Violet's Fingers Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

Violet's Fingers Ch. 01

... until at the age of nine our inquisitive boy found the drawings and journals Suda was unable to hide in their tiny hut. They transfixed him, like peeking into her dreams. In furtive moments when his mother was out, he would feast his eyes over the fragments of text, the drawings, beautiful and terrifying. They were her works, pieces of the puzzle of her past, the clues leading to the world outside their valley. He ached with questions she would not answer, until finally, at thirteen, he could no longer resist and set out on his own to follow the trail of his mother's story.

The beginning of the trail was simple, it led directly to the town of Volovyy Mist, where he was warmly welcomed by his uncle, Greco Miran. He was made comfortable, told nothing about his mother, only that everything he needed to know could be found. Uncle Greco then left for sabbatical in Berlin, allowing Pim the use of his rooms while he was away.

Eager to begin, all Pim had was his mother's name, Dilli Novikova. Expecting a difficult search, he was surprised to find almost everyone he asked knew of her. She had been a ballerina, adored by thousands. But then, thinking about how she danced, it should not have been a surprise.

Pim allowed himself to bask in the pride of his mother's fame, but he also sensed there had been a fall from grace. People spoke of her in whispers and looked away in shame. A shiver passed through our boy; something unspeakable had happened.

It was a newfound friend, ...

... Sýla, who revealed that his mother had been incarcerated in an asylum for the criminally insane. Sensing Pim's shock, she could not resist adding that the ballerina had escaped a death sentence only by her fame. Sýla had to reach out and press her finger up under his chin to shut his gaping mouth.

Pim then asked her the question burning in his mind and Sýla, a tease, would only tell him that the details of her crime had been excised from the court documents so as not to damage public morality. Pim surprised Sýla by bursting into tears. He pushed her away when she tried to wipe his cheeks with her handkerchief.

He adored his mother. Back in his rooms, he took a swig of his uncle's vodka, unable to accept she could do anything so terrible. Then Parnassius set himself to the task of writing Dilli Novikova's story and so redeeming her. He did not consider the possibility that they were entirely different things.

At this early stage in Pim's search, I worried about how he would cope when he found out what she had done. Would he consider her beyond redemption and abandon her, or create a fiction to mask the truth?

Luckily for us, dear reader, his love for Suda was strong. And lucky I have been here, guiding Parnassius' writing of his mother's memoir, for without me, this entire creation would have been, in Suda's words, not a fantasme érotique, but an erreur fantastique.

Who am I? I am Klavdiya, Sudarynya's companion and occasional narrator. For clarity, I have placed ...