A
Study In Satin
by Tigger
Katrina hurried to Sherla's room as Irene had bid her. This was the first time Ma'amselle Cherie had summoned her since their return from the train site, and Katrina so hoped that it might herald an devoutly desired ending to their recent estrangement. A huge grin lighting her gamine face, she knocked on the closed door to Sherla's bed chamber. "Enter!" The terse nature of the reply gave Katrina a moment's pause. Perhaps La Petite was still displeased with her, but if that was so, why else would Sherla have called for her? To change her outfit perhaps? It was time to dress for afternoon tea, she mused, and Mademoiselle had not called her to help with her corset since ordering her to remove it and dress her in those, and here Katrina cringed slightly, trousers. More carefully than she might have just a moment earlier, Katrina opened the door and entered. She was surprised to find the heavy brocaded curtains tightly closed, and the room dark except for the eerie red-embered light of the dying fire. Blinking against the darkness, she began scanning the shadows for some sign of her mistress. All she could see was a pool of even deeper obscurity in the room's only armchair, backlit by the flickering glow of the embers of the fire. Katrina approached the chair, circling around it in an attempt to get a clearer view into the shadow. "Mademoiselle?" she asked hesitantly. "Yes, Katrina," Sherla replied, and then the room's main ceiling light switched on, illuminating the chamber with its incandescent radiance. Her first clear look at Sherla had Katrina's mouth falling open in disbelief and then . . . lust. Never had she seen La Petite Mademoiselle arrayed so. . so. . .sternly. . .and yet. . so beautifully. Still staring, Katrina swallowed hard, trying futilely to moisten the suddenly arid regions of her mouth. Katrina's stomach began a mad dance of anticipation, arousal and just a soupcon of fear as Sherla rose from her throne. With slow grace, Sherla closed the distance between them. *She must be wearing very high heeled shoes for she is now taller than me,* Katrina thought in awe, *and that gown is. . is . .magnifique!* Katrina didn't know it, but Sherla had chosen her outfit because of the very profound effect a similar costume had had on the solicitor Carroll. The blood red and midnight black combined to uncover heretofore deeply buried feelings and needs in the Tuscan maid as well, things that were at once the stuff of nightmares and - when displayed so beautifully on Sherla - the stuff of darkest fantasies. The gown was crafted of glistening black satin, and covered Sherla from throat to floor, from shoulder to wrist except fora bold, heart shaped decolletage that displayed Sherla's high rounded breasts. The silky black waves of Sherla's hair seemed even deeper, even darker than her dress, showing clearly against the material as they fell wild and free to the center of her back. The dark framing of dress and hair brought her face into dramatic focus - a face made starkly beautiful with unusually vivid cosmetics. Sherla's huge eyes were enlarged even further by a dark kohl outline while her eyelids were shaded in blends of rich blues and mossy greens. Her sensuous mouth was a lurid slash of red that made Katrina lick her lips, all the while wishing she was licking Sherla's instead. Sherla had accented the stark simplicity of the gown with bright reds that matched her lips for color and depth. A golden comb sparkling with bright red stones held back her hair and revealed red-flashed earrings. A ruby cameo mounted on a high-throated red satin collar was at the same time delicately feminine and stiffly formal. A red belt, also of shining satin and nearly tall enough to function as a corset in its own right, highlighted Sherla's incredibly tiny waist. Matching red gloves hovered near that waist, moving with deceiving languor that nonetheless drew Katrina's eyes to her lover's delicate hands . . . and to the object they were stroking. Sherla gently slapped the black crop's snappy, stinging tongue of leather into one gloved palm. "Irene tells me," Sherla said in a soft, husky voice, "that you think you feel that you require my forgiveness for that first night at the inn." Katrina almost broke at the memory, and felt a moist heat begin to burn behind her eyelids. "I am so sorry about the spanking, Ma'amselle Cherie. I was only playing," she almost sobbed, "I did not mean to upset you so." Sherla moved around to stand behind the little maid, pleased that the painfully tight, incredibly tall heels she had borrowed from Irene gave her the advantage of height over her lover. "Oh, and what did you mean to do," she husked into Katrina's ear as she gently fingered a stray brunette lock from the girl's ear. "Some. . .some girls get. . . aroused," Katrina almost stuttered in her excitement, "More aroused when their bottoms are warmed. I . . I was teasing you and did not mean to hurt or anger you. Honestly, Ma'amselle." "Well, in that case, I think perhaps I will forgive you," Sherla stepped back to keep Katrina from leaping into her arms. "After I have reciprocated and seen if you are one of those who become, how did you say it? Ah yes, more aroused, eh?" "Ma'amselle wishes to . . to spank me? Now?" Katrina squeaked half in alarm, half in arousal. Still, she was not completely sure she trusted Sherla that far. After all, she had been a man less than a month ago, and who would be the one spanking her? Ma'amselle? Or Mr. Sherlock Holmes wearing Ma'amselle's form? "Yes, I do." Sherla emphasized that statement with a sharp lash the crop across Katrina's hip. As Sherla had intended, the little maid's heavy gown and petticoats blunted the blow, but, the crack of the slap still had Katrina jumping back. "But only if you are willing. Are you going to let me have my turn, my sweet?" Sherla cooed seductively beneath her breath. Oddly enough, the fact that the first lash had not really hurt comforted Katrina, and made her think that perhaps La Petite knew what she was about after all. "Oui, Mademoiselle. I submit myself to your justice." "Very well. Stip out of your clothes now, wench!" Sherla snapped. "Leave your stockings, shoes and corset and then go over to stand next to the lacing stand." Katrina could not recall the last time she had undressed so quickly and so carelessly, but minutes later, she was standing in front of the heavy apparatus designed to afford ladies the tightest corseting possible. Sherla prompted her to raise her hands to the hanging bar above her head. Before Katrina quite knew what was happening, Sherla had buckled two of Irene's soft leather love cuffs about her friend's wrists, effectively binding them above her head until Sherla decided to free her. A wicked grin on her face, Sherla moved behind the stand and began slowly turning the hand crank affixed to the back of the apparatus. Katrina gave a surprised shriek as her hands began moving inexorably upward, ever upward, until only by severely arching her tiny feet could she support her weight on the very tips of her dainty toes. Then Sherla turned the girl so that she was facing the large easy chair before cuffing Katrina's feet to the base of the appliance. She considered her quarry one last time, and backed off the crank a turn, easing some of the tension from her lover's shoulders and arms. The foot cuffs had forced Katrina's legs apart, causing her to lose her already precarious footing, and truly hurting the girl was the last thing Sherla intended. Reseating herself, Sherla allowed herself a barely audible sigh of pleasure. "Ah, Katrina-darling, but you are a gorgeous little minx. I am going to enjoy this little game EVER so much. The only question is," and here Sherla's voice dropped into a deliciously evil tone, "Will YOU enjoy it as well." The fire of Sherla's frankly appreciative gaze kindled matching blazes inside Katrina. Her tiny dark nipples hardened and crinkled, standing out impudently from her almost almond-hued breasts while her woman's flesh parted and grew hot, moist and so wonderfully sensitive. "If I am gorgeous, Mademoiselle," she breathed, "you are beyond incredible." Sherla stood and moved back to her captive. Slowly she circled Katrina, every once and a while letting the tip of the crop graze across a soft expanse of bared bottom, or letting her lips and tongue taste a particularly tempting bit of flesh. Then, she moved in front of Katrina, her crop drawing circles on the front of Katrina's corselette. "And what is this?" Sherla demanded. "Surely with your own fascination with lacing me, you would wear something more . . . shall we say stringent than that bit of children's wear? That piece of cloth is not even worthy of the name lingerie," she finished with some disgust. "A maid must dress herself, Mademoiselle. I cannot lace myself as I do you and no one helps a maid dress." "Then permit me to be the first to congratulate on your great good fortune, my sweet. Since you are no longer a lowly maid, but a member of Madame's family, we will start lacing you properly starting today," Sherla said as she pulled out one of her own new corsets. "In fact, from this day forward I will PERSONALLY see to your corsetry right after you have seen to mine. Now this," she said holding up her selection, "should fit you perfectly." Katrina almost groaned for she recognized the garment immediately. That was the corset she had bribed the corsetierre's assistant to make just a bit (*only a few centimeters,* she reminded herself, *Certainly five counts as being a few.*) smaller than Madame Irene had deemed their ultimate goal for Mademoiselle Sherla. Moments later, Katrina's own corset was on the floor at her feet, replaced by the new white-laced, steel-boned confection and a gleeful Sherla was working at the laces. "Now, I have never done this before, sweet, lacing up a lovely young woman's corset, but I can assure you that I have paid very strict attention every single time you have done it for, or is that more correctly, TO me?" "Ma'AMSELLE. . .that is TOO tight!" Katrina had begged when Sherla had barely begun the second set of lace-tightening. "Oh really? But, Katrina, the edges of the corset are so very far apart. You are sure it is too tight? Well, let's see. Where did I put that tape measure? Ahh. Here it is." Katrina's eyes went wide when she saw the measure Sherla held, for it was the altered one she had used in her attempt to convince her lover that Sherla was not being laced too tightly. "See," Sherla piped as she held the measure up for Katrina to see, "A mere 19 inches. Surely you can go another one or two?" "Non, Ma'amselle," Katrina begged, knowing that 19 inches on that tape was in truth closer to seventeen, "Please no more." "Oh very well, then I suppose I shall entertain myself in other ways." Katrina watched helplessly as Sherla slowly inched the bright red glove from her right hand. She held the glove up to Katrina's mouth and ordered, "Hold this for me, dear." Katrina took the glove between her teeth, trying to keep her tongue away from the leather so as not to damage it. Smiling widely, Sherla gently circled and teased her captive's nipples with her finely pointed nails, sending bolts of sensual fire through Katrina's helpless body. When one impudent bud was sufficiently prominent, Sherla bent over and took the tender tip between her own teeth and bit down gently. "MmmmmmmmmMMMMMMM," Katrina squealed around the glove as Sherla rolled the sensitive bit of flesh with her teeth. A teasing finger tickled at the font of Katrina's womanhood and came back moist and fragrant. Katrina watched in helpless arousal as Sherla licked and savored the flavored finger with exaggerated relish. "Are you excited, my sweet?" Sherla whispered in Katrina's ear just before taking a sharp bite on her lobe. "Oh, god yes, Sherla," Katrina answered, letting the glove fall from her mouth, "Please love me before I die!" "But what about your spanking?" "Love me, spank me, whatever, but please DO something!" A soft, pleased chuckle answered her. "I thought you would never ask, my love." The next thing Katrina felt was Sherla's mouth ravaging her own - seeking, tasting, possessing. She did groan when those lovely lips left her mouth to trail liquid fire down her breasts. One last nibble on one of her nipples and then that incredible tongue of Sherla's was on Katrina's woman's flesh. Voraciously, Sherla fell upon her lover, all but consuming her soul as she took the little maid's body and made it hers. That first crashing climax was still echoing in Katrina's mind as it gradually began to function again - several hours later. That incredibly fiery orgasm was the last thing she could remember clearly from the previous evening's activities. As her world expanded from the delicious memories written so indelibly in her heart and soul, she became aware that she was entwined about her beloved's body, still wearing that uncompromising corset, but happy to be in Sherla's arms once again. Maybe next time she'd actually get spanked. She'd have to make sure of it. ~--------------~ Following breakfast, Irene directed the two girls into her study, where she laid out the plans for their trip to Switzerland. "The track that was destroyed will be disrupting normal travel to Zurich for several more weeks as the weather makes such repairs difficult at best. Therefore, we will be traveling via Germany and entering Switzerland from the north. It will add a day or so to our travel time, but it will also give Katrina, or rather, Karl, additional time to become more comfortable with her role. I have used her in trousered disguises before, but never for so long a period before." "I am still uncertain, Madame. . I mean, Tante Irene, and Ma'amselle Cherie, precisely why I need to go disguised as a stripling boy." "Because," Irene said smiling, "We might need someone with more freedom of movement than would be socially appropriate for Society gentlewomen once we arrive there. We cannot anticipate where the trail will lead or what type of false trails have been laid. We will need you to go to those places were two respectable ladies could not go without a great deal of notoriety resulting." "But Ma'amselle Cherie has far more experience is such roles than I. Would it not be wiser for HER to disguise herself in the rough, uncomfortable clothes of the rowdy boy?" Sherla chucked at that. "Trust me, dear, I have what I consider to be very good reasons to go as myself." Irene started at that. *Does she realize what she just said? She has just identified herself casually as Sherla. How much you have grown, little one, in such a short time.* "Besides," Sherla continued, her naughty grin back in place, "If it is comfort you are concerned with, recall that boys are not corseted. Your own figure training will, of necessity, be delayed now until we complete this mission and I can safely order you back into your dainties." The other girl blushed vividly, the red all the more brilliant for her normally light almond complexion, but nodded her compliance. *And what was that all about,* Irene thought watching her adopted niece give in submissively to her ward. *I would say that, however Sherla exacted her retribution last night, Katrina did not find it too onerous.* "Very well," Irene spoke up, regaining control of the exchange. She then lifted a paper from her desk and handed it to Sherla. "That is a compilation I made last night while you two were. . .otherwise occupied." Katrina's blush returned with a vengeance, but Sherla barely heard Irene as her total focus locked on the paper in her hands. "Where did you get this information?" She demanded of Irene, her eyes hard. "From the inquiry agents I had looking into the clues we obtained from the scientists. Why?" "Have your man of affairs contact these men or their employers. Order them into hiding until they hear from us. Moriarty will likely have left behind an agent who will pass along to him that someone is asking dangerous questions." "Then you agree that information is decisive?" A small grin curved Sherla's full lips. "It certainly relieves my worries at making such a move based only on my intuition that Moriarty has returned to Reichenbach Falls. The fact that all of this very specialized equipment and material has been sent to Brienz in the recent past indicates that someone is setting up a very well equipped biological-chemistry laboratory in that vicinity." "What is this Brienz?" Katrina asked. "An Alpine village, not very far from where I expect we will find Professor James Moriarty. When do we leave, Tante Irene?" Sherla asked getting into her own role. "We leave day after tomorrow on the train to Munich. And we will need to pack carefully to ensure we have everything we are likely to need. That part of Switzerland is relatively isolated." ~-------------~
Author's Note: Want to See Sherla-the Mistress?
~-------------~ Entry in the Journal of Miss Sherla Joan Holmes Date: March 7, 1911 Location: Irene Adler's Home outside of Paris France. Time: 2:21 P.M. My Dear Doctor Watson: I apologize for not writing sooner, but there has been a great deal to do and far more to think about in the past week. The clues have begun to fit together, old friend, and we begin to perceive the form of the puzzle if not the ultimate solution. Tomorrow we leave for Switzerland . . . for Meiringen. Now there's a place I never thought to visit again, but all the information we have been able to glean point to that as Moriarty's hideaway in this adventure. If I were a believer in destiny rather than fate, I would say that this was a sign that Moriarty and possibly my destinies are to end on that rocky mountainside amidst the cascading waters of the falls. I hope not, John, for I have found a great deal to live for in the past days. A very great deal. This case is drawing to its climax, as I am sure you could tell. Moriarty has become increasingly overt in his actions. He must have known that, if I had survived his foul plot, his procurement of large quantities of relatively unique equipment and materials would have drawn my attention. That is one reason Irene and I will not be going directly to Brienz as I suspect that there are watchers there. Or at least, caution dictates that I must suspect that there are watchers there. One important question has not been resolved yet, John. If Moriarty has spent years in South America, and only recently returned to Europe, how much of an organization can he truly have behind him? His old organizations collapsed with the deaths of Moran and Gilbert. Certainly, he could and has hired thugs to do his bidding, but thus far, I have only encountered or seen evidence of the mercenary type. Certainly no one the quality of a Moran or that fellow we encountered during the case of the Redheaded League. If I could be more certain of what we were up against, I could chance taking a more direct course of action. However, I will not endanger Katrina or Irene by doing so. So, I am again ready to embark upon what may well be the last chapter of my life's adventures, John, but I am by no means as sanguine on the subject as I was that last time at Reichenbach Falls. However, Moriarty must be stopped. A rejuvenated James Moriarty at the height of his powers is more than our world can survive. If the price of stopping him is my life, so be it. I wish you were here to write that chapter for me, old friend. End of Journal Entry. End Part 2 of A Study in Satin.
