tagNovels and NovellasA Summer in Olympia Ch. 02

A Summer in Olympia Ch. 02

byNigel Debonnaire©

After we passed through the secret door, she occasionally lit a small lamp as we traversed the secret passages and past narrow stairs. Along each wall were little silver disks. Whispering, she said: "These are peepholes, so we can tell when we are needed. Tonight we go to see how Monty entertains himself on Saturday nights after the opera. Most evenings he shoots billiards, smokes cigars and drinks brandy with Maurice, but tonight is different."

"Okay, I guess so. Why do we need to see what they're doing?"

"Because I am a voyeur, and my hopes are what we see will interest you in a similar recreation to the one we engaged in earlier this afternoon. Please be quiet, for we will be overheard in anything louder than a murmur."

We came to a spot where there were two silver disks within reach: one was Mrs. Edwards' height and the other closer to mine. Too lucky, I thought, until I swung it aside. Sir Charles was just as I left him a couple hours before, however, his pants and underwear were at his ankles. He held a snifter of brandy and a cigar, whose smoke curled around his face. He said something I couldn't understand: I knew it was Greek but I hadn't studied it since I was a boy and hadn't kept up. A low contralto voice responded in the same language, and he gestured as he responded in kind, something about maintaining an ancient tradition. Another contralto response, and he spoke of Zeus' obligation to Ganymede for his faithful service. I looked at Mrs. Edwards, who was glued to her peephole.

Turning back, I saw a extraordinarily tall, thin woman with conical breasts move into view. She was completely naked except a blue feathered mask which concealed the upper part of her face, a tight blue cap that hid her hair, and an extremely thin leather belt than encircled her waist. Towering over Sir Charles, she walked up to him and roughly grabbed his modest penis in her hand, twisting slightly. He cried out in an unintelligible Greek exclamation and she licked his forehead. Turning away from him and toward us, I saw an appendage on the front of her belt, a hard leather spike about four inches in length and an inch around. Two flecks of gold twinkled from her nipples: they were pierced by gold jewelry. He finished his brandy and put his cigar in an ashtray, as she rubbed a white cream on the dildo, which was framed by a dramatic plot of red hair between her legs. Several times she anointed the wand until it gleamed.

He put his hands on the billiard table, and she whirled, commanding "Submit," in in Greek, using a low voice that brooked no denial. He nodded and voiced his capitulation to the ancient tradition. She walked up behind him and scratched his bare buttocks, nuzzling him with her midsection. Her hands went up and down his back, reaching under his coat and shirt, and he wiggled his bare hips into her. The greased leather cock, rode up and down his asscrack until she suddenly pulled back and impaled him in one thrust. I heard Mrs. Edwards gasp and felt her hand reach down toward my crotch. Sir Charles anal intrusion didn't stir me as much as watching the muscular buttocks of the woman as they pushed her device in and out, and seeing the side of her breast bounce slightly in sympathetic rhythm.

Bella was pressing her body against me. My questing hand found her clothed breast to be a perfect teardrop which fit perfectly in my grasp, and I took it, milking it gently. She took a deep breath and leaned up to murmur in my ear: "It's been so long. I still love him and I love what she does to him, she makes him happy in ways I can't."

Looking back, I saw Sir Charles was fully erect, and the naked woman was reaching around to stroke his cock as she ravaged his back passage. The woman looked familiar, but I couldn't put a name to the form. "Who is that?" I asked.

There was a pause as Sir Charles cried out, and a gasp came from Mrs. Edwards. "It's Maurice." she murmured. "Who else could it be? There is no one else here."

I shook my head in confusion. "Maurice?"

"Sionnain Fitz Maurice of County Kerry, Ireland." The first name sounded like 'Shannon', with a subtle difference. "His butler. It's not unusual for man to have a woman as his butler, and Sionnain has been Monty's for a decade now."


"Sir Charles' nickname."

So the man who stirred my libido at our first meeting was really a woman. It was consoling and confusing at the same time. Maurice increased her pace, her body jiggling in exertion, and stroked him faster as well until he wailed and spilled his seed in a plate set up beneath him. Holding herself inside him, she continued pumping him shallowly until he was finished. She pulled out quickly and picked up the plate to pour the contents into a brandy snifter. Pouring a finger of liquor and swishing it around, she knocked it back and took off her mask, revealing the face I'd met earlier today.

The warm body pressed close to me again, and I squeezed her generous orb in greeting. The couple disengaged and Maurice stepped aside. As Sir Charles relit his cigar, I leaned down to murmur: "Do you promise never to stick anything in my anus?"


"Good." I looked back into the room and saw Maurice seated in a huge leather chair, her freckled legs resting on the arms. Sir Charles pulled his pants up and wandered over, taking off his coat and collar, undoing his tie. He took a puff from his cigar and knelt to put his face in her crotch. Mrs. Edwards resumed her station, so I put my hand on her buttocks and played with her crevasse through her skirt, making her sigh. Sir Charles was nuzzling the red patch between Maurice's legs, and she placed her strong hands on his ears to welcome his attentions. After a few moments work, his fingers crept up her side and began to play with the gold jewelry embedded in her mammaries. He worked briskly, stopping from time to time to take another puff from his cigar.

Maurice let out a series of loud groans and Mrs. Edwards did simultaneously as my questing fingers pulled her skirt up over her waist and found her damp slit. One finger slipped in easily, so a second followed it and a third, and she ground her hips back against my hand in welcome. Sir Charles' head began moving more quickly, his tongue working more furiously and Maurice's breathing became quicker and quicker. My companion stuck her fist in her mouth and began shuddering uncontrollably; Maurice gave a series of feral grunts and screeches before she pushed her master from her groin.

I turned and focused on my partner: her eyes were closed and her lips pursed in delight. A laugh came from the study and the sound of billiard balls being racked. She looked at me, nodded in consent, and led me back to my quarters, entering through a secret door next to the north window of the mansion. Lighting a lamp, I saw my partner in the gentle light: a vision of mature beauty and earthy appeal I found utterly stimulating.

She undid some buttons on the back of her dress and I followed her example by removing my coat and shirt. Her dress slid down her body, and I made a sudden move, collecting her breasts in my hands. It had been too long since a woman permitted me this liberty; the sensation reminded me of my first lover, Denise, who was my mother's chambermaid. I could spend hours making love to Denise's breasts, and rather quickly I had Bella's exposed. Her nipples were small and delicate, and I bent down to take one in my mouth, savoring its rubbery texture with my tongue. She didn't permit me this luxury for long, for she slipped my trousers and underpants to the floor, fondling my manhood as she did earlier in the afternoon.

My need made me bold, and I pushed her down on the bed where she bounced once, her naked breasts wobbling. Her legs parted immediately, and I moved the fabric of her drawers aside to reveal her sex. My manhood was fully aroused and her hands guided it inward to the center of her being. "Oh my God," she gasped as I penetrated the outer folds, "I don't know if I can take all this. Go slowly, please, slowly."

Gently I pushed inward until resistance gave me pause. Her face tightened in effort and when it relaxed I found I could move deeper. Twice more the resistance was too much, but at last she said: "That's all I can take. My God, it feels so good, Frank. Is it good for you?"

"Yes, it's been a long time."

"Oh, I've never been this full. Hold it there for a moment before you thrust into me, let me savor this heaven." I respected her wish and after a moment she nodded, when I began a gentle circulation with my hips. She reciprocated, meeting me perfectly at the maximum penetration, and our pace increased slowly, as a train pulling away from a station.

Soon I was at full steam, enjoying the sensations, and her womanly muscles rippled up and down the length of my shaft. From time to time she would gyrate wildly under me, her breasts wobbling and legs kicking in the air. After one of these spasms, she looked up at me with broad eyes and whispered hoarsely: "Pull out, pull out, no more, no more."

I accommodated her request and lay on my side beside her. "Of course, Bella. Why?"

"Too old to have a baby. Seen too many women try." Her eyes were big in the dark, reflected in the wan light through the windows. "You're so good I'm tempted, but I've had too many babies already. We have to stop."

I hung my head. "I understand," I said, touching her belly and stroking downward.

She pushed my hand away, and smiled. "No need, lover. I've been there three times already. Now it's your turn; stay there. Bella will take care of you."

She started stroking me as we lay side by side, my manhood slick with her juices. Bending over, she took the end of organ again, making magic with her tongue and causing me to jump in delight, almost falling out of the bed. I felt the force of life within me, and she pulled off, stroking me feverishly, until I spilled my seed on her face and chest.

She lay back, rubbing my ejaculate on her chest and face, concentrating on her nipples, her eyes closed. "I've heard it's good for the skin. So much of it the second time today."

I held her and we lay there; the tension of the long day and its revelations spinning through my mind. She was quiet and wet in my grasp. At last she murmured: "Good night, Frank."

I gave her a warm open mouthed kiss that she returned eagerly. "Good night, Bella." With a rustle she was gone, and I prepared myself for the first good night's slumber in a week.

It seemed I'd just hit the pillow when grey dawn peeked in through my windows. My body didn't want to stay still, so I went to the window to watch the daybreak. Off to my right, there were lights on at a barn: evidently Gus and Max were already busy with their chores. Cows mooed, horses whinnied and chickens cackled. Off to my left coming from the house were to figures, walking a faint path off over nearby hillock. They were female, and it seemed they were unclad. "Who walks across the fields naked this time of day?" I said aloud to myself. Within a couple of minutes they'd gone over a small rise toward a stand of trees. The fingers of Aurora reached over the horizon as more color played across the land and sky, the latter gradually transforming itself from dark blue through progressively lighter shades. A flash to my right, and I saw Connie running from the barn to the house, disappearing through a door on the ground floor almost directly below me. Moments later, Mrs. Edwards ran out with a small bag with him: probably to doctor a small wound.

The eastern sky reddened and the blood red ball lifted over the horizon. Birds sang to greet it, and a couple of steers called attention to its presence. I looked at my clock and found I'd been awake for half an hour, and felt no need to return to bed. Looking around the room, I saw a pair of binoculars on a side table and used them to search for the birds. Five minutes later, the naked women reappeared, hair damp. One was medium height, blond, and perfectly proportioned; the other had light brown hair and was thinner, although her thinner breasts were longer. I made a note to myself to see if there was a lake or pond over that rise. They walked arm in arm, unconcerned about their nudity, and seemed to be about the same age: in their early twenties. Fortunately, I hadn't lit a lamp on rising and I stepped away from the window so I could continue to watch them unseen. Their heads went back and forth, laughing at shared intimacies, whispering confidences, and before long they had passed from my sight.

Taking my pitcher, I washed myself and dressed for the day; when I finished, it was 6:45. I rang the bell, and in a few moments Maurice appeared at my door, tidy and perfect. "You rang, Mr. MacLeod?"

I could hardly look at her without remembering the night before. "I would like some coffee, please."

"Yes, sir," she replied, a slightly strange look on her face. "Cream and sugar?"

"Black, please."

"Certainly, sir. It will be here shortly." For a moment, she looked deep into my eyes, trying to discern something, before turning to leave.

Ruby arrived shortly, with a coffee pot, a cup, and a small plate of sweet rolls. "Good morning, Ruby."

She looked down as she handed me the tray and didn't look up. "Good morning, sir."

"How are you today?"

"Fine. Will there be anything else?" Her eyes were still downcast.

"Yes, I saw Connie run in from the barn and then Mrs. Edwards run out with him. Is something wrong?"

The question caught her by surprised and she looked up for a moment in wonder before looking down again. "Max cut his finger badly and it needed bandaging."

"I see. Thank you, Ruby."

"Yes, sir. You're welcome, sir." She gave a little curtsey before she left which was utterly charming.

I got out my writing supplies in the workroom and arranged my space after taking my snack. It was a beautiful room, well lit by a skylight, and held a large writing desk with plenty of space and devices to hold a manuscript in place. The view was stunning with a bay window. A bookcase held a large number of books on musical matters, and on inspection it would have compared favorably to the music library at the Leipzig Conservatory. The clock struck 8:00, and I went to the veranda to meet the Broughams.

The veranda was beautiful, full of flowers and a couple of linden trees on either side. The fragrance of the air was dominated by hyacinth. There was a large table set for five: Sir Charles was sitting at a table across from his wife. Lady Alice was handsome woman in her 40s with light brown hair turing grey, wearing a blue tea-dress with lace at the throat and wrists; she was working on needlepoint, her deft fingers creating an interesting pattern. Two young women sat with them: a plump, dark haired woman in a long sleeved white blouse and long dark skirt, and a thinner, brown haired woman in a grey tea-dress holding a book who seemed to be one of the young women I saw walking earlier that morning. He rose to greet me and present me to the ladies: "Good morning, Mr. MacLeod, I trust you slept well. Let me introduce you: this lovely woman is my dear wife Alice, and to her right our daughter Pearl, who loves to read at every moment possible, and her left Miss Mary Penelope Sterling-Wright. Ladies, this is the talented Mr. Frank MacLeod of Reading, Pennsylvania, who comes to us fresh from the center of musical knowledge, the Leipzig Conservatory. I believe you had a teaching fellowship, did you not?"

"Yes sir, I was an assistant with the first year students until I received word to come home."

"Yes, yes, yes, Unfortunate your father losing his fortune in the railroad collapse last year. Surely it was dreadful for him, we were lucky, yes lucky, that the storm did not threaten our security, but for the fickle whim of Dame Fortune we may have had to seek your employment in the aftermath of that maelstrom. Yet you are most welcome here and we shall make you feel as our honored guest, nay even one of the family. Pray take your seat, and bruncheon will be served presently. Our Opal takes such good care of us."

The plump young woman leaned over to me; her face was not particularly pleasing and her eyes were the largest I'd even seen. "Please, before we go any farther, call me Penny, everyone else does. And Opal is the Brougham family chef, her talent in the kitchen is a fine as any great house I've known in England, and I've known a few, ha, ha, ha."

"So have we all," Sir Charles replied. "You must be careful and practice moderation carefully here, Mr. MacLeod, or else our Opal will have you seeking a new wardrobe to accommodate your swelling midsection."

At this time, Maurice and Connie wheeled in a couple of carts and began to serve the meal. It was rather substantial, more to the taste of America or Germany than I recalled of an English breakfast. There was a choice between tea and coffee, as well as grape juice. The Broughams served themselves immediately, he with gusto and she was reluctance. Penny was absolutely ravenous, and Pearl selected her items carefully, as if rationing herself. I resolved myself to moderation until I got to know the family better. Penny kept the conversation at the table going, talking with Lady Alice about the comings and goings of the English aristocracy she learned from a recent letter from home. Sir Charles ate with the same gusto as the pace of his conversation. Pearl sampled her meager choices delicately, still reading her book one handed as she ate, her gaze icy and aloof. She was relatively thin, but her tea-dress did not reveal much about her upper body. For my part, I stayed aloof and spoke when I spoken to.

The meal finished with fresh fruit, and we prepared to ride into nearby Saint Charles for Church. Two strapping young men in their late teens met us in front with our conveyance; I later found they were Gus and Max, and Max's left hand was wrapped with a fresh bandage. As we rode I looked at the book Pearl was reading, and asked her what it was. "City of God, by Augustine," she said. Getting a peek at the text, I found she was reading it in the original Latin, which was something I hadn't tried since my short stay at Cambridge. The church service itself was pleasant enough: I wasn't an Anglican, but had attended many different Christian services in my travels. The choir and organist were adequate, the Vicar's preaching vaguely amusing, and the people after service politely curious about myself, the new stranger in their midst. I asked if the servants went to church, and Pearl said: "Mrs. Edwards and the others servants are Catholic. They went to Mass earlier today."

The elder Broughams and Penny dominated the conversation at lunch, Pearl holding aloof, and afterward Maurice brought the newspapers he had purchased that morning in town. We spent an hour reading them, commenting on the news of the day and other articles of interest: the entire family was sharply literate with wide ranging interests, and this colloquy was by far one of the most enjoyable parts of the day. Afterward, we rose and went to main floor drawing room for the impromptu musicale. "Now my lad," Sir Charles began, "you sent me your Piano Sonata to demonstrate your abilities as a copyist. Now you must play this remarkable work for us yourself; Alice, Penny and Pearl have been besieging me to hear this piece that has excited me so much and now is our chance to hear it from the creator's hands. If you please."

It had been several months since I was able to practice the piano regularly, and Sir Charles beaming over my shoulder was less than a comfort, but I essayed my work for them on a piano with sticky notes and questionable tuning. After it was over, the ladies rose and applauded enthusiastically; even Pearl put down her book and was looking at me with unrestrained admiration. I stood and bowed in appreciation, taking a seat as soon as I could.

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byNigel Debonnaire© 0 comments/ 8667 views/ 1 favorites

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