An irresistable forbidden flame inside their chest. A fire only quenched by sin.
A love beyond standing and societal norms!
yuri n wine
Jan 6, 2019 3:36AM
whispers “hey Maid chan... fingering me should be a part of your daily house chores” blushes “I-if you insist, milady...”
last edited at Jan 6, 2019 3:38AM
moar_pwease
Jan 6, 2019 10:06PM
My crack at a context. Warning: I've been indulging in Dickens and Hardy lately.
B-chan joined the staff of the local manor house just after her tenth birthday. As the oldest of a sizable community of siblings, she accorded with the custom of leaving home to work and help support the family. Extraordinary needlework skills passed down through the maternal line, combined with extensive childcare experience, allowed B-chan to rise quickly in the ranks to specialize in the management of the manor-born brood.
A few years subsequent to B-chan's induction, the lady of the house, a more recent addition after the passing of the previous matriarch from complications of hysteria, gave birth to yet another successor: a beautiful raven-haired girl with hazel eyes as remarkable in chameleon dynamicity as in the precocious tint of melancholy inherent in her stare. B-chan's proven competence and nurturing instincts made her the ideal choice as guardian and companion to the newborn A-chan.
Over time, A-chan grew into a lively confusion of limbs and mane whose dexterity and penchant for mischief made a welcome counterpoint to remembrances of a thin and feeble precursor, torn between the horizons of life and death, but constantly swaddled in blankets of clothe, love, and determination and rarely separated from the warmth of B-chan's bosom.
The child's earliest explorations of the world demonstrated an aptitude for art. Overtures reflecting the trend in B-chan's progress reports to the Lord and Lady of the manor inspired investments in appropriate resources and tutoring. In gratitude, the merciless A-chan often cornered a reluctant B-chan to cajole her into being her favorite model.
Years passed and the bond between mistress and companion tightened. B-chan witnessed the blooming of her charge into the fullness of a strong, comely, and healthful young woman approaching her nineteenth birthday and gilded further by prospects of a successful and meaningful future. However, B-chan's reflections, especially upon the impending expectations of A-chan as a woman of status, gradually enlightened her to inexplicable fears. These new feelings were different from the sisterly or motherly bents thematic of her life and consequent of her occupation. The misgivings often manifested in a darkened and distant countenance which she managed to conceal from even her eldest mentors on the staff, though less successfully from the perceptions of A-chan.
Anxiety exerted an overwhelming preoccupation as B-chan stood at the window and contemplated the cloudy skies above the pastoral vistas of the sun room. Her charge had talked her into another sitting; this time for the composition of a painting using the small trove of oils newly arrived from the Lord and Lady's latest escapades tracing the southern border of the Continent. The musings presented an adequately thorough distraction to prevent B-chan's notice of the sudden descent of silence upon the room. A-chan had stopped partway through the process of setting up to turn her piercing eyes, currently adopting an uncanny mixture of green and grey and reflective of the scenery beyond, to the tall and elegant back of her savior, handmaiden, surrogate mother, and confidante, the closest consciousness she knew would ever touch her life.
Accordingly, B-chan was duly surprised when she turned around to find A-chan diving into her arms with a practiced familiarity imbued by an unusual sense of desperation. The impact exerted a force sufficient to push B-chan bodily into a chair behind as her arms shot out instinctively to cradle the slight form and provide protection against the potential harm of the fall. A-chan then launched into a teary disquisition made less and less intelligible by the growing strength of the sobs curtailing her voice and the muting effects of pressing her flushed face deeper and deeper into B-chan's collar.
A-chan revealed a letter arrived with the oil paints heralding news of the master's determination to apprentice her under the tutelage of a renowned artist currently commissioned by relatives in France for the purpose of cultivating the talents of her cousins. Such an arrangement would require departing in the coming months for unknown lands, people, and experiences, possibly without the anchor of B-chan's presence. A-chan then divulged an impassioned soliloquy describing feelings and desires different and far removed from the sisterly or daughterly or masterly sentiments demanded by her and B-chan's history and social stations. B-chan listened and used every available gesture, embrace, and cooing oration to calm the storm of raw emotion manifesting into one of the most potent traumas of A-chan's life.
While the grey skies slowly parted to reveal a watery orange sunset, A-chan's heaving gasps relaxed into a regular pattern and her globulous tears slackened into a thinner flow. B-chan delicately kissed away the remaining droplets as they fell. The women slipped into a gentle silence, watching the dynamic display of natural beauty beyond the trees and listening attentively to the harmony formed by their soft breathing as both awaited B-chan's response to A-chan's confession of an equally powerful, equally reciprocated, and equally forbidden love.
Gothic_Catalyst
Jan 6, 2019 11:24PM
Nice context @moar_pwease.
BugDevil
Jan 8, 2019 5:35AM
^^Ok... well. I think we didn't need quite that much context. This was more of a "I wanna write a story" than a "I could imagine this scene happened because of this", huh?
moar_pwease
Jan 8, 2019 12:48PM
@BugDevil
Haha well, I wouldn't call it a story since it's only got a beginning and a middle and no end. Four of the nine paragraphs are exclusively devoted to the image.
The other five are a reflection of my philosophy that age gap requires more premise than the average love story, if your goal is avoiding a cringe worthy result. I dislike writing cringe worthy stuff.
It did run longer than I originally anticipated though.
@Gothic_Catalyst Thanks! =D
last edited at Jan 8, 2019 12:49PM
BugDevil
Jan 8, 2019 1:45PM
^Uhuh. Yeah we wouldn't want any cringe around here.
Yurimage
Apr 8, 2019 5:34AM
I recommend listening to hugo disappear while looking at this pic.
Risamari Jan 6, 2019 12:21AM
I want to know what are they feeling...
Hollows Jan 6, 2019 1:15AM
Gay
BugDevil Jan 6, 2019 2:35AM
An irresistable forbidden flame inside their chest. A fire only quenched by sin.
A love beyond standing and societal norms!
yuri n wine Jan 6, 2019 3:36AM
whispers “hey Maid chan... fingering me should be a part of your daily house chores”
blushes “I-if you insist, milady...”
last edited at Jan 6, 2019 3:38AM
moar_pwease Jan 6, 2019 10:06PM
My crack at a context. Warning: I've been indulging in Dickens and Hardy lately.
B-chan joined the staff of the local manor house just after her tenth birthday. As the oldest of a sizable community of siblings, she accorded with the custom of leaving home to work and help support the family. Extraordinary needlework skills passed down through the maternal line, combined with extensive childcare experience, allowed B-chan to rise quickly in the ranks to specialize in the management of the manor-born brood.
A few years subsequent to B-chan's induction, the lady of the house, a more recent addition after the passing of the previous matriarch from complications of hysteria, gave birth to yet another successor: a beautiful raven-haired girl with hazel eyes as remarkable in chameleon dynamicity as in the precocious tint of melancholy inherent in her stare. B-chan's proven competence and nurturing instincts made her the ideal choice as guardian and companion to the newborn A-chan.
Over time, A-chan grew into a lively confusion of limbs and mane whose dexterity and penchant for mischief made a welcome counterpoint to remembrances of a thin and feeble precursor, torn between the horizons of life and death, but constantly swaddled in blankets of clothe, love, and determination and rarely separated from the warmth of B-chan's bosom.
The child's earliest explorations of the world demonstrated an aptitude for art. Overtures reflecting the trend in B-chan's progress reports to the Lord and Lady of the manor inspired investments in appropriate resources and tutoring. In gratitude, the merciless A-chan often cornered a reluctant B-chan to cajole her into being her favorite model.
Years passed and the bond between mistress and companion tightened. B-chan witnessed the blooming of her charge into the fullness of a strong, comely, and healthful young woman approaching her nineteenth birthday and gilded further by prospects of a successful and meaningful future. However, B-chan's reflections, especially upon the impending expectations of A-chan as a woman of status, gradually enlightened her to inexplicable fears. These new feelings were different from the sisterly or motherly bents thematic of her life and consequent of her occupation. The misgivings often manifested in a darkened and distant countenance which she managed to conceal from even her eldest mentors on the staff, though less successfully from the perceptions of A-chan.
Anxiety exerted an overwhelming preoccupation as B-chan stood at the window and contemplated the cloudy skies above the pastoral vistas of the sun room. Her charge had talked her into another sitting; this time for the composition of a painting using the small trove of oils newly arrived from the Lord and Lady's latest escapades tracing the southern border of the Continent. The musings presented an adequately thorough distraction to prevent B-chan's notice of the sudden descent of silence upon the room. A-chan had stopped partway through the process of setting up to turn her piercing eyes, currently adopting an uncanny mixture of green and grey and reflective of the scenery beyond, to the tall and elegant back of her savior, handmaiden, surrogate mother, and confidante, the closest consciousness she knew would ever touch her life.
Accordingly, B-chan was duly surprised when she turned around to find A-chan diving into her arms with a practiced familiarity imbued by an unusual sense of desperation. The impact exerted a force sufficient to push B-chan bodily into a chair behind as her arms shot out instinctively to cradle the slight form and provide protection against the potential harm of the fall. A-chan then launched into a teary disquisition made less and less intelligible by the growing strength of the sobs curtailing her voice and the muting effects of pressing her flushed face deeper and deeper into B-chan's collar.
A-chan revealed a letter arrived with the oil paints heralding news of the master's determination to apprentice her under the tutelage of a renowned artist currently commissioned by relatives in France for the purpose of cultivating the talents of her cousins. Such an arrangement would require departing in the coming months for unknown lands, people, and experiences, possibly without the anchor of B-chan's presence. A-chan then divulged an impassioned soliloquy describing feelings and desires different and far removed from the sisterly or daughterly or masterly sentiments demanded by her and B-chan's history and social stations. B-chan listened and used every available gesture, embrace, and cooing oration to calm the storm of raw emotion manifesting into one of the most potent traumas of A-chan's life.
While the grey skies slowly parted to reveal a watery orange sunset, A-chan's heaving gasps relaxed into a regular pattern and her globulous tears slackened into a thinner flow. B-chan delicately kissed away the remaining droplets as they fell. The women slipped into a gentle silence, watching the dynamic display of natural beauty beyond the trees and listening attentively to the harmony formed by their soft breathing as both awaited B-chan's response to A-chan's confession of an equally powerful, equally reciprocated, and equally forbidden love.
Gothic_Catalyst Jan 6, 2019 11:24PM
Nice context @moar_pwease.
BugDevil Jan 8, 2019 5:35AM
^^Ok... well. I think we didn't need quite that much context. This was more of a "I wanna write a story" than a "I could imagine this scene happened because of this", huh?
moar_pwease Jan 8, 2019 12:48PM
@BugDevil
Haha well, I wouldn't call it a story since it's only got a beginning and a middle and no end. Four of the nine paragraphs are exclusively devoted to the image.
The other five are a reflection of my philosophy that age gap requires more premise than the average love story, if your goal is avoiding a cringe worthy result. I dislike writing cringe worthy stuff.
It did run longer than I originally anticipated though.
@Gothic_Catalyst Thanks! =D
last edited at Jan 8, 2019 12:49PM
BugDevil Jan 8, 2019 1:45PM
^Uhuh. Yeah we wouldn't want any cringe around here.
Yurimage Apr 8, 2019 5:34AM
I recommend listening to hugo disappear while looking at this pic.