Collection Privée - Histoires de Sexe

Collection Privée

... somewhat older maid to her taste - hand them the key and order them to prepare the Room.

In the meantime, she would get into her preferred uniform and then dutifully cover it with clothing appropriate for moving through her father’s house. After a while, the servant would discreetly knock on her bedroom door and lead her to the Chapel, located in a little frequented wing of the mansion.

Today, she has summoned the male servant. They arrive at the door, an unsuspicious wooden one. He presents her the key, almost reverently. As often happens, he has gone slightly pale and is beginning to transpire, but the young lady takes no notice. She accepts the key and opens the door matter-of-factly, immediately advancing into the center of the room.

The surface area of the Chapel resembles much more that of a broom closet with just room enough for two people to manoeuver around the padded benches in its center. Its four walls climb up steeply, however, to meet in a high vaulted ceiling. They are made of creamy stone and have taken on a rosy color from the light filtering down through stained-glass windows. Yet all similarity to religious architecture stops there.

The enormous paintings hanging on the walls leave no doubt as to that. Pornography, some might call it. Erotic images, others would say. The lady simply uses the word ...

... ’masterpieces’.

In short, they are the chefs d’oeuvre of her sexual imagination. À growing host of fantasies have already been put on canvas solely for her pleasure. Whenever that particular kind of need strikes her, she simply designates several paintings to be brought to the Picture Room. Her selection on any given day depends completely on her whim, on which images among her collection most titillate her desire at that moment.

Now, she checks peremptorily on the proper execution of her orders, then strips off her outer clothes and strides over to the benches. She takes her place facing the door with the assurance of a queen taking her throne. Knowing his role by heart, the young man approaches, puts one knee, then two down onto the stone flags beneath his lady and waits.

She takes a moment to gaze at each of the images… The painting over the door shows a brown-haired girl in a bathtub… To the right, a curious scene before an oak tree… To the left, a variant of a medieval feast… And behind, instead of an altar, an enormous mirror.

She looks back at herself in the mirror and, with a satisfied half-smile on her lips, returns to face the image directly in front of her. Upon her command, the servant begins gently stroking, and her senses become enwrapped in the image of a young woman in a bathroom filled with steam…