Adolfo: European Libertine

Louise had been his first. She literally took him in hand for the next three years. Marianna had been the next, and stayed with him for several years. By then it was 1935 and Adolfo reluctantly sent Marianna to America; Germany under Hitler was no place for a Jewess.

His wealthy parents, a German father and a Spanish mother, also left for America; they had looked to the future with the "Austrian maniac" running the country and decided Germany wouldn't be a safe place for anyone who disagreed with the Nazi party's views. They were convinced Germany would soon be at war.

Adolfo stayed. Not because he agreed with Hitler's rantings; it was simply that he saw the prospect of a Europe in turmoil as exciting. He expected the war that was inevitable would provide many opportunities for a young man with a cool head.

When war came, he was posted to France as a junior officer. Promotions followed quickly, which gave him opportunities to find the kind of woman he needed. He found Lessandra or, rather, she—on the hunt for an officer with influence- found him and in return for the attention he craved, he got her two brothers out of the country, to America.

Then, in early 1945, he and three other officers were ordered to drive four couriers and their diplomatic boxes to Switzerland. Exactly where Adolfo wanted to go. The couriers always stayed overnight in inns or hotels, while the officers had been ordered to remain in the cars with the diplomatic boxes. Although this had rankled, it meant they escaped the bombs that destroyed the hotel and killed the couriers.

Still following their orders, the four left for their rendezvous point by separate routes. Adolfo's route was blocked by debris from a bombed house. He got out of his vehicle to clear the way, and came face to face with a girl holding a baby. Bombs were still falling so he shouted for her to put the baby down and help him. She was stronger than she looked; between them they cleared a path for the car and when he got behind the wheel, she jumped into the back seat where she'd put the baby. Adolfo gave them no more than a glance before he started the motor and drove for the Swiss border.

There was no-one to meet him at the Schaffhausen rendezvous so he went on to his ski lodge in Winterthur and it was there, eventually, that he and his fellow officers reunited. Germany was defeated; there was nothing to go back to; they opened the diplomatic boxes ... and become millionaires. Diamonds and other precious stones, but mostly diamonds, were all that the boxes contained. They divided up the loot and went their separate ways. The war was over but Europe was still in chaos so Adolfo's first decision was to remain in Switzerland for a few years making plans and establishing a network of business acquaintances. Then he got rid of the name Adolf Hausmann, and established a new identity. His mother was Spanish, with no living relatives in Spain so he took her name and changed Adolf Johann Franz Hausmann to Adolfo Juan Franco del Basquez.

He bought a villa in Spain, added a wing to it, and insisted on modifications that caused the builders to look sideways at him. However, he was el Patron, the man with the money, so who were they to comment.

The search for the villa, and other business meant he was often absent from Winterthur, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. When he returned to Switzerland after these trips, he was taken care of by the small staff that had remained in Winterthur from before the war: a housekeeper/cook, a maid of all work and a man of all work, and this staff took care of the girl and the baby.

The housekeeper. Senora Bianca, had judged Sophie to be no less than fifteen and probably no more than seventeen; the baby, she said, was at least one year old. After naming them Sophie and Luisa Maria, Adolfo took very little notice of them; he wasn't interested in children. He was soon joined by Lessandra, his paramour, whom he'd had to leave behind when he was ordered to escort the couriers. Lessie was in her forties and, in spite of all the hardships she'd endured during the war, was a good looking woman without any grey in her hair or sag to her body. Her arrival completed the Winterthur household but not everyone would go with him from there to Spain.

When it came time to move, his household would go with him, as would Lessie and Sophie. Luisa Maria, he decided, would be dropped off at an orphanage along the way.

A few years later, the Winterthur lodge was closed and Don Adolfo Juan Franco del Basquez took his household, Lessie and Sophie and Luisa Maria went with him. He was never sure when it happened but at some point very early on in Luisa's life, Adolfo's feelings for the little girl became those of a doting father. Perhaps it was when her chubby fingers held his face and her rosebud mouth planted baby kisses on his cheeks. Perhaps it was when her little hand held his so trustingly. Whenever it happened, whatever caused it, it was clear to his household that the little girl held the Patron in the palm of her little hand.

But she was never allowed to call his Papa, or father. From the time she was talking intelligibly, Luisa called him mi Patron, never Papa. Others would call him Patron, or refer to him as el Patron, but for Luisa he was mi Patron, whom she adored, and she was Don Adolfo Juan Franco del Basquez's adored daughter.

Sophie's introduction to serving Adolfo

Of that long ago day when she had staggered, dazed and bleeding, from the wreckage of a bombed house, Sophie remembered very little. She'd seen a movement, found a crying child in a bundled up blanket, and was holding it when a tall, broad shouldered man in uniform appeared.

He'd spoken to her but she was shell shocked and deafened by the noise of the bombardment. He hadn't wasted time trying to speak to her; he gestured at the baby and at the ground, then at herself and the debris blocking the road.

When the road was clear, she jumped into the back of the car where she'd placed the baby. After a quick look, the officer shrugged and then drove them all away from a nightmare of explosions and devastation. In the days that followed, her hearing returned but not her speech.

The man drove all through the night, changing vehicles twice. Before they drove across the border into Switzerland, he changed his clothes.

The house they were welcomed into was obviously the man's house because there were servants who bowed and welcomed him, their soft, deferential voices speaking Spanish. The man, who'd been speaking fluent German now spoke fluent Spanish. She never heard him speak German again. Don Adolfo, as his servants called him, hardly spoke to her at all but the servants were patient with her, speaking slowly and clearly, until she learned the new language.

A few years later, when he announced they would be moving to Spain, two grim-faced, taciturn young men had joined the household. They kept apart from the servants, becoming shadows of the man they called Patron. Always alert, always watchful, they went everywhere the Patron went. Although the war was over, Europe was ravaged and ruined in many places. People were slowly rebuilding their lives but there were those who would never return to the peaceful, ordered, law-abiding way of life the war had taken from them. It was these people the Patron dealt with, and it was from these people his Shadows protected him.

In Winterthur, Sophie had always made herself useful but Adolfo never made her status clear, neither to her nor to the rest of his household. She wasn't quite servant, not quite guest. But once in Spain, Sophie was given a uniform and told an account would be kept of her wages; a uniform and wages settled the matter of her status: she was a servant.

Luisa Maria, however, was accepted as Adolfo's daughter and installed in a suite with a maid and a niñera to take care of her day and night.

The years went by until one morning she was told Don Alfonso waited for her in his study. She went nervously but not afraid; she had always done as she was told, had always done her work well, and had done nothing to give offence. He waved her forward with the Malacca cane he'd taken to carrying since arriving in Spain. He didn't need it for support; he just enjoyed the way it tapped on the tiled floors. It was a warning to the servants that he was approaching, but only sometimes. Sometimes it didn't tap on the floor and an idle servant was surprised by a swift whack or poke by the silently approaching Patron.

"Lessie is leaving," he said. "You have three days to learn what she does for me. Do you understand?"

She nodded; she understood what he said and she understood that learning what Lessie did for him meant watching what Lessie did for him. She was dismissed and she hurried to find Lessie.

Everyone in the villa, with the exception of the young Luisa Maria, knew or had a very good idea of what Lessie did for the Patron. There were no closed doors in the villa, nor had there been in the lodge in Winterthur, except when the Patron closed them. At the first offence of closing a door that the Patron hadn't closed, the one responsible was spanked. Sophie had been astonished. Such a punishment a child might expect or so she thought, until she and all the other servants were called to watch a spanking administered by one of the Patron's men. It was unpleasant to watch, and it must have been painful in the extreme to experience.

The Patron always closed doors when his business associates came to the villa but while he might close a door when Lessie was with him, he often didn't. Whether his servants saw or not, didn't bother el Patron, unless they stared. That was rude, and wasn't tolerated. So passing servants, even before they quickly averted their eyes, knew what Lessie was doing for the Patron.

Nudity didn't bother him, whether it was his own or a servant's provided there was no flaunting of one's nakedness; a deliberate or unmannerly display, especially to those who would rather not see, was not tolerated. Modesty, servants were told, was served by being dressed before they left their bedrooms to begin their working day. So it wasn't feelings of modesty that prompted him to have two lavatories for his servants, one for the women and one for the men. It was at Senora Bianca's request. Men, she told Don Adolfo, left their whiskers in the sink after they'd shaved, they dripped on the floor after they'd urinated, they didn't hang their towels neatly so they dried, they didn't—

Don Adolfo stopped her at that point because it seemed she could go on and on, and granted her request.

Nothing was to be hidden from him, and everyone who came to serve him was told that beneath his roof everything and everyone belonged to him everything, which meant everything and everyone was under his protection. Only by accepting that they belonged to him could they be protected. If they understood that and accepted it, they could stay and be clothed and fed and sheltered, and given a wage. If they demurred in the slightest way, even by an expression on their face or a look in their eyes, Don Adolfo refused to employ them.

Open doors and peepholes gave him unrestricted views into rooms and bedrooms. He could check and inspect, watch and listen at any time of the day or night. No-one that he protected would be subjected to the bullying, the beatings and the sexual abuses that he'd been subjected to at the boarding school his father had sent him to. No-one there had checked to make sure the young boy wasn't being bullied; no-one noticed the bruises on his body, no-one listened to him sobbing at night. He had been used in degrading ways, subjected to torture of the mind and body, and by schoolboys! While teachers didn't notice or didn't care, and did nothing!

Such things Don Adolfo Juan Franco del Bazquez swore would never happen under his roof, not to his servants and especially not to children.

Everything and everyone under my roof belongs to me. Sophie had heard it said often enough but now realised exactly what it meant. She went straight to Lessie's room, and Lessie knew why she was there.

"You're here," the older woman said with a sigh, "which means you're going to do what he wants. You know you have a choice?"

Sophie nodded; the choice was stay, or go. Lessie shrugged; it was a choice she'd made years ago and had never regretted it.

"Since you don't speak," Lessie told her, "there's no need to tell you to say nothing. Still, you're able to make sounds or draw a noisy breath. Don't. Make no sound, and don't move—especially your face. All it takes is one look at you and I know what you're thinking and feeling, so keep your face still and watch."

Although he was in his study, he was wearing only a bathrobe, sitting in his favourite chair with a glass of brandy in his hand. He set the glass down on the table beside him and gestured Lessie to come forward. Sophie was also gestured forward, to stand at the side of his chair.

"I am ready," he said, flipping open the bathrobe and spreading his legs wide.

Sophie had seen men in various states of undress before, it was inevitable in a house where doors remained open, but she'd never thought to see el Patron so casually or blatantly bare himself. Red in the face, she lowered her head and clasped her hands in front of her.

Don Adolfo , after one quick glance to make sure she had her eyes open, turned to watch Lessie take off her clothes.

"You have the new lingerie."

"Si, Patron."

That was all that was said. When she was down to her slip, which showed she was wearing neither brassiere nor panties , Adolfo twirled a finger. Lessie turned slowly, coming back to face him before slowly sliding the straps of her slip down her arms. Still moving slowly, she eased first one side of the slip down her body, then the other side. It was a little tight around her hips which meant she had to inch it down rather than slide it but once past her ample curves the satiny garment fell to her feet. Lessie knelt between Adolfo's spread legs, lifted his long flaccid penis to her mouth and sucked on it.

Sophie felt sweat break out on her forehead. Feeling faint, she swallowed hard, bit her lip and gripped her hands together painfully. The moment of faintness passed. She was still upright, her eyes still on what Lessie was doing to him—to his—to his cock.

At first, Lessie sucked the whole thing into her mouth. As it grew longer and firmer, she put one hand around it while she sucked on the rounded end. When it grew longer still, she put both hands on it, sucking harder on the now bulbous end.

He had leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed, and was breathing as hard as if he were walking fast or even running.

He shifted his buttocks on the chair and Lessie gripped his cock harder. He made a sort of whimpering noise. Continuing to suck so that her cheeks moved like bellows, Lessie squeezed him, squeezed him hard. Sophie winced; surely he was being hurt. It looked really painful. She was right. He was uttering whimpers of pain but he didn't stop Lessie from hurting him. In fact, he lifted his buttocks off the chair, pushing his groin into her grasping, squeezing hands and sucking mouth.

There was a long drawn out moan and he collapsed back into the chair, panting.

Lessie continued to suck but very gently, then she lifted her head and waited.

At last he said, "Very good, Lessie. You may go, both of you."

"That is what I do for him," Lessie said, shrugging into a beautiful silk peignoir. She sat down at her dressing table to brush her hair. "That is what you'll do for him."

Sophie swallowed dryly and shook her head.

"Stupid girl," Lessie laughed. "If you refuse, you'll be out the door, on the street with no papers and no passport. You can't speak. Doing that to him is a small price for good food, a luxurious home, beautiful clothes. My brothers and I, we never went hungry, not once, during that wretched war. Look at me," she pulled open her peignoir to display her ample curves. "Do I look as if I've ever gone hungry?" She pointed at her mirror. "Look at yourself. You were as skinny as a rat when I first saw you. You looked like I did when he first found me. Now look at us."

Sophie turned to look at her reflection. She looked nothing like the starving waif she had been. She had glossy dark hair, clear brown eyes, smooth pale olive skin. She had breasts and hips though her curves were nowhere near as ample as Lessie's. Unconsciously she smoothed her hands down over her slim hips.

"Don't worry about that," Lessie told her. "He's not concerned whether you're thin or plump—although he doesn't like skin and bone and he doesn't like fat or flab. And he never sticks his dong in you. You just have to handle him the way I did, and then swallow what comes out."

Again Sophie shook her head.

"Mother of God," Lessie exclaimed. "Are you looking for love? For a husband?" She gave an impatient snort. "A lot of bad things happened to me, very bad things that a silly girl like you couldn't imagine, until Don Adolfo came along. He took me in and he taught me what to do to him so that he gets off. It's the only thing way he gets off; it's the only thing he likes. It's the only thing I have to do for him: undress and suck him off."

She paused; that wasn't quite true. It wasn't a lie but it wasn't all the truth but no need to go into that just yet. Get the girl to agree to the undressing and sucking and the rest would follow.

"I thought you'd take over from me and that I'd only been called to Winterthur to show you what was what. But you weren't old enough. You might have been sixteen back then but Bianca told him you were more likely fifteen, so I continued to handle him because he's not interested in children. But you're a woman now—you could be more than twenty, and I won't see fifty again"

Sophie's expression said she hadn't realised Lessie was that old, which made the older woman laugh. "Yes, I'm that old so it's time for me to retire and a younger woman to take over. You."

Sophie's nose wrinkled; doing what Lessie did wasn't something she wanted to do.

"You silly girl." Lessie was exasperated. "Do what he wants and he'll be generous. If you don't want to do it, leave! You can, if you want. He won't force you. I chose to go with him and stay with him, because you would not believe what I did to stay alive during the war." She closed her eyes, shaking her head, remembering things she wished she could forget. "I knew I could leave because he doesn't force; he gave me a choice, and I said, Yes. If you say, No, you can leave with your wages and all the gratutities you've earned. Just don't expect generosity; he can be generous but only to those he retires."

She looked at Sophie narrowly. "Is it that you want to marry? Have children? If that's what you want, let him know. He'll let you go."

Sophie grimaced, and pantomimed a big belly. Lessie snorted. "Not from him. Yes, I'm sure—see I told you I could tell from your face what you're thinking. You have got to do something about that."

Trying to keep her face expressionless, Sophie made gestures that asked where Lessie would go.

"I'm going back to France. He's bought a small auberge for me just outside of Lyons. Maybe my brothers come back from America, maybe they don't. They got their pourboire when they went. Maybe they're rich by now"—she shrugged her shoulders—"maybe they're not. He is very generous to those who serve him well," she added in a wheedling tone.

Two days later, Sophie stood beside the chair again while Lessie undressed and sucked and handled Don Adolfo to orgasm. Two days after that, Sophie was told to undress before she watched. Two days after that, it was her turn while Lessie watched.

She did everything Lessie did, except swallow his ejaculation. She couldn't; she just couldn't swallow the stuff. After she'd dribbled it out of her mouth onto her slip, Lessie pulled her roughly to her feet, pulled her beneath one arm and spanked her buttocks painfully. When, two days later, Sophie again wouldn't swallow, she got another spanking that made her struggle. She was held more tightly and spanked until she was weeping and making animal-like noises from the pain and Lessie was tiring.