Her Dress in Disarray

s in Disarray

  A Sexy Erotic Fantasy

  Copyright Kaye Skellington 2013

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  The dress was wrapped in soft linen when Lady Caralynne's delicate fingers drew it out of the silken ribbons that held it in a bundle like twine. A soft gasp left the lady's lips as she held the garment up, blue eyes lighting up at the shining material before her. Burgundy in colour, the treated silk shimmered down to the floor, the embroidered hem grazing over the carpet beneath the lady's feet. She looked up at it, then stood to hold it above the floor.

  The dress was as tall as she, tailored to her measurements. A faint blush crept to her cheeks as she realized her husband must have guessed at those measurements. How could he have gotten them so perfectly? Did he know her body so well already?

  As if reading her mind, the lord of the castle moved behind her, placing his hands gently on her slender waist and squeezing as his mouth dipped in against her dark tresses, moving her hair aside so he could kiss at her neck. She shivered at his gentle touch, her whole body quaking with fear more than anything else.

  "I thought you would like it," Lord Esteban said quietly, pulling away so he could move around to the front of his petite little wife. "I thought it would…please you…"

  Caralynne nodded, glancing at him before quickly putting her eyes to the dress. "Yes, it's quite lovely. I'm very grateful."

  "You could wear it tonight, perhaps," he said softly, and she could feel him watching her face.

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes. We could have a dinner. We could invite my cousins, serve wine. Perhaps dance."

  Caralynne tried to smile but it was difficult. Slowly she began to fold the dress up, but her husband reached out a hand, stopping her carefully.

  "You won't dance tonight, will you," he said. She could hear the resignation and disappointment in his voice.

  Saying nothing, Caralynne waited for him to remove his hand from her wrist before continuing to fold the dress up. She wrapped it once more in its linen covering, then carefully tied the ribbons back around it. It would join the other dresses he had bought her, in their place up on the shelf at the top of her wardrobe. She would take it down eventually and wear it to someplace or other. Sometimes, she didn't win, and her husband would insist she attend this or that dinner with him. She hated it, hated going out. Hated dressing up for him.

  It wasn't that the clothes weren't expensive enough. She was used to fine things, she had grown up richer than Lord Esteban himself. Until she became the Lady Esteban, that is. Marrying him had been a step down for Caralynne, and they both knew it. He tried ever so hard to please her, but he simply didn't understand, couldn't understand.

  There were many ranks and degrees of wealth. Everyone knew that. But what most didn't know was that at some point, when one had so very much wealth, it stopped being about money and finery and rank. And it became about something else. No amount of fine clothes and expensive decorations for their fabulous estate would make Caralynne love Gregory Esteban. She would always belong to someone else. Always. And that was why her parents had married their eldest daughter off to someone beneath their rank, far beneath her prospects at the time.

  Caralynne held the bundle in her hands and looked at the perfect bow she had tied in the ribbon. She heard Lord Esteban sigh, and she could picture him wiping a hand across his forehead, brushing his fingers through the dark stubble of his soldier-short hair. He was a handsome man, that much was truth. But it didn’t matter.

  "May I be excused," Caralynne said softly, not looking up.

  "Yes. Of course," Lord Esteban said. The exasperation in his voice was near palpable.

  Caralynne dropped a slight curtsey and walked gracefully out of the drawing room he had found her in, heading towards a flight of stairs that led eventually to her bedroom. Once there, she closed the door carefully, then even dared to lock it. He wouldn't come see her tonight. He wouldn't expect nor demand that she play the role of dutiful wife and cleave to him, not tonight. She had one or two more nights before he would come and put himself upon her.

  It was never force. She never objected too loudly. Caralynne would make a few excuses and he would become vocal and insistent and dark. Then he would demand his rights, and she would give in. And though he would be aroused when he began, nothing would come of it and she would lay there beneath his sweating form as he tried and tried to perform - and failed. Eventually he would climb off and sob and beg her to say nothing to anyone about his inability to be a good husband. Caralynne would avoid looking at him, would nod her head and agree as quietly as she could. And Gregory Esteban would go away for another few nights.

  They had been doing this dance for almost two months now, since her marriage to her father's employee. She had come to live in the province of Esteban six months before the wedding, her great aunt Lady Gothera accompanying her and keeping near her as escort the entire length of the engagement. Eight months, she thought to herself with a sigh as she sat on the bed with the dress in her lap. Eight months away from home, from all she had known, had loved, had ever aspired to.

  The bow in the top of the bundle in her hands was perfect. Smiling, she recalled how she had learned to tie a ribbon just so, then found herself plucking at it. The dress was beautiful. She drew it out again, feeling safe since Lord Esteban was nowhere to be seen. The shade of the dress suited her perfectly. Caralynne stood up and drew the dress free from its wrappings, holding it against her as she moved towards a full length mirror in one corner of her very large personal bedroom. Grateful for the small measure of privacy her station afforded her, she held the dress up with one hand against her chest, the other near her hip, making the dress twirl slightly as she swayed to and fro.

  It was a loose garment. It wasn't meant to hug her form too tightly. The beading around the scooped neckline was perfect, almost making the dress too eye-catching. Would those who saw her in it be staring at the well placed beads or at the generous amount of cleavage such a dress was intended to show off? Caralynne didn't have a great deal to offer in that regard, still growing into her form as a young lady would be at her age. But the dress was meant to compensate with all its finery and embroidery. The folds of material that were poofed up at the shoulders offset the dainty set of her neck. If she had her hair up just so, it would be quite a good affect.

  Caralynne bit her bottom lip, then shrugged and began to change into the elegant dress. No one was around, it was early evening, almost still late afternoon really. The sun was setting, the servants slowly retreating. Lord Esteban would be in his study, bemoaning the fact his wife didn't love him and yet was achingly gorgeous to look upon. Why he wouldn't take a mistress, Caralynne didn't know. In her father's circle, it had simply been what people did. But Lord Esteban was from a different realm of wealth, where people tried to marry for love as well as for convenience.

  Frowning, Caralynne held the dress in front of her for a few moments before drawing it over the almost sheer cotton shift she had worn beneath her supper dress. It fit perfectly, the shift's white material visible between the purposely open sleeves. It was meant to puff out and look casual as well as regal. As if she were a pauper made princess. She knew the exact intention of the tailor when making this dress. He or she wanted a fairytale princess, someone who could wear a piece like this and actually app
ear to be fresh faced and off the farm.

  For a moment, Caralynne smiled as she smoothed the dress over her slender torso. She tugged the shift upwards a bit at the bodice, making sure the white cotton hid the upper curves of her areolas that would have been 'fashionably' visible if she didn't take that extra step. Then her smile dropped, and she thought of why she didn't appreciate such dresses anymore.

  She was a married woman. Married women were allowed to tease and torment other men during the initial years of marriage, but eventually they would stop, their focus solely on their husband and children. Up until that point though, they were encouraged to wear the sort of clothing that would titillate and arouse their men to great acts of passion.

  Lord Esteban was very passionate. But arousing him was not something Caralynne wanted to do. Ever. Dresses like this, like the other sorts he brought home, would do that. They would make him hungry for her, and that was the last thing Caralynne wanted. She wanted Gregory Esteban to stay as far away from her as possible.

  It wasn't that he was ugly. He was very handsome, and his wealth was more than adequate for her, even if it was a step or two down from what finery she was used to. She