Chapter 1 | Arrival

Gwendolyn Markham gazed from her bedroom window as the servant guided the limousine to the front door of the mansion. Gwen knew the carriage was for her, but she lingered.

Apprehension, eagerness and fear flowed through her body as a deep shiver. The 16-year-old girl knew she was about to experience new delights. For years her mother had spoken mysteriously of Gwen's "initiation." It would be her rite of passage into womanhood. Afterwards, she would be looked upon seriously by men who today treated her as a little girl.

Never had Mrs. Markham told Gwendolyn what occurred at the initiation. The girl had asked several times over several years. Her mother's stony resistance to her queries made it clear that the subject wouldn't be discussed.

But last night Mrs. Markham summoned Gwen after supper. "Gwen, you have come of age," she whispered while a soft light illuminated the room. "It is time for you to know the true nature of relations between men and women."

"It is traditional in our family that girls your age attend Gracely House. It is a special finishing school for young boys and girls; they will train you well to be a special type of woman," her mother continued.

"Oh, but what will I learn about?" Gwen asked, astonished at her mother's solemnity.

"I won't tell you all of the answers," Mrs. Markham said. "You must discover for yourself."

It would be challenging at first, her mother told her. But soon she would come to enjoy the lessons.

What would these pleasures be?

"It is better to experience them than to hear of them," Mrs. Markham had assured her. "You will know soon enough."

"But what will I have to do?"

"Submit as you are instructed. Obey the teachers, and you will be rewarded. It will change your life."

The conversation ended when Mr. Markham entered the room, and nothing more was said. Now Gwen sat at the window and heard a maid's footfall on the stairs. The limousine would carry her to her initiation, and she was afraid... eager... curious... she didn't know what she was. Another shiver.

"Miss Gwendolyn, the car is waiting," Melissa called from the door.

Gwen walked toward the exit from her room, her firm young breasts pushing ahead of her svelte body and her beautifully curved bottom rippling behind her. The fateful time had arrived, and she knew it.

Her courage rose, and she walked confidently down the stairs, through the front door and out to the car. A servant helped her in, and she joined her waiting mother.

Gwen knew it was an important event and that she'd be gone for three weeks. Her mother had taken her for not one, but two, shopping trips to the city. On one trip they bought dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes, but on the other trip Mrs. Markham took her virginal daughter to shops unlike Gwen had ever seen.

She recognized some of the merchandise at these stores as frilly, finer versions of undergarments she wore everyday. But other items were different. They were frilly and silky, too, but they covered her differently -- sometimes less. And some seemed to cover nothing at all, she thought with a blush.

They spent the longest time at La Femme, where Gwen tried on garment after garment, each seemingly more beautiful and revealing than the last.

Some barely concealed her soft, ripening breasts. She could see the edge of her brown circle exposed along the top, and her stirring nipples were visible through the thin material.

Other garments cut slyly across the top of her smooth, round bottom and then plunged along her lower abdomen, barely covering the soft, downy pubic hairs that first sprouted only a few years before. They accented her long adolescent legs and thighs, as did the stockings and garters she sampled.

The saleslady was ever so friendly, helping her dress and undress. When Gwen modeled the lingerie for her mother, the saleslady -- Mrs. Edwards -- ran her hands across the garments, highlighting their features.

Mrs. Edwards became more familiar as the session continued, and her soft hands began to gently caress Gwen intimately, though the girl didn't quite know what to think of it or even quite what was going on.

Mrs. Edward's fingers would brush across Gwen's nipples or she would stroke Gwen's bottom with her hand to emphasize the item being proffered. Mrs. Markham watched without comment. Gwen thought her mother didn't notice.

But Gwen noticed, and as they prepared to pay for their purchases and leave, the girl still felt a stirring deep in her abdomen and a warm flush across her body. It would subside slowly over the next several hours, and the innocent Gwendolyn Markham would not realize that the events at La Femme had been a prelude for her first visit to the mansion of Mrs. Belinda Gracely.

"You will be a fine one," Mrs. Edwards said to Gwen as mother and daughter walked out the door. Gwen wondered what it meant.

As the limousine rolled through the countryside, Carolyn Markham thought of her own first trip to Mrs. Belinda Gracely's mansion 22 years ago.

The events had been traumatic at first. Unlike her daughter, who was somewhat forewarned, Carolyn Markham was completely unprepared for the events at Gracely House. They took her by surprise, and she resisted fiercely until Mrs. Belinda Gracely's experience and her effective servants prevailed.

It had been horrible at first, with strange and painful sensations and the terrible sense that something was wrong. Her mother had given her no clue of the events about to unfold, and it was several days before she realized that everything was for her benefit. But finally Carolyn began to enjoy the "pleasures of ripening," as Belinda Gracely called them and became a faithful servant of Venus, goddess of love.

Now, upon the slightest suggestion, she would kneel before Priapus to worship him. The penis had penetrated her every orifice more times than she could remember, and she still loved to see a stiff, red weapon ready for her attentions.

She could enter the realm of Lesbos, too, lapping softly at the feminine garden until the object of her passions unleashed a scream, a moan or a torrent of sexual juices into Mrs. Markham's mouth.

She loved nothing more, of course, than to open her legs for satisfaction, whether the attention was from a man or a woman. Her fantasies crossed all boundaries, and when she was on the verge of bliss, it mattered not who possessed the tongue that pleasured her.

And she learned from Belinda Gracely that sometimes the need for satisfaction occurs when no one else is available, and then it is necessary to pleasure one's self. Many had been the time, absent the tongue or penis or finger of another, Carolyn slipped her hand between her thighs and gently rubbed her clitoris until waves of pleasure swept across her body. She loved to play with herself while others watched.

It was a technique useful with a lover, too, for it allowed sensations that weren't possible any other way.

Mrs. Carolyn Markham wanted Belinda Gracely to bring Gwen into these same halls of pleasure. Mrs. Markham had long awaited the day when Gwen would be initiated into the Rites of Venus. And she hoped her daughter would have less trauma than Carolyn had experienced 22 years ago.

"Gwendolyn, words cannot describe the experiences that await you," she told her daughter as the limousine turned into the long lane to Gracely House. "Sometimes you must endure something unpleasant to enjoy greater pleasures that lie beyond.

"Such will be the case at Gracely House. If something unpleasant occurs, remember that it is in pursuit of greater pleasures. Mrs. Gracely and I have your best interests at heart, dear. You will emerge as a woman, prepared to enjoy all that life has to offer."

As she finished, the limousine stopped before a marvelous mansion, grander that Markham Hall. Servants were waiting, and Mrs. Gracely stepped from the house with dignity and aplomb.

Her black hair was pulled tightly to the back of her head. An almond-shaped ruby was at the center of a gold choker around her throat. A white cotton dress covered her figure while outlining a mature, firm body.

Her hips were full, womanly, but none too large. Full, round breasts rose from her chest. Her face showed hardly a wrinkle. Full-length sleeves led to slender, long fingers. The hemline revealed her slender calves.

"Welcome; we're so glad you're here. Carolyn, it's wonderful to see you again. You've been away much too long. This must be Gwen. My, you're a beautiful girl; you'll be popular here. Both of you, please come in."

Gwen was no stranger to elegance, for Markham Hall was one of the finest homes in this part of the state. But Gracely House was far more grand.

Two mirrors taller than Gwen flanked the entry hall, which was elaborately furnished. A statue of a Roman athlete stood in the center of the hall. The marble floors and wood paneling echoed the ladies' footsteps as they walked toward the parlor. Gwen felt warmth from the light of a huge chandelier as she walked beneath it.