THE COUNT OF COWLEY MANOR (Part Three) Debauchery in the Library
I found Penelope in the library, relaxing with a book: History of the Russian Empire, Volume One - a pet subject of mine. Nicholas had gone off fishing for the day with Penelope's brother -- Christopher - who had decided to join the party for a few days before continuing his way to the South of France where he was to take his annual vacation. He too, was a good-looking fellow of 23, with his long black hair tied in a ponytail which shone with various shades of reds and hints of gold every time the sunlight caught it. He was two years older than Nicholas and twelve years younger than I. He had been the best man at his sister's wedding and had joined us after seeing to some urgent business matters.
He and Nicholas, with no little encouragement from myself, had decided to fish Cowley Lake for carp, a subject with which I was well acquainted. There were some fine specimens in the pond, the best of them running upwards of forty pounds. I had advised them on the best spots and methods that were most likely to yield good fish.
I had been pleased to observe that Nicholas and I seemed to be on good terms after his ordeal at my hands. In fact I was surprised how quickly he had come round, showing me great courtesy and warmth. Even Penelope seemed to bear me no malice, and I even detected in her a sense of fairness and affection towards me. I found this encouraging and was determined to take advantage of her good nature as soon as possible for she was a sweet little thing, and although my feelings inclined towards young men rather than young women, I felt she would nonetheless offer some reasonable entertainment during the interim of main events.
She was lounging on one of the heavily-upholstered leather armchairs, looking as pretty as a picture. She lolled back in the seat with one leg casually crossed over the other, a gesture I rather fancy had more than an element of design about it, for her frock had ridden up just above the knee and looked quite provocative. She had on yet another of her pretty floral dresses from her travelling collection. The design was quite daring, with a high hem and low neckline which showcased her fine calves and slim ankles and creamy white bubbies quite beautifully.
She wore sandals of a kind that you sometimes saw in prints of ancient Egyptian etchings, depicting masters and their entourage of slaves. They contained her feet in a gesture of symbolic bondage, the straps criss-crossing and appearing to cut into her flesh; though this was apparently an illusion because she looked perfectly comfortable in them. But they tended to make her look appealing to me in a subservient way.
She looked up from her book. Her neck was swan-like in elegance and her face radiated glowing health beneath the creamy complexion. I sensed a mixture gaiety and mischief in her sparkling eyes and easy smile. She seemed pleased to see me.
"Mr Jack... I didn't hear you come in."
"I hope I'm not intruding, my dear. I just popped in for a book. I thought you were out walking."
This was a lie. I knew very well where she had secreted herself away, for I had been watching her closely all morning, a fact that she was well aware of. She had been flitting about me at a distance all morning, giving me the look, playing with her hair and angling her head coyly, like some affected teenager, which in a way, she was. I knew she was giving me positive signals and wanted me to follow her and find her; but of course, now I'd actually caught up with her we were to maintain a charade of ignorance.
I indicated the book she was holding. "An excellent choice."
"It's a fascinating story. You have a fine collection, sir."
"Please... call me Jack... not sir, or Mr Jack. Just Jack... at least for the time we are alone together."
"Alone?"
"As the men are out fishing for the day and we are unlikely to be disturbed, it might be nice to take this opportunity to get to know each other better. Perhaps we could talk awhile?"
"As you wish, Jack. And what would you like to talk about?"
"You, my dear. You interest me. I bet you have led a fascinating life."
She blushed deliciously at my flattery. "Me..? I've lived no life. Why, I'm only just nineteen. What kind of life could I possibly have had that would interest a man of the world like yourself?"
"You'd be surprised."
Penelope laughed gaily, closed the book and put in on the little table next to her. "Come on then... What would you like to know?"
"You must at least have dreams, Penelope? Everybody has dreams."
"Ooh, only boring ones I'm afraid."
"But there must be something you can tell me... about married life perhaps..? Your relationship with Nicholas? And what about your handsome brother? I`d wager there were a few things you could tell me about him."
"I could, but I'd rather leave it to him to blow his own trumpet. I suppose he is rather dashing - at least, to other women. He is only my brother after all." Penelope suddenly looked troubled.
"Actually Jack... There is one thing..."
"Yes?"
"It is a matter of some delicacy. If I am to discuss it with you, I would need your assurance that you will not breathe a word to anybody else... particularly Nicholas."
"Penelope, my dear. I am the very soul of discretion. What you tell me in confidence will go no further than these four walls. I give you my word."
"Thank you. It concerns my relationship with my husband. Something is different now."
"In what way?"
"Ever since you held us both prisoner and forced yourself upon Nicholas, his attitude towards me has changed. On our wedding night he was considerate and attentive towards me, but now, ever since the episode in the stables a few days ago, he seems colder. He still makes love to me, but it isn't me, if you know what I mean."
"Go on."
"I mean, he goes through the motions, but I feel his heart and mind are somewhere else and that I am only an object, an instrument for sating his desire. I feel like I'm being used. Sometimes I feel he is making love to me but imagining I am someone else."
"That is perfectly natural from time to time with some people."
"Is it? He almost works himself into a fury, banging me - for want of a better word - banging me with his manhood, that obscene truncheon, as if he was trying to punish me with it.. take out his fury, his bad feelings on me.
"One night, he stopped in the middle of making love and he rolled me onto my front and tried to enter me from behind."
"Do you mean, enter you normally, but from the rear? Or did he try to actually penetrate your behind."
"The latter. He'd never shown any inclination or interest in that direction before. Even the times before we were married. That's why I was quite horrified."
"Did he succeed in penetrating you there?"
"No. At first I just lay there wondering what he wanted to do. But that soon became obvious when I felt where he was trying to put his penis. Oh dear, I can't believe I'm telling you this."
"As I said, what we talk about in this room today... will go no further. You were saying?"
"Yes, that he was trying to bugger me. But he was rough and he frightened me. You know how big he is. How could I possibly accommodate him like that?"
"The humble bottom is resilient, my dear, and capable of some amazing feats. It has a wonderful capacity for punishment and abuse."
"I wondered if it was of because of what you did to him?"
"Do you know what I did to him?"
"No, and he won't talk about it. But I think I can guess."
"You think I buggered him?"
"Well... did you?"
"Would you think any more of me if I told you?"
"I'm not sure. But I have to admit that the thought of you doing it to him while I was tied up did have an effect on me. I thought I'd be angry, outraged. And I was at the time. I hated you and I should still hate you, but I don't. I sometimes lie in bed when Nicholas is asleep, thinking about you using him in that way. I think about you abusing him while I'm tied up and made to watch. But I don't get angry. It makes me feel funny, but in a nice way. I imagine you playing with his helpless body and me trying wriggle free to help him. But I can't. The ropes are tied too well and I can only wriggle and watch you at work. But it's all exciting. How can we enjoy things that are bad."
"Maybe they're not bad at all. Maybe it's the way we have been conditioned to accept certain fixed ideas. People who make these rules want you to feel bad about enjoying things that are different, where our actions appear to go against convention. What is bad and evil to one man is good and acceptable to another."
"I'm not sure I understand. I mean why should we enjoy things that hurt us? And why should we have to hurt somebody just to gain satisfaction?"
"I don't know. We are born into this world as an innocent, all of us. But somewhere along the line something may happen, an experience that completely changes our view of things. We feel uncomfortable because we are surprised we are capable of such indecent acts, apparently normal people committing perversions and debauchery. There are two sides of the fence, as there are two sides two everything. What side we come down on depends largely on the influences we are subjected to through life, by design or accident, but usually by accident. We have a free will, but we will tend to sway one way more than the other. One side to our personality will be stronger than the other and in the end the stronger side will win out."
I could see that I'd lost Penelope somewhere, for she stared at me with vacant eyes, empty that is, apart from a burning lust that seemed to have turned her dark brown eyes almost black. It was almost as if she'd become transfixed by me. I could feel the heat coming off her, a woman's scent, a sexual fragrance that perked my prick up no end.
"Would you care for a glass of sherry before lunch, my dear?" I said, breaking the spell that had seemingly been cast over her. She blinked, her eyes cleared and she was back in the real world.
"Pardon?"
"Would you care to join me in a sherry before lunch?" I repeated.
"That would be nice, Jack. Why not?"
I went to the writing bureau where I kept a bottle of Gibson's finest Old Tawny. I gave Penelope a schooner, and poured myself the same.
"Mmm, that's lovely and sweet, and wonderfully warm as it goes down."
"It's very fortifying. I get the feeling that you need bolstering after your frightening experience."
"You mean in the stables?"
"No... I meant your narrow escape from being sodomized."
"Oh that. Nicholas frightened me with his brutality, but it still excited me. I think I'd like to try it some time, but I don't want to be bullied into it, especially if it's painful."
"It shouldn't be. Not if you go about it in the right way, with the right preparation."
"But Nicholas has such a brute of a cock.."
And suddenly, Penelope paused, having realised her indiscretion in the use of the word `cock'. It was a good sign. It meant she was loosening up and would soon be ripe for plucking. Or should that be fucking?
"I'm sorry about that," she said, colouring beautifully."
"There's no need to apologise, my dear. At least, not on my account. I always believe in calling a spade a spade and a cock a cock."
She laughed gaily again, brushed some imaginary specks off her knee and took a good swig of her sherry. Her eyes sparkled with youthful vitality and with the enthusiasm of a young woman eager to learn about life, particularly its darker, more sensual side. I couldn't help looking at her shapely legs. Her frock had ridden higher by a couple of inches in the time I'd been sitting with her. She knew I was looking but showed not the slightest sign of disapproval. In fact, she had a rather provocative way of fidgeting about on the chair that was greatly responsible for maintaining my increasingly painful erection. I was quite surprised. I find very few ladies intellectually attractive, and even less of them, sexually appealing, although I enjoy their company. But Penelope was different and interesting and was inducing me to think all manner of indecent thoughts about her.
The bible states in The Lord's Prayer: "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..." But how many potentially exciting opportunities would we forego if we followed that maxim as religiously as it was intended?
I have my own modification to the that particular decree...
"Lead us into temptation, Dear Lord, and deliver us to evil.. otherwise we may never know such pleasures that await us..."
There is a saying that the devil looks after his own. I believe there is more than a modicum of truth in this. At least there is where I am concerned. I have no illusions on which side of the fence I came down upon.
From what Penelope had been relating to me, I had succeeded in turning Nicholas's head. It is a phenomenon to which I have attributed the label: "mind-fucking" and I do believe that the infecting of somebody's mind, their soul and sensibilities so that what was once abhorrent to them then becomes the very thing they come to love and embrace, is a fascinating and fathomless subject. When this happens - the seduction/corruption of the soul - it is in many ways a more satisfying outcome than the purely physical conquest of a person.
I refilled our glasses and asked Penelope to join me on the chaise longue. I plumped up a cushion behind her and she sat at ease, removing her sandals and tucking her feet under her folded legs in an attitude of gay abandon. I sat at the open end and eyed her ever more revealing thighs deliberately and unashamedly, for this is what she wanted from me. I could smell the womanly odour exuding from her pores.
"If you truly would like to try entry from behind, and you are worried about Nicholas's size, I could help you."
Penelope fluttered her eyelids. "In what way, Jack?"
"I could help relax you... ease the path, so to speak. You see, sometimes a lady needs a little stretching to start with, a period of conditioning. There are a number of ways to achieve this. Sometimes a set of inserts is used. This consists of a series of plugs, of varying sizes and diameters, that are inserted into the bottom and then kept in place by a night-belt while the lady sleeps. Each subsequent night a plug of a larger diameter is used until the lady feels she has been `opened' enough and confident she can accept her husband's penis comfortably. The plugs have a flanged end so that they are not lost inside the body, but are held in place so that the largest diameter of the plug keeps the bottom hole open until such time it is removed.
"That sounds dreadfully painful."
"Not if you are well lubricated my dear. In fact many women report that they find the process of being stretched in this way highly stimulating. I too, have used this method, although I always prefer to be eased naturally."
"What other methods are available to me?"
"Finger massage is quite effective. But to be frank, the best method of stretching and easing is by the act itself, preferably with a man of suitable size."
"Are you offering, Jack?"
"I'm simply making a suggestion, my dear... that is all. However, I would be only to pleased to help out if I can. It would be in your interest to include the anal technique in your lovemaking repertoire. Men adore anal intercourse. If you are able to accommodate a man in this way, you will afford him the most wonderful pleasures, not forgetting, my dear, the exquisite sensations that you will also experience."
"Hmm, you do make it sound all rather exciting, Jack."
Penelope shifted in her seat, as if some agitation was affecting her. Her frock slipped yet another inch higher. She made no attempt to retrieve it.
"Drink up my, dear... Will you have one more?"
"I really shouldn't, Jack. I shall be as silly as a pudding. Then what will you think of me?"
"I will think of you as being no different to when I first set eyes on you, and certainly no different to the charming lady I have come to know in the last half-an-hour. You are pretty beyond description, Penelope, and I would be deeply honoured if you would join me in one more glass before I condition your bottom and prepare it for mightier things."
"Oh, Jack... you're such a flatterer. You seem to know when to say just the right things."
I filled our glasses for the third time. I judged that after this sherry Penelope would give herself freely. But I had little interest in her cunt, which, delightful as it most surely was, was not an object of my immediate desire. But I have to say, it had already begun to exude a delightful fragrance to which I found myself extremely attracted. I have quite a sensitive nose for such things, and mixed with the excited perspiration of her body, the heady cocktail of smells, coupled with the warming effect of the sherry, the effect was powerful enough to make me feel deliciously wanton and merry.
I watched her sip her third sherry, her eyes becoming ever darker with lust, and mentally ran through what lay immediately ahead -- the taking of her anal virginity. Oh to rob her of her sweet innocence, she was like a fly caught in a web, a moth in the flame, a lamb to the slaughter. My cock was swollen, painful with lust. The urge to leave my mark in her delightful bottom was overwhelming.
"You have fine legs, my dear," I said staring at the expanse of thigh now on display.
"Thank you... Oh, I'm sorry." She made a charade of only now pretending to notice her raised skirt and restored her dignity my pulling down her hem.
"No need to do that, my dear. I am very partial to a nice pair of legs. You can show me more, if you like."
She laughed out loud and tossed her head back, snatching her hem upwards and back again to show a flash of her undergarments in a kind of sexual tease. I caught sight the white flesh where the stockings ended and knickerbockers began. The wafting fragrance of her moistening sex assailed my nostrils. I leaned towards her and kissed her on her cheek, she looked kind of surprised and before she could recover from my boldness, I gathered her in my arms, held her in a passionate embrace and kissed her, our tongues swirling against each other like eels in a jar. I lifted her frock and marvelled at the soft skin of her plump thighs, so different to a man's hardness. The rough gauze of her stockings made a startling contrast to the smooth white flesh of her thigh. I fiddled playfully with the protruding bobble catch, threatening to unfasten it. But I was only teasing. I've always preferred to fuck a woman while she is partially dressed, and at least wearing shoes, stockings and camisole, which are easy enough to negotiate without removing completely. The friction that nylon brings to the flesh affords me a very agreeable and sensual pleasure. I sometimes have my men attired in ladies underwear for this very reason alone and a pretty stocking and suspender looks very good on a shapely male leg.
She pulled away, apparently gasping for air. She said breathlessly: "If you want to bugger me, Jack... I think you ought to at least tie me down. I may need restraining because if I struggle and hinder you I may cause myself more harm than good. I want your aim to be true, and not like Nicholas's, brutishly clumsy and crude efforts the other night."
My cock twitched in response to her suggestion. "It will be an absolute honour and pleasure to render you helpless, my dear. I promise to secure you comfortably so that I may take you as clean as a whistle. You need not fear."
This fitted in perfectly with my plan to pre-warm her rump with a light whipping before violating her delectable bottom-hole with a good fucking.
"Now, take your frock off for me." She did so, feigning coyness beautifully. "And remove your undergarments, all apart from your camisole, stockings and suspender belt. And you must have your shoes on, that is important. I would have preferred you in heeled shoes, but I will make an exception for your sandals on this occasion."
She did as she was bade. She looked delightful in what remained of her clothing, and in a state of what I have come to term: "suitable attired for fucking."
She was an absolute joy, full of youthful exuberance and vitality, mixed with a seething undercurrent of unfulfilled lust. I could not have wished for more as far as womanly appeal was concerned.
I had her climb up on the chaise longue and asked her to face the closed end on all fours. Then I put the cushion against the end and told her to rest her head on it. I had her bring her knees up under her chest. I told her not to move while I fetched some cord and a knife from the bureau. I trussed her like a turkey, tying her wrists to her thighs just above the knee. In this position she was rendered helpless as far as her limbs were concerned, but she had the liberty of lateral movement, although this would only allow her to roll off. I would need nothing more than one firm hand to keep her positioned correctly for her adventure. Her posterior was presented beautifully to me. It begged to be flogged and her camiknickers, hanging loosely and prettily around her plump thighs looked extremely fetching. It would be a simple matter to move these enough to the side to get my cock into her sweet little arsehole. I planned to whip her twin moons through the knickers with my trouser belt first, to warm the flesh. As some of you will already be aware, it is a ploy of mine to fire up the flesh of a man or woman with a good spanking or whipping as I do enjoy the agreeable feel of a hot bottom against my groin when my cock is buried deep inside.
I sat behind Penelope for a few moments while I ran my hand over her silk-clad backside, and then under her perineum where I felt the humidity gathering about her cunt. Her womanly odour was divine and promised as exquisite flavour. She moaned appreciatively as I pushed my fingers through the silk up into her slit. I caressed her softly and said:
"I'm going to whip your bottom first, Penelope. It will only be a light flogging over your camiknickers, just to warm you up." She did not murmur, but she kind of rocked her bottom from side to side in a gesture of defiance, arrogance and insolence, as if she was daring me to carry out the flogging forthwith.
I did not disappoint her. I took off my belt right away, kneeled behind her and wound half of it around my hand to get a good grip. And then I laid into her with a nice round dozen carefully aimed licks which had her whimpering, but nothing more. She clearly enjoyed being treated this way.
I tossed the belt aside, eased her camiknickers to the side and poured the dregs of my sherry down the crack of her arse. Then I licked it up and lubricated her tight little hole at the same time. Her smell was potent and divine and I wondered if her time of the month wasn't too far away.
I unbuttoned my fly and prepared for engagement by slicking my cock with a hefty wad of saliva. I once again moved Penelope's camiknickers to the side. And brought my knob to the breach. I grasped her hips and said:
"As you feel me push in, you must push out, as if you were needing to relieve yourself."
"Why?"
"It will ease the path. Do as I say and it will not hurt."
I felt her bottom clench and unclench, and then I got the knob just inside. "Brace yourself," I said. "Keep pushing out until I'm right in."
She did, and my cock began the slow upward glide, patiently and steadily, half-inch by half-inch until I was fully buried in her warm bottom. Oh such delight, that smooth sucking sensation that only an airtight hole can give, that feeling of taming and bringing into subjection of one, and the feeling of her stockings on the front of my thighs.
"There Penelope... there is nothing to it, is there not?"
"It's amazing."
"What can you feel?"
"Just a gentle sliding inside me. And being filled."
"Do you like it very much?"
"Very much! It's fantastic, Jack. Am I being good for you?"
"Oh yes, my dear, very good indeed. A few more sessions like this and you will be suitably stretched."
"You can be harder on me, if you wish? You've made my bottom all hot and itchy with your belt. Bang me hard!"
And I responded to the invitation by pumping her vigorously for a good minute and a half. She felt hot and slick.
"How was that. "Simply divine, Jack. I can't believe how lovely it is. But I feel I need something more."
I knew what she was alluding to of course. She needed some extra stimulation and to this end I slid my hand inside the leg-opening of her camiknickers and brought my hand to bear on her sopping slit. I opened it and located her clitoris, now a bullet-like bean, and frigged her remorselessly until she came in a great gush of warm, syrupy juice.
I too, was in need of extra stimulation to take me over the edge. Penelope's brother, Christopher, was my inspiration, and in my fertile mind it was his bottom that held me tightly ensconced at the finish, and his sphincter that milked me for my hot cum.
(...continued in Part Four...)