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Greta led the way, step, by measured step along the corridor, simple and straightforward. Though the study was on the first floor, relatively central to the home, other rooms were divided into groups. The kitchens, storage areas and servant quarters were all in one part of the lower house, while entertaining rooms for guests were in another. The west and east wing were almost mirrors of one another. A wing for each generation of the family to inhabit, and rooms enough to customize and redecorate as necessary. The chambers for the young master Damien still bore many of the hallmarks of his grandfather… including a portrait of the man hung over the modest fireplace. The man's favorite collectibles on display, a pair of dueling pistols and a hunting musket, all uniquely furnished with carefully carved wood and ivory, the wood matching much of the furniture in the room. There were however some few marks of Damien’s inhabitance already, a half finished sculpture in a bottle, the tools and pieces he’d carved himself strewn about a side table, as well as a violin on a stand in the corner. Some small details however might have been a little harder to catch… though… perhaps not, they were all over the house. The occasional wear spots in the floor in the shapes of toes against the wall, and knees just in front of them where countless women had spent countless hours awaiting orders, or punishment.. as well as the occasional surreptitious metal ring ‘almost’ concealed in the wall, near or behind fixtures where they were harder to see. By the time she’d reached the east wing, her poise and smile were once again in place putting the irritations of the morning out of mind, a pair of maids at her sides as she stepped into the Lady of the house’s quarters without invitation or announcement, without so much as a knock and headed for the glass and iron door that led out to the balcony. The mistress of the house was outside, taking in the still somewhat brisk morning air, with her usual platter of alcohol, sugar, and ice… her most regular ‘breakfast’ these days. With a soft sigh, she gave her fingers a firm snap. The girls behind closed and locked the door, drawing a bath for their mistress as Greta cast aside the heavy curtains and stepped out onto the balcony with her. “This is a day for celebration, Mistress. There will be plenty of time for libations this evening.” With an almost weary sigh, the woman lifted her head from her glass to settle upon the aging matron. “I do not ‘feel’ particularly joyous today, Greta. My son is become a man, and no longer needs his mother over his shoulder… I think my time here has come to its end.” This brought a touch of a chuckle from the hound of a woman… who knew far better. Master would not let her go… regardless what she intended. “Come now, Mistress. Do not be silly. Young master Damien still needs your guidance… His new wife will as well, both will take time to settle in and get things moving again properly. You still very much have a place here. Come now, the girls are preparing you a bath as we speak, and we will help you relax and prepare for tonight.” The woman sighed heavily, downing the last of the absinthe in her glass. She did not feel like celebrating… did not feel like leaving her room… but she had to… for Damien’s sake… she had to put on the face… the face she hated, had hated for years, the mask that showed everyone she was strong, strong enough to hold things together until the heir of the family fortunes was old enough to claim it for himself… but the truth was… she wasn’t… how many nights had she cried herself to sleep over another bottle while desperately wishing for nothing more than her master to comb his fingers through her hair one last time and tell her everything would be alright..? How many nights had she tried to imagine his touch, only to fail miserably and end in nothing more than frustration? …How many times had she gazed upon her son… and wished it had been him instead of his father…? With some gentle coaxing and guidance from the matron, who was nothing but smile, Crystal was stripped, eased free of her night clothes, and settled into the bath so the girls, carefully chosen for their soft hands but firm touch could scrub and knead the woman, helping poor sleep… as well as a hangover, slowly fade into the heat of the bath, and the relaxing scents of rose oils and a touch of sweet fruits and citrus. Her hair was carefully scrubbed and washed, brushed, and brushed, and brushed, into a silken luster before being snugly pulled back into a single long braid, with a freshly plucked and trimmed pink rose blossom braided into the strands. Greta hummed softly as she worked, letting the girls cleanse their mistress, while she took care of the woman’s nails, trimming, shaping, filing, painting, easing Crystal into a near blissful familiar state bit by bit… it had been some time since she was pampered like this… since she had allowed anyone to do so… since she’d had reason to do so… and Greta intended to take full advantage of the fact. This night was for her Mistress… as much as it was for the young master and his new wife… She still needed to be properly groomed… and they would have to find someone to finish what her former husband had started… nothing like one of ‘their’ parties for that… Perhaps she could even be remarried off to secure another alliance for the family… though… Greta could not properly guess her Master’s plans… she only knew she was to prepare the woman… and prepare her, she would. Once the Lady of the house was bathed and clean, massaged, scented, and dried, it was time to be dressed… But by the time the maids assisting her had her returning to her bedroom… Greta was stood with an assortment of things laid out on the bed, with a very familiar series of black straps and gold rings already in hand, and a look in her eyes that said ‘no’ was not an option. Still… Crystal was the Lady of the house, and though now more than ever, she did ‘not’ feel very in charge of things… she was going to at least try to stand her ground. “Greta… I am not that woman anymore.” The words only provoked a small chuckle from the matron whose smile grew a touch. “Of course you are, Mistress. Master’s death did not change that.” That prompted a twitch from the Lady. “He is not…” “He ‘is’ still Master, of you, and of this house, until the young master Damien takes full responsibility for the family, and his rules still apply to both. ‘You’, Mistress, are still subject to his rules, and we do ‘not’ disappoint Him.” Greta interrupted without hesitation, her tone filled with near venom as she made a pointed glance towards the painting of the man whose portrait still hung over her own fireplace, his gaze boring into the Lady’s soul as she spared the slightest hint of a look before backing down, swallowing hard. The woman sighed heavily, her mouth opening to speak, but not so much as a squeak came out as Greta approached and began wrapping the nest of straps around her form. Diamond shapes, of strap segments and rings were drawn over her like a dress, enveloping her form in a net like pattern, surrounding each breast and laying down her belly, sides, and down to her hips. The bottom diamonds extended another strap each to connect like garter straps to a pair of high upper thigh cuffs. Yet another pair of straps from each top diamond reached up from the top to connect to one another over her shoulders, all of which were snugged down comfortably tight and given various testing tugs until the Lady was near squirming in its grip. Any part of it could be used to reposition or restrain her with ease, but it offered enough movement to be comfortable and allow her to move relatively unhindered… Still… by the time the process was finished, pink had spread along the woman’s features, her hands slowly feeling over the harness she hadn’t worn in… years… and yet it hugged her just the way she remembered… wrapped her in her Master’s embrace… and the sudden click of a padlock drew an almost startled gasp… yet another came, and another, a dozen in quick succession that would leave her helpless to remove the thing until Greta allowed it, already it was far too late to offer any meaningful resistance… and they had only just begun. “There we are, Mistress. Isn’t that better already?” The matron smiled, giving Crystal’s hip an almost condescending pat. Now this was more familiar, more appropriate, the Lady of the house bound, submissive, and at least somewhat closer to being ready to serve as she was meant to. The Lady took a slow breath, and sighed softly. “I do not feel ‘better’ Greta…” “Nonsense, Mistress. This is the way things ‘should’ be. Should always have been, if our poor Master had not been taken from us, but now, we have a chance to return to those ways, and it will feel ‘wonderful’.” While the Lady was left to think on those words… and her situation… Greta was already in motion. Decorative golden bands were taken up one by one, slid up the Lady’s arms to her biceps where they sat snugly of their own accord… with smaller… ‘decorative’ rings hung from them… Similar bracelets encircled her wrists, locked in place with small padlocks of their own before she lowered to the ground, adding a pair of simple chain anklets to her ‘Mistress’, one bearing small bells, one without. With each addition, the woman’s breath hitched just a bit further, tears starting to well up at the corners of her eyes with conflicted emotions and trained responses warring within… Just a few short years ago this would have been normal… a near daily ritual… and she wouldn’t have questioned it… but now… Now her body was warming… and there was no one to help her but herself… Still… Greta would brook no argument… and for the moment at least, the Lady could offer none. Humming softly still, the matron rose back to her feet, taking up a ring of lace attached to a leather strap half hidden beneath, the lace holding an oval of blue stone that bore a carving of the family crest in its surface, and soon the collar was wrapped around her neck and locked in place. Her fingers flexed and curled… if her Master were here… he would inspect her now… his fingers exploring every inch of her, tugging and testing every strap a second time, slipping inside her to test her readiness for him… but that part did not come outside of her imagination as Greta simply moved on to the next step… Taking hold of the harness near its top and bottom, the matron practically shoved the Lady of the house over the edge of the bed until her ass was in the air and her face was near buried in the bedding with little more than a “GRE..!!!” before her voice was cut off. Her squirming amounted to little as the maids that had been waiting nearby stepped in, taking their mistress’s wrists and with a single padlock, secured them behind her to her harness, leaving her helpless as Greta used one hand to keep her face in the bed, while the other almost lovingly opened a heavy wooden case, lined with the softest velvet, containing a number of… objects. Each one was hand carved and carefully polished, of bone, ivory, horn, even a couple of wood, some were decorated with bits or strands of gold filigree inlaid into their surface, others were left simple, others still were carved with grooves or bumps. It had been a long time since she’d gotten to do this… too long… and she was going to enjoy it… both of them would… She selected one after a few long moments of consideration, an ivory and gold affair… something suited for such a rare occasion as a ‘reintroduction’ after so long… thick enough to offer a night to remember, but thin and tapered enough to ease its entry, with gold strands in swirls and waves… and a bit more weight than it should have, the thing was brought to her mistress’ folds, and for the first time in ages, it was slickened by her fluids. The Lady tugged at the restraints even as she gave a weak muffled moan, her toes curling as the thing slowly pushed in deeper, inch after inch, spreading her and filling her, its cool surface and varied textures offering a different experience with every movement it made, its uneven shape letting Greta grind it against various nerves in new and unique ways every time she gave it a twist or a tug.. or a push… and as she eased those walls open to relax and give her more comfort to work with… she could be a little rougher with it, letting the heavy balls within shift, rolling and clacking, throwing its weight around and sending gentle pulses of vibration through it, enough to subdue her Mistress a little further with each and every rocking thrust of one of her old favorite toys. The bound woman offered more than token resistance, but Greta’s grip was strict, and the pair were ready and waiting should the need arise. Their mistress ‘needed’ this… and it was the task of the three of them to see it done. Stroke after stroke saw the toy warm inside and out, its well polished surface soon glistening with its victim’s arousal until her struggles began to soften, prompting the softest sigh from the eldest of the staff. “Poor thing, it has been far too long, hasn’t it, Mistress?” The Lady’s fingers balled into fists, moaning weakly into the bedding as Greta sought out those most sensitive places again and again. As Crystal’s hips finally rolled back of their own accord, the grizzled old woman gave a soft sigh, as if she had suddenly grown bored with her momentary prize. “Alright, alright, that is enough, Mistress.” The toy was eased free, dripping heavily their mistress’ nectar for the first time in ages and while Crystal could not see… Greta could not help but take a long slow sniff, drinking in the scent of the womans arousal, her submission, and took the lightest taste, letting each of the girls do the same while Crystal was given the briefest moment to pant and whimper. But the moment was not to last, and soon enough, the toy was brought down once more, the girls prying the Lady’s ass cheeks apart as the tip of the toy was brought to nuzzle against her ass and begin working its way inside despite a sudden cry of protest from the woman below. “Nophhhh!” Her face was quickly shoved back down harder into the bedding, her hips already arching up higher, squirming in place as the thing was teased and toyed against her, slowly working bit by bit, using her fluids to help ease its passage as it slowly… reluctantly… relaxed enough for the tip of the toy to worm inside, and then a little more, and then a little more, every twist, every turn, every tease offering a new sensation, a new texture, a new angle to tease and test new nerves, only easing the toy back on the rare occasion, and only far enough to let the lubrication smear just a little better and ease the next inward push until she was stretched far enough at the apex of the toy’s base that her hips were left shaking, flesh trembling around the stretch until finally… finally, with a sudden sharp gasp, those muscles were finally allowed to clench back down, pulling the last of the toy the rest of the way inside her and seating itself with one last rolling wiggle of Greta’s fingertip against the base of the toy. “There we are, Mistress.” Greta’s grip laxed as she rose to her feet, snapping her fingers firmly to set the pair in motion gathering up the long dress that had been selected for the evening, a shimmering evening gown with feathery furry red trim, something that would go well with her fox masquerade mask. As if she had not just all but raped her employer, she waited quietly, and patiently enough, for the disheveled woman to gather herself. For the first time in almost half a dozen years… she had been molested for the sake of an evening affair… and if her master really had been there… she might have welcomed the experience… now… now it was almost tainted… he wasn’t coming, he would not grant her the relief she so desperately needed… and yet… Greta, knowing all of this full well… had taken it upon herself. Damn her. God damn her! Though their work in the bath had not been undone, the woman went from squirming mess, to near ‘furious’ in half a heartbeat. She pulled against the bands around her wrists, pulled with all the strength she could muster… but it would do her no good, they appeared gold, but they were something far stronger in their core, and they had been made to contain her. Her face was flushed near crimson as she managed to get her legs under her groaning weakly despite her attempts to ignore the toy lodged within her behind, and the pulsing ‘heat’ between her legs. Though she might have struggled with her dignity in a more public setting, here, with just the staff of the house… her dignity… or perhaps lack thereof was a rather forgone conclusion. This was far from the first time any but the youngest of the staff had seen her… compromised… and many had participated in the act themselves. But she was still the mistress of this house damnit! Standing tall as she could manage, she turned on Greta, ignoring the pair as they offered the open dress for her to step into. “Release my hands, Greta. Now.” The elderly woman gazed upon the Lady with little more than amused contempt, the very key necessary to unlock the various locks now applied to the Lady’s restraints on display, hung from a string around Greta’s neck. “I shall not, until you are dressed, Mistress, and I know you will behave as master would wish you to. He would be ‘very’ disappointed with this attitude of yours, as well as the habits you have taken in his absence, and now that the young master’s wedding celebration has come you would choose to dishonor Master and his son in such a way? Shall I send for the young master and seek ‘his’ opinion?” With a grimace spreading along her features, her body still heated, her thoughts still rather chaotic, gears shifted almost as quickly once more, the woman panting still as she spared another brief glance towards the mantle, and the portrait that hung over it… Forcing herself to take a slower, deeper breath. “It will not be necessary, Greta. I am perfectly capable of accepting my mistakes…” She spoke with no small amount of grudging acceptance, her son had seen her at her lowest… he knew what was going to be expected of the household women during the party… even her… Greta’s smile returned, and with a gesture, she guided the still bound Lady of the house round to meet two far younger smiling faces gazing up at her. Two simple steps was all it took, and the shimmering material was drawn up her form, carefully lifted and eased so none of the fabric caught on any part of her restraints, the back of the dress low enough to allow for the lock that kept her wrists secured to her mid back from interfering as the shoulder straps were laid over her straps for the harness, barely… partially… hiding them from view. It was their hands that adjusted the dress, their hands that fixed her breasts and fluffed up the furred and feathered portions of the dress just so until everything was perfect. It fit her snugly… and ‘almost’ showed the outlines of the harness beneath… almost… No undergarments were offered… none were needed, nights like tonight were not for her comfort… and she was just like all the other girls that would attend, if another wished for her attention… she would likely be expected to entertain. While they worked… The Lady finally found a moment of civility to offer. “What do you think of her, Greta? Be honest… please.” The matron watched in silence until the question brought her attention back to her Mistress. “I do not like her. I feel she will prove to be a poor match for the young master.” Fiddling with the restraints, Crystal gasped a touch as one of the maids found herself particularly handsy as she fixed a breast within the confines of the dress, only to earn a firm snap of Greta’s fingers, quickly seeing the girl retreat, followed by the other as they finished and settled back to admire the view and ensure all was in its proper place. “Why do you say that, Greta?” The Lady spoke, squeezing her thighs together with a soft sigh as she tried to focus on something other than the smoldering heat between them. “She does not strike me as the subservient type, Mistress.” The words prompted a touch of a chuckle even as she spoke them. “And I do?” “Yes, Mistress. There is visible proof enough, even with the dress.” Finally the woman stepped up close behind the Lady of the house, the key snatched from her neck just long enough to unlock the padlock between her wrists and free her hands from behind her before the key was tucked away once more. Though a part of her wanted to lash out at the matron… she knew full well it would do her no good, not for her mental health… nor for her current state, and soon enough the last of her ensemble was presented, a pair of open toed heeled sandals that laced with ribbon up the leg. After stepping up into the shoes, the girls had to gather up the dress high enough for Crystal to hold the long snug skirt enough for them to wind and lace the ribbon, pausing now and then to tie bows before moving up, higher and higher until the last bow was tied onto the thigh cuffs and leaving the shoes as locked to her as everything else without the work taken to remove them. And finally, Greta took a step or two back to admire the view as the Lady of the house let the dress tumble once more, gathering up just barely above her feet. The elder woman smiled, she was just as beautiful as the last time she had been dressed for her master… though the last time had been far less modest… “You look lovely, Mistress.” Crystal grimaced just a touch once more at that, but for the moment, she offered little in return. “Please have my lunch sent to my sitting room… I will take it there. If Damien asks after me… I do not wish to be disturbed, I will see him tonight.” Bowing her head gently, Greta couldn’t help but smirk just a touch as the Lady turned away. “Of course Mistress… I am at your service.” The two younger maids were ushered out of the room, the matron herself following suit as the Lady of the house settled into her thoughts… now turning to how she was going to deal with her ‘problem’… Even after Greta’s teasing, even with her restraints in place… even with her harness locked to her, and her favorite toy buried inside her… even gazing upon the portrait above, trying to dream it was ‘his’ fingers toying with her clit rather than her own… even after a little more than five ‘very’ long years without him… she could little more than take the edge off with a very disappointing, and almost exhausting release… but it was something… and after cleaning herself up, she could leave her room, and the heady scent of sexual need behind… and think during and after her lunch. Greta, meanwhile collected her girls and, after a thorough scrubbing of her own to wash away the scents of their mistress’ arousal, soon arrived at the young Mistress’ quarters to begin the process again… or at least something resembling it… They were attentive, courteous, seemingly happy to help their new mistress with whatever she might need… though an almost suspicious lack of a desire to bathe before hand and be pampered properly left Greta with more questions… and a touch more distaste for this new ‘woman’ that was going to despoil sacred ground with her stench… There was something off about her… something ‘wrong’… that made her more than a little uneasy, and it wasn’t just the fact that her scent wasn’t purely feminine… Still the deed was done soon enough, and with both mistresses ready, there were more important tasks to attend. Incense was burned through the house, clearing away a few unpleasant smells, and bringing a touch of sensuality, a touch of spice to the air, just a hint, that would be soon smothered over and hidden beneath some more gentle candles and oil lamps that would serve as the primary lighting for the evening, something a bit more primal… and traditional… than the modern electric lamps that had become the new rage in the city and had been recently installed in the house. She hated them. The cooks were busy with the meal preparations, the house was clean and tidy, the ball room prepared, almost everything was set for the night and the arrival of their guests… Now it was time for the maid staff. All twelve of them… minus Greta of course were stripped and cleaned, their hair done up, their bodies perfumed with mild but alluring scents… some of which were less than earthly in nature.. something to add a little extra spice to the evening. Wrapped in corsets, stockings, gloves, heels, their bodies otherwise left on display, each, like their mistress was put through a ritual, heating and priming their bodies only to be plugged to keep them that way. Some were gagged and bound, trays hung from clamped nipples to serve drinks. Others were left free to move so they could mingle and offer themselves to guests while fulfilling requests… ‘one’ lucky girl was taken down a hidden set of stairs within the house, through a secret door and into their Master’s shrine where her body would act as an offering to him for the night… something to stir up his aura and add a little something more to the air above… Once all was done… Greta simply seemed to vanish from the estate. None saw her leave, and she would be nowhere to be found… but a pair of silvery blue canine eyes could be seen between the trees as the guests began to arrive, seemingly watching them… or perhaps hoping one might make the mistake of venturing off where they did not belong.