36 Part 02

After finishing she leaned over and kissed his forehead very, very gently. Just with the tip of her lips. He did not react.

She continued by kissing both his cheeks and then the sides of his neck. She whispered in his ear: "Lie completely still."

He made an 'mmmm' sound. Like he was falling asleep.

She let her body slide off. Lifted her leg free and rested on his side.

Her fingertips and lips continued down over his chest. Kissing and sucking on his nipples -- one at a time. Making her tongue trace down -- down -- down -- and pushing the sheet off his body.

As she very well knew his manhood stood almost vertical up in the air already.

He gave a loud gasp as she let one hand run down and cupped his balls, while two fingers on the other hand closed around the base of his penis. She smiled.

The tip of her tongue worked its extremely slow way over his stomach and through the curly hair till it reached the fingers around his penis.

In the meantime her other hand rolled the balls just as slowly inside their wrinkled, little sack.

Making sure he could see what was happening through his half-closed eyes she moved her tongue up the stiff rod, across the foreskin that were already too small for its contents. Up over the smooth part of the head sticking out and landing in the little opening at the top.

She released the balls for a second. Just to push her hair over her head and out of the way. She wanted him to watch.

She used her tongue. Lips and fingers all over his balls and rod -- and he was panting louder and louder -- in between gasping when she found an especially sensitive spot.

Almost in slow motion she swung her leg back over his body and used her fingers to place the head right between her wet inner labia.

Then she sat up and arched her back.

His eyes went from hers -- over her nipples with the rings shining in the light -- to her crotch where she now had 'captured' his head with her opening.

She rotated slowly so he had a good sense of how much control she had of everything. The head barely inside her but following her movements.

When she started impaling herself -- very, very slowly -- moving out almost as much out as in, he emitted some very loud moans.

It took a while before she was all the way down and he all the way inside her.

She felt his pubes against her clit, his curly hair tickling her sensitive skin and his head pushing against something inside her. Probably the point of her cervix.

Her clit ring rested on the skin between them and every time she moved, it pulled at her most sensitive spot. Sending lightning rays through her body.

She had her hands on each side of his chest, and now began contracting her inner muscles. Massaging the rod with all she had.

That made him begin to arch his back and she felt like she was riding a horse.

A few seconds later she felt his warm semen spray into her and his grip on her legs tightened.

She relaxed and waited till he had emptied himself completely inside her.

Then lowered herself down on his chest. Resting her sweaty head on his shoulder.

She could hear his rasping and panting breath and feel his heartbeat hammering through the skin.

Staying absolutely still till she felt him grow small and fall out of her. Then lifting herself up and use her tongue and mouth to clean their combined juices off his now slack member.

She pulled the sheet back over his waist, rose and slipped out silently.

The whole way back to the cellar she felt his semen trickle down the insides of her legs.

The next day they just nodded at each other as they passed on their different businesses around the house. She understood perfectly that what had expired between them had to be kept secret -- as far as anything could be kept secret in the house.

They passed each other as strangers till the next time he had his bath. She worried that their relationship had changed for the worse and when she entered his room, there was an awkward silence for a few moments.

Then he told her he was ready for his massage, dropped his clothes and got on the bed the usual way.

Not saying anything she was very careful to do the routine the same way as always.

At the end of the massage when she was doing his neck and almost ready to slip off him, he opened his eyes, grabbed her and pulled her close. A second later he had pushed her down on the bed, rolled on top of her and was kissing her with a passion.

She happily submitted to his soft, but determined caresses and when he pushed into her it was like a soft, smooth joyful and burning sensation.

This time she moaned louder than him and she had to put a snip of the sheet into her mouth and bite hard not to scream and reveal to the whole house what was going on.

After he had fallen out of her he moved down and this time he was the one doing the cleaning, which made her come yet another time.

It soon became a daily routine. After lunch and his bi-daily bath she would go to his chambers and give him an extended massage. It always ended with them entangled in a sweaty mess of entangled arms and legs on the bed.

Her girls did give her a lot of 'funny' looks and she sensed the giggling going on in the corners of the cellar.

She held her head high and pretended nothing but a massage ever happened. If she at rare occasions overheard something about it, she would fiercely defend Sir Robert's honour -- and her own of course.

One wall in the big hall was occupied with a large map of the town and the area known around it. Every time she had the chance and was alone in there, she looked at it and tried to trace her wanderings.

The close surroundings were easy enough. The Inn and the area just beyond. It went as far as to show Lady Charlotte's sisters place. Two days ride away, but then there were mainly empty spots beyond. She had been wandering for so long and in so many directions that it was hard for her to make a correct trace of her route.

She was sure the blacksmith's house was outside the map, but was also fairly certain in what direction it had been.

One day she thought she had found the strange concrete house, where she had met the maniac. She still remembered all the useful things, she had seen there.

On the map -- at the extreme upper corner - were some lines and signatures that were not explained. That could very well be the concrete house. She had an idea that it was part of a larger complex. Such a big and well-equipped concrete thing had to be there for a purpose. Not just a single construction in the middle of nowhere. It might be that the surrounding buildings, roads and other signs of habitat and civilization had vanished. Maybe destroyed, maybe just taken over by nature. She remembered that the construction had been very overgrown as well as the brush had been pretty hard to go through to get there.

She also remembered that the big room she had been in, had had a lot of openings with strange signs over them, and those openings had to lead somewhere.

She took the matter up with de la Pere one day, when he happened to pass the hall while she was studying the map.

Telling him of her experience and recalling the interior and the supplies stocked there.

De la Pere seemed very interested and she was not surprised to be called to Sir Robert a few days later and finding de la Pere sitting next to him. She had to retell the whole story and it did not take long before the two of them had decided to send out an expedition to the place.

The prospect of securing all the stuff she told them about was very tempting.

She did ask them to be careful and not harm the old, crazy guy. If he was still alive and they found him.

They promised to bring him back in one piece.

Content she went about her usual business and trusted that de la Pere and his men would find the place, if she had been right in pointing it out on the map.

About two weeks later the expedition returned. Waggons and carts loaded with stuff and the old man tied up on top of the load on one of the carts.

As the rest of the house she heard the commotion when they entered the courtyard, so she pressed herself up in front of the crowd.

The old man looked just like she remembered him: Tattered and torn brown clothes and as he was not wearing his funny steel hat: A lot of grey hair growing in patches on top of his head. His eyes shone with the light of a madman.

He had strong ropes around his scrawny body and seemed quiet enough.

As they brought him down from the waggon, she pushed forward and gave the hogtied man a big hug. He looked up and suddenly there was some kind of recognition in his eyes. She sensed he almost smiled.

"Hello -- again." She kissed him on top of his head.

He looked rather confused: "They have taken me away from my post. Can they do that?"

"They have relieved you of it. You're not to take care of the place any more. You are off duty."

He looked bewildered: "Are you sure? They do not look anything like the superiors that ordered me to stay there?"

She smiled and stroked his cheek: "Yes. I am quite sure. It's all over, and you are relieved."

Then she turned to the guards: "Untie him please?"

They protested and said he had been fighting with arms and legs when they had first met him. He had even taken a shot with his ancient rifle -- but fortunately not hitting anybody.

She assured them that she was quite capable to take care of him. So finally they gave in and untied him.

She put her arm over his shoulder and led him very gently down to the cellar, where she and her girls gave him a long bath, got one of the kitchen staff to find him some clothes -- and when they were all done - took him by the hand and led him upstairs.

She found Sir Robert in The Hall -- as usual. Busy with papers and visitors. He looked up and almost laughed when she led the old man in.

"You seem to have the strangest friends, 36. What have you now brought to my house?"

"Sir Robert. This is my friend, whom I met travelling. He is not quite like the rest of us, but I think I have a solution."

"I hope so. I am not sure we can find anything useful for him to do here and we certainly do not have room or people to care for him and keep him out of trouble."

He gave her an inquisitive look!

She explained that the widow Sarabande, whom everybody knew and who lived in a big house by herself at the outskirts of town would probably take him in -- with some persuading. 36 had often used the widow's house, when she or The Doctor had patients coming from outside the city and needed a period of rest before they could go home.

The widow had a big house and an even bigger heart, so often all her rooms were filed with people in different stages of recuperating.

The widow got paid for some of them but just as often just took them in. Her husband had been a wealthy trader and had left her rather well off when one morning did not get out of bed, so she cared less about the payment anyway.

She was sure that the widow had the skills and patience to take care of the old man -- and that he could probably be useful in caring for their recuperating patients.

So, it was decided. Message was sent to the widow. The matter explained to her and she was more than happy to take the old man in.

In fact, she took him by the hand immediately and dragged him off. He followed her like a tame dog out.

For some reason the scavengers had not found the concrete installation. Maybe it was too overgrown, maybe the old man had had a more scaring effect on people than she had thought.

However, in the following weeks a number of expeditions was sent out to empty the place and a permanent guard was left there in between.

It turned out that indeed it was a large complex and had a lot of useful stuff.

The Doc was particularly happy as it turned out that one of the tunnels had led to a fully equipped, underground hospital. He now had all the instruments and medications he could wish for and in such abundance that he would not run out for years to come.

A week later, she decided to check on the widow and the old man. She went by her house.

Her pretext was that she had: One infected foot, one fever and two that had rashes from contact with some poisonous herb. All recovering and almost ready to go -- at the widow's house.

36 tended to her patients first. Before looking or asking about the old maniac.

She waited till she had made sure all was well before settling with the widow for their usual cup of herbal tea and gossip exchange

This was always a bit of an ordeal as the widow was slowly becoming senile. At the moment she was quite normal and was in the present, but she had increasingly begun to forget things, put things in the wrong place and suddenly speak of people long gone as if they had just left the room. It was probably just a question of time before she had to find a person to tend to both her and the old man.

Checking that the widow had one of her good days and was reasonably in sync with the world, she finally got around to asking about the old man.

"He's totally mad and I do not think he will ever come back to us again, but he is quite harmless and I have him digging and tending the garden. I have grown rather fond of him -- in all his foggy madness. Besides he seems to know where I put things better than I do these days. One funny thing though!"

"Yes?", 36 was hoping this would not be serious in any way.

"He seems to think I am somehow 'superior' to him. He keeps calling me 'Madam' and he has a strange habit of straightening up and putting his flat hand up. Pointing at his head and resting the fingertips on the skin every time I tell him to do something?"

The widow laughed and they agreed that we all had small quirks. The old man just had more than most, but was totally harmless.

She went to the window and looked out and quite right: The man was digging methodically in a square, black piece of land. An addition to the widows already large vegetable garden.

Using one of the shovels that had come back with a load from his 'concrete prison'.

The widow opened the window and called him in: "Private Andrews! Tea time!"

Then she closed the window and looked at 36: "Like you, he seems to prefer numbers. It took a while to get his name out of him -- if that is his name. In the beginning he only wanted me to use a rather long number, but it was not as easy as '36' and as you know I have a slight problem remembering things these days. I finally managed to wrestle his name out of him." She giggled.

The widow was a round and jolly woman with red cheeks and always wearing a practical, black or brown dress -- with a perfectly clean and starched white apron.

With amazing speed and agility, she settled back on a chair by the table. Leaned over and whispered to 36. "He likes things to be the same -- all the time. Even small changes upset him, so I try to humour him and we have found a way that seems to work for both of us. Schyyy..here he comes."

They could hear him getting out of his heavy boots and then wash at the small bowl just inside the back door.

As soon as he came in he went straight to the widow. Not acknowledging 36 in any way. Sat down on her lap, swung an arm around her neck and rested his head on her shoulder. She patted his back gently and made small comforting noises. Like one would do to a child.

A few minutes later she had managed to free herself partly from his grip -- and moved his hand to the teacup on the table. He drank very carefully. Blowing across the top each time before taking a sip.

Then he put the cup down and looked over at 36 for the first time: "I know you! You're the one that went away -- and then came back."

"Yes, that's me, "she answered with a smile.

"They never did drop it -- did they?"

"No -- I don't think so. You did well -- on your post. We are all happy that you stayed on."

His eyes went blank and he stared at the floor for a minute, then looked up again: "I'm relieved now, you know?"

"Yes. You have finally been relieved. How do you like it here?"

"They are all very kind to me, and Sarabande often treats me like my wife did. So, I am happy."

He again seemed to turn into himself and his stare became blank. The widow winked at her.

She got up: "I'd better leave again. Just wanted to check up on things! Thank you for the tea. I'll be back in a week unless something comes up with the patients!"

The widow lifted the tiny man up and sat him on a free chair. She gave both of them a long hug, and whispered her thanks in the ears of the widow.

On her way down the road from the house, she could hear the distinct noise of porcelain being smashed. Laughing inside, she thought that Sarabande sure took her role seriously and wondered how much chipped and discarded porcelain, she bought at the market each week.

Same week major changes took place in her life. She was summoned to Sir Robert -- as she was used to, but this time it was rather serious. She was shown into a small, private chamber behind the big hall.

There was just room for a table and 3 chairs. Robert sat on the far side and she slumped down in front of him.

Robert looked at her for a long minute, before speaking.

He said that this situation was not sustainable. He appreciated their intimate times together and admitted he was very fond of her. The problem being that the rumours had now reached even his ears and he could not be seen to 'associate with a slave -- not even 'a former, but now free one'.

She grew cold all over -- was he sending her away now?

Not so. He proceeded by saying that he had acquired a house on the outskirts of town for her. A small house but with a nice garden, where he expected her to grow some of her herbs and healing plants, so she would not have to go far and wide to find them.

Lady Charlotta's two slave maidens: Carola and Joy had been assigned to the kitchen, so at the moment her staff was more than adequate for the tasks. 36 had worried, when first she had taken over the two girls. They might have felt it as a 'step down the ladder' of the hierarchy in the house as they had been personal slaves to The Lady. Her fears had been groundless. Carola and Joy had actually become livelier and seemed to enjoy the 'freedom' of planning and executing their own work around the house.

36 supposed some of the reason was also that before they had been rather isolated from the rest of the staff, and thus been pretty much confined to their own company Now they threw themselves happily into the whirling life around the cellar.

Maria had almost taken over her job, as she was getting more and more occupied with healing and helping people.

Sir Robert knew all this and as he outlined it for her in a fairly long speech, she slowly realized that it was a good and natural development of things. She would be far more useful to the society as a 'healer' than as a staff leader in the kitchen.

Robert had already planned to make Maria 'Head Mistress' of the cellar girls, and told 36 she would be relieved of all duties and free to set up her 'business as a healing woman' full-time.

Going into more personal matters he would appreciate if she would still see him and give him the massages, he so enjoyed. Another way of saying that he desired her and wanted to keep her as his mistress.

She was speechless. For a long while as silence ruled the room. Her brain trying to digest this sudden wealth of information.

Robert waited patiently and held her eyes with his steady gaze.

As the pieces began falling into place in her head it more and more seemed like an inevitable development.

At any rate, she had to accept it.

Even though she was a free woman she was still under Sir Roberts jurisdiction and until now employed by him. Meaning he could do whatever he wanted.