Archive for February 18th, 2011

Sa-Fora cleans the Inn

Friday, February 18th, 2011

[09:55] Nonya Markova: stepping across the warm wood of the dock, she saunters into the Inn, her eyes bright as she humms a cheerful melody to herself, her gaze taking in the room, bending down she runs a hand over the tables, then looks, the grime on it making her shudder. The ebony tresses hanging free, spilling down her back as she turns, making them twirl about her shoulders like a silken cloud she hurries behind the large desk, finding htre broom, buckets, clothes, bees wax in a small tin and also a long woodened handle with rags tieed to the ends, and takes each thng and dumps it into a basket, carrying them all outside.

[09:58] Nonya Markova: her arms strainsng she sets the basket down with a soft sigh, taking the bucket first in her hand, the rope handle in her palm rough, she carries it, swinging it as she walks with a spring in her step to the bathhouse, to the lage container of water kept heated. bending over, the skirt dancing about her thighs as she moves, she sets the bucket beneath, twisting the handle until the steaming water begins to splash and flow into the dark wooden container, feeling it splash hot against her bare flesh she gasps with the slight pain and twists it closed with a quick movement

[10:03] Nonya Markova: her thoughts drifting as she grips the rope handle, lifting, the muscles in her back and arms quivering witht he heavy weight, the familiar feel of the weight in her hands a comfort as she hurries out into the bright sunshine. Moving swiftly, the pull of the weight upon her shoulders making her struggle, the bucket rubbing agaisnt the fabric of her skirt, digging against her thighs, the hard bumps with each step a difficulty, she sets it down with a sigh by the opewn doorway. Lifting her head sighing as she feels the cool breeze off the water moving over her tanned flesh like a gentle caress, her body responding unconsciously to the touch of air, the quiver in her belly, feeling a fire begin a slow burn as she thinks immediately of her Master, his handsome face dancing before her closed eyes.

[10:05] Nonya Markova: taking the empty basket in her hands she grips the handles, the clothes and wax still within, she rises to her feet, padding lightly up the stairs, grabbing the broom handle on her way past the doorway, hurring about her tasks with a soft smile upon the full ruby lips, cheeks flushed and warm

[10:09] Nonya Markova: climbing to the very top floor first, she makes her way to each bed, stripping the sheets from it, and dumping them in the baskets, wrinkling her nose at the musty scent she hurries to the windows, opening them to let a fresh breeze from the sea freshen the room. Her steps light as she moves from room to room, each bed stripped until the basket is filled to overflowing with the bedding. each window opened to air the room, she smiles softly to herslef as she rushes down the stairs and drops the basket at the bottom with a soft thump on the wooden dock

[10:12] Nonya Markova: purseing her lips as she begins to whistle a merry tune as she works, taking a clean cloth in her hand she moves with a daintly step, the fabric of the skirt brushing her firm thighs, the touch fueling the fire that flames in her blood already, the air soft as the scent tickles her nose, she twists open the tin of beeswax, and rubbing the rep cloth in, she uses it to wipe down each table, the touch gentle, making the wood gleam warmly benetah her touch

[10:16] Nonya Markova: the windows ope carrying the mumer of voices to her ears as she dances happily about the room, the sheer joy of serving the homestone of her Master, the whipping now long past, a cloud passes over her eyes as the memory remains of that dreadful day, she hurries faster about her task, making her way through each room, polishing and dusting, the grime from the tables now gone, leaving instead a smooth polish and shine to each. dropping the cloths and tin to the outermost door she takes the broom handle into her hands, her firm grip as she carries it back to the uppermost floor

[10:19] Nonya Markova: startsing at the corner of each room, she begins with sweeping, the bristles to the floor, her movements quick as she feels the heart pounding in her breast at the dark memories swirling in her head, the sound of the leather to her back, the whiste as it sailed through the air, her sharp cries as she feels the fiery pain again, her cheeks hot and flushed with the thoughts, making a cloud of dust rise in the air about her feet, the jerking movements as she rushes through each room, dragging the dirt to a pile at the doorway then sweeping it from the balcony of the rooms

[10:22] Nonya Markova: gripping the broom tight as she trembles with the dark memories she carries it down the stairs, giving herself a mental shake as she is working to please her Master, to serve his homestone, her lesson well learned and not soon to be lost, she steps down the steps, taking many deep slow breathes as she reaches the bottom of the steps, raising her chin, her eys closed just feeling the warmth of the sun on her bare flesh, the tendrils f her hair dancing about her slender shoulders in the light breeze

[10:26] Nonya Markova: using the broom again, her fingers now light upon the handle, teh light dusting of dirt upon her lower legs from her work upstairs making her legs itch she shivers up her spine as she tries to ignore the sensation, starting in the far corner, pressing down with the straw bristles, dragging them along the floor, pulling the dirt from the edges, moves slowly about the room, attentive to her task she thinks of her Master, her thoughts never far from him, the rembered touch of his hand gentle or firm as it suits, the fingers gripping her collar as he pulls her to him for a kiss, she flushes with the wave of heat heat rushes through her

[10:29] Nonya Markova: the itchng sensation increasing she tries to ignore it, brows furrow as it disturbs the pleasurable train of thought she continues with the broom, all around the room til all is together in a large pile, she drags it to the open door, then gasping sh e drops the broom and starts to drag her nails over her lower legs the burning itch unable to be ignored any longer, sighing as it finally stops, sitting on the floor as she runs her hands over the bare flesh, feeling the muscles twitch under her fingers

[10:31] Nonya Markova: rising to her feet with a graceful motion, she bends at the waist, feeling her hair slips over her shoulders as she grips the broom handle then straightens, dragging the bristles over the wood pile at her feet she pushes it outside the door way to be carried off by the wind

[10:33] Nonya Markova: the container of beeswax taken now, the broom ste back behind the counter, she dips a rep cloth in again, and wipes down each table in the main room carefully, the touch a gentle caress, the wood glowing from the caring ministrations of her hands, she then moves to the desk and dusts and polishes with the same care, smiling to herself as she begins to humm again, the tune softer though, as she imagines her hands over the wood to be running over the for of her Master

[10:36] Nonya Markova: the soft sigh that slips from her lips at the delightful thought she turns and her movements now more languid, the brush of her thighs making her quiver she sets the container of wax and the used cloth behind the desk. she saunters outside to the fresh air, picking up the basket of the bedding she hurries to the bath house, finsding a tub within of hot water in the corner, takes a scrub board and drops it inot the water

[10:39] Nonya Markova: taking a sheet and dips it in the water, then rubs it with a cake of soap, she starts to rub the fabris against the steel of the board, the grating sound harsh to her ears as she works, a soft sheen of perspiritation beginning to glisten on her flesh as she works to wash each bit of bedding one by one, til each are snowy white and fresh, each wrung out in her hands, her fingers wrinkled and pruned from the immersion in the hot water.

[10:42] Nonya Markova: carrrying the now very heavy basket, her muscles staining under the weight, she hurries to a line strung outside on the darks, out of the way, and her shoudlers straining she lifts each sheet to it, dropping it over, and then her fingers smoothing it so it may dry swiftly in the air, the sheets already snapping in the breeze as her skirt is whipped about her legs, her hair twirling about her as she grins to herself, taking deep breaths as she feels the caress of air cooling her flesh, drying it

[10:45] Nonya Markova: sanutering back to the inn, she bends down to grab the bucket of water from earlier, still warm but the crystal clear water no longer steaming she sets it just inside the doorway and grabs the long wooden handle, her fingers running over it, tracing the grain as she day dreams a moment of he that owns her, her joy in being his making her heart sign with happiness, swelling with the deep love she feels for him, sighing softly then gives herself a mental shake, opening her eyes and returning to her task

[10:48] Nonya Markova: wringing the raggs tied to the end of the handle, she drops the end to the wood with a plop, the dropslets spattering about her feet, she runs the rags over the floor, seeing the gleaming wet trails left behind in its wake, she cuckles to herself, resloving not to slip and fall, she steps carefully about the room, dipping the rags, wringing and moipping the floor, making it shine wetly, cheeks flushes as she feels the tendrils of hair cling damp to her face

[10:51] Nonya Markova: setting the mop outside, the pudle growing beneath the wet rags she rests the handle against the wall and lifts the bucket of dark water in her hands, stumbling as she carries it behind the inn, dumping it in the trench there and sighing with relief, holding it close to her body, raises a hand and drags her fingers through her damp hair, pulling it away from her face, the tangles making her wince with pain a moment before working loose

[10:53] Nonya Markova: walking back to the doorway, grapping the broom in her free hand, steps inside and moving carefully over the damp floor to behind the desk, she sets everything down and grins to herself, turnng on her heel and walks outside til she is in the doorway again, the air caressing her skin, she breathes deep, full breasts rising with each deeep breath, shoulders pressed back, she lifts her chin, the steel around her neck comfort as she raisies her arms and lightly runs her fingers over it

[10:55] Nonya Markova: then looking and seeing the sheets snapping merriely in the wind, she steps out the door, her foot hitting the puddle of water left by the mop, her feet go up in the air, arms waving as she falls hard to her backside, her head snapping back to hit the wood archway hard, the blinding flash of stars in her gaze as she feels the breath rush from her body

[10:56] Nonya Markova: her hands gipping hte back of her head tight she moans to herself, feeling the lump rising, she blinks rapidly away the tears that srping to her eyes, her gaze dulled with a haze of pain, she shakes her head, and sits for a moment on the ground still

[10:59] Nonya Markova: the haze clearing she gets her feet beneath her, her hands pressing to the ground pushing herself up, head still smarting around the swelling lump, she shakes her head again to try and clear her vision,, she stumbles dizzily away to the line strung with sheets, the basket beneath empty

[11:01] Nonya Markova: taking each sheet down, trying hard to keep her feet benath her, she folds each slowly, her fingers practiced, she works as her limbs feel heavy to her. setting each to the basket, then lifts the back, feeling the blood rush and the world spin as she bends over, straightens slowly, eyes closed as she breathes and waits for the world to right itself

[11:05] Nonya Markova: the spinning stops she open her eyes, the violet color darkened a bit with her widen pupils, she struggles beneath the weight of the bedding, now cleaned and fresh, the muscles in her shoulders seen to quiver, teh play of muscle in her back as she strains beneath the wieght, she walks slowly, carefully across the war wooden planks beneath her bare feet, she sees the Master, and stumbles, nearly droipping hte heavy basket, then seeing he is deep in meditaion she steps quietly by and up the stairs

[11:10] Nonya Markova: taking the freshed bedding from the basket, she lifts it to her nose, taking a deep breath, the pain receding as she inhales the swet fresh scent, and then lays each upon the beds of the rooms, her feet lightly dancing over the floor, as she moves with a delighted step around, her heart lightend by her work, making each bed fresh, then closes each window of the rooms, she turns and lifts the now empty basket in her hands and steps carefully down the stairs and around the damp puddle from the rags tied to a =wooden handle, the basket set behind the counter she nods with satisfaction to herself, pleased with the appearance now she steps back into the brightsunlight, hurring to the stream near the house of her Master to wash herself, feeling the dust and grime clinging to her flesh, the itchy sensation as it dries horrible