Marchwood Ch. 02: The Grand Tour

Rosa demurred for a moment she had never performed this act on any man, not even her husband Mario. Mario had never engaged in what he called fooling around in bed, he had always been inclined to proceed to the main act, penetrating her quickly and forcefully. She had no complaints about Mario, the fellow could sustain his lovemaking for as long as necessary and she would normally climax as he plunged his sizeable weapon repeatedly into her gushing slit.

Now she knew she had no option but to take the Englishman's organ in her mouth. The prospect was slightly distasteful but she bent her head and experimentally licked the bulbous crimson dome quivering before her eyes. It did not taste unpleasant and the sensation of running her tongue across the smooth bulb of its surface was actually quite delicious. She tried sucking it gently using her lips and her master murmured his approval encouraging her to continue.

"Belissimo, non si fermano," groaned Marchwood, begging her not to stop.

She began to suck him in more earnest and Marchwood could feel the familiar pressure in his balls. He looked down to see the dark curly head of his servant bobbing up and down on his cock her soft lips clamped around his shaft. He reached out and palpated one of her giant orbs feeling the fleshy weight of the breast and gently rubbing her nipple between his fingers. Marchwood seized one of Rosa's hands and pressed one of her fingers between his lips licking it all over with his tongue. He then held her finger and pressed it against his own bum hole signalling to her what he expected of her.

Rosa was taken aback when her master pressed her finger against his culo. Mario would never have done such a thing. She had heard that there were men who enjoyed such things but usually with other men. However, Lord Marchwood was an Inglese and they were different. In response to her master's demand she pushed a finger firmly into his culo and began to suck his cock more vigorously.

Marchwood could feel he was close to coming. Rosa was reaming his backside with her finger in the most delicious manner while her head bobbed rhythmically up and down on his phallus. He could feel the pressure in his balls mounting, he was getting so close. He seized the cook's head and holding her hair began to firmly fuck her in the mouth. Rosa had never experienced anything like it, the Englishman's cock was pushing to the back of her mouth and she was almost gagging. Suddenly hot liquid was pouring into the back of her throat, it had a slightly acrid taste but Marchwood continued to pump into her mouth and his plentiful sperm flooded out across her lips and dripped down her chin as she struggled to swallow his bountiful liquid tribute.

For the next few weeks Marchwood insisted on Rosa posing for him on a regular basis. He rediscovered his creative flair and produced some of his best paintings for some years, inspired by his new muse. His painting sessions always seemed to conclude with him making love to Rosa on the couch or on the floor of the studio. She still refused to permit him to penetrate her anywhere but in her mouth but Marchwood became more and more inventive in other ways of pleasuring his new mistress including the use of a rare Japanese ivory dildo which he had acquired from the Jew's shop. Rosa for her part improved her skills in fellatio beyond compare and learned how to tease her employer with her tongue for long periods eventually bringing him to a thunderous climax when she finally chose to grant him release.

Chapter 6: An expedition

Marchwood had been procrastinating but knew he had a mission to complete while he was in Italy. His great friend Duke Gunther von Schwarzberg had asked him to conduct negotiations to acquire a fine medieval triptych for the chapel in his castle in Bavaria. Gunther had always been kind to Marchwood and had been a generous host on his occasional visits to Germany. He knew that Marchwood possessed an excellent knowledge of the art world and was a collector himself so had asked him to acquire the masterpiece and arrange it to be conveyed back to Bavaria.

The only problem was that the owner of the painting was an eccentric Italian nobleman who lived a day's journey south of Rome. Marchwood hoped he could complete the mission in three days and return to Rome. Rather than take his carriage out of storage he decided he and Beppe would hire horses and ride to Castel Belfonte to conduct the purchase.

After a long cold and damp ride Beppe and his master reached the village. It was a poor miserable sort of place, though the castle perched on a rock overlooking the place was spectacular enough. Accommodation in the village seemed limited to one rather grubby looking inn but after some discussion Beppe managed to secure his master the best room.

The next day it was agreed that Beppe would ride to the castle and seek an interview for his master with the eccentric Marquis del Belfonte. Beppe enquired whether his master might enjoy some female company. He was used to procuring wenches for his master on their travels. Marchwood had thoughy to perhaps make some sketches of the locality while he was kicking his heels but brightened up at this suggestion.

"Are there any good looking women in this godforsaken place?" he asked his servant.

"I will see what I can do," Beppe said mysteriously.

The next day Beppe rose early and rode up to the castle. Marchwood wondered whether he had managed to secure the services of a passable female. Beppe had left without saying anything that morning. He idled in his room after breakfast had been served. He had brought one of his pornographic books from the Rome bookshop and tried to read a chapter but only found it left him feeling rather frustrated. If only Rosa was there to fellate him with her sweet mouth.

There was a knock at the door and the maid entered asking if she might clean the room. She was an attractive if rather slatternly looking Italian peasant girl with broad hips and an ample bosom. She smiled at him saucily as she dusted the room and made the bed. The sight of the girl's broad backside bending over the bed only enflamed Marchwood's lustful feelings even more and he began to wish the girl would leave so he could at least frig himself in peace.

When the girl had finished cleaning she turned to him with a naughty grin and said, "Will there be anything else signore? Can I serve you in some other way?"

Marchwood suddenly intimated her meaning. Beppe had no doubt hinted to the girl about his masters predilections.

"That depends on what you are offering," he replied.

"Whatever you want sir, if you are willing to pay," she said.

"Here's a gold piece, now come over here" he replied.

The girl's eyes widened and she quickly crossed the room and seized the coin from him.

Marchwood pulled the girl on to his lap and she reached down and kissed him. When they had osculated for a few minutes he began to unbutton her blouse, the girl showed no resistance and allowed him to pull forth a large creamy tit and suckle on her strawberry nipple for a while. Marchwood then started work on the other plump mammary while his hand stole up the girl's skirt and felt the mossy tuft of her pubis, finally inserting his finger between a plump pair of cunt lips into her steaming grotto. Soon the girl's quim was oozing with liquid secretions as he skilfully massaged her clit.

Marchwood knew exactly what he needed, it had been such a long time and this girl seemed willing enough. He wondered if she would be willing to fulfil all his needs. He led the girl across to the bed and gently bent her forward so she was resting on her elbows. Seizing the hem of her skirt he lifted it up and carefully arranged it in folds across her back. Like most Italian peasant women the girl wore no drawers and he was able to admire the magnificent twin hemispheres of her bottom. He pushed his finger once more between her plump nether lips coating them liberally with her gushing juices. He pulled out his finger and gently prised apart the twin luscious globes revealing the dark brown star concealed in their folds. The girl flinched a little as his finger made contact with the tightly puckered entrance and she squealed as his finger probed inside.

"Vuoi il mio culo?" asked the girl suddenly realising his true intention.

"Yes I want your culo," said Marchwood, "and for a Louis d'or I fully intend to have it.

"But I have never....." stammered the girl.

"Do you want the gold or not," snapped Marchwood, impatient with the girl's prevarication.

"Oh yes please signore, but I pray be gentle," pleaded the maid. "My culo is virgin, you understand."

"Do not move, I have something which will make it easier," he said.

He crossed to the drawer in the nightstand and found what he was looking for, the same phial of ointment which he had used to lubricate Sophie Dancourt's delicious derriere in Paris. He applied a generous amount to his index finger and pressed it firmly into the serving wench's tight anus.

"Che cosa mi stai facendo? What are you doing to me?" cried the girl as her virgin passage was invaded again by Marchwood's well-oiled digit."

Marchwood ignored the girl's protests and began to unbutton his flies. He pulled out his straining prick and applied some of the unguent to it until it was greased to his statisfaction. The girl was attempting to rise form the bed and looked around in horror at Marchwood brandishing his not inconsiderable and glistening tool. Marchwood seized the girl and pushed her back into position. He had not come so far to be thwarted now. Besides he had paid the girl well over the going rate and she had been quick enough to take his money.

He pushed his tool between the rotund hillocks of her buttocks feeling for the right spot with his cockhead. The girl lay still sensing that she had no choice to submit. With a firm shove he eased the bulging purple plum of his cockhead past the girl's tight sphincter and paused. She squealed again as her virgin arsehole was stretched for the first time by a male organ.

"Oh signore è troppo grande," wailed the girl, certain that her back passage would burst.

"Just stay calm," said Marchwood, "this will not hurt if you relax,"

With that he gave another firm thrust so that the girl was almost fully impaled on the spike of his prick. She gave another wail and moaned that she should surely die. Ignoring her, Marchwood ploughed on. The girl's passage was deliciously tight and the thought that he was the first to enter this virgin territory only excited his lust. He had been in need to a good bum fuck since leaving Sophie in Paris and this would set him up nicely. He gave a few more gentle thrusts, the girl was moaning softly as his tool penetrated deep into her rectum but she seemed to have abandoned herself to her fate and her tightly constricted passage was beginning to open up as it was reamed out by the Englishman's invading phallus.

Marchwood speeded up the rate of his thrusts and began to sodomise the girl in earnest. Apart from emitting a small cry as his prick entered her bowels and his balls slapped against her plump thighs, the girl lay still acquiescing to Marchwood's demands. Marchwood wondered whether Beppe would be back soon and decided that he should terminate the encounter as speedily as possible. Besides he did not want the innkeeper banging on the door asking why his servant was taking so long to clean the room. He held the girl by the hips as he stood behind her forcing his swollen prick in and out of her reddened rear entrance. It felt wonderful to be buggering a woman again at last, he should not leave it so long until the next time. He could feel himself ready to climax and with a last few vigorous pumps brought himself to orgasm. The girl gave a last squeal as she felt her bowels coated in hot semen before her ravisher withdrew, allowing her to cover herself. Marchwood buttoned himself up and reached for his purse.

"Here girl, I know I have already given you more than a month's wages but her is a little extra," and he handed her a silver coin to add to the gold one she had already received.

"Grazie signor, mille grazie," the girl said in surprise and staggered from the room leaving her broom and duster behind.

It was some hours later when Beppe returned. He did not seem in the best of moods. When Marchwood questioned him about whether he had secured an interview with the Marquis..

"Oh Master I 'ave hadda sucha day," moaned Beppe in his strange Italian pidgin English.

"The Marchese 'e keepa me waitin' for four hours, 'is servants no giva me anything to eat or drink."

"But did you see him? Can I meet him tomorrow?" Marchwood pressed him.

"'Is butler say maybe tomorrow. Il Marchese no wanna speak to a servant."

It was clear that poor Beppe was exhausted and there was nothing to be done until the next day. That evening Marchwood ate alone in a black mood. The servant girl seemed to have disappeared. Perhaps she was not working or perhaps the inkeeper's wife who served his dinner was deliberately keeping her away from him.

The next day Marchwood rode out with Beppe. If the Marquis would not speak to a servant he must surely grant the master an interview. And if he refused, well then he surely had no wish to sell his damned paining and he would inform Gunther that his mission had been wasted.

It was steep ride up to the castle, a forbidding pile of stone. They rode in over a rotting drawbridge which looked as though it might give way any moment. The interior of the castle was no more prepossessing, composed as it was of crumbling stone. A lackey led them up stone stairs past walls draped with mouldering tapestries.

"You would think the Marquis would be keen to sell his bloody painting," Marchwood whispered to his manservant as they climbed the steep stairs. "This place looks as though it could do with a few bob spending on it."

They were ushered into a lofty stone ante-room where the only seating was an ancient wooden bench. Half an hour passed and Marchwood became increasingly impatient. A servant bustled by seemingly oblivious to their presence and Marchwood grabbed him by the sleeve. The servant seemed not to understand or feigned to not understand his fragmentary Italian and Beppe had to translate.

"I demand to see your master. Tell him that if he does not appear in the next five minutes I will be leaving and he can sell his damned painting to someone else." Marchwood thundered and Beppe translated.

The servant bowed and departed. Five minutes later Marchwood looked at his watch and stood up declaring to Beppe that he had had enough. At that moment he heard a noise coming down the corridor and a moment later an ancient gentleman who must have been at least eighty entered the room. He wore rather old fashioned clothes and was supported on the arm of a beautiful young woman.

"Lord Marchwood," he said in excellent English, wheezing slightly . "Welcome to Castel del Belfonte. I must apologise most sincerely for keeping you waiting. I am a late riser these days and have only just finished my breakfast. Let me introduce to you my lovely wife, Donatella."

Marchwood looked straight into the face of an enchantingly beautiful woman who offered her hand to him to kiss. His anger, which had been rising quickly, subsided as the Marquis conducted them into a drawing room and ordered wine from his own vineyard for his guest. Donatella was utterly charming and when she heard that Marchwood was staying at the miserable village inn insisted that Marchwood stay at the castello while he concluded his negotiations with her husband.

Beppe was dispatched to collect his master baggage from the inn while Marchwood settled into his new lodgings. After a quick tour of the mouldering castello with the delicious Lady Donatella Marchwood returned to meet the Marchese in his study. The old man poured him more wine and pointed to an exquisite medieval triptych hanging on the wall, it's colours glowing in the afternoon sun which bathed the room.

"Fifteenth century Florentine, is it not beautiful. Your friend the Duke admired it when he visited some years ago. I am loath to part with it but Donatella tells me I should restore the castle so if you can offer me a fair price I would be willing to part with it," said the Marchese wheezing.

There followed a long afternoon of haggling. Marchwood started by offering around two thirds of what his friend had stated was his maximum price while the Marchese demanded a ridiculous sum which was around ten times the painting's true worth. This continued for about two hours with breaks for more wine and fruit.

At last the Marchese announced, "Lord Marchwood I am much fatigued. Perhaps we both need to sleep on this. Tomorrow we will talk again and hopefully agree a price which is fair to both your friend and I."

Marchwood repaired to his room and found that Beppe had returned and had laid out his clothes and washing kit ready for him. The room was a high ceilinged chamber with a balcony looking out across the valley where he could see the village laid out below him. The walls were covered in a mouldy looking paper which looked as though it had been there for a century. In the centre stood a vast canopied bed that required a footstool to climb up to the mattress. Tattered curtains adorned the bed which had probably once been embroidered in exquisite colours but were now faded to shades of brown. Marchwood began to wish he had never offered to undertake this mission. Despite his charm, the old Marchese seemed to be a bit of skinflint and he despaired of ever purchasing the picture for a reasonable price. The only consolation was the beautiful Donatella who might prove an amusing companion at dinner that evening.

Marchwood had a quick wash and changed into his evening clothes and then presented himself in the salon at the hour appointed for dinner. A few moments later Donatella appeared alone in a slightly old fashioned but exquisite evening gown.

"I am so sorry Lord Marchwood," she said after greeting him. "My husband was taken rather unwell after his interview with you and has taken to his bed. I am afraid he will not be joining us for dinner. I hope you will forgive us."

"There is nothing to forgive madam," Marchwood replied. "I am delighted that we shall be able to get to know one another a little better. "I must apologise if our discussions this afternoon proved too taxing for the Marchese. I had hoped our business might have been concluded more speedily."

"Oh do not apologise, when my husband told me what he was asking for that dreadful old painting I told him to see sense and accept a reasonable offer from your friend. I hope we can come to an agreement tomorrow and not detain you longer than necessary," replied Donatella.

At that moment the butler announced that dinner was served and Donatella took Marchwood's arm and escorted him to the dining room. The dinner proved to be delicious. The Marchese might be short of funds but he still employed an excellent cook. Donatella proved to be a delightful and witty companion. Marchwood slowly discovered that she had been married at the age of only eighteen and had been with the Marchese for ten years. Donatella explained that she came from a well-to-do family in Genoa and her father was businessman. He had hoped that by marrying his daughter to an aristocrat he would raise the status of the family, while Donatella assumed that her bridegroom would not live long and she would be left a wealthy widow. She had been disappointed on both counts as the little wealth the Marchese had possessed had been dissipated by his spendthrift son who had drunk himself to death. Unfortunately the Marchese himself had proved to be longer lived and Donatella now found herself nursemaid to an elderly invalid.