Brides of Frankengeld Pt. 03

October 2nd 1784

Damion's Journal; Damion is writing about a strange woman who has come to stand next to the poet, Johann Blaumuer, in the Kaffeehaus as he prepares to perform his latest poem.

"That's Isadora," whispered Elodie. "Isadora Van Stacia from the Low Countries. You'll love her, my friends."

The woman was tall, possibly the tallest woman I had ever seen. She had a strong figure with powerful thighs, and breasts as big as Gerda's, though they were not as rounded, slightly sagging on her chest. In some ways that made them look bigger. Her hair was brown and reached halfway down her back. Her pubic hair was thick and bushy. How did I know these intimate details? Well the woman was only wearing a scarf and a thin belt. The scarf was very long and appeared to be made of silk from the way it draped. She had looped it around the back of her neck and trailed the ends over her shoulders to fall down her front. It barely covered her aureolas and the shape of her large nipples was obvious through the thin cloth.

From the points of her breasts the two ends of her scarf were then tucked under a slim leather belt on her waist which had been pulled tight. The belt held the scarf so that the remainder dangled directly down over her tummy and pudenda to her ankles. Her tummy was rounded, which had the effect of pushing the cloth away from her thighs, which is why, as she turned, I was witness to her pubic hair and the thick lips of her pleasure garden.

As if to demonstrate to the audience that she was truly naked Isadora turned her back to us as the poet Johann, got ready to declaim. Here all we could see, as clothing, was the thin strap of the belt as it passed across her back. Then that was gone too as she slipped it off and dropped it onto the floor. I could see the muscles of her back tense up as she prepared to dance.

The poem was about springtime and assured our audience that although the world is dark, and heading for darker still, and the winter cold is beginning to seep into the landscape, Spring - with all its delights - will return. As he described the dark months Isadora started to move, slowly at first, swaying on the spot and then extending her arms from side to side, still with her back to us. Then she turned dramatically and executed a series of leaps and turns that had her breasts swinging in an astonishing manner. The scarf was removed from around her neck and she twirled and formed spirals and curves with it that enhanced her own curves. For such a strong, large, woman she was extraordinarily limber and dextrous, it made me wonder what it would be like to pleasure her. Very athletic, undoubtedly.

I glanced at our party, who were as fascinated as I, and, when I looked at the patrons of the Kaffeehaus, I could see that many of the men were thinking the same. This woman would have been a shield maiden in ancient times, there was the look of a Valkyrie about her. Modern sensibilities demand that a woman should be petite and slender, with small but very firm breasts, and wide, childbearing hips. But this woman was the essence of physicality, a glorious example of womanhood, and why shouldn't a woman be powerful and strong?

Johann continued his poem, starting to describe the signs of rebirth that accompanied Spring. Isadora crouched and spread her thighs. I could see moisture glistening on her pubic hairs, she was clearly becoming aroused by her dancing. She reached up in a sinuous manner, imitating the flowers pushing their way up into the sunshine, and then spreading her hands wide to represent the petals opening. As Johann described the various Spring flowers in glowing terms Isadora looked straight at me and advanced.

It was unnerving this powerful woman coming at me like some sort of predator, but I stood firm and she smiled. Then she was in front of me and presenting her breasts. She had lifted them slightly and was pushing them forward. The message was as clear as day, I was to worship them. I kissed one nipple gently and she took the back of my head and pressed me firmly onto her breast. She flashed a smile at the audience. Her nipple, which was long and fat, engorged under my mouth, then she was gone, presenting a breast to a nearby man, and then skipping sideways to give Una a taste. She left me with my mouth open, looking a little foolish.

In the background Johann was talking about new life, the animals taking advantage of Spring to raise their offspring. There was a lot of descriptions of lambs being suckled and birds feeding their young. And Isadora provided a tit to any who would suck.

"She calls this," whispered Elodie in my ear. "The Tits of Spring."

"Very apt," I agreed.

"Yes," Elodie continued. "She has plans for a piece of music that might accompany her dance. But wait to the end, it's very poetic."

Johann had now moved on to describe the effects of Spring on people, the warmth, the extended days of sunshine, and the passions it engenders. He told of lovers finding each other, of trysts made, of love declared, and finally of physical expressions of that passion.

Isadora danced every phrase, longing showing in her face, her arms stretched out to imaginary lovers and, occasionally, she kissed a member of the audience. Then, as Johann approached the climax of the poem, she lay back on a rug on the floor and pleasured herself with her fingers. She penetrated herself with the fingers of one hand, and rubbed her secret nub with the other, until she writhed on the rug gasping in passion. And, as Johann said his final words, she came to her climax and juddered and twitched in joyous demonstration of the delights of coupling.

Rapturous applause broke out and the clients returned to their booths to discuss what they had seen. Elodie left me to embrace Johann and Isadora and our little group, somewhat stunned by the experience, returned to our seats.

"Well," said Una. "I don't normally like poetry. But that was... astonishing."

"I don't think," said Helena. "That many customers were paying attention to the poet. I certainly wasn't."

< she touched herself > signed Belali, looking at me strangely. Was she thinking about pleasuring? Had Helena already spoken to her about this? Was she comparing herself to Isadora? Was she wondering what my body looked like?

"Yes," I replied. "Not a normal poetry reading. I hope it didn't disturb you."

< happy here with you >

"Good," I replied. "What do you think of my sister?"

< she nice but odd >

"That's true," I said, patting her hand to reassure her she could say what she felt without censure. "We are a strange family. You must have realised that during your time at Durishaus."

< yes... much happier at 34 >

"I want you to be happy with us," I stressed. "But if you ever feel you would be happier somewhere else..."

Belali gestured in panic < please don't send me away >

"We would never do that," I assured her. "I just meant you are free to do what you want with your life."

She hugged me close and wiped away a tear. Helena looked at me. She'd not been concentrating on Belali as the conversation with Una had become very intense, and - I think - had wandered into the realms of Sapphic love prompted by Isadora. Helena looked at me with an expression that accused me of upsetting Belali. I tried to signal that I had not, then thought to use some of Belali's gestures.

I signed < she worried we send her away >

My signing wasn't very good but Helena got the message, but I couldn't get Belali to let me go so I settled back and put my arm around her. Then Erik arrived.

"Greetings Damion," he said. "The practice is well, I hope."

"Yes Erik," I replied. "Thank you for your concern."

"I have not had a chance to thank you," he continued. "For rescuing my love from the clutches of the Abbot and his dreadful Asylum."

"You're very welcome," I said, nodding in acknowledgement of his thanks.

"And," he whispered in a lower voice. "For letting me know she was convalescing at Lord Philip's house... and encouraging me to visit her. It was the start of what you see now."

What I saw was my sister excitedly chatting with poets and patrons, looking healthier and happier than I had seen her for a very long time.

Erik turned to Belali. "Young lady," he said. "I have tonight been approached by some of my patrons..." He waved at a group of sullen men in a booth across the way. "... who wish me to have you removed from my establishment."

Belali cringed, and clutched me closer.

"I told them," he continued. "They can get their coffee elsewhere if that is how they feel. Welcome, young lady, to the Ritter Kaffeehaus."

And he bent and kissed the back of her hand in full view of the miserable looking men. I felt her relax. Just a little, as if she did not trust herself to believe it, or that Erik would change his mind.

< nice man > she signed

"Yes," I agreed, then I turned to Erik before he could rush back to his work. "Erik, I wonder, have you heard anything about my cousin, Victor? I have been attending Schloss Frankenstein to treat his father but he has not been around to talk to."

"He was in here a week ago," Erik looked serious. "Took the most private of my booths. And he had a man with him. Lanky gangly man, tall, gaunt face, made delicate effeminate gestures, and had the look of a clergyman about him."

This was the description of Victor's new companion. I had been told his name was Polidori. He was a doctor, probably a doctor of divinity given his appearance. But what were they planning together?

Erik continued, "They went silent when I took them their coffee, but moments earlier they had been talking about a woman. And when I walked away they started talking again. I distinctly heard Frankenstein call his comrade 'Doctor Polidori' and the clergyman said something about 'he must be given what he wants or violence will ensue'. The impression I had was that there was a third party involved, a man, and they were fearful of that individual."

"And who was the woman they discussed?" I asked, knowing, sadly, that Erik would be unlikely to have that information. He was not in the habit of eavesdropping on his customers. The whole idea of the high backed booths in the Kaffeehaus was so that private discussions could be held. The Kaffeehaus had, across Europe, become the place to meet up and make financial deals and arrange trade. If the merchants and bankers felt they were being spied upon then Erik's business would not last long.

"I do not know," Erik replied. "Young Frankenstein has married recently, as you know, but the words used were 'the woman' not 'my wife' or some phrase that revealed her identity."

"All I have heard over the last few weeks suggests an unhealthy state of affairs," I said. "I fear for Victor, that he has somehow become embroiled in another dangerous quest"

"You may be right," Erik agreed. "But he is his own man, you cannot do more than be there if he needs you, Damion. It may be simply that this strange clergyman has provided young Frankenstein with a mistress, perhaps his sister, and the conversation was about her."

"Yes," I admitted. "That could be true."

Victor had only been married few short weeks but some nobles were quick to arrange their mistresses. Indeed some married with a mistress already standing in the wings, as the theatre people said.

"Well I can't chat all day," Erik was clearly anxious to get back to serving his customers. "Good evening to you, and your companions..." here he nodded at Belali in a friendly manner, "... enjoy your drinks."

Belali had listened intently to the whole conversation. She always gave me the impression of someone whose thoughts ran deep. It was common these days for women to be regarded as shallow creatures but I could not subscribe to that view, even if it was held by men regarded as the greatest thinkers of our age.

We talked of many things for another hour and Belali taught Una and myself some new word gestures. Helena knew many of these already, she was well ahead of Una and I in learning this skill, but we are catching up and, by treating it as a game, the task was no chore. We all, around our table, agreed that the better we could communicate with Belali, and she with us, the better it would be for all.

Finally it was time to go, cloaks were collected, and our little party set off for home. It was very dark on the streets. I had considered the possibility of hiring a light boy to provide a torch but Helena had anticipated the need. She pulled a tiny lantern from her bag and applied a clockwork flint and steel to light it. It was enough to guide our steps and avoid rough patches in the road that might trip us.

As we neared number 34 the street was empty except for one individual who stood cloaked and shrouded in shadow in the alley between number 34 and our neighbour. I tensed and Helena, who was holding my hand, made a gasp. Was this a thief come to rob us? The success of my medical practice was now well know about the town, and it may also be the case that the hoard of gold that the old doctor, my predecessor, left behind was rumoured about as well. We were rich enough to be worth robbing.

Nothing for it but to press on. A leather bound hilt was pushed into my hand. Helena had anticipated this danger as well and, for the first time since I attacked my father on that ancient tower top, I had the dagger that Lord Mutunus gifted me in my hand. It was, I was certain now, magical. A thing that guided the wielder to better aim and, despite being small, was capable of striking down supernatural creatures. Mutunus had said it was produced by Hephaestus, the smith of the gods, and I could quite believe it.

"Show yourself," I said to the shrouded figure. "We are armed. You will not do evil against us."

I could feel Helena tensing, ready to support me, and from the corner of my eye I saw Una and Belali with fierce expressions on their faces.

"Damion," replied the figure, and I recognised the voice. "Is that any way to greet your sister-in-law?"

She stepped forwards, looked up and down the street to check we were alone, and then threw back the hood of her cloak. It was Gerda. Undead now since the only way to save her from death by impalement was to make her a vampire. She looked magnificent. Her nightdress barely covered her form and her shapely thighs could be seen through a slit than ran from hem to waist. The fine material meant her quim could be observed. Her enormous, rounded, breasts thrust forward. In life they had defied gravity. In undeath they almost floated in front of her and seemed bigger and firmer with more pronounced aureoles and the sort of erect nipples you might expect in the midst of pleasuring.

"Gerda," I replied. "It is good to see you."

Alicia had warned us that a newly risen vampire has difficulty holding back their nature. She had been working with Gerda to train her in restraint, but very clearly more work was needed. Gerda radiated desire. It flowed over me, causing my body to become aroused. Even Una and Helena were affected. Only Belali was, seemingly, able to resist her aura. Then I realised she must have met Gerda before, up at Durishaus, when she was nursing my brother back to health. Perhaps you became used to the effect.

Gerda took two steps forward and reached out to stroke my cheek, "Are you not going to invite me in?" She glanced up at the door to number 34. As a vampire she was unable to enter a private house until one of those who lived there gave her permission. Her fingers were cool on my skin, with that hint of iron strength that all such undead displayed, but she was being infinitely gentle. My mind immediately agreed with her, then I thought twice and understood that my instant agreement was because of her powers. She was unconsciously using her undead abilities against me.

"What has Alicia instructed?" I asked. My throat went dry as I denied her what she desired. If she came closer to me, if she kissed me, then I was sure I would be unable to resist her command.

"Oh her," said Gerda, she shrugged her shoulders, lifting and lowering her wonderful breasts, the illusion of infinite sexuality and power shattered by this commonplace gesture. "Alicia wants me to spend more time learning control before I enter any house. The Countess thinks I am too young."

"She sounds very wise," I replied. "Perhaps you should follow her on this, she has centuries of experience behind her."

"It's so boring in the crypt," wailed Gerda. "And I wanted to talk to you. We haven't spoken since I was... changed."

Helena and Una both went to kiss Gerda, and Belali curtseyed. Gerda accepted their courageous welcome but still looked distressed.

"Damion," said Helena. "Take Gerda to the tavern. There is some time left before they close their doors for the night. Talk to her. We will enter number 34 and make it ready for tomorrow's patients."

And so it happened. My undead relative and I took a table in the tavern. We chose one in a dark corner and Gerda remained cloaked and hooded. We ran the risk that someone might think she was some sort of sinister Ranger from the North, with a very large bosom, but this was better than the whole tavern being alerted to a vampire in their midst. A minute after we sat down a serving girl came to ask our desire. I gave the order, a bottle of red wine for us to share, and only then glanced up. My blood ran cold.

It was the same serving girl that I had questioned when searching for Gerda maybe six weeks ago. Gerda had fled the house in search of pleasuring under the influence of my Elixir of Pleasure and had acted like a whore in this very tavern. The serving girl recognised me, which wasn't unremarkable since this was a tavern that I periodically attended, but I think she also saw Gerda's pale face under the hood of her cloak. Did she recognise Gerda as the woman she thought was a whore, and that she observed pleasuring a customer up against one of the wooden pillars that held up the ceiling? Did she remember me searching for Gerda? And does she now think I'm associating with the same whore I was searching for?

The serving girl made no comment, or even any sign she had recognised Gerda. She gave a little bob of a curtsy and went off to fulfil our order, seemingly not bothered by the behaviour of her customers. It was not her place, I suppose, to comment on the actions of her betters. I turned my attention back to Gerda who was studying me with her big eyes, framed by glorious lashes. Her transformation had made them even deeper pools of feeling than when she was alive.

"You have been avoiding me, Damion," she said, quietly. It might have justly been an accusation but sadness was the principle feeling I detected.

"Yes," I admitted. "I feel guilty."

"Guilty? Why?"

"I have made you into... er... what you now are," I stumbled over the words, not able to bring myself to say undead, or vampire. "I was in shock, I had only moments to decide. Alicia offered, but it was I who made the final decision."

"I was dying," she said, as if it was a simple thing to say. "Kurt had impaled me on that dreadful pole."

She looked as if she was about to say more about the death my father had planned for her. I put my hand over her cool fingers. I did not want to hear the details. She had watched Kurt kill her mother-in-law, fight and pin her husband to the wall of the Red Room, and then he put her onto the pole.

The serving girl returned with our wine and two goblets which she placed on the table. I poured Gerda a generous amount, and a little for me, then thought better of it and topped my goblet up to the same level as Gerda's. My thoughts returned to the day we broke into the Red Room. Mother was dead upon one impaling pole, but Gerda was still alive, barely.

"Yes, you were dying, it was the only way to save you," I admitted. "I suppose I could have given you morphia and let nature take its course."

"This new life is strange," said Gerda. "But I think I prefer to be able to get out of my coffin each evening than to be a permanent occupant. And my body has recovered from the intrusion of the pole, I am back to my normal self."

Not entirely normal, I thought, but reached out to her. We held hands and I studied her face, remembering the time we pleasured. A gentle lovemaking for a woman who believed she was in a loveless marriage.

"It was not entirely loveless," she continued. Had she read my expression, or heard my thoughts? Did she already have these occult powers?

"Karl defended me against your father," she continued. "Though he knew he was outclassed in swordsmanship. He put himself between me and Kurt and did his best to save me. That must be love. As my father-in-law ran him though with the cutlass I thought we would both die in that terrible room. Husband and wife, united in death, to lie next to each other, cold and still, in the mausoleum until judgement day."

"I still feel guilty," I said. Time to tell my darkest failure of that night. "There is more to tell. When I discovered you were still alive I was in the midst of investigating the murders, with the help of Freida and Alicia. There had to be a reason for Kurt to attack and kill three people that evening, four if we include your dear self."

"And what was the reason you feared?"

"I thought you might have taken my Elixir of Pleasure and my Priapus Potion and put them in the punch bowl to make the guests both filled with desire and very capable. I thought that my father had consumed them and become completely out of control. And I was furious with you, that you might have done such a foolish thing."

"Oh... I see."

"So, when we found you I wanted you to be alive so I could... well... tell you off." I lapsed into silence, very aware that I sounded like a spoiled teenager who wanted to be spiteful. To force the target of his spite to stay close and listen to his anger. Gerda looked at me, but said nothing.

"But the real anger," I admitted. "Was against myself for making these medications in the first place. I was annoyed at you because I didn't want to admit to myself that I might have some responsibility for the deaths."

Gerda hugged me, and held me tight, which was quite painful, she still did not yet know her own strength. The hug brought her mouth close to my neck and, for a moment, I thought she might bite. That she might take her revenge on the man who had made her this way. But all she did was place a cool kiss on my cheek.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Damion," she said. "I admit I had stolen the Elixir and Potion. I thought to use them on Karl to make him more passionate. But they were hidden in my bedside table. I did not put them in the punch for the wedding. Bogdan and Costache put something in, but I suspect it was a cheap and ineffective product from a charlatan. And your father drank none of it. He had his own personal supply of wine from the cellar and drank only that."

"So why did he become so murderous?"

"He had been angry for days, possibly weeks, ever since his return from one of his trips away. He had argued with his wife, his daughter, and my husband. Everyone seemed to disappoint him. Including you for you were deaf to the calls for you to marry. Then your wedding went awry and Costache and Bogdan blamed him for not bringing you up an obedient son. He nearly struck them when they came down empty handed to tell him you had escaped. Things were tense but it all just boiled over when the pair went back to harangue him a second time. He shouted about wiping the slate clean, and the fighting began."

"So you and I did not cause it," I said, relieved.

"No," Gerda replied. "It was a disaster of Kurt's own making. Nobody else was to blame, though Costache and Bogdan did not help the situation. And for that they paid with their lives."

"I'm sorry for doubting you," I said.

She smiled, "All is forgiven."

Then she ran her tongue over her lips in a voluptuous manner. I could see her incisors. Her bosom heaved and presented me with her wonderful cleavage from the shadows of her cloak.

"I must go," she said abruptly.

"Now?"

"Yes now," she replied. "I have started to desire you, dear Damion, and Alicia has warned me that if I give in to my lust before I have learned some degree of control, my nature might assert itself and I will drain you of your life blood before I can calm myself again."

"Then we will part," I said quickly, leading her to the tavern door.

"Do not be a stranger to me, Damion," Gerda sighed. "I will do my lessons with Alicia diligently and then, one day, we can pleasure each other again."

She was panting now, her lips flushed red, and her bosom heaving, then she turned and fled up the street, her cloak flapping behind her.

"Farewell," I said, quietly, as I watched my sister-in-law, now one of the most dangerous creatures in Christendom, her voluptuous body in her flimsy nightdress alternately revealed and concealed by the cloak, as she moved away into the darkness. I did feel better though. I had lived with the guilt of Kurt's rampage for a long time. Now I knew it had nothing to do with my experiments. And I was now convinced that Gerda preferred her new unlife, to death eternal.

When I returned to number 34 I found all was quiet. Evidently people had gone to their beds. The place was tidy, as promised, ready for the morrow's patients so I hung up my cloak in the hallway and climbed the stairs. There was a glow of lamplight under the master bedroom door and I was secretly pleased. Helena was not yet asleep. I wanted to share what I had learned from Gerda and Helena was the person with whom I always felt most comfortable sharing my deepest thoughts and fears.

The bed was occupied, but not by Helena. Belali lay there, her face peeping out from under the sheets. Her expression was a mixture of anxiety and desire. She looked at me as if I was about to chastise her and quickly signed.

< Helena put me here >

"And where is Helena?" I asked.

Belali pointed next door, at the guest bedroom.

"I see," I smiled at her, trying to appear as if this was the most normal of circumstances. "And do you want to be here?"

Belali signed nothing. I sat on the bottom of the bed. This girl might be terrified, I thought, that one wrong word would put her out on the street. I must make things clear.

"Belali," I said, resting a hand on her leg through the sheets in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. "Helena tells me you might benefit from some pleasuring. I am most happy to help but, if you do not want to do this, then I shall go and join Helena next door."

Belali looked at me, her eyes wide.

"And let me assure you that your position here, in our medical practice, is secure. Whatever your decision. You are a clever woman and you are kind to our patients. You have the potential to be an excellent assistant, and possibly more. I do not want to lose you. Do you understand?"

< yes >

"So," I continued. "Shall I go next door, or shall I undress and join you?"

< stay please >

Then she shook her head. I wondered if she had changed her mind but she signed.

< I am ugly... you not want me >

It took a little time for me to work out what she meant, then I realised, "You're not ugly. You are a beautiful person. Why do you think you're ugly?"

I realised that I might be asking for signs that I couldn't understand, ones that I'd need Helena to interpret. And I didn't want to have to bring her to this room. But, in the end, all I needed to do was watch as Belali touched herself.

She stroked her skin and compared its colour with my own by putting her arm across mine. Then she touched her hair, her nose, her eyelids, her lips, and finally the strange marks on her shoulders that I knew led in spirals to her breasts. She lowered the sheets and showed me her breasts, looking as if she expected me to be disgusted. The marks, possibly made by a stylus or thorn, circled her breasts and drew the eye to her prominent nipples.

I knew I could not change a lifetime of being told she was ugly and unimportant by my words alone. Best, I thought, to demonstrate that I desired her, that she could be attractive, that someone could show passion for her. I stripped and got into bed.

"You are not ugly," I said as I snuggled down next to her. I turned to face her and pulled her gently so that her back was against my chest. I kissed her neck, and did no more than softly rest my arms around her. "I can see your signs from this position," I added. "Talk to me."

< frightened you say ugly >

"I understand."

< frightened you hurt me >

"Also understandable, and I will never do that."

< if I say no... what then? >

"Then we stop, and I leave, if that's what you want."

< good man >

"I try to be."

< hold me close >

I drew her in and gently squeezed her to my body. There was no danger that my phallus was going to consider this girl unattractive, it was already starting to stiffen from her firm, youthful, flesh against me. I allowed my hands to cup her breasts. The marks on her breasts felt like little dots under my fingertips and I traced the curve until I came upon her nipples. They were hard and erect, she was surely feeling aroused as well.

< nice nice >

"I feel the same" I whispered. "You are making me feel very good. My phallus rises in salute to your beauty."

To demonstrate the truth of this I pushed my hips forward until my member was in the crack of her buttocks. This elicited a wriggle of Belali's bottom which, in turn elicited more arousal from me. I felt the head of my phallus push out from under my foreskin.

Belali took the back of her hand and kissed it. I guessed this was the sign for kiss. Possibly made up this instant because she had never had need of a sign for 'I want to kiss' before.

"Kiss?" I asked. "That would be nice."

She turned slightly in my arms and lifted her face to me. Her eyes still showed doubt. Then her lips met mine. They were lovely, plumper than many I had kissed over the years. Many European women have very narrow lips, thin and lacking in flesh, but Belali's were soft and full and we enjoyed each other for quite some time. I let her set the pace. If she had not pleasured for a long time then she might be very nervous.

We broke from the long kiss and Belali moved to lay her head upon my chest. She gave a long, shuddering, sigh. I held her close and stroked her back, all the way down to the dimple above her beautifully rounded buttocks. She lay there a long time and I wondered if she had fallen asleep. But she had not, when I looked down I could see her staring at my face, a contented smile on hers.

She suddenly wriggled away, so her hands were free.

< thank you... thank you > she signed, then made the sign she used for pleasuring, she pushed one finger into her fist and rubbed it in and out.

She lay on her back and reached out to turn down the bedside oil lamp. I put my hand on hers.

"Please Belali," I said. "Let us leave it on. Otherwise I cannot see your signs."

Perhaps she still considered herself ugly, perhaps she was embarrassed to pleasure with light upon her body like many women. But I was determined to ensure she could communicate with me particularly the sign for 'no', just in case she needed to make it. She pulled her hand away and let me move over her. I looked her in the eyes and shifted my hips until my member was settled between her thighs. Then I guided her hand to hold my member. I would let her steer me into her pleasure garden.

I waited until she seemed happy for me to proceed. The concentration on her face was a delight to behold as she prepared for an event I was now convinced was rare for her. Then I had a worry. Was she a virgin, was this the very first time for her? And should I ask her at this moment when she was giving all her efforts to get ready? I stayed silent and could feel her moving the head of my phallus into position, then fingering her quim to stimulate some lubrication which she shared between my member and her pleasure garden.

Her hands moved from her preparations to my hips and she nodded solemnly. I shuffled my hips and pressed in. Her eyes went wide, she gave a sharp intake of breath, and I was in her. Just the tip, but inside her warmth. Her hands flew to my back and she pulled me close. I lay on top of her, my member barely inside her, while she hugged me and kissed my shoulder three times. We lay like that for a minute, while she calmed her breathing, then she looked up at me and gave a nod. I pushed in steadily until I was fully enclosed by her warmth.

Sub-human the man from the Dark Circus had called her, and others around Carlsbruck named her demon, but she was neither. She was a woman, with a woman's needs and desires. And, as I worked hard to satisfy one of those needs, I saw she was beautiful. She laughed and her eyes, bright against her dark skin, sparkled with joy. Her hands stroked me and - when she was close to her climax - she gripped me hard as if I would somehow fly away from her into the night. Like a spectre, a ghostly lover that vanishes in the dawn light. We pleasured, then rested, and pleasured again.

This time she wanted to be more active. She was no longer content to lie under me and take my thrusts. She got on her hands and knees and gripped the headboard, then wriggled her bottom at me. For a slim girl her buttocks were very wide and rounded and, when she wriggled, they moved in a most seductive manner. They were their own sign and I advanced on her with my member which was almost painfully erect. I observed that the flesh within the folds of her pleasure garden, the labia majora and minora to give their more scientific names, was pink and when I put a finger into her vagina, I discovered pink flesh there too. Most interesting facts, almost forgotten with the pleasure of penetrating her. In prepared to thrust but she, with a hand on my hip, told me to remain still. Then she gripped the headboard hard and used her strength to push backwards onto my phallus. She commenced a series of backward pushes with her body to ram herself onto my member. And, as her buttocks came into contact with my abdomen, they squashed out in a delightful manner.

Thus it was that she took greater control of our second bout, wriggling on top of me and using all her wiles to pleasure me. Throughout Belali's lack of voice was no barrier. With touch and signs she directed me and we both had satisfaction of the joy that two bodies entwined can give.

October 3rd 1784

Damion's Journal

Afterwards she snuggled close and pulled my arms around her. I enclosed her and we lay together, contented. Then I drifted off to sleep and, when I woke many hours later, the lamp had burned out. Foolishly I had failed to turn down the wick to conserve oil. But, even in the darkness, I could tell that Belali had gone. Back to her own room, presumably. I felt sad, I would have valued waking up with her, to be able to express my thoughts about our passion. Easier to do in bed, here, than in the kitchen or treatment rooms. I gathered a sheet around me and stuck my head out into the hallway. The house was quiet. I moved to the guest room door, tapped quietly, and entered.

Helena had been wiser than I, her lamp still cast a gentle glow, revealing her sprawled in the bed. I had discovered soon after we came to number 34 that she had a habit of spreading her limbs wide when she was alone in bed. It was as if she was unused to a large bed and felt the need to discover the limits of its dimensions, like an explorer finding the north, south, east and western extremities of a new country. I lifted the sheets, heavy with the woollen blanket we now used, and slid in beside her. And, as I entered the bed, I gently pushed her arms and legs out of the way to take possession of my own space.

"Uuuurgh," said Helena. "Is it time to get up already?"

"No," I replied, quietly. "I think we may still have an hour or so before we must rise."

"Huh... so what are you doing here?"

I felt a little upset by that. I had come seeking her company. And here she was groaning and complaining.

"Belali has gone from my bed," I said, trying to keep my voice from showing my annoyance. "So I thought of you."

Helena turned to me, "Tell me you've not upset her, Damion?" Suddenly she was wide awake.

"No... no... I don't think so," I replied. "It's just that after pleasuring we fell asleep together and, when I woke up a few minutes ago, she was gone."

"Back to her room?"

"Yes, I presume," I said, hoping that the girl was not many kilometres away by now on the road to some sanctuary from her evil master, who had taken advantage of her.

"What's wrong, Damion?" asked Helena, always she could detect my anxiety.

"We pleasured," I replied. "And I thought she was happy to do so, and happy with the outcome, but..."

"But?"

"But when the relationship is master and apprentice you cannot be sure that some element of coercion did not creep in."

"How long did it take you to understand with me that I wished to pleasure?" Helena asked.

"Oh, not long," I admitted. "You made it very clear, quite quickly, that you were happy to share my bed."

"Then," she replied. "Assuming the girl hasn't run away, which would give you your answer, you must ask her. She will tell you, if the inquiry is honest. Now come here and give me a cuddle."

I did so, and without any resentment that the servant was ordering the master in his own house.

Belali was down for breakfast, so she had not run away. I ate mine while trying to observe her mood, without making it obvious that I was staring at her. Eventually I couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Are you alright?" I whispered.

< yes yes > she replied.

"Can we talk?"

< yes >

I pointed at my study, my consulting room, and she nodded. We left our breakfasts and almost ran to the room. Inside I put my hands on her shoulders.

To be continued...