Only three weeks remained until the marriage vows were spoken. Lord Thayer was not due to arrive until the week of the wedding.

Xaviera had adjusted well to the chastity belt in the last months. She had discovered that the belt heightened and accentuated her own sexual awareness and she reveled in it. In a strange way, the chastity belt, riding low on her slender hips, made her feel freer than she had ever felt before. She learned to hate the restriction of clothing and to delight in her own nudity, to accustom herself to the feel of her clitoris throbbing with unrelieved passion within its snug shield. Even the tiny, gold lock swinging back and forth on its hook behind her made her feel aroused. The heaviness of the belt and the restrictions it imposed upon her felt quite natural to her now and the thought that Lord Thayer possessed the key which would someday release her, was in itself arousing, making her feel giddy, and wild with desire.

Xaviera loved to walk about with the snugness of the belt hugging her hips. She imagined she felt like one of Lord Thayer's 'mares' must feel in harness.

However, Xaviera was well aware that while Lord Thayer constrained his betrothed into being virtuous, for her 'protection', he had by no means made 'chastity' an over-riding virtue of his own these many months. But surprisingly, that reality did not give rise to jealousy or envy in her heart. Lord Thayer, she knew, was a virile man. Unlike other men, he saw fit to live outside the restrictions and constraints of others. He had chosen his life's course long before she had been born. Who was she to try to change that? And she had to admit to herself that his lifestyle not only intrigued, but indeed, titillated her. All her life, she had heard gossip whispered among her father's friends, their wives and mistresses, about Lord Thayer's famous stables at Belsoie. No one had ever been explicit in describing to her what her life would be like as Lady Thayer. A curious look in her direction when she was introduced as his lordship's betrothed, a "knowing" glance out of the corner of an eye, the amusement in a raised brow, the skimming of a gaze down the length of her body, as if she were being challenged to prove herself worthy of being Lord Thayer's bride. Now, she would find out for herself.

Xaviera vowed to herself that she would make him a good wife. She would strive to help him in his endeavors and give him no cause for complaint. And she was determined not to turn into a jealous shrew. After all, what was there really, to be jealous of? Lord Thayer might share his bed with others, but she alone, would share their marriage bed. And she alone, would be the lady of the manor.

From her father, Xaviera had requested privacy in the small, enclosed garden below her bedchamber window. She wanted the feel of the sun warming her naked body and the freedom to strut about in her nudity, unhampered by clothing or the prying eyes of her father's servants. Lord Malcolm, for his part, relieved that there were no more temper tantrums and that his daughter appeared at peace with the situation, readily granted her request, with the exception that a chambermaid accompany her at all times, so that no mishap befall her, and he be forced to explain to Lord Thayer why he had not seen to Xaviera's protection.

In the privacy of the walled garden, she bared her breasts to the sun's warm rays, her senses filled with the perfume of lilac, roses, and honeysuckle vine. She felt like Eve in the Garden.

Blanche, the chambermaid sent to keep a watchful eye on the young mistress, would often shed her own clothes down to her white chemisette and "take the sun" with Xaviera. Sometimes, one or two of Lord Malcolm's retrievers would sneak over the low, stone wall and romp about her ankles as she made her way down a garden path. Blanche, who did not care for dogs, maintained a respectful distance with her needlework, but Xaviera would cavort with the canines as they played at fetch or wrestled with them playfully on the soft carpet of grass, their fur soft and sensuous on her bare skin.

Otherwise, it was just she and Blanche who kept each other company in the garden. Unlike the prudish Sylvia, the servant showed no embarrassment or dismay at the idea of her young mistress shedding her clothes outdoors, under the open sky. As the days passed in languorous ease, the two young women found they enjoyed their companionship. They picked armfuls of flowers to take back indoors with them; they partook of a picnic which cook provided them on occasion. Other times, when Xaviera wished to be let alone, Blanche occupied herself with her needlework, allowing her the privacy she so craved.

Yet there were also times, when, however much she'd become used to the restrictive chastity belt, Xaviera would feel a sexual desire so intense as to make the tears course down her cheeks. Those were the moments when she felt she could not wait another second to be released from the belt! The points of her supple, young breasts would harden and ache, her clitoris would begin to throb unbearably in its little cup until she felt it would fairly burst! Nothing and no one could console her at such times. . . . . .no one, that was except Blanche.

It happened between them one summer afternoon for the first time, as Xaviera lolled in the warmth of the sun, bare-breasted, her head resting in Blanche's lap as the maid brushed her white-gold tresses with slow, sensual strokes of a silver-handled brush. Only moments before, Xaviera had experienced the unrelenting rise of an arousal so acute it could not be assuaged. In frustration, she had paced up and down before Blanche, running her hands over her body, pinching her nipples with her fingertips, stealing a hand between her legs, only to encounter the little gold shield protecting her from just such occasions as this. Tears of exasperation coursed down her cheeks. Her body's need for release was so intense, she felt the frustration of it keenly.

Taking pity on her plight, Blanche patted the grass beside her, inviting Xaviera to sit and place her head in her lap, so that she could brush her hair, and thereby hoping to distract her distraught mistress.

Now, the warmth of the sun soaking into her very pores, the slow strokes of the brush gentle and oddly soothing, seduced Xaviera into a semi-drowsy state. It felt perfectly natural when she felt Blanche's soft, full lips against her own, the wench's dark hair falling forward to caress her own pale cheek. Xaviera's arms reached up of their own accord to clasp the girl about the neck and began to kiss her back. Their lips melded together, the tips of their tongues touching, at first almost innocently, shyly, then with increasing boldness.

Blanche withdrew first, giggling in girlish delight, as if at some naughty prank. Xaviera rose to her knees, pushing the young maid onto her back. They began to wrestle playfully together, rolling and tumbling in the grass, their soft laughter carried away on a light breeze as, arms and legs atangle, each tried to steal a kiss from the other. Lips met lips, and soft, pliant mouths pressed against sun-warmed cheeks, nuzzled a slender throat. As Xaviera managed to straddle atop Blanche, pinning the girl's arms on either side of her head, the sharp points of her pink nipples dangling inches above Blanche's lips, they both suddenly grew quiet, their smiling faces fading slowly into somber expressions of want and desire. The two young women gazed deeply into one another's eyes. Then, without warning, Blanche lifted her head, capturing one rosy nipple in her mouth. A soft sigh escaped Xaviera. She closed her eyes, feeling the maid suckling at her tenderly, her tongue bathing her hardened nipple, lapping at it with all the gentleness of a mother cat nuzzling her kitten.

Xaviera suddenly found herself on her back, the carpet of grass cushioning her as soft as any bed, as Blanche caressed the soft swell of her breast.

"Your titties are delicate, m'lady." Blanche gave her a teasing smile. "You would not want them to burn in this hot sun, would you now?"

"No," Xaviera whispered, "I wouldn't."

"Why don't you lie still and let me take care of them for you, mistress?"

"My father. . . . . .my betrothed." Xaviera gave a half-hearted protest.

"Ah, now, m'lady, what men do not know, cannot hurt them, can it? Besides, you deserve some pleasure for yourself after being trussed up this way these many months."

Blanche bent her head, giving Xaviera a curiously tender kiss on the lips, lightly squeezing the breast beneath her palm.

Moaning, Xaviera arched her body beneath the maid's hand. Blanche grew more aggressive, pressing her down into the grass with the full length of her body, still clad in the thin, nearly transparent chemisette. Xaviera gave a soft cry of frustration and pain as the belt made it uncomfortable for her to lie fully upon her back. With regret, Blanche moved away from her, standing up and holding out a slender hand to help her mistress to her feet.

In the garden, there was a small pond just large enough for a cooling dip on a hot day. The chambermaid stripped off her chemisette, tossing it aside on the mossy bank, then taking Xaviera's hand, led her into the waist-deep water. Curiously, Xaviera regarded the maid's body, so different from her own, but no less intriguing. Blanche's figure was fuller, the hips slightly more flared than Xaviera's slim, straight lines. The thatch of hair between Blanche's thighs was thick and dark, unlike, the soft blonde down of curls which Xaviera possessed. And the chambermaid's breasts, were somewhat larger, the nipples a dark brown instead of rosy pink. Xaviera was fascinated. She had never examined another woman's body so intimately except her own.

Playfully, Blanche splashed water at Xaviera's breasts, then proceeded, with the tip of her tongue, to lick the clear droplets that pearled on her aereola and clung to her nipples. Shyly, Xaviera touched the ample breasts of the peasant maid. The large, dark nipples beckoned her, and unable to help herself, Xaviera bent her head, and began to suckle in all earnestness. She had never tasted another woman before. The feel of the taut nipple filling her mouth was at the same time arousing and quite natural.

The hot sun poured down upon them, the cool water of the still pond rippling faintly around them as frogs croaked intermittently from the opposite bank. Insects buzzed lazily on their quest around the garden. The faint scent of honeysuckle drifted to them on the faint breeze, and in a far off tree, a meadowlark sang lustily to the two water nymphs below.

Xaviera explored all of the feminine attributes the chambermaid so willingly offered her. Encountering the nest of dark hair at the juncture of her thighs, soft as silk beneath the water, Xaviera tangled her fingers in it, pulling and tugging gently. The maid grinned at her, thrusting her hips forward, encouraging Xaviera to explore further. She felt the thick tip of the clitoris protruding from the plump nether lips, coyly teasing her, until she gave in and slipped her fingers deeper into the forbidden crevice. Xaviera fondled the intriguing little nub, until quite unexpectedly, Blanche shuddered, and came, with a gasp and a sigh.

"Oh, m'lady!" Blanche exclaimed, the small aftershocks continuing to spasm through her. "I wish I could do the same for you! 'Tis unfair!"

" 'Tis alright, Blanche." Xaviera drew close and the two women wrapped their arms about each other, comforting one another, as they pressed close, breast to breast, nipple to nipple. " 'Tis not for you to decide what is fair or unfair. And 'tis no one's duty to satisfy me, but mine husband's. I would have it no other way."

They shared a lingering kiss, then frolicked in the water and in the garden for what remained of the afternoon. Mistress and maid spent many such happy afternoons thus engaged, until Xaviera's wedding to Lord Thayer approached.

Xaviera's wedding dress was the talk of the local aristocracy. The dress was considered a scandal by some, appropriate by others, befitting, they said, the bride of the notorious Lord Thayer.

The dress consisted of a pristine, white, diaphanous material sent out from Castle Belsoie and when Xaviera tried it on for the first time, her old nurse, Sylvia, had been outraged by the indecency of it. But Xaviera had instinctively known Lord Thayer's reasoning for his bride to wear such a scandalous dress. He wanted her to come to him with nothing hidden from his eyes, even on that day she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. It was a matter of pride with him that their guests see the beautiful body of his bride on the day he took her to wife. They would be allowed to see, but not touch. He was claiming her for himself as queen of Belsoie, queen of his heart, queen of his bevy of mares. His wife should be no less exquisite among the females he stabled on his estate.

The diaphanous material fit her like a second skin. Every line and curve of her slim body was revealed. The wide yoke of the dress was lined with a thin strip of satin covered in pearls, accentuating the slender column of her throat, baring her white, rounded shoulders provocatively. The plackart, also encrusted with pearls ran down the bodice of the dress, separating the high thrust of her breasts which were clearly outlined through the sheer material. The dress cinched in her tiny waist, falling to a sheer skirt which revealed her shapely legs, the long train, beaded heavily with pearls, would follow behind. The tight-fitted sleeves were just as sheer as the rest of the dress. Xaviera would wear a matching floor-length veil, with a crown of flowers on her fair brow. She had chosen to walk barefoot down the aisle of the small chapel, devoid of any jewelry or other ornamentation, save for the jeweled chastity belt, coming to Lord Thayer just as she was, laying bare her heart, her soul, her body.


The wedding guests had begun to arrive a week before the nuptials, including Lord Gerard and Lady Rosamunde Chamois. Lady Rosamunde hoped to catch Lord Thayer alone in some secluded corner in the midst of the wedding celebrations over the next several days, hoping to coax him into an empty bedchamber, or mayhap, the bath house, she thought with a sly smile curving her lips. She was not unduly worried about Thayer's marrying the little chit, Xaviera. Rosamunde knew that Xaviera would never be enough to satisfy the likes of Lord Thayer. His lordship, like herself, cared not a whit for marriage vows or the fact that he would have a wife in tow, when it came to his own selfish and self-centered desires. There would be opportunity aplenty for the two of them be together, bride or no. She was sure of it!


Three days before the wedding nuptials, Lord Thayer and his retinue arrived. Sylvia refused to allow Xaviera to see her betrothed until she walked into the chapel on her father's arm, claiming it was bad luck for him to see his bride until that time. However, Xaviera suspected the old witch was jealous of Lord Thayer's influence over her and intended to keep her from his lordship until the last possible moment.

The next days were a flurry of activity with servants running hither and yon to accommodate all the guests, to see to their comfort. Copious amounts of wine flowed from pitcher to goblet and wonderful smells emanated from the kitchen to keep everyone fed and content.

Lord Thayer was impatient to see his bride, to know how she had fared these last months within the confines of the chastity belt. But he had been forced to bow to tradition, and was not allowed above stairs, where his intended was closeted in her room until the day of the ceremony itself.

Lady Rosamunde, sly wench that she was, plied her charms and wiles on him, attempting to seduce him, but he had long since grown tired of her and had not given her a thought since last he'd lain with her these many months ago. In a fit of pique, she had turned a cold shoulder and sought distraction elsewhere.



At last, the wedding day itself arrived, and everyone from the highest born lord to the lowliest milkmaid was frantic with last minute preparations. Only the bride, closeted within her bedchamber, and the groom, imbibing a pint of ale in the Great Hall, appeared becalmed on this eventful day.

However, as the time drew near to depart for the chapel, and after several goblets of wine and ale had helped to refresh and restore the honored guests, the Great Hall began to fill with happy activity. A minstrel troupe took their place at the far end of the spacious room, where their music could just barely be heard above the increasing din as servants hurried to and fro with platters and plates and bowls of steaming food and cool drink. The guests wandered from one end of the hall to the other, greeting friends and neighbors, renewing old acquaintances, sharing gossip, hoarding rumor, sampling tidbits from the immense buffet in the center of the Great Hall. The table groaned beneath the weight of so much food, its crowning glory, the wedding cake, a multi-tiered confection showered with rose petals which reigning in regal splendor in the center of the table.

In her bedchamber, above the fray, all was quiet, as Xaviera prepared herself for her husband. Earlier, Blanche had massaged her body with a rose-scented oil. The maid had brushed and plaited her mistress's hair, entwining a rope of pearls through the flaxen strands. Blanche then carefully rouged Xaviera's nipples so that they would stand out prominently beneath the sheer gown. Rings adorned the toes of each slender bare foot, and Blanche helped her into the infamous wedding gown, straightening out the train behind her. Lastly, the veil, with its wreathe of flowers was placed upon her head.

Blanche stepped back to inspect her mistress. "Once he sets eyes on you, m'lady, his lordship will not want to wait for the nuptials to be completed before wanting to take his bride to the marriage bed." Blanche commented proudly on her handiwork.

"Hmph!" Sylvia sniffed with disdain, fisting her hands on her scrawny hips.

" 'Tis a decadent life he's takin' you to!"

Xaviera ignored the old woman, turning to admire herself in the beveled mirror. "I will be Mistress Xaviera Thayer of Castle Belsoie when this day is ended." She stated as if trying to convince herself. "I will no longer belong to my father, but to my husband."

"Every woman belongs to Lord Thayer!" Sylvia returned waspishly. "At least he thinks so!"

"Leave us, old woman!" Xaviera turned, frowning severely at her. "I tire of you and your ill-humor! And since you are so unhappy with my choice of husband, you are not invited to chapel for the nuptials." She turned back to inspect herself in the glass once more.

Seeing the stricken look that crumpled the wrinkled face of the old nurse, Blanche sympathized toward her. She knew that despite Sylvia's dislike for Lord Thayer, she really did love her young mistress, whom she had wet-nursed from the very day she was born. "M'lady," Blanche ventured, "Sylvia did not mean. . . . ."

But Xaviera interrupted, "I know exactly what Sylvia meant! And I won't have her spoiling my wedding day by having to look at her sour, wrinkled face the day long!" She raised her chin with cruel hauteur, not deigning to acknowledge Sylvia's presence in the room again. "Now, escort her to the door, Blanche, and see her out, or I will summon the guard myself."

A guard had been posted outside Xaviera's chamber door since Lord Thayer's

Arrival, to prevent him from becoming too impetuous to see his bride before the wedding day.

"Yes, m'lady." Blanche turned helplessly toward Sylvia, but the woman had delivered a perfunctory curtsy to Xaviera's back, and was already retreating through the door.

"Is it time to leave for chapel yet?" Xaviera inquired once the nurse was gone from the room, twisting the lower half of her body this way and that before the mirror in an effort to see her image from all sides. Her hands smoothed down the material over her hips, feeling the heaviness of the chastity belt underneath.

"The guard will warn us when it 'tis time, m'lady." Blanche informed her moving about the room, picking up Xaviera's discarded clothing.

"Have you seen his lordship this morn?" Xaviera asked, feigning casual curiosity.

"Yes, m'lady. He was early down to the Great Hall." Blanche paused, a bundle of clothing in her arms. "He was all dressed in his weddin' finery! He's a handsome specimen of a man, mistress! He'll naught want to leave the marriage bed for some weeks after the day's nuptials, I vow!"

Xaviera's lips curved into a knowing smile as she placed her hands on her hips and turned to the side, admiring the delectable curve of her breasts, the hardened nipples thrusting against the sheer material of her gown. "I, too, long for the marriage bed." She commented, as if to herself. "I have long felt I was a prisoner in exile, but this night, his lordship shall set me free." She turned to glance at her maid over her shoulder. "When we leave for Belsoie three days' hence, I will ask my father to give you to me as my personal lady-in-waiting."

"Oh, m'lady!" Blanche dropped a quick curtsy in gratitude. "I promise I shall serve you well!"

"I expect nothing less." Xaviera replied, her chin raised haughtily. "But I would be comforted to have a familiar face from home. And you have proved a good and faithful servant to me."

"Thank you, mistress. You may trust that I shall serve you in whatever capacity you require." And the maid's eyes held a hidden message which Xaviera did not miss.

She narrowed her eyes on the wench. She was fond of Blanche, but she was also her superior. Those cozy afternoons in the garden did not preclude her to overstep her bounds. "I would that those afternoons we have shared in the gardens remain between us. There is no cause to inform his lordship of our little assignations. Should he hear of it, I shall assume he could only have been informed by you, Blanche. I would so hate to punish you, but I expect no less than your loyalty and utter devotion. Mayhap, I should reconsider and leave you here in my father's manse. You will be returned to the drudgery of the kitchens, of course, but I must have a lady-in-waiting who will promise to be discreet, if nothing else."

Blanche lowered her gaze to the floor. "I would not disappoint you, m'lady. I would never divulge such to his lordship! You have my word! But, I had thought that those times in the garden. . . ."

"What we have shared in the past, Blanche, is over and done with, unless I will it otherwise. Do you understand?"

Quietly, the maid nodded that she did.

"We will not speak of this again between us. If you misunderstand my words, then understand this, if there is ever such time that you betray my trust, then I shall have no recourse but to dismiss you from my service, with a sound thrashing for good measure." Xaviera stated with a cruelness in her tone that belied the luminous eyes and piquant, heart-shaped face.

"Yes, m'lady." Blanche returned somberly.

Once more, Xaviera turned to inspect her image in the mirror, when there was a loud knock on the door. Blanche placed the pile of clothes atop the bed, stepping behind her mistress.

" 'Tis time, m'lady."

Xaviera smiled at her image in the mirror, then turned toward the door as it opened, admitting Lord Malcolm. "Father." She greeted him with hand extended as he crossed the room to stand directly before her. Taking her slender fingers lightly with the tips of his own, he brought the smooth, white knuckles to his lips.

"Daughter." He murmured over her hand. Lord Malcolm straightened to smile down into her bright, expectant eyes, his own casual gaze taking in the slim body revealed beneath the sheer wedding dress. "You are as beautiful as your mother when I first brought her here to the manor." He commented. "She would be proud of you this day. . . . . .as am I . . . . .'tho what I shall do without you in my old age, I do not know." His eyes twinkled at her, belying his mournful tone.

Xaviera gave a soft laugh. "Father, you have your mistresses roaming about the manor to help keep you young! You do not need me! And I am sure the Lady Gwendolyn is happy to see me out of her household at last. I was always aware that I was a constant reminder to her of your love for my mother. She has long awaited this day." She reminded him.

Her father guffawed heartily at her words. "All true, chit. And now we must be on our way to chapel. Your groom awaits." He offered his arm.

"Blanche, my train." Xaviera ordered with regal superiority, already feeling like the lady of the manor.

The maid gathered up the heavy train encrusted with pearls, following behind as Lord Malcolm led Xaviera out of the room. The guard outside her door saluted smartly as they passed, then they were descending the staircase, down to the Great Hall, empty now, except for the servants who were treated to a view of the bride as she passed. They were not allowed inside the chapel for the ceremony as there was much work to be done to prepare for the feasting and merry-making afterwards. They lined themselves in a row at the bottom of the stairs to greet her, offering a curtsy or bow, which Xaviera acknowledged with a slight inclination of her head. Then, Lord Malcolm was leading her through the arched door of the manor. On her father's arm, Xaviera crossed the greensward toward the little stone chapel framed amid the ancient trees of the estate.

Inside the tiny chapel, Xaviera knew, awaited her betrothed. . . . .and her future. After all the many days and weeks of wedding preparations, after all the months of waiting and the intense, nearly unbearable hours of sexual imprisonment within the chastity belt. . . . all come down to this day.

With her father beside her, she approached the chapel door, hesitated only a brief second, then entered the dim interior of the chapel, lit only by the sun shining through its stained glass and the candles at the altar. In the quiet hush that descended at her appearance, only the rustle of a skirt or surcoat could be heard. Then, the sudden rise of whispers as she paused beneath the arched doorway, the sunshine backlighting her nude figure beneath the gown. Heads turned, everyone craning their necks for a first hand look at the infamous wedding dress which had been the cause of much tongue wagging among the nobility for weeks.

The stone floor was cool and smooth on the soles of her bare feet. Behind her, Blanche released the folds of her train. Xaviera began her march down the aisle, her fingers tense on her father's arm. Her long train flowed out behind her, pulling the dress taut against her body, as it was meant to do, revealing all her charms to the many wedding guests who crowded the small chapel. The soft swell of her breasts swayed slightly, her nipples, tiny hard points that every man among them wished to put his mouth to. The jeweled chastity belt was plainly visible, causing more than a few gasps from the women, and wicked grins from their husbands. Xaviera felt the little gold padlock swinging lightly behind her, the fine gold chain attached to the gold cup shielding her clitoris pulled tight against her belly as she walked toward Lord Thayer. She made her way down the aisle with her head held at a regal angle, her eyes captured by the sheer intensity of Lord Thayer's dark gaze as he waited for her at the altar. His gaze raked down her body as she approached, lingering on the belt secured at her waist. His eyes traveled upwards to her breasts, saw the nipples thrust hard against the sheer gown, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile.

And then, she was there, at his side, taking the hand he held out to her. There was no priest to officiate. Lord Malcolm's estate was too small and obscure to attract a friar or prelate. Most small fiefdoms did not boast a priest and considered the pronouncement of the banns and the signing of the marriage contract binding, the ceremony itself merely a formality. The vows were exchanged, a band of gold placed on her finger, and afterwards, an all too brief kiss on her parted lips from her new husband, before he was escorting her down the steps of the altar, down the aisle and back to the Great Hall for the wedding feast.

The drinking and dancing, music and revelry, went on into the wee hours of the morn. Xaviera, exhausted from the evening's festivities, grew weary, excusing herself just after midnight to retire to her bedchamber. She and Lord Thayer had barely exchanged two words since the ceremony that morning. The guests had kept them both occupied with the feasting and the toasting, and later, when the dancing commenced, every lord among them wanted to partner the bride, and every lady, her turn about the floor with Lord Thayer. Then there had been more drinking and more toasts, before Lord Malcolm, taking advantage of a momentary lull in the celebration, had presented the groom with the sizeable dowry which had been promised him on that long ago day when his young daughter had burst upon them in the library.

During the whole of that long day, Xaviera had been kept too preoccupied to change her attire, nor had Lord Thayer mentioned to her the removal of the chastity belt this night. Here, in her bedchamber, all was quiet. As she sat before the mirror, Blanche unbraided her hair, brushing the flaxen strands the one hundred strokes her mistress required each night. Xaviera closed her eyes, willing her body to relax after the excitement of the day and the tension of the forthcoming night.

A few moments later, both Xaviera and Blanche were startled as the door to her bedchamber opened to admit Lord Thayer, who stood framed in the arched doorway, still attired in his wedding finery. He observed the little tableau of maid and mistress, the female ritual of having her hair brushed. He and Xaviera held each other's gaze for a moment more, before he glanced impatiently at the maid, and with an abrupt motion of his dark head, indicated to Blanche to quit the room. With a quick curtsy she did so, hurrying past Lord Thayer's tall figure with downcast eyes.

He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot, leaning his body back against the door, crossing his booted ankles, folding his arms over his chest.

Xaviera rose from the cushioned bench, patiently allowing him to speak first. She trembled inwardly as he continued to peruse her body. Had the time come? She asked herself silently. Would he unlock the chastity belt from about her waist and release her from the torment she had gladly suffered these many months until this, the very moment of her release? She remembered Lord Thayer's touch upon her body, the feel of him within her and Xaviera longed for him now with every fiber of her being.

At last, Thayer spoke, his voice low and pleasing to her ears, "Remove your dress, Xaviera. I wish to see my bride."

Silently, Xaviera did as he had bid her, letting the wisp of material slip from her shoulders, over her breasts, down her waist, revealing the thick, jeweled belt which encased her slim hips. The dress fell away from her, puddling like a liquid cloud at her feet. She stepped out of it, facing him unflinchingly, as his dark, brooding eyes swept over the slender, graceful curves of her body. His eyes lingered on her breasts, the nipples growing taut even as he watched. Color diffused her cheeks, and her gaze fell from his at last.

"You blush before your husband?" He questioned, with a raised eyebrow, uncrossing his ankles and leaning away from the door as he slowly approached her. "I believe I told you once that you have beautiful breasts, Xaviera. Now that we are wed, I will desire to see them often." He stopped in front of her. His sharp gaze probed the delicate features of her face, her eyes remaining downcast before him. He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger, so that her eyes were forced to meet his. "It pleases me that your nipples grow hard at my merest look, the way they did in chapel this morn." Her blush deepened and she turned her head aside, avoiding his intense gaze, though she maintained her slender stance before him. "Did you think I would not notice, my love? I notice everything about you, Xaviera. There is nothing your body hides from my eyes."

He released her chin, circling her slowly, deliberately, making her aware of his nearness. Her breathing came faster, setting her small breasts aquiver. He paused behind her and with a casual finger, set the gold lock to swinging back and forth on its hook. Her heartbeat quickened as she anticipated him setting her free of the belt.

He stood very close behind her now, his warm breath caressing the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. When he spoke, his voice was a deep, sensuous murmur in her ear, but he refrained from touching her. "And how did you fare in the belt these past months, little one?"

Xaviera turned her head to the side so that she could glimpse him from the corner of her eye. "I was terrified at first, m'lord." She told him. "And then I was angry that you would do such a thing to your own betrothed without provocation."

"But you see, my beloved, there was provocation of a sort." He bent his head, his lips barely brushing her skin as he smiled against the side of her neck. "When I claimed my right to you that night in the bath house, I took, not just your virginity, but revealed such delightfully new possibilities to you which you could not begin to imagine at the time. Your own natural impulses burned seemingly out of control within your body, nor could you contain your own sensate desires once they were let loose within you. The belt was meant to protect you from yourself as much as it was meant to protect my bride from any miscreant or ne'er do well in my absence."

"Was m'lord displeased with my behavior in the bath house?" Xaviera asked.

Nay, Xaviera. You have pleased me since I first laid eyes on you being tended to by your maids inside the bath house. More so, when I mounted you. A lovelier bride, no man can ask for. But youth has its own impetuosity. I feared where it might lead without a restraining hand to guide you. You have already tasted forbidden fruit. Without the belt, you might have been quite spoiled by another's hand."

"M'lord?" Xaviera's brow knit with a tiny frown at his words. She gasped as his hands reached around her to gently cup her breasts.

"The woman, Blanche." He told her, feeling the tremor of fear that coursed through her body at mention of the maid. "Your frolics in the garden with her."

Xaviera turned in his arms to face him, her eyes wide with apprehension, but still, she said nothing, merely looked at him and waited with mounting terror what he might say or do, since he obviously knew all about Blanche and the comfort the wench had extended to her with loving caresses and soft, pliant kisses.

"You are quite young and innocent in the ways of love and the world, my sweet. You have not yet learned to mask your inner feelings. Your eyes betray what I already know. . have known, these past months." He said.

"How?" Xaviera murmured, her cheeks aflame with her degradation so openly exposed to him. "How could you know?"

"I did not quite trust that Lord Malcolm would keep as proper an eye on you as a father should. Besides, six months was a long time before we would be together again. My men were very discreet while watching over my betrothed in my absence" he plucked at a pink, distended nipple with gentle fingers, "and very dutiful in reporting back to me my bride's naughty behavior with her maidservant." There was a slight smile in his voice, but Xaviera was too overwrought to notice.

"M'lord!" Xaviera pleaded with him. "I can explain!"

"There is nothing to explain, my Xaviera." He interrupted her. "The wench's efforts to lead you astray of your husband were for naught as long as you wore the belt. However," and here is his voice grew hard, "the maid will be dealt with summarily."

"Blanche?" Xaviera's heart thudded within her chest, with relief at the realization that she was not the one to be punished, and concern for her maidservant. "What do you mean, m'lord?"

"You, my sweet, must be made to understand that as Mistress of Belsoie, no one, man or woman, will be allowed to take advantage of what is mine without my certain knowledge or consent. I can forgive your innocent indiscretion, Xaviera." He said with a lightness that was deceiving. "After all, you are young and ignorant of such matters. Henceforth, however, I will expect you to know that I will not tolerate such behavior in future, unless I desire it of you."

"And . . . .my maidservant?" Xaviera replied meekly, with downcast eyes, though he still stood behind her, playing with her breasts, arousing her.

"Even now, she is being prepared for her punishment. Blanche must learn she must keep her hands to herself. Such punishment is regrettable, but necessary. I will not have my authority with my bride undermined by mere servants."

"I have already spoken with her m'lord, before the ceremony earlier this morn. She'll not make such improprieties again, I can assure you." Xaviera made a half-hearted attempt to defend Blanche.

"I am sorry, Xaviera. But this must be done. When you are mistress of Belsoie you will witness many things, including the discipline and punishment of the mares. In time, you will accept it as a normal part of life and it will be as nothing to you to raise a riding crop or paddle to instill proper discipline in those who serve you. Now, come." And he propelled her across the room to the huge casement window overlooking the small, private garden.

"But. . . .m'lord," Xaviera started to protest, "my father! Our guests!"

"They remain in the Great Hall, indulging in the festivities and feasting for what remains of this night." He told her, standing her before him at the window. "You are now Mistress Xaviera Thayer." He reminded her, his lips close to the shell of her ear. "You bow down to no one. And what affection you may have for the wench must be put aside on occasions such as this. Now, look."

He forced her a step closer to the open window, and she looked down into the walled garden where she had enjoyed the forbidden trysts with her chambermaid, thinking foolishly, that no one would be the wiser except themselves. The night sounds drifted up to her from below. Very faintly, she could hear the revelry from Great Hall. She felt Lord Thayer's hands lightly caressing her bare arms.

"One of my men was waiting for her out in the hall as she quit the bedchamber earlier." Thayer murmured, his warm breath tickling the sensitive flesh just behind her ear. "She will be brought out shortly. You are to watch and to learn from Blanche's unpleasant experience."

Xaviera trembled in his arms. Below her, there was torchlight and noise of a struggle, a woman's screech, and the low, amused laughter of Thayer's men, as Blanche was thrust forward into the center of the courtyard, where the two at the window would have an unobstructed view of the proceedings. Thayer's men formed a loose circle about Blanche, who cowered before them. Someone reached out, roughly squeezing her ample breast. Blanche stumbled backwards away from their groping hands and as she did so, she glanced upwards toward the window and caught sight of her mistress, standing watching, with her new husband at her side.

"M'lady! Save me!" she cried out. "Have pity!"

One of the men reached out to cuff her into silence, then withdrew a knife, and quickly, expertly, sliced it down the front of her dress, rending it from collar to hem. Blanche screamed again, attempting to shield herself with the pitiful remnants of her bodice, but the dress was torn from her and thrown aside out of reach. She wore no chemisette, only her thin slippers were left, and these were efficiently discarded as well, as the men forced her to the ground on her back, white legs thrashing.

Above the fray, Xaviera stood at the window, her hooded eyes watching in superior fascination, Blanche's naked vulnerability at the mercy of Lord Thayer's men. She felt a latent power surge within her, along with the dawning realization of her superior status as Mistress Thayer. She could have pleaded with her husband on behalf of her maid, she supposed. But she did not. She became enthralled with the knowledge of the power she held over this simple peasant wench, whom she might punish or not, as the whim struck her. She leaned forward eagerly, her small breasts swaying beneath her, eager to see what would happen next.

Laughter filtered upwards as the chit's arms were pinned above her head and her knees bent against her belly. A rope encircled her wrists and her wrists and ankles were bound together securely, so that her feet hung helplessly in the air. Firmly trussed, Blanche screamed her terror. A short, broad leather strap was produced and waved teasingly before her eyes. Blanche screamed again, fearing the sting of the strap on her naked rump, but before her punishment commenced, one of the men stepped forward and pronounced in a voice that reached Xaviera, "Maid Blanche, by order of Lord Thayer, you are to receive fifteen strokes of the lash for your offense to your mistress, the Lady Xaviera. Your trysts with her are an affront to his lordship, and so that you may know never to commit said offense again, you are hereby accorded due punishment."

"M'lady!" Blanche screamed once more, pitiably.

But Xaviera merely cocked her head in interest, excited by the wench's helplessness, anticipating what was to come.

The soldier swung the strap across the tender soles of Blanche's feet. Screaming in pain, the chambermaid struggled to roll her body to the side, but the men laughingly took turns pushing her back into place with the toe of their boots.

" 'Tis a fair punishment and just." Lord Thayer stated. "The pain is excruciating while it is happening, but the soles of her feet will heal quickly and no mark will mar her skin."

Xaviera shuddered delicately as the strap found its mark once again, but she did not look away, finding the punishment of the hapless girl quite stimulating and arousing.

Lord Thayer smiled, nuzzling the side of her throat, his hands coming up to toy with her breasts. "Not to worry, my heart. I have every confidence the maid Blanche will not repeat such infractions with you again. Then, he was turning her away from the window to face him. "Fifteen strokes of the lash, and then they are to cease." He informed Xaviera. "The men have my instructions. They will tease and torment her afterwards, as men are wont to do with a pretty girl, but they will not harm her otherwise. Her feet will be tender and sore for a day or so, but she will recover quickly and will have learned not to put her hands where they do not belong."

His eyes raked down her body, and placing his hands on either side of her slim waist, his fingers resting just above the confining belt, he drew her close against him. "Now," he smiled down at her, "I believe we have other business to attend to. This is after all, our wedding night."