Sylvie Becomes a Woman
Sylvie de Seins
Published by Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Sylvie de Seins
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Cover Image by YaiSirichai
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A soft wind tugged at the smooth cotton of Sylvie's night-gown as she stood on the balcony. She looked down over the foothills of her aunt and uncle's alpine estate for the last time for many months to come. A tear sprang to her eye as she slid her hand up and down her side in an idle manner. She stretched and yawned the satisfied yawn of one who has slept well in a soft feather bed and is in no rush to go anywhere.
She loved this view from the chateau. Ever since she was a child she had loved the way in which the slopes and dips of the valley below seemed to mirror the curves of her own body. As she thought about this she caressed her hips and her slim waist exploring her own elegant shape. She enjoyed touching herself when she was drowsy, discovering the beauty and sensitivity of her own body. But would she find such picturesque views in Paris she wondered.
She had never left the alpine province of her birth before. Although of noble birth, her life up until now had been carefully restricted by her aunt. She was eager to find out what life was like in the rest of the country, yet slightly anxious at the same time. She feared that she might have to leave the land that she loved forever.
Her maid had told her that she was bound to meet a handsome gentleman in Paris. He would indeed have to be very handsome to make up for all the pleasures she would miss, such as riding in the hills she loved. When out on her own she would discard her side-saddle, gather up her skirts and straddle her horse like the men did. She felt completely in control of her beast when she rode like this and she loved the sensation of her body moving up and down in time to the horses own trotting motion, the back of her horse slapping against her behind and sending shivers through her. And when she was hot and exhausted from riding she could find a secluded mountain pool and let her horse drink whilst she cooled herself in the fresh water, which was so cold against her bare skin.
As she let herself be carried away by these memories her hand found its way to the place between her legs where she knew she could heighten the physical pleasure she was feeling. By the time her fingers had got to her clitoris it was already moist and swollen. She let her fingers dabble in the moistness, reaching inside herself to explore the sticky centre or her pleasure. Sometimes she could force her fingers all the way into herself and satisfy herself completely. She had heard that only a man could do this with thing they all kept hidden in their trousers. She had never been with a man, having been protected by her aunt so much that she was slightly nervous about what she might find. Occasionally in flights of fancy she had thought about fashioning something: a tool to take the place of a man, but she knew that it would be difficult to keep such a thing secret from her ever watchful aunt.
Her fingers moved out of that unending pit and moved further up to where the heart of her pleasure dwelt. She carefully rubbed on either side of it, occasionally touching it with one of her fingers and jerking in ecstasy as she did so. As she continued to do this, she could feel the heat building inside her, the pleasure she knew was looking for a release. Her cheeks blushed red and she had to use her other hand to support herself against the rail of the balcony.
Suddenly her whole body shuddered and she let out a soft grunt as if she was in pain. The feeling lasted a few seconds as she felt suspended in the air as if between life and death. She gasped and collapsed against the railings, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed in whimpering joy. Across the smooth hills the sun had just started to burn away the fog and the sound of birdsong rose up from the garden below. There was a knock at the bedroom door.
“Mesdames, are you ready for me to dress you?”
*
“You'll meet many handsome young men in Paris, Mademoiselle,” observed her maid Collette.
“I am sure I will meet a great many people there, it is so very populous I hear,” Sylvie replied as Collette tightened the strings of her bodice pushing her well developed breasts further up to exaggerate her quite ample bosom.
“And a lady like you with your charms will no doubt be the apple of their eye, especially with that lovely pair of titties which you have got,” said Collette, who was not un-pretty in a rough-hewn sort of way, and certainly let the men know about it in the local village.
“You have something of a reputation Collette I hear of knowing many of the secrets of men, yet I am of privileged birth and next to an idiot when tit comes to knowing their ways and how to please them.”
“My only advice on that matter is that it's always good to give as well as to receive with men,” said Collette winking.
“I don't really understand what you mean, should I give them presents?” she said hesitantly.
“Oh no, I think you've still got a lot to learn Mesdames, and maybe it's unfortunate that I won't be there to help you.”
*
Later that morning the carriage containing Sylvie and her aunt, Madame de Vois, pulled out of the long driveway leading to their chateau. Sylvie had lived the last 14 years of her life there ever since the death of her parents. A small tear fell down her cheek, yet between her legs, where she was still tender from her earlier attentions, she felt a slight tingle and moistness and excitement.
“Don't be afraid my dear, you will have nothing to fear in Versailles,” her aunt told her, leaning forward to pat her knee gently as she did so. She was a plump woman, well into her middle-age. “I will be there to guide you as we choose a life for you in the world.”
“What do you mean by 'a life'?” Sylvie replied with trepidation.
“Why, to find a good husband of course,” her aunt replied with a kind smile.
“But why do I need a husband Madame?”
“To protect your interests and to make a woman out of you, you will want a family of your own in time.”
“Is it necessary to marry to become a woman?”
“Yes, it is either that or become a nun, anything else would be immoral!”
Sylvie looked doubtfully at her aunt and turned to look out of the window. She certainly yearned for a man, even watching the tanned muscular peasants toiling in the fields of the estate turned her on, but would she want to marry one? All she desired at present was physical satisfaction with a strong dashing man or men if possible, the idea of only experiencing one appalled her. How could one know he would be the best one? Maybe she would find the experiences she yearned for in Versailles, the palace of the all powerful Louis XIV
The chateau receded into the distance and they entered a part of the country to which she had never travelled to before.
*
As the afternoon wore on their carriage approached the house of Countess de Marigny, their first stop on the ten day journey to Versailles. The house was set amongst beautiful gardens and expansive rolling parkland with carefully manicured grass and tastefully placed shrubs and trees.
Sylvie was growing restless and bored with travelling, so, as soon as they arrived she asked to be excused in order to stretch her legs.
“Don't be long my dear,” said her aunt.
With that she left her niece with their hostess, the Countess de Marigny, a frail-looking woman in her late fifties.
“I hope you enjoy the gardens and the park. I would love to accompany you, but my bones are beginning to stiffen at my age. You might encounter our other guests, however.”
“Who would they be Countess? Are they from Versailles?” She asked expectantly.
“Oh yes very much so, they both belong to the court. One is the Comte de Verlaine, a very dashing cavalier, but with, I hear, a slightly suspect reputation. He has been so kind as to show my own niece, Anastace, the gardens. She is a pretty young thing, much like you, but she is already married to the governor of La Rochelle. She is stopping her on her way from Versailles to visit him. Oh how these young love-birds must miss each other. She is only newlywed and he has been rushed off to his post. Do you have a loved-one for whom you are yearning my dear?”