Date: Tue, 22 Sep 2009 20:14:48 +0200 (CEST)
From: Teresa Yam <trevor@maytum.fsnet.co.uk>
Subject: THE COUNT OF COWLEY MANOR - Part Three(BI+BDSM)

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...)