Marla, Part 1

by Heidi L

This is my first erortic story. I hope you all like it.

"Oh Marla, you look so gorgeous, love. How does it feel?"

Ellia was pleased. The dress was a labour of love and was completely beautiful. It would want to have been, it had taken more than year for her to find a way to save enough for it.

The smooth white, beaded silk and satin bodice wrapped coyly around the little girl's back and stomach, leaving the small still developing breasts covered only by a thin, almost transparent triangle of lace.

The short flaring skirt was also beaded silk and satin with another large triangle of transparent lace at the front and back than opened from waist to hem. Beneath, a scarlet taffeta petticoat peeked at the hem and matched by a scarlet sash around her waist, and again by the deep red of the girl's lipstick. As the rule required, the girl's thin legs were bare but Ellia had found a beautiful pair of four inch white stilettos that made them look even longer.

Marla did a slow pirouette for her mother. "It's a little tight, mama," she said grinning in delight. "But it's nice. I like tight. Will the Madame be here soon?"

"Very soon," Ellia replied, stepping back to take in the full effect. The little white and red skirt twirled up perfectly, revealing hints of her pale upper thighs, and Marla's honey-blond hair spread out in a glorious golden fan then fell back to rest below the small of her back. The long golden strands highlighting the pale blue eyes and the red, red lips. "Oh my, you look perfect!"

The girl twirled again, enjoying the feel of the silk and taffeta against her bare flesh and the nervous anticipation of what was to come.

As she danced, Ellia looked at her regarded her daughter again, but this time critically, trying to see any of imperfections that the Madame might see. She was very aware that the broker would not look with the eyes of a mother, with the eyes of love. No, she would be looking through the cold, calculating eyes of a woman whose business was flesh. She would be seeking things that might lead to a rejection, or at least a reduction in her price. Perhaps a flaw in the skin: an unevenness of the features; a poor stance or one of a hundred other things that would ruin a potential match.

But her daughter, even she had to admit, was flawless. And it was tore at her heart to even think of letting her go. But Ellia knew, as only a mother could, that this was likely to be perhaps her only chance. She would not let Marla suffer the way she had suffered. No she would not condemn her to that. No matter what it cost or what she would have to do. "Never," she whispered to herself.

As she watched, the telltale swellings of her young breasts and the feminine rounding of her hips were all too obvious. She was small for her age, which would help, but everything, she knew, would be noticed. That would be thing that it all turned on.

If only they can just see past her age, Ellia thought, fighting down her fear. "Come here, love," she called brightly.

Marla ran over and stood in on the threadbare bluerug in front of her mother. Ellia knelt and took her small hands in hers. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I'm so, so very proud of you."

"Am I really?" she said with a shy smile. "Do you think I'm as pretty as you are?"

"Oh, ten times more pretty" Ellia laughed. Then she became serious. "Now love, tonight you must remember everything we've practiced. It's so important. Now, what must you always do?"

"I must always look into her eyes," Marla said, equally seriously. "And I must stand straight, and keep my hands still.

"Do you want to practice your positions, one more time?"

"No, mama," the little girl replied, squeezing her mother's hands. "Don't worry, I'll remember."

A moment of doubt, and Ellia searched her daughter's liquid blue eyes. "Are you… are you sure?"

Marla smiled, leaned forward and kissed her mother softly on the lips. "I love you mama and yes, I'm sure," she whispered.

Three sharp raps on the door broke the moment.

"She's here!" Marla said with a sharp intake of breath. Ellia smoothed the dress to perfection again and squeezed her daughter's hand one last time. "Take your place, love."

A cold gust of air entered the room with the Madame, Celiane DeVere.

"Soeur Ellia, I presume?" She asked, raising an elegant eyebrow and slowly shedding her white fox coat and leather gloves.

Ellia nodded.

"Enchanted," the Madame said curtly looking around the tiny drab apartment with distaste. "Don't take those far," she added, waving at her coat and gloves. "I doubt I'll be here long."

Beneath her coat the Madame wore skin tight grey leather leggings that seemed almost painted onto her long sleek legs. The leggings merged at the knee into boots of the exact same colour. Above, she wore a gorgeous green and silver raw silk blouse open to her waist which rippled and shimmered as moved. The thin material was perfectly cut to expose and accentuate the remarkable curves of her large breasts. Her red hair was trimmed short and styled close, and was accentuated by her eye shadow and lipstick. Whether it was the cold air, or the rubbing of the silk, a pair of engorged nipples stood out proudly against the green silk.

Turning, she saw Marla standing alone near the small open fireplace, her eyes downcast.

She regarded the girl for a long moment and blinked slowly. Without taking her eyes away, she said to Ellia: "Is this the girl you wrote to me about? This is your daughter?"

"Yes Madame. This is Marla."

"Hmmmmm," The air of disinterest dissipated slightly. The girl was virtually a younger version of the mother, same hair and same skin.

Ellia led the Madame to a worn green sofa facing fire. Celiane looked at it in mild horror for a moment, then sighed and reluctantly sat down next to Ellia. Then she turned her full attention to Marla.

"Hello Marla," Celiane spoke in a soft, fluid voice, "Do you know who I am?"

At mention of her name, Marla raised her eyes and met the cool stare of the broker's without flinching. Ellia's heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, Madame," she replied formally and curtseyed low, just as she'd been taught. "You are the Madame, Celiane DeVere, of the House Guilaum"

Celiane nodded, pleased. "And do you know why I am here?"

"Yes, Madame. You are here to see if I would be suitable to make a match."

Regarding the girl with more interest, Celiane ventured: "And do you know what that means?"

"Yes, Madame." Marla replied immediately, her eyes not leaving the broker's. "You will see if I am worthy to be wed to a Lady."

"And is that what you want, my dear?"

Oh yes, Madame. More than anything in the world."

"Please turn around for me."

"Yes, Madame."

Celiane sat for a long while looking at the girl, saying nothing, though her travelled all over the girl's body taking in all of her – the red full lips, the long bare legs, the hair, the pointed chin and defined jaw line, the fine face and clear blue eyes. They lingered for a log moment on the small swellings of her breasts and then moved on.

"You are very, very beautiful, Marla," she at last. "I really don't see many girls as truly lovely as you."

Marla smiled softly and looked away. "Thank you, Madame."

Celiane's hand shot out and seized the girls face. Bringing their eyes level. "Do not look away, Marla," she said harshly. "Has your mother not taught you that?" You must always meet a woman's eyes. You must show her your heart, your courage and your desire" She stroked the girls cheek and her voice softened as their eyes met. "Better. Much better. Expose your breasts, please."

Marla's fingers slowly tugged at the hidden ties that held the wispy lace across her chest and it fell away, revealing her small, but now defined little breasts. The round circles new flesh swelled seductively to prominent pink cones tipped with hard little buds.

Unconsciously Celiane licked her lips. "Mmmmm." She sighed. How old are you, Marla?"

"Eleven, Madame."

"Eleven? Ha! Twelve if you are a day," Celiane replied. "Your body does not lie."

Ellia sat on the edge of the sofa, holding her hands to stop them from shaking. "She will be twelve in two months, Madame."

Celiane ran her long fingers over the pale pink nipples and watched as they hardened instantly.

She turned to the mother with a frown and said wearily. "Why by the Goddess, woman, am I only seeing her now? You must know that fashion is for girls of eight or nine, and lately even younger! At eleven perhaps…but twelve? You should be whipped for keeping her to yourself so long!"

Ellia's eyes reddened, but she did not cry. "We … I could not afford it, My mother was very sick for the last two years, and we had to pay so much for her care. I have been saving as much as I could…"

With a dismissive wave, Celiane silenced her. "Regardless, you have been very foolish. At eight or nine…. well, we could have had our pick of all the Houses and would have even been turning matches away. If only I had known," she sighed despondently. "You know, I wouldn't have charged you. I could have made 50,000 sou or more from the match. Now…" She shook her head. "Marla, remove your twist, if you please."

The girl quickly released the two small ties holding the lace inset of her skirt and revealed the pale white skin at the top of her thighs. There was a slight fleshiness to her smooth belly and legs that spoke of the changes her young body was now going through.

Her green eyes narrowed as the Marla released the twist – a small square of silk twisted into two tiny triangles that passed between her legs and joined by two small ribbons at her hips – and exposed her smooth, bare mons.

In spite of herself Celiane gasped.

"Oh my!" she murmured hoarsely, as her eyes followed the narrow curling valley of the girl's cleft down into the shadow of the pouting, sensuous lips, so much more full and alluring than those of her mouth.

Instinctively she reached her hand down, but remembering her manners turned to Ellia. "May I, Soeur?"

"Of course, Madame,"

Celiane's fingertips traced the soft, warm valley, and the girl opened her legs slightly in welcome.

Throughout the exploration of her sex the girl's eyes remained locked hers. She learns fast, Celiane though, pleased.

Without taking her hand away, Celiane looked at Ellia. "She is unviolated and intact??"

"Yes, Madame. She is completely untouched. No one but you has ever touched her before. I can promise."

"Ha!" the Madame scoffed. "Mothers are such liars. And half the time the girl's themselves are filling their little vagin with all sorts of things. We shall see when she is tested."

Turning to the girl Celiane leaned forward, the thin material of her blouse gapping open fully reveal her firm pointed breasts and their long hard nipples, pieced by thick golden bars.

"Marla," she asked slightly hoarsely. "Tell me the truth now. Do you touch yourself… here?" her fingers stroked deep, spreading the tiny inner lips of the girl's vagina.

Marla gasped. "No, Madame. Never! Mama has told me it would spoil me."

Celiane's fingers could feel definite moisture spreading into the soft folds and she became aware of the small hardening bud of the girl's clitoris brushing against her nails. She teased it for a very brief moment, all the while looking into the pale blue eyes that wore the mirror of her mother's. They never looked away, even when an involuntary shiver trembled through the small body.

It's astonishing, how she responds, Celiane thought. Oh! If only I'd found you three years ago! She could feel her own breath getting ragged, and the heat and wetness building between her own legs. One last thing.

"Have you been kissed, Marla?" she asked moving her face close to the girl's and feeling the soft breath against her neck.

"Oh, yes Madame. Mama has taught me," the girl replied with a shy smile. A small sideways look to Ellia yielded another smile and the mother's approval.

Celiane leaned in close and pressed her lips softly against the girl's. They were soft, warm and pliant, and opened easily to accept the tip of her tongue. The taste of the girl's mouth was like a sweet blend of wine and honey. Her eyes closed…

She sat back quickly, pulling her hand away and shaking her head. Celiane was more than surprised with herself. She's never experienced anything like that before with a match. Never ever. As she collected her thoughts, she turned to face Ellia. Looking any longer into Marla's eyes might just be too risky. "Hmmmm she has learned that very well."

Ellia smiled for the first time. "Yes, Madame."

"Very … surprising," Celiane sighed, her head still spinning slightly. "But still …her age makes a normal match almost impossible."

"Oh Madame, if you could only …" Ellia began, overcome by a growing sense of despair.

"I said almost," Celiane continued cutting her short. "There is one Lady, a Lady of a great House who is without a match, and who has been reluctant to accept any of the girls that have been presented. I have heard it talked of, but I have not presented any myself, so I don't know what her concerns may be. But I think that perhaps that our Marla might be worth her consideration."

"Our Marla?" echoed Ellia. "Does that mean…"

Celiane took her hand. "Yes, I will take her on. For now. The fee will be 8,000 sou, and that is payable regardless of whether she is matched or not. Yes? It's high, but all this," she flicked her hand at the room. "No money, no family, no House and over age. This was not what I had been led to expect, so I think it's fair. Do you accept?"

Ellia heart fell, but she bent down and kissed the Madame's hand. "Oh yes Madame. Thank you, we accept."

Allowing her fingers to drift up Marla's still exposed flesh, Celiane stood reluctantly. "Very well then, I will make an appoint to present her tomorrow evening. Have her ready at six." She gave Marla a long lingering appraisal. "The dress is good, and her posture. But she must remember not to look away."

"Yes. She will remember, Madame."

She caressed the still hard points of the girl's nipples. "And put rouge on these," she sighed. "We can't hide them, so we may as well show them off." Then she gave Ellia a critical look. "And try and make yourself look presentable. You can't wear that drab sack you have on now at a presentation, they'd throw us out on our backsides. I will have my maid bring you something in the morning."

Ellia brought the fox coat and gloves as Celiane stood by the door. "Make sure she does not touch herself tonight, yes?" As Ellia began to protest, she hushed her. "Don't, please. Whatever she may or may not have done in the past is of no consequence now. But tomorrow she must be responsive, she must be willing and above all she must be…ready. Do you understand me?"

She nodded. "Yes Madame, I understand completely."

Celiane kissed her cheek softly. "Good," she whispered. Then, turning she called to Marla: "Goodbye, little dear, until we meet tomorrow." Then she was gone, leaving only her scent behind.

Later, Ellia sat behind her daughter on the bed slowly and loving brushing out the long curling hair. Her fingers alternated with the brush, sometimes teasing out slightly knotted strands, but mostly just enjoying the tactile pleasure of the connection.

After the Madame had left, she had bathed Marla, removing the makeup and lipstick, and washing away the little traces of lingering wetness between her legs. After their bath, as she always did, Ellia rubbed oil over the young body, working the warm oil deep into Marla's legs and thighs, through the folds of her sex around the her flat stomach and across the small firm globes of her breasts and their so sensitive nipples.

Dressed in their old, thin nightgowns, the pair sat close together on the bed, illuminated only by the yellow light of an oil lamp. The flickering light cast shadows dancing through the room and revealed the rich curves of Ellia's breasts as they swung gently on each stroke of the brush, occasionally kissing her daughter's back.

"Did you like the Madame, my honey?"

Marla shrugged, and the right shoulder of her nightdress slid down revealing the pink tipped globe of her breast. ""I suppose so," she replied, after a moments thought. "I didn't like the way she looked at me sometimes… it was like she was taking me to pieces with her eyes."

Ellia stopped brushing and gently turned the girl's face to hers. "I know it's been hard, love. I saw how she looked at you, but you were so brave, and you impressed her very much. And without her, I don't know what will happen to you. You will end up as servant, or in a kitchen… or worse." She grimaced as though in pain. "All I want for you is a better life, a life I can never give you. And that life can be yours, if you only do as she says."

Marla looked into her mother's eyes. "All I want is to stay with you, mama!" she said with quiet desperation. "Please ..."

"Oh, love," Ellia shook her head and caressed the girl's anxious face. "We have been through this so many times. Granmama's money is almost gone. When it runs out, we'll have to leave this apartment, and there will be no chance of even a safe job, let alone a match if we are on the street. It's for the best, please, please believe me"

"But I can work too," the girl cried, pressing her face into Ellia's breasts. "I can work too, just like you. We can take care of each other…"

Ellia's eyes filled with tears and she hugged the small body to her. "Oh love, love, love," she whispered. "It's not that easy. It's hard and cruel out there and I want more than that for you. Oh, so much more. My love, this is the only way."

The girl was still for while, her body rising and falling with her mother's breathing. Then, slowly, Marla's left hand circled her mother's breast, and she looked up. "I will." She sighed. I'll do what she says, mama. For both of us."

Relief spread over Ellia's face, and she leant down and rubbed her nose softly against Marla's. "Thank you, my love. You don't know what that means."

Marla turned her face slightly, and pressed her warm pink lips against Ellia's. As she held the kiss, her left hand slid down over the nightdress to the top of her mother's thighs and then on gently into the warm vee between her legs.

The girl's tongue entered her mother's mouth and deliberately teased the full lips.

"No, love," Ellia protested, with a small whimper. "You mustn't, you mustn't." But Marla's lips closed over hers, and the small, demanding tongue tangled around hers, sending a wave of pleasure shivering through her body.

Marla's fingers curled under the hem of the nightdress and began to tease Ellia's soft, slightly parted labia, forcing a moan from her mother. Her other hand reached down and moved aside the gaping top of the nightdress, revealing a single perfect breast. Marla caressed the full, smooth curve, and she envied its firmness and the way the nipple rose to a proud upward point. The pale pink areola was scarcely darker than the surrounding skin, and made a perfect circle around the now, oh so hard bud of the nipple.

"Ahhhhhhh," Ellia moaned again as she felt her daughter's wet lips kiss their way softly down her neck and upper slope of her breast. As the soft mouth centred on the nipple she felt a flood of warmth spill from inside her, stirred by Marla's insistent fingers.

The pleasure built in her wave upon wave upon wave, and without realising it she found that she was lying back against the pillows unable to stop her legs from spreading wider to allow the small fingers complete access.

Marla slipped the hem of the nightdress up over her mother's waist, and saw the red flush spreading out from around the smooth lips of her sex. Her mother's mound and labia were almost the mirror image of hers, with only a small, feminine tuft of soft blonde hair at the very top of her cleft to show the difference.

The cool air on her heated body made Ellia shiver, but it turned to it writhing pleasure as Marla's mouth covered the swollen lower lips and her tongue forced its way between her folds and danced over her engorged clitoris.

She made one last effort. "Oh, Marla no," she moaned as the ecstasy began to overwhelm her body. "You mustn't … tomorrow…" Her hands grabbed the bedclothes and at her own breasts as the pure pleasure and exquisite pain caught her and devoured her body.

With a long and lingering swirl of her tongue, Marla looked up from between her mother's wide-spread legs, a thin trail of juice running like a silver strand between her lips and the still throbbing and spasming vagina.

"Mama, don't worry," she whispered, collecting the sweet strand with a fingertip and slowly and sensually sucking it. "I'm ready."

End of Part One.