flesh to flesh. With one touch of his flesh to hers, Richard's and Lizelle's bodies erupt into a symphony of passion and desire. He touches her blooming womanhood, she gasps, and her sweet nectars beginning to flow, she was consumed, lost to his hypnotic, seductive whims. Lizelle's body was aching, arching and begging him to take her. Richard, looking deeply into her pleading eyes, enters her and begins to move masterfully, slowly at first reaching every part of her, then quickening his pace. Lizelle feels her world whirl around her as she drags her nails across his back and down his buttocks, exploding into an aura of great light as their souls touch, they meld together and become one. Lizelle bites her nails into Richard's buttocks as the final surge rushes through her, and he winces slightly, then the two join each other in the screams of infinite passion.
As the passion subsides, Richard rolls Lizelle over on top of him and brushes her locks back from her face. "Oh My Lady," he breathes raggedly, trying to let the pounding of his racing heart and throbbing organ ebb to a calm flow of feeling and emotion. Hugging her tightly to him, Richard smiles into her eyes, "You are truly wonderful My Lady, such fire, such passion you possess." Lizelle returning his smile says "And you my sweet, gentle and strong man are truly the virtuoso of my soul." For the next few impregnated moments, Lizelle and Richard lay in a sweetness all of their own, basking in the glow of the love well made. He slips her skirt back on her and sits her up to help her re-lace her bodice, and she helps him pull his pants back on and tenderly touches his well muscled chest remembering the raptures of just moments ago. Then hearing the movement of others near by, she slips his chemise back over his head and reties his doublet.
"This will not be the last encounter we have, My Lady," he whispers. They replace their Masques, and extending his arm for her to take, "Now my lady, shall we return to the ballroom to finish this evening in dance?" She nods and smiles and they return to finish the dance, masques in place and smiling happily.

THE END