THE SECRET MEMORIES OF LORD MORIESSON
By Andrej Koymasky © 2010 Written on July 27, 2002 Translated by the Author English text kindly revised by Brian
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE SECRET MEMORIES OF LORD MORIESSON" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
Chapter 1 - THE SECRET MEMORIES OF LORD MORIESSON Ended to write in Year of our Lord 1697 And based on his notes of all a life
PROLOGUE
I, William Lukas Fergus Adderley, born, by the grace of Our Lord, Lord Moriesson on the 16th day of the month of March in the Year of our Lord 1651 in the Moriesson Mansion in London, son of Lord Paul James and of Lady Margaret Diane, am setting about drafting my memories, in this mild afternoon of September.
I can by now consider myself on the wane of my life, for a good part adventurous and exciting and now even too quiet, in the gilded loneliness of my Cardiff estate. From the window opening in front of me I can see the port and, today, also the cargo ship owned by my brother Aldous that is about to weigh anchor to go back to our American Colonies.
With the purpose of making more faithful this account of the years of my life, I took the considered decision to base it on a set of my old, small copybooks that I started to compile on the day following my fourteen birthday, and that I am still faithfully compiling noting in them, with my symbolic and secret code, all what happened to me and I deem worth not to let glide away into oblivion. Up to these days I filled twenty-eight of those small copybooks, worn out for having always been kept, one after the other, on me, and I am now writing on the twenty-ninth of them.
I took the decision, in these pages, to trace back the journey of my life, drawing from those small copybooks the most relevant facts that each year happened to me starting from my fourteen year of life to the present day - I cannot of course write all that happened to me, as it would be easier to transcribe as it is the content of these diaries of mine, just rewriting them in clear. For each year I will therefore expose only the fact that appears to me to be the most meaningful or interesting, that remained more impressed in my memory, and I will complete these remembrances with my memories, my emotions, even though I am conscious that, although unwillingly, I will be inclined to embellish the narration.
Memory, in fact is not only a selective phenomenon, but also, as it does come together in it the desires and fears, or else parts of other similar experiences for similitude or antithesis, it is inclined to transform the happened fact into something worth being remembered, at times annulling the difficulties that were met, at times on the contrary exalting them, at times belittling the joys and the pleasures experienced, at times extolling them.
But what I am setting about writing, with the support and the backing of the almost daily notes I set on paper at the same moment the facts happened, will be anyway "true" and as such I am going now to fix it on these sheets. I am no philosopher; I am no writer and neither poet. At most I am only a chronicler.
As I jotted down in my booklets all the events, the account on these pages will be extremely precise and detailed, but only about what I wrote each time when it happened. The most precise details could well not be the most important. They are just what, in that day, on that occasion, struck me more.
I have no idea about the reason, or for whom I am writing these pages, with verisimilar probability for my self, to fill my present loneliness.
If in the old times I hoped to find, to get to know and to experience the great love, I by now have abandoned this chimera and am fully resigned to end this life alone, even though surrounded by my servants and at times cheered by an occasional visitor. Or else, paying at times a youthful companion for the night, as I often did in these last years. At my age in fact I do not disappoint myself that a person can come with me because of a physical attraction and even less for love, therefore all that remains me is the money and the mercenary sex. And it is welcome, as long as it gives a relief and some pleasure to my body if not to my spirit.
INCIPIT
I omit a good part of the first notes of my first booklet, as they deal with the puppy I received as a present, with my hate for one of my instructors, with a bad indigestion, with excursions or other similar trivialities of little or null interest.
The only fact worthwhile to be remembered that happened when I was thirteen years old, in fact, was when Aldous, the second of us five brothers three years my senior, one day told me to follow him, after having ascertained I had with me my handkerchief. Made curious, I followed him to the winter greenhouse, at that time not in use, at the bottom boundary of the garden. When we were there, Aldous carefully locked the door with the key, made me sit down on a chair that, I noticed, had just been dusted, and with an extremely serious expression, very unusual on him, he told me to listen carefully to him.
"You are growing up, William, and the time has come when there is a need that I explain to you some mattersÉ" he started with a grave voice.
And he explained them to me. Our elder brother, Charles, explained them to him and, he told me, I would have to explain them to Michael, four years my junior, when he reached my present age. Michael would not have to explain them to Jennifer, the last one of us five siblings, as "these are matters for men", he said. I asked myself who could have explained them to Charles, as he was the first born, but I didn't have heart to interrupt Aldous and to ask him, therefore I still don't know who did it. Anyway, for the chronicle's sake, when the time came for me to explain it to Michael, he received my initiative with a know-it-all and self-important smile, communicating to me that he already knew and had done those things for at least one year.
Aldous started giving me the basic terminology. He explained to me that the men's "thing" or the "thingy" for us children, was in reality called "penis" or "phallus" and that the women's organs had the name of "vulva" and "vagina". He then told me that when the male introduces his penis into the vulva, this act is called coupling or to have a carnal or an intimate relation, and that this kind of activity is allowed only after marriage. He told me that from the penis in these relations comes out, instead of urine, a white liquid originating in the "cherries" that in reality are called "testicles", and that liquid is called "seed" or "sperm" and that if it is deposited in the vagina can cause the birth of a child. He then told me that the act of introducing the penis into the vagina and brushing it with an in and out movement provokes a great pleasure, that is called "orgasm". He finally explained to me that the male can provoke the foresaid orgasm also by himself, with a special technique called "masturbation" or "self-abuse", and that this technique has to be used once in a while to lessen the unavoidable and increasing sexual tension that in us young men precedes the possibility to unite with one's wifeÉ
I learned terms like "cock", "balls, "to screw" or "to fuck" and "hand-job" and so on much later and from totally different kinds of peopleÉ
As he completed his theoretical explanation, Aldous told me he would give me a practical demonstration of how masturbation has to be performed, and that afterwards I would have to execute it in my turn, so that he could check if I correctly understood everything. I was listening to him vaguely curious and interested.
Aldous, remaining standing up in front of me, turned in profile, then opened his breeches and underwear and, under my bewildered but fascinated eyes, extracted his half erect penis and started to give himself solitary sexual pleasure, underlining what he was doing, and feeling, with appropriate verbal explanations. I saw his penis harden, become tense, acquire a more intense colour in his hand moving back and forth, firm and self-assured. And when from the reddened tip of his penis, forewarned by his "here it is!", gushed out white spurts in a set of five or six strong jets, I was even more bewildered and fascinated, also because it was more than evident, from the expression of his face, that the phenomenon should be provoking in him a strong, intense pleasure.
It was then my turn. He told me to stay seated - I believe that the fact he was standing in front of me and asking me to be seated was an unconscious way to affirm his superiority, his authority, almost as looking at me, physically, from up to down, to overcome some embarrassment he felt in carrying out his mission.
I imitated him, at first slightly ashamed and shyly, somewhat embarrassed, but then gradually, as the pleasure was arising in my body and was spreading, increasing, seizing me, I became more determined, more willing, more enthusiastic. And finally I emitted a few drops of my translucent liqueur and sagged spent against the back of the chair, trembling and satisfied. Aldous made me carefully clean my penis with my handkerchief (this was then why he asked if I had it with me!) and made me tidy up.
He then explained to me that the man, when he desires to take his pleasure without risking to sire more children than he desires, can also insert his penis in other cavities of the woman, that is in her mouth or in her anus, as so the pleasure he gets is much greater than just giving himself satisfaction with his hand, as masturbation is nothing but a pale substitute of sex with a woman.
He finally warned me about the fact that also some men like taking in their mouth or in their anus the penis of another man, or also proceed to a mutual masturbation, but these practices, although they produce all the same pleasure, are to be absolutely avoided as they were forbidden; in fact the sexual activity is, for its own nature, deemed to couples of the two different sexes.
I asked him, "But if they give the same pleasure, why are they forbidden? Also doing it between men the undesired pregnancies would be avoided, wouldn't they?"
Aldous knit his forehead and told me that those practices are forbidden first of all by God's Law, then also by human law. For the first of them, those practices would provoke the death of the soul and get to who performs them damnation to the eternal fire of hell, and for the human law, a death sentence for the crime of "buggery" or of "sodomy".
At first his explanation convinced me, but this persuasion had a short life, as I will write in the next pages.
Let's now move to my story that starts, as I said, in my fourteenth year of age.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The fact by far most remarkable in the Year of our Lord 1665, happened exactly in the month of March, on the Sunday following my birthday.
As it is custom in my family, birthdays are always celebrated on the first Sunday after the real birth day, and all the family is invited, that is grandparents, uncles and cousins.
After having attended all together the Divine Liturgy in the nearby parish church of Saint John the Baptist, we went back to Moriesson Mansion where we quite soon sat down to eat dinner - the adults in the Great Hall and we children in the Small Green Hall, as usual.
After the long, tasty and abundant dinner, the babies were put to sleep for the usual afternoon rest, while we adolescents and teenagers went downstairs to the games room where were waiting my birthday presents, whose list I spare, as there was nothing really interesting or worthy of note.
We were at mid-afternoon when my cousin Charlotte, three years my elder, parted from the group of girls and came near me, gliding in her flowing dress in the latest fashion of France.
With her usual gait, languidly coquettish, with a fluted voice, she said, "Cousin William, would you be a courteous gentleman for a few moments and escort me to visit your new little temple of Diana? Your mother, the Lady my Aunt, told me it is rather beautifulÉ I am burning with desire to see itÉ"
"But it's coldÉ" I answered with bad grace.
"Come on, I beg youÉ Couldn't you make a small sacrifice for me? Be a gentleman and don't be so surly!" she insisted jutting out her lower lip, sulking and rapidly beating her eyelashes.
"All right, come." I said, resigned, and set out at a fast pace.
"Won't you offer me your arm?" she commanded, blocking me with a now whining voice.
I stopped, resigned to play the perfect gentleman as I saw the adults do, even though I found that really silly.
We went out into the garden, crossed it and entered the park. After a few minutes we got to the shore of the small lake where, on a small island skilfully built, was standing the circular small temple made of white Carrara marble ordered expressly from Italy. I have to admit it was beautiful, so pure white, reflected on the clear and quiet water of the small lake where some white swans were swimming, and that was bordered by a weeping willow.
"Oh, how beautiful! AndÉ how can we get there?" Charlotte asked widening her eyes and squeezing my arm.
"With the boat, there is no other way." I answered, fearing the request that of course followed at once.
"OhÉ take me there, I pray you!"
I understood it would have been useless refusing, at that point, therefore I took heart and said, somewhat brusquely, "Come."
We went round the lake to the pier. Moored at the small landing wharf, under the canopy, there was a little rowboat.
"One only boat?" she asked, appearing to be astounded.
"Of course." I answered boarding it. "Give me your hand," I then added, stretching out my arm and inviting her too to board.
"Thank you, cousin William, you are delightful. Will it displease you if I call you just Willy?" she asked me gracefully boarding the boat that rocked slightly.
She sat and I untied the mooring.
"Yes, it displeases me." I dryly answered and started rowing.
She nodded with a smile and said nothing. One of her hands was out of the boat and the tips of her fingers dragged in the cold water.
I moored at the small island and tied the boat. I landed and gave her again my hand to help her to land.
"You are a wonderful gentlemanÉ" she murmured.
I don't know why but her gentle manners were annoying me. I was only longing to go back to the mansion. I fit better with my brothers and my male cousins, very much better.
We entered the small temple. Inside there was a soft half darkness and at its centre stood the beautiful statue of Acteon courting Diana, both naked, in a posture languidly erotic, the work of an Italian sculptor whose name I can't remember.
She toured around the statue, looking at it for a long time with an admiring expression, throwing out once in a while short and soft exclamations. I stayed at the entrance. When she was behind the statue, at the opposite side from the entrance, her voice echoed, even though low and soft, amongst the walls and the ceiling of the temple.
"Come here, cousin WilliamÉ"
I went around the statue - Charlotte was there, languidly leaning against the wall, a hand on her chest, softly panting. She was looking with bright eyes first at the marble couple, then at me, rapidly moving her eyes.
"Look - Acteon and Diana without their clothesÉ They are beautiful, aren't they? You know what they are about to do, don't you?" she asked with a voice low but loaded with tension.
"What?" I asked without reflecting, trying to interpret her change - she seemed now almost feverish.
"The most natural, and beautiful and ancient thing of this world, cousin WilliamÉ they are about toÉ make love!"
"Ah!" I answered blushing, even though I still couldn't guess the reason behind her words.
For some time we both were silent, and I was about to propose that we go back, when she asked me, with a voice now hoarse, "You ripened, didn't you, cousin William?"
"Ripened? What do you think, that I'm a fruit?" I asked thinking that Charlotte seemed to become increasingly weird.
"YesÉ the forbidden fruitÉ and I intend to taste itÉ" she said with a languid expression, moving away from the wall and coming in front of me. She was looking straight into my eyes and her gaze was blazing. "This fruit, William!" she added with a low but determined voice, even hoarser, and all of a sudden I felt her small hand reach between my legs and grope my genitals with gentle vigour.
Instinctively I jolted back and that contact ceased.
I looked at her with wide eyes, "What's up with you, cousin Charlotte, are you crazy? Such things are not to be done!" I exclaimed feeling my heart in my mouth.
I was shuddering, or even trembling. She drew again close to me, pushing her body against mine and pushing me against the statue. Her hand went again, daring, to rummage between my legs.
"Show me you have become a man, you aren't a child any more! I want you, cousin William! Or possibly you are lacking virility? You wouldn't have me believe you are still a virgin, at your age! Or do you possibly like better to couple with people of your same sex? Are you possibly a degenerate?"
Charlotte was becoming aggressive and, in a way, I was feeling frightened, scared. Her pitiless hand was making me get aroused against my will. I had never been touched there and in that way by other hands than mine. I had to admit that her pressing manoeuvres were provoking an agreeable warmth all over my body, an increasingly hot pleasure that was mixing up with my embarrassment and my fear in a weird mix to me still totally unknown. My strength seemed to desert me.
I heard a swish and lowered my eyes - I don't know how but she managed to untie with her free hand her crinoline that was now lying wilted around her feet in a wide set of concentric circles, from which stood her legs, covered only by a long, half transparent lace underwear.
"What are you doing?" I asked with a shocked voice, even though I well understood what she was doing.
She didn't answer and, while her inquisitive hand was continuing to skilfully play with my increasingly hardening genitals, I felt her other hand busy with the side strings of my tight velvet breeches.
"NoÉ stop!" I moaned.
I would have escaped what was about to happen, but the unexpected feelings, her determination, her fingering me and brushing against me, seemed to have drained all my strength - I was feeling as if paralysed.
"YesÉ" she murmured in a determined tone and her gaze, straight into my eyes, was more burning than ever.
I was trembling from head to toe. Why was I unable to move away? Why didn't I push her away, freeing myself and escaping her? Why, as I didn't want it to happen?
"Stop itÉ" I almost begged, in a moan.
"No!" she answered. "You have to give me satisfaction, if you are able to! It has been too long since I have done it. I want you!"
The sweet, mincing, delicate Charlotte seemed to have changed into a wild Furie. Her breath was becoming heavy, her milky skin was getting flushed, her eyes were on fire - she was evidently excited, and determined.
"IÉ I never did itÉ" I protested in a last desperate defence.
"I presumed this. This is why I want you. I want to pluck your virginity. Like your brother Charles plucked mine!"
"But it's a sinÉ it's forbiddenÉ" I moaned while she pushed my breeches to my knees.
"Therefore it is more beautifulÉ" she whispered, seized by rapture.
She was pushing down my underpants to my calves - I was uncovered, half naked in front of her. I felt myself blaze up and blush. Her hand leaned, warm and determined, on my exposed penis and seized it. I had shuddered. I felt incredibly weak, like emptied of all my strength; only my penis was hard and stiff like a Toledo blade in her hand that was masturbating it, sweet and strong at once. All my excitation was localised in my genitals, all the rest of my body was seized by a cold sweat. I felt that my legs were yielding.
Soon, and I don't know how it happened, I was lying on the floor, on my back. I could feel under my small naked buttocks the ice of the cold, hard marble. She crouched astride my pelvis and I felt her warm slit push, quivering and brushing, against the tip of my rod.
"Ha, cousin William, now you are mine!" she said with a domineering smile, "I will now ride you until you give me an orgasm. You have a nice pole, to be just fourteen, one of the most beautiful I ever saw." she said, her eyes glassy from the foretasted pleasure.
I shut my eyes and clenched my fistsÉ and she came down on me, with a light moan of pleasure, and so made me penetrate her. I felt a great warmth wrap my penis and her sheath of hot quivering flesh shuddered and throbbed around it, almost like a hand.
"Oh yesÉ You have the ideal size - nature has been generous with you, to my luck!" Charlotte sighed and started to move up and down on my hardness, imprisoned in her.
It was more pleasurable than just masturbating myself, much more pleasurable, increasingly more pleasurableÉ and yet I was still feeling the irresistible desire to escape her, to withdraw, to disappear.
"Oh, come on, give me pleasure! Oh, Willy, fuck me, don't lay there so still!" she protested tossing on my blazing groin.
If I had been able to move, if even just a little bit of energy remained in me, I would have fled away, I would have pushed her away. But besides my penis that seemed to shudder with its own will, I was totally inert, almost unable to breath. She, seeing that I remained still, resumed fucking herself with the vigour of a virago.
I hoped I could reach orgasm as soon as possible in order to make that distressing and humiliating situation to have at last an end. But it was not a short thing. I could hear her pant, moan, toss with growing vigour on me, using me for her pleasure. In my head was resounding a cacophony of noises that seemed to daze me more and more. I couldn't even feel the coldness of the marble floor under me.
And finally it happened. She threw out a victory yell and I felt I was unloading inside her with a set of wild jets.
All of a sudden, everything seemed to stop for several minutes and silence fell on us. Not a sound, not a movement. Not a breath of air.
Then she stood up. I remained on the floor, still inert, feeling that little by little, finally, my body was starting to relax.
After a few moments that seemed to me centuries, I heard her voice again, "What are you doing there, still half naked, cousin William? Tidy yourself, come on!"
I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was totally dressed again and she had once again her gentle, delicate, mawkish expression as usual. As if nothing happened. She modestly moved her eyes away from my body and withdrew a few paces away from me.
"Hurry up, I'll wait for you at the doorÉ" she whispered almost as if she were ashamed.
But if there was somebody ashamed there, it was me. I stood up almost with difficulty, and tidied my clothes. I was lightly trembling all over my body. Then an idea flashed in my head and I felt in panic - my God, what if from that union was sired a child?
"Are you coming?" she called.
I went near her and with the force of despair I said, "I don't want to have a child, not yet, not with you!"
She looked at me amazed as if she didn't understand what I was talking about, smiled at my upset expression then, with a low and well modulated voice, she whispered, "Don't worry, I will not give you a child, I took my precautionsÉ" then in a fickle tone as if nothing happened, she said, "Bring me back, dear cousin, this walk made me really tired!"
For several days I lived in the terror of hearing that Charlotte was pregnant. For much time I carefully avoided any contact with a member of the other sex - I saw in each of them a potential danger. Several weeks elapsed before I even started again to give myself pleasure with my hand. But then I gradually relaxed, Charlotte was not pregnant. I anyway went on to avoid even the lesser intimacy with women - I didn't want risking to be used again in that humiliating and degrading way. Charlotte had reduced me to a pure tool for her pleasure - she didn't want me but only my virile appendage!
In spite of the opinion of some people, I don't think that it was because of this fact that I developed my passion for people of my own sex. This could at most have facilitated my acceptance of my nature when it started to emerge. If I was born to love the other sex, all my body would have welcomed with pleasure her "offer", to use a euphemism, and I would have busied myself to enjoy her advances and enjoy myself in her. I wouldn't have suffered that unforeseen and unwanted union with pain, as instead it happened.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2
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