Story: Hayley visits Saturation Hall!
Posted: 03 Jan 2008, 01:08Disclaimer: This was started way back when the forum first reached 1000 posts, some time back in 2007, but for a long time I paused at the point where Hayley first enters the private bathing chamber. It was inspired by the "Let Hayley Have It" thread.
No promises on when the next part will be done, but I do hope to come back to it from time to time.
All comments / criticism welcome!
m'Lady Hayley:
In honour of the forum's achievement, you shall be summoned to Saturation Hall. Late one night, while dressed in a brand new smart black trouser suit, on your way back from a business event, you'll be invited into a horse-drawn carriage by a mysterious coachman. Recognising Lady Jasmine's crest on the coach door, you'll accept the invitation, and step into the warm, dark, leather-upholstered interior. The coach sets off at a trot, you sink into Victorian luxury, and the motion soon lulls you to sleep.
You awake at dawn the next morning, having had the best sleep you can remember for many years. The coach is still rolling along, but you are now far from the south coast, looking out you can see the sunrise across the vast wilderness of Langstonedale Chase, high in the Yorkshire Pennines. Up ahead a small, stone-built village nestles in a sheltering valley, high on the moors beyond, a great dark shape against the sky, you catch your first glimpse of the Hall itself.
The coach clatters through the village and on up the road beyond, cutting through the edge of a wood, you remember that in the depths of winter the wild wolves sometimes range all the way down to this very road. No wolves are visible between the trees this morning though, and soon enough the carriage passes through the ancient wrought-iron gates, which close silently after it, and rolls up to the courtyard and the main entrance to the house.
The coachman opens the door, and you step down to the flagstones. Surprisingly, your suit isn't at all rumpled even though you've slept in it, the early morning sunlight flickers and catches on the ever so slightly sparkly material of the figure-hugging trousers above your smart ankle-boots, illuminating your slim attractive figure beautifully.
The great oaken doors open a crack, and a smartly-uniformed maid in a floor-length black dress and white apron emerges to welcome you to the hall, and guide you to your room. You turn to thank the coachman, he tips his 19th century hat to you as he starts the great black horses towards the carriage-house.
You follow the maid into the Hall, the heavy outer door swinging silently shut behind you. The house is Jacobean in style and origin, though somewhat altered and improved by Lady Jasmine's Victorian predecessors. The main doors lead to a short hallway, which opens into an imposing Great Hall, the morning light now flooding through the great east windows lighting the huge room clearly. You follow the maid across the hall to a stone-built stairway on the opposite side, this climbs to the first floor and emerges on a long corridor with windows on the western side and various passages and doorways to the east. The maid leads you down a short side passage, up a short spiral stairway, and into a beautiful wood-paneled guest bedroom.
The furnishings are sparse but magnificent, there is a huge wooden four-poster bed, at the foot of which stands an oaken trunk, a pair of window seats in the huge window bay, and a simple but functional oak dressing table along one wall. As you take all this in, the maid presses a particular piece of the oak panelling, and two hidden doors swing out into the room, revealing a huge wardrobe, already filled with a wild range of clothing in your size.
“Welcome to Saturation Hall”, at last the maid speaks, “Breakfast will be at ten”. You suddenly notice the grandfather clock in the corner, showing five to eight. “You may wish to change, today it’s a formal affair, if you wish to soak your current costume first, your bathing chamber is through the arch”. She points at a stone archway almost hidden beside the window alcove. You turn back to thank her, but she is already gone, the door closing softly behind her.
You wonder for a moment about the “soak your current costume” comment, and given that you’re feeling wonderfully rested from the carriage journey, you decide to investigate. The archway turns out to lead to yet another narrow spiral stairway, this one going down, and emerging in a spacious, bright and warm chamber. There is a full Victorian bathroom suite, but what really draws your interest is in the centre of the room, a huge circular marble-rimmed sunken bath, with marble steps leading down into it, and filled to just below the top step with what can only be warm liquid cooking chocolate!
For one moment you hesitate, wondering if it’s really OK to take a chocolate bath in a strange manor house at eight o’clock in the morning, but then you smile and think “well, they’d hardly expect anyone to eat that much, and keeping it warm must cost, so I suppose I’d better make the most of their hospitality!”.
You look down at your smart business outfit, two-inch heeled black leather ankle boots, tight, slightly shiny black trousers, black satin blouse beneath the short-cropped black suit jacket. The whole outfit feels decadently fresh and clean against your skin, and you can almost hear the chocolate bath calling you. You take a step forward, and another, and abruptly your smart leather boots are on the top step, the lake of molten chocolate stretching before you.
For a long moment you stand there, spotless, fresh, smart, completely clean. And then you boldly step forward, plunging your booted left foot into the thick, warm fluid. The chocolate envelops your ankle boot completely, you can feel a tiny trickle flowing inside as the boot vanishes beneath the surface, and the hem of your trouser leg rests delicately on the surface of the chocolate, just touching it, daring you to lift your foot back out and keep your trousers clean. Needless to say staying clean isn’t an option, and so your right foot plunges in too, past the left, and on down to the next step, your smart suit trouser leg sinking to mid-calf. Chocolate floods into your boot this time, and you grin merrily as you feel the warm softness pressing against your leg.
On you go, left foot sliding forwards and down to the next step, knee deep this time, then the right again, all the way to mid-thigh, the left quickly following till both feet are on the same step, and both your legs are thigh deep in warm, rich, liquid chocolate.
Again you pause to savour the moment, and then you take the last step. Down you go, your beautiful black trousers sliding smoothly into the thick, all-enveloping gloop. Down, down, as your thighs sink in, the tops of your legs are engulfed, and then that wonderful sensation as your trunk starts to sink into the chocolate, and you feel the warm wetness pressing against your bottom.
You’re now standing on the bottom of the great marble bath, with the surface of the chocolate just a couple of inches below the high waist of your trousers. You can feel the heavy warmth of the liquid chocolate pressing against your legs and buttocks, both boots have filled, and you wiggle your toes in the decadent luxury of it all. Your 80s-style cropped jacket is still clean, as is the visible part of your blouse, though you suspect the lower parts, tucked neatly into the trousers, may well be getting wet, as the chocolate soaks through trousers and underwear.
“What shall I do next”, you wonder?
(to be continued…)
No promises on when the next part will be done, but I do hope to come back to it from time to time.
All comments / criticism welcome!
m'Lady Hayley:
In honour of the forum's achievement, you shall be summoned to Saturation Hall. Late one night, while dressed in a brand new smart black trouser suit, on your way back from a business event, you'll be invited into a horse-drawn carriage by a mysterious coachman. Recognising Lady Jasmine's crest on the coach door, you'll accept the invitation, and step into the warm, dark, leather-upholstered interior. The coach sets off at a trot, you sink into Victorian luxury, and the motion soon lulls you to sleep.
You awake at dawn the next morning, having had the best sleep you can remember for many years. The coach is still rolling along, but you are now far from the south coast, looking out you can see the sunrise across the vast wilderness of Langstonedale Chase, high in the Yorkshire Pennines. Up ahead a small, stone-built village nestles in a sheltering valley, high on the moors beyond, a great dark shape against the sky, you catch your first glimpse of the Hall itself.
The coach clatters through the village and on up the road beyond, cutting through the edge of a wood, you remember that in the depths of winter the wild wolves sometimes range all the way down to this very road. No wolves are visible between the trees this morning though, and soon enough the carriage passes through the ancient wrought-iron gates, which close silently after it, and rolls up to the courtyard and the main entrance to the house.
The coachman opens the door, and you step down to the flagstones. Surprisingly, your suit isn't at all rumpled even though you've slept in it, the early morning sunlight flickers and catches on the ever so slightly sparkly material of the figure-hugging trousers above your smart ankle-boots, illuminating your slim attractive figure beautifully.
The great oaken doors open a crack, and a smartly-uniformed maid in a floor-length black dress and white apron emerges to welcome you to the hall, and guide you to your room. You turn to thank the coachman, he tips his 19th century hat to you as he starts the great black horses towards the carriage-house.
You follow the maid into the Hall, the heavy outer door swinging silently shut behind you. The house is Jacobean in style and origin, though somewhat altered and improved by Lady Jasmine's Victorian predecessors. The main doors lead to a short hallway, which opens into an imposing Great Hall, the morning light now flooding through the great east windows lighting the huge room clearly. You follow the maid across the hall to a stone-built stairway on the opposite side, this climbs to the first floor and emerges on a long corridor with windows on the western side and various passages and doorways to the east. The maid leads you down a short side passage, up a short spiral stairway, and into a beautiful wood-paneled guest bedroom.
The furnishings are sparse but magnificent, there is a huge wooden four-poster bed, at the foot of which stands an oaken trunk, a pair of window seats in the huge window bay, and a simple but functional oak dressing table along one wall. As you take all this in, the maid presses a particular piece of the oak panelling, and two hidden doors swing out into the room, revealing a huge wardrobe, already filled with a wild range of clothing in your size.
“Welcome to Saturation Hall”, at last the maid speaks, “Breakfast will be at ten”. You suddenly notice the grandfather clock in the corner, showing five to eight. “You may wish to change, today it’s a formal affair, if you wish to soak your current costume first, your bathing chamber is through the arch”. She points at a stone archway almost hidden beside the window alcove. You turn back to thank her, but she is already gone, the door closing softly behind her.
You wonder for a moment about the “soak your current costume” comment, and given that you’re feeling wonderfully rested from the carriage journey, you decide to investigate. The archway turns out to lead to yet another narrow spiral stairway, this one going down, and emerging in a spacious, bright and warm chamber. There is a full Victorian bathroom suite, but what really draws your interest is in the centre of the room, a huge circular marble-rimmed sunken bath, with marble steps leading down into it, and filled to just below the top step with what can only be warm liquid cooking chocolate!
For one moment you hesitate, wondering if it’s really OK to take a chocolate bath in a strange manor house at eight o’clock in the morning, but then you smile and think “well, they’d hardly expect anyone to eat that much, and keeping it warm must cost, so I suppose I’d better make the most of their hospitality!”.
You look down at your smart business outfit, two-inch heeled black leather ankle boots, tight, slightly shiny black trousers, black satin blouse beneath the short-cropped black suit jacket. The whole outfit feels decadently fresh and clean against your skin, and you can almost hear the chocolate bath calling you. You take a step forward, and another, and abruptly your smart leather boots are on the top step, the lake of molten chocolate stretching before you.
For a long moment you stand there, spotless, fresh, smart, completely clean. And then you boldly step forward, plunging your booted left foot into the thick, warm fluid. The chocolate envelops your ankle boot completely, you can feel a tiny trickle flowing inside as the boot vanishes beneath the surface, and the hem of your trouser leg rests delicately on the surface of the chocolate, just touching it, daring you to lift your foot back out and keep your trousers clean. Needless to say staying clean isn’t an option, and so your right foot plunges in too, past the left, and on down to the next step, your smart suit trouser leg sinking to mid-calf. Chocolate floods into your boot this time, and you grin merrily as you feel the warm softness pressing against your leg.
On you go, left foot sliding forwards and down to the next step, knee deep this time, then the right again, all the way to mid-thigh, the left quickly following till both feet are on the same step, and both your legs are thigh deep in warm, rich, liquid chocolate.
Again you pause to savour the moment, and then you take the last step. Down you go, your beautiful black trousers sliding smoothly into the thick, all-enveloping gloop. Down, down, as your thighs sink in, the tops of your legs are engulfed, and then that wonderful sensation as your trunk starts to sink into the chocolate, and you feel the warm wetness pressing against your bottom.
You’re now standing on the bottom of the great marble bath, with the surface of the chocolate just a couple of inches below the high waist of your trousers. You can feel the heavy warmth of the liquid chocolate pressing against your legs and buttocks, both boots have filled, and you wiggle your toes in the decadent luxury of it all. Your 80s-style cropped jacket is still clean, as is the visible part of your blouse, though you suspect the lower parts, tucked neatly into the trousers, may well be getting wet, as the chocolate soaks through trousers and underwear.
“What shall I do next”, you wonder?
(to be continued…)