The Master II
(Senora Flavia and Lucinda) (MFFf, cons.)
© 2000
by Abelard

[Warning: If it is illegal for you to read sex stuff, my condolences, but 
fuck off. The events depicted in this story are performed strictly in the 
imagination of a professional. No not try this shit at home. If you read on, 
please maintain at least one hand on your controls at all times. If you 
wanna’ publish this story for profit, ya’ better ask me first. Finally, tell 
me what you think at <<Abelard_fra@hotmail.com>>.]

A “prequel” to The Master series, although it was written second. The 
Master, a wealthy, decadent, American expatriate, living in Italy with his 
consort, finds a Neopolitan beauty and her 11 year old daughter by the side 
of the road.

			The Master II
SENORA FLAVIA AND LUCINDA

	You may call me, simply, Master.  I am a long time student of human sexual 
relationships, especially as they involve power, and I have long believed 
that even the most virtuous of women can be led to do things she would 
ordinarily consider wrong, sinful, even outrageous... if the circumstances 
are right, if she is thrown off stride, dazed, and overwhelmed, and if 
events are made to seem inevitable. Not only that, but after her initial 
"fall," she can be led to do almost anything.   The following story 
illustrates my point.

	We were sitting in my Corniche riding slowly through a working class 
neighborhood on the outskirts of Rome, just watching the scene flow by.  
Nina and I both saw the woman and her daughter at about the same time.
	The woman was crying, sitting on a bench by the road, while a child of ten 
or eleven was standing beside her, gently stroking her mother's hair.  I 
tapped on the glass partition between the driver's and the passenger's 
compartments.  My driver immediately pulled to the curb.
	Nina said, "May I, Master?"
	I nodded, wordlessly.
	Nina got out of the Rolls and approached the pair slowly.  I could not hear 
the exchange, but Nina pointed to the car and the woman looked over.  She 
was a dark and voluptuous Neopolitan beauty of approximately thirty, one 
who, in another time, would surely have been First Concubine to a Roman 
Emperor.  As it was, she was merely a pretty woman in a faded blue print 
dress and worn shoes, obviously at the end of her luck.  The girl, on the 
other hand, even shabbily dressed, was radiant in her pre-pubescence; all 
knees and elbows, with long black hair (somewhat bedraggled) and a clear 
dusky olive complexion. Their appearance and clothing made quite a contrast 
to Nina's polished silks and expensively tended auburn hair.

	The woman looked unsure, but the girl said something, and the woman rose 
resignedly and allowed herself to be led to the car. She balked slightly as 
Nina opened the door, but the girl said, "Mama, favora..." and the woman 
stepped in and sat huddled on the jump seat, facing me, drawing her shabby 
attire around her.  The daughter got in and sat beside her mother, smiling 
tentatively at me.
	Nina said, "Master, this is Sondra Flavia, of Naples, and her daughter, 
Lucinda."
	My Italian was nearly non-existent at the time, and I said "Buon journo" in 
a pronunciation that made the girl suppress a giggle.  To Nina I said, tell 
them that I see that they are troubled, and that I would like to help."
	Nina translated.  The woman rattled on at a great rate for sixty seconds.  
Even I understood the note of gratitude, and the idea that they were 
recently arrived and desperately looking of some means of earning a 
livelihood.
	"Ask her what she can do, what experience she has," I instructed Nina.
	The woman said she was an excellent seamstress, in fact a dressmaker, even 
a fashion designer, and a cook, and was, she assured me, no stranger to 
housework.
	I told her (through Nina) that I had no need for a seamstress, cook, or 
maid. But I was prepared to help her anyway, perhaps placing her with 
someone who did need such services.  Was there anything else she might do?
	 She sighed resignedly, assuming (correctly) that I was speaking about sex. 
  She looked slyly at me before indicating that she could also do many other 
things.  As she said this, she sat back slightly, opened her legs very 
slightly and rested her right hand, palm up, on her inner thigh.
	The vulgarity of the gesture was stimulating, but I surely was not looking 
for shop-worn goods.  In my turn, I sat back disappointed, thinking that the 
woman might be a common whore after all.  Senora Flavia seemed to sense my 
thoughts for, in her next breath, she was declaring to the world at large 
that it was only desperation that had driven her to say that.  She was a 
good woman. Her husband, her only lover, had been killed in an automobile 
accident less than a month ago, and she had used her small savings to travel 
from Naples to Rome.  She had been looking for work for two weeks, but now 
her savings were gone, and she and her daughter had had to give up their 
room at a little pensione not far from where I had picked them up.
	She would have me know that she was chaste and virtuous ... if desperate.
	Hoping she wasn't TOO virtuous, I reached forward and put my hand on her 
knee where she sat before me on the jump seat.  She looked at my hand on her 
leg, blushed, but held herself absolutely still.  I patted, stroking gently, 
feeling the warm soft flesh on the inside of her knee. "Perhaps I can be of 
service, Senora Flavia," I said.  "If you will accompany me to my villa...?  
We can at least feed you and give you a roof for the night."
	Senora Flavia nodded imperceptibly as Nina translated my offer.
	Meanwhile, Lucinda leaned into her mother, her ragged dress, which buttoned 
up the front, parting as she reached to put her arm around her mother's 
shoulder.   A glimpse of the edge of her cheap cotton underpants showed 
between her legs. I felt a growing fullness in my crotch.  This might be 
delicious.

	As we drove to my villa in the hills, about half an hour from Rome, Nina 
talked to the senora in a comforting way, asking some questions, offering 
sympathy, calling her "Sondra" often.  At one point, the senora obviously 
asked for the name of her benefactor, and Nina told her to call me simply, 
"Master." When she frowned, Nina translated, "Maestro."  The senora seemed 
to like that, and she smiled fetchingly at me and said, "Graze, ..... 
Maestro."
	Nina had Lucinda trade places with her, so the two older women could 
converse more quietly.  Thus we drove with Nina tete-a-tete with Sondra in 
the jump seats, and little Lucinda seated back beside me in the opulent 
pearly leather of the passenger seat.
	Nina soon began touching Sondra, gently, caressingly, comfortingly, on the 
hair, the neck, the shoulders, the thighs.  All the while talking 
soothingly, reassuringly.  Sondra was obviously tired, and perhaps a little 
awed by the rich leather smells and the obvious wealth that the Rolls 
represented.
	I judged that she was ready just to let happen whatever would happen. She 
seemed to slip into a hypnotic trance, and smiled distractedly...all the 
while talking quietly about the small things in life. At another point I 
heard Nina promise that I could be a very generous man.
	Meanwhile, I began to make an assessment of Lucinda.  About eleven, long 
raven hair, which even in its somewhat bedraggled state suggested a 
luxuriance Neopolitan women can have.   Large dark eyes, almost black, 
almond shaped, and full of innocence and wonder.  Olive-tan complexion that 
suggested walking barefoot on warm dusty roads at sunset. Thin, but not 
frail, a hint of baby fat still clinging to her jawline, her elbows.  Like 
her mother, Lucinda seemed to swoon into the new experience, the security of 
the big expensive car and the avuncular middle-aged man who smelled subtly 
of oak and vanilla.
	I do not usually indulge in pedophilia, but I decided that I was going to 
enjoy, fully, slipping the panties off this one...while her mother watched, 
helped, even offered to open her own little daughter's slim legs to my 
engorged cock while I deflowered her. I would make it happen.

	We arrived at my villa, really an old Ducal palazzo, and passed straight 
through the elegant gray marble hallway which bisected the house, coming out 
at the piazza in the rear.  Forty feet of pink marble tile ended in the 
large pool, modernized for swimming and fed by spewing bronze dolphins.  The 
marble was warm in the summer sun.  The view beyond the pool stretched into 
the hills and vineyards to the south. A quarter mile off to the left, still 
on the estate grounds, a chapel surrounded by ancient olive trees nestled in 
a dale.  On the lawns around the pool, two or three statues of plump and 
naked cupids did naughty things to voluptuous gossamer-clad Psyches.  One 
particularly sensual Venus in alabaster sat across the pool, her left foot 
in the water, her right foot on the edge of the pool, her crotch fully 
exposed and carved in loving detail, a tendril of pubic hair wisping into 
her swelling pink alabaster vagina. At her shoulder stood a naked, pubescent 
Adonis, also in alabaster, with an obvious erection, which she would be 
eternally reaching toward.

	Senora Flavia stared in openmouthed amazement, clearly disoriented by the 
opulent surroundings after a lifetime of deprivation.  I sensed her 
dizziness at the unaccustomed  splendor and the sexual suggestiveness 
surrounding her.

	Moving quickly to press my advantage, I had Nina offer to the strangers 
that they might like to wash themselves at the open air shower, freestanding 
in front of the bath house to the left, while I ordered lunch.  The Senora 
looked bewildered for a moment, but then seemed to recognize this as a test 
(which it was), and bravely called to Lucinda, who was curiously studying a 
life size statue of Zeus, in the form of the swan, loosening the thighs of 
Leda, to rape her, inseminate her, and create Helen of Troy.
	To make our guests more comfortable, Nina, herself, disrobed completely, 
right there beside the pool.  Once again I admired Nina's voluptuous 
thirty-five year old body, ripe, big breasted, yet trim at the waist before 
her hips flared in womanly fullness. She was a magnificent ass fuck, and 
looked it.  Her rich auburn hair was echoed a little more darkly in the 
delta at the top of her legs.  Her summer tan was light all over her body, 
with only the suggestion of an even lighter area where she occasionally wore 
bikini bottoms. Nina stepped under the warm open-air shower and smiled for 
the senora to join her.
	As Sondra hesitated, Lucinda shrugged out of her thin dress, slid down her 
panties, and walked to the shower. She was still a little girl, but a very 
pretty little girl: hairless, with only the slightest suggestion of 
puffiness at her nipples.
	Again Sondra seemed to come to a decision.  "When in Rome"...as it were. 
She raised her jaw defiantly, and disrobed, dropping her rags in a pile at 
her feet.  As she emerged, I could see that poverty had exposed her ribs, 
but that it could not suppress the richness of her blood.  Her breasts were 
round, high, and although not as large as Nina's, absurdly prominent for one 
so thin, swaying heavily as she moved.  Her nipples were enlarged, and the 
thought that she might be newly pregnant sent a little thrill to my loins. I 
have always adored fucking women who have been made pregnant by other men.

	Having made the arrangements for lunch and a couple of other things, I, 
too, stripped out of my clothes and joined the ladies at the shower.  Nina 
had provided soap and shampoo, and was busily washing Sondra's hair while 
Sondra washed Lucinda's.  I took the soap and began lathering Nina's breasts 
and stomach while Sondra and Lucinda rinsed.
	Nina said something to Sondra and handed her a bar of soap.  Sondra looked 
shocked, but then shrugged and began to rub the soap on my front, making 
tentative forays down my belly to my penis and testicles.  Nina smiled, and 
took the soap from her, summoning Lucinda.  The mother stepped back, open 
mouthed, not sure what was going to happen and whether she should do 
anything about it.  	Nina made some lather and transferred it to Lucinda's 
hand, which she guided to my cock.  Too late, Sondra gasped, but then her 
shoulders slumped, and she did not interfere.  Eleven year old Lucinda 
looked very solemn as she gently applied the lather to my semi-turgid penis, 
while Nina knelt and cupped my balls.  Her face was about at Lucinda's 
shoulder and her mouth was about at my belly.  With an arm around Lucinda's 
shoulder, she drew her closer as she let the warm water rinse my genitals 
clean.  Then, very slowly, looking up sideways at Lucinda the whole time, 
she bent and gently but wetly kissed my cock.  Lucinda stood transfixed, a 
small dazed expression playing on her face as my cock rose fuller.
	Meanwhile Sondra, in the background, fainted, swooning slowly to the warm 
wet tiles below, ending spread eagle and semi-conscious.
	I immediately stepped forward and, as I helped  her to sit up, I cupped her 
cunt, casually stroking my fingers between her cunt lips.  I was pleased to 
feel the unmistakable silken wetness of sexual arousal.
	It would not do to rush, however. I do not rape often, and we had all day.  
  Beyond that if I wanted.
	Sondra came back to consciousness slowly, and as we toweled off with plush 
blue towels of fine Egyptian cotton, I saw two of my people bringing lunch.  
Cold chicken nicoise, grapes, cheeses, good bread, a delicate red wine (yes, 
red, fool), ice cold water, almonds, oranges, and chocolate.
	Sondra came slowly to the tree shaded table wrapped in the big towel.  She 
kept it fully around her for a while but, as everyone else was totally nude, 
she gradually let it fall open and just kept it loosely about her hips. Her 
high, amazing breasts glowed  from the warmth of the shower as she sat in 
the soft shade eating brie and crusty bread.  She smiled shyly.  She shook 
out her heavy hair, which the breeze toyed with and slowly dried.
	Nina frequently spoke softly to Sondra during the meal, obviously wooing 
her,  complementing her, stroking her with her voice, getting shy responses 
from a woman who was obviously heterosexual, but who seemed to yield to the 
older woman's verbal caresses.
	We all had a little too much wine, especially little Lucinda, who clearly 
was not used to drinking much of it.  As the glow rose among us, amid 
laughter and small talk, I suggested we move to the pillowed bower my people 
had been preparing in the shady arbor twenty yards away.
	Nude as we were, arm in arm with Nina on one side of me, Sondra on the 
other, and little Lucinda gamboling ahead, we padded to the bower.    Again 
Sondra hesitated, but the wine, the strange newness, and the air of natural 
inevitability had done its work.
	I lay on my back in the middle, with Nina on my left shoulder and drew 
Sondra down on my right.  Lucinda started to crawl up behind her mother, but 
I motioned her to get between Nina and me, where she slipped in with the 
back of her head between Nina's breasts, her cheek resting on my abdomen, 
one leg carelessly draped over mine, her left elbow grazing my cock as she 
somewhat drunkenly sucked her thumb.
	We all drowsed for about an hour or so, as I let little Lucinda's warm 
breath down my stomach inspire erotic dreams. I awoke with a swelling 
erection to find that Nina had moved over to the other side of Sondra, who 
was now flat on her back, her head turned toward Nina.  Nina was caressing 
her breasts, speaking love, her mouth no more than two inches from the 
stranger's.
	Slowly, gently, as I watched, she bent forward and slid her lips on 
Sondra's, kissing the corner of her mouth, then with closed lips directly on 
her mouth, and then, as Sondra responded, opening her mouth and gradually 
becoming more lascivious, more demanding, more sensual, until they were 
licking each other's tongues, the inside of each other's lips, and crushing 
their lips on each other, while Nina cupped the woman's crotch and began 
sliding her middle fingers into the swelling and opening hole.  Casually 
Nina withdrew her fingers and, reaching across Sondra, offered them to my 
lips.  As Sondra watched me suck her juices from Nina's fingers, she moaned 
low in her throat.
	Lucinda was watching too, and I could feel her hairless little mound 
pressing repeatedly against the back of my thigh.  I carefully lifted her 
over me, sliding back as I did, so that her warm little back was against my 
chest, and she faced her mother and Nina, a foot away.  With Lucinda's head 
resting on my right bicep, and her little girl bum nestled into my crotch, 
we watched as Nina made love to her mother:  kissing her breasts, brushing 
her clitoris lightly, pushing her two middle fingers deep inside and 
virtually lifting Sondra's whole pelvis by the cunt, then slathering out and 
moving faster, more insistently, on her clitoris.  Sondra was moaning, 
delirious, truly outside herself with ecstasy.
	My own hardon pressed along the backs of Lucinda's slim little legs.  I 
drew her back into me with my hand on her stomach, and slid my hand between 
her legs, lifting the left one so that my cock sprang free between her 
thighs and lay along the slit of her little hairless cunt.  She felt it 
there and began to move so that it slid back and forth along the crease.  
She was riveted by what her mother was doing and her pelvis moved 
rhythmically, almost unconsciously, as she became hotter and wetter herself. 
  The pressure of her slit, hot and wet, riding up and down along the top of 
my cock became intense.
	Her mother and I came at about the same time.  Sondra heaving passionately 
in the capture of Nina's hands and fingers and mouth, I quietly spraying in 
sublime ecstasy, into the soft wet open air between her daughter's legs.  
Lucinda's virginity may still have been technically intact, but there was 
enough sperm and semen, enough cum, between her pubescent legs to impregnate 
a thousand women.

	We lay, spent for a time, drowsing again in the mid-afternoon heat.  Then I 
led the way to the pool, where we swam, playing teasingly with each other, 
hands sliding over breasts and genitals, bodies making contact at various 
angles and places.

	The two women and the child eventually left the pool area for the villa, 
wrapped in towels.  I had already dispatched people to acquire clothes for 
the new arrivals.  Now I gave instructions for their old clothes to be 
burned.

				Chapter 2

	When we reassembled in the library for cocktails at seven, Sondra Flavia 
and her daughter had been transformed.  Gone were the peasant rags and 
bedraggled look.  The senora's hair was piled elegantly on her head, showing 
to advantage her delicate, even aristocratic, neck.  She wore a white silk 
gown that Jean Harlow would have envied: a deep vee at the neck, clinging, 
outlining her nipples and the slight roundness of her belly, and adoring 
each hip as it passed over them and flared almost to the floor. Clearly, 
except for some pearl drop earrings and delicate silver open toed heels, the 
gown was the only thing she was wearing.  Her high full breasts swayed 
hypnotically with every move.
	As for her daughter, Lucinda had drawn her shining black hair into a 
single, loose braid down her back.  As I watched, she drew it over her left 
shoulder.  She wore a very short pale yellow jersey sheath, with a wide 
scoop neck, off the shoulders.  The glow of her dusky skin played warmly 
against the soft lemony material.  Her thin, pubescent legs seemed to go on 
forever, the hem of the dress just barely covering her crotch as she stood 
before me smiling shyly.
	Nina, herself, was a bronze glow. She too wore an off the shoulder sheath, 
but it reached to her mid-thigh and was made of stiff russet taffeta, 
exactly the color of her hair.  The dress was also lower cut than Lucinda's, 
nearly spilling her ample breasts into the room.  The dress seemed to be 
saying, "Please, let me give you these."  Meanwhile her very high stilleto 
heels with their single strap said, "Oh, God, I need to be fucked...now!" 
Standing straight, in her stilletto heels, she was over six feet tall, 
nearly as tall as I.
	I smiled appreciatively at all three.  Knowing that Nina had made the final 
selections, I complemented her on her choices. I spoke softly to Sondra and 
Lucinda about they charms, and popped the champagne.
	 When Lucinda seemed to be getting into the spirit of things quickly, I 
knew that Nina had been at work hinting at what was expected of the mother 
and daughter.  As she accepted her champagne Lucinda sat on a straight 
chair, facing us, seemingly unconscious of how careless she was with her 
legs. She parted them, revealing, beneath the very short skirt, that she, 
too, wore no underwear.  Her plump and velvety little cunt peeped out 
sweetly from its glowing grotto under the translucent yellow jersey 
material.  Vulgar, but effective.

	I had invited an old friend, a wealthy American entrepreneur whose name you 
would recognize, for dinner.  Here I will simply call him K.  K is a man of 
about fifty, still trim, athletic, and on his third wife, a twenty-five year 
old starlet, who was on location in North Africa at the time. K was in Rome 
on business.
	He arrived just after eight, by which time the ladies were into the second 
bottle of Dom Perignon.  Little Lucinda, flushed by the wine, the 
surroundings, and the events of the afternoon, was dancing by herself to the 
music on the stereo,  which I had had programmed for her with Sting, Phil 
Collins, and Eric Clapton.  After I had introduced Senora Flavia to K, he 
stood and admired Lucinda's motions until she was aware of his presence, at 
which point she stopped and came over to him, smiling demurely.  He bowed 
and kissed her hand.  She giggled.  When he did a few dance steps of his 
own, she began to sway in front of him, and, boldly taking his hand, led him 
to a more open area of the library where she proceeded to do a slow bop-step 
with him.
	They danced briefly, while she shimmied her barely covered ass at him.  As 
the song ended,  she did a split step shimmy, which made her skirt ride up 
over her butt, revealing her bare, sweet, ripening, eleven year old ass in 
motion before him.  K raised an appreciative eyebrow at me as he escorted 
Lucinda back to the company, his hand resting lightly in the middle of her 
little bum so that his fingers were actually on the bare skin at back of her 
inner thigh.    I knew he could feel the velvety skin and the heat from 
between her legs.  She pulled her hair forward over her shoulder once again, 
and, toying with it, looked back up at him and smiled sweetly.
	Meanwhile Nina and I had engaged Senora Flavia in small talk, and I was 
discovering that although she came from poverty, her artistic taste was 
relatively educated.  For instance she could identify my original Reubens 
nude and my Titian, there in the library, and spoke with some knowledge of 
the small bronze Bellini statuette of Vulcan carrying off Proserpina which 
sat on one of my reading tables.  She did seem awed, however, when I want 
over and casually picked it up to show her the casting marks and 
authenticating artist's stamp on the bottom. When I handed it to her, she 
held it as carefully as one would hold a newborn.
	Ah, the small pleasures of life.  It is pleasant to own and handle a 
beautiful and priceless work of art.  It has some of the same feel as 
commanding a beautiful woman to suck your cock, knowing she will obey.

	We dined at nine.  Among other courses, we had American lobster, which K 
had had flown in for me and which my chef had steamed, cracked carefully so 
the diners needed only forks, and accompanied with a delicate 
lemon-basil-cream sauce.  As we were finishing our brandy out on the piazza 
in the warm Italian summer night, Lucinda was clearly growing sleepy, but 
her mother was perhaps more wide awake than any of us.
	I rose and offered Lucinda my hand, telling the others I would put her to 
bed and return soon.  Senora Flavia began to protest that it was a mother's 
duty, and I shouldn't be bothered with such a menial task.  I gave her a 
straight look, as Nina reached across and told her, gently, that when I said 
I would do something, I did not expect to be countermanded.  A quick look of 
terror crossed Senora Flavia's face, as she said what I took to be something 
like, "Oh, I did not mean to presume..."  Nina and I exchanged knowing 
glances.  The mother had clearly given up claim to her own daughter.
	I smiled as I escorted the weary Lucinda to the sweet, frilly little girl's 
room, all pink and white, on the fourth floor.  Although as I said I do not 
ordinarily engage in pedophilia, or even baby-doll sex games with other 
adults for that matter, I keep such a room for two or three of my friends 
who enjoy these things.   Lucinda leaned against me in the elevator, her 
head just on my ribs, both hands hugging one of my legs lightly, the very 
picture of a trusting little girl whom daddy is putting to bed.
	In her room, she stepped out of her pumps and raised her arms sleepily for 
me to slip her light yellow sheath up off her body.  I slid the dress up, 
caressing her warm little girl flesh as I went, and, while she took apart 
her hair and brushed her teeth, I prepared her bed.
	I came into the bathroom just as she was finishing peeing, and, taking a 
wad of toilet paper, I had her stand with her legs apart as I slowly dried 
her sweet little cunt.  She rested her head on my shoulder, with one hand 
around my neck.  When I was finished, I checked my work by hand, with a 
light caress, and picked her up in my arms.  I carried her to the bed and as 
I lay her down she fanned her hair and lay back on the pillows, smiling 
sleepily up at me. She lay there nude, the coverlet just below her hip 
bones.  As I bent forward to kiss her good-night, she clasped me about the 
neck and moved so that my kiss was full on her lips.  She sighed and 
whispered something in Italian, which I could not translate precisely, but 
the tone of which was inviting.  When I looked confused, she kissed me 
again, and her hot little tongue darted between my lips, as her hand reached 
for my groin.  Sleepy as she was, she was also offering sex.   Clearly she 
was taking her new role seriously.
	I assured her, in English, that we would get to that (Oh, would we get to 
that!), but, for tonight, she should sleep.  Later I also learned that she 
and her parents had lived in a very small flat in Naples, and all three had 
slept in the same room.  She was aware that her mother and father never went 
to sleep without making love, no matter how tired her mother was.  Thus, she 
was no stranger to sex scenes, and she was merely offering me what she 
thought all men demanded at bedtime.  I lay her back and kissed her forehead 
as I drew the covers up to her shoulders.  She smiled again sleepily and 
murmured, "Bouna nota, signor Maestro, y mille grazia por tutti."  She was 
asleep before I left the room.
	When I returned to my other guests, I discovered that Nina and taken K for 
a walk in the garden.  Sondra sat dreamily watching the lights play on the 
water flowing from the dolphin's mouths into the pool. The underwater lights 
set up a subtle light show as the refraction from the surface motion danced 
on the surrounding shrubbery and statues.  Across the pool, Adonis's 
erection seemed alive as Venus continued to reach for it.
	Sondra stood as I approached.  Her silky gown shimmered as the motions of 
her breasts and stomach muscles moved under the satin material.  She stepped 
very close, directly in front of me, her dark eyes full of a mixture of 
gratitude, wonder, and, perhaps, fear.  I reached for her shoulders and she 
melted into my arms, pressing herself against me from knees to shoulders, 
then slowly, insistently pressing her pubic mound forward, seeking contact 
and reassurance at my groin.  I could feel her warm breath on my face as she 
looked up at me. We kissed slowly and deeply in the warm Roman night and 
when we separated I felt the heat of her body in the cool air that rushed 
between us.  Whether she was truly interested, just grateful, or merely 
wanted to reestablish her heterosexuality, I couldn't say.  Nor did I care.
	I suggested that we swim.  She stepped out of her shoes and started to 
remove the gown, but I stopped her, motioning for her to leave it on, but to 
help me out of my clothes.  Carefully, in mounting ardor, she undressed me 
completely, ending by cupping my balls, and running her hand along the 
length of my slowly rising cock.  She led me by the cock into the shallow 
end of the pool where we waded in to the depth of her waist. The temperature 
of the air and the water were very nearly the same.  We moved back to knee 
depth.  The white silk of her gown clung to her and turned translucent.  Her 
black pubic hair pressed against the fabric in dark bas-relief.   We moved 
deeper again and sank to our knees together, so that she was up to her 
shoulders, then stood again.  Her nipples were clearly visible through the 
fabric, large, erect, inviting.  Again the thought crossed my mind that she 
might be pregnant.  I asked, and when she understood what I was asking a new 
look of terror came to her eyes as she nodded timorously.
	Doing my best with my smatterings of Italian, Spanish and Latin, I said,  
"No, no, cara mia, es bueno.  Yo amo feminae insciente, um...pregnante. Tu 
es si bella, si bella. Yo voullo te fouckare encore e encore." (I was trying 
to say:  “No, no, my love, it’s okay.  I love pregnant women. You are very 
beautiful, so beautiful.  I want to fuck you again and again.”) Bastardized 
as it was, it got my point across. Suppressing a giggle herself, she smiled 
relievedly and opened her arms.
	We kissed briefly and then I bent and sucked her right breast through the 
gown as she cradled my head.  I bit lightly as I drew away and she smiled 
knowingly at me. These were games she knew. She slid the left shoulder of 
her gown off and, taking both hands she cupped her other breast. She offered 
that one to me also.  I bent and sucked the bare nipple as she continued to 
try to feed it into my mouth.  I bit a little harder on this one, but she 
only moaned and let her head fall back, exposing the whole length of her 
elegant neck.
	I straightened slightly and placed my mouth just below her left ear as she 
arched backward.  I could feel the pulse of her jugular vein on my tongue 
before my teeth left marks on her neck.
	I reached down and raised the heavy wet material of her gown to her hips, 
then picked her up, drawing her legs around my waist.  I waded with her 
clinging to me, to the edge of the pool, where I positioned her hips to 
enter her.  With one hand around my neck, she leaned back, placing the other 
on the marble behind her, the better to thrust forward.  I entered her cunt 
hard, driving as fast and as far as I could.  She gasped and nearly swooned 
as the lust took hold of her.  She was suddenly an abandoned woman, 
counterthrusting, moaning, opening hotter and wetter at every stroke.  We 
fucked hard for a while, and then slowed to a steady, long rhythm.  She was 
wide open, a lather of sexual juices wetting her whole inner thighs, but her 
vaginal muscles were strong and when she wanted to she could almost hold me 
prisoner inside her.  Gradually we began teasing.  As I withdrew each time, 
she would let my cock go an inch then clamp down briefly, then let go 
another inch, then clamp down again. Sometimes I would withdraw completely, 
letting the head of my cock just part her outer vaginal lips for as long as 
I could stand it.  We both ached with pleasure and anticipation, I toying 
with the urge to thrust home, and she longing to be filled.
	We focused intensely on our genitals and the pleasure they were giving us.  
Suddenly Sondra was panting, gasping, thrusting to take me farther and 
farther in.  As she was still shuddering in the final throes of her climax, 
I came, myself.  Driving what felt like buckets of cum deep into her womb.
	Gradually, we became aware of Nina and K, seated at the poolside table.  
They rose to give us a standing ovation, calling "Bravo...Brava... encore 
senora... encore maestro!"  Sondra blushed, while I jovially declared, " Eh, 
va fangol," and made the appropriate Italian gesture.
	K said, "Grazi, Maestro... but your precious Nina has seen to that, 
already."  Nina laughed as she wiped the back of her hand broadly across her 
mouth and made an exaggerated slurping sound. I noticed cum stains and 
perhaps a hint of lipstick about the fly of K's white linen pants.
	All four of us lingered briefly in friendly idle talk with a nightcap on 
the piazza in the warm Italian night.

			Chapter 3

	The next morning an old friend called and said he was having trouble with 
his ex-wife, who had been awarded a significant number of shares in one of 
his companies in the divorce.  She had used her leverage to get her new 
lover appointed CEO of the firm, and the young stud was rapidly running the 
company into the ground.   I spent most of the day in Rome at my friend's 
offices, pledging his bank some of my financial holdings as collateral.  We 
negotiated a large loan and quietly began buying back a controlling interest 
in his company.  We worked out a plan to bring the company back into the 
black, and I knew my collateral was safe when, as I was leaving, I heard him 
drafting an order to fire the young stud's ass.  I left, grinning.

	I returned to my villa about six p.m., to find that Nina had taken the 
Flavia's shopping.  Great boxes from Rome's best couturiers lay about the 
master bedroom, and Sondra and Lucinda were just starting a fashion show.  I 
sat on an upholstered chair and sipped an icy goblet of Tanqueray gin 
garnished with pearl onions as I watched the proceedings. Versaces and Diors 
were followed by Gandolfos and, for sportive counterpoint, some deliciously 
trashy Gallio Stephanatos (thousand dollar rhinestone dungarees, soft suede 
boots, wickedly slutty tops, bangles and beads).  Lucinda was in heaven, and 
I must admit, she looked adorable in all of her new clothes, especially a 
thigh length blue corduroy jumper, knee socks, and a demure catholic school 
top complete with Peter-Pan collar. Impishly she produced a ruler, handed it 
to me, and turned to flip up the back of her skirt.  I pulled her panties 
down and smacked her a few times while she pretended to yowl and squirm. 
Then she grabbed the ruler from me and ran away laughing. Mamma stood by 
watching it all, and beamed.  Before going to freshen up for dinner I spoke 
privately with Nina, who nodded and said that she would have it arranged.
	Later, after an exquisite meal on a Morroccan theme, I had Nina tell the 
Flavia's a haunting tale full of mystery and magic to set the atmosphere for 
the events to follow. She told the Tale of the Mists.
	In brief, the tale is this: a mother must sacrifice her virginal daughter 
in order to save the kingdom. Every time she hesitates, the curse on the 
land becomes greater.  Plagues break out; famine is rampant.  Finally, the 
handsome prince, beloved heir to the kingdom, falls under the curse and 
becomes sickly.  For the good of the kingdom, the woman finally brings her 
daughter to the sacrificial altar.  A great dragon looms out of the mists as 
the woman lays her naked daughter out to be sacrificed.  The dragon is about 
to rape the maiden.  His long and evil penis is all but penetrating her 
tender vaginal lips.  Surely his wicked tool will tear the maiden asunder.  
Suddenly, just as the monstrous evil penis touches the virginal opening, the 
curse is broken.  The dragon shudders and slowly transforms itself into the 
handsome prince, fully restored to health.  The prince's gentle and loving 
consummation of the sacrifice brings tears of joy to both mother and child.  
The mother's willingness to sacrifice her child has lifted a curse, and now 
the kingdom will be restored.  The woman is made a lady in waiting and the 
daughter becomes the consort of the revived prince.

	Not very subtle, but highly effective.  Senora Flavia understood the 
implications perfectly, and Lucinda herself was nearly swooning as she gazed 
at me with glistening eyes.

	I nodded, and Nina led the women into the house.  Ten minutes later I heard 
them drive down the driveway to my private chapel in the wild olive grove a 
quarter of a mile away.  I began walking in the same direction, and when I 
arrived at the chapel ten minutes later, I could see the soft glow of 
candles through the stained glass windows.  I entered by the side door, 
disrobed completely and put on a long priestly cloak in heavy purple satin, 
which was waiting for me there.  Then I went back outside and around to the 
front of the chapel.
	As I entered from the main door, I surveyed the scene.  The chapel was 
large enough for about thirty people, but had only two rows of pews.  When 
it had been in actual use, the peasants were expected to stand in the rear 
while the duke and his family sat in relative comfort at the front.  In the 
apse, high relief limestone columns rose at the rear, forming a vault at the 
ceiling.   They were bathed in the warm glow of balanced, ascending racks of 
candles, twelve on a side, illuminating a marble Donatello Christ on his 
cross in the middle.  Below Christ stood the high main altar.  Five feet in 
front of that was the long bare Eucharist table, also in limestone.  A life 
sized pieta by one of Michaelangelo's students stood to the left in front of 
the table, and a heavy baptismal font sat on the right, just outside of the 
altar rail.
	In the dim glow, Nina stood in a white, transparent, gauzy toga beside the 
font. A small silver dagger glinted in her hand.  As I started down the main 
aisle, she nodded.  Lucinda appeared from the side, followed by her mother. 
Sondra Flavia was dressed similarly to Nina, but Lucinda wore a short white 
tunic, tied at the waist with a white silk rope.  Both of the older women's 
hair was down, straight and long.  Lucinda's hair was up off her neck and a 
garland of flowers was woven into it.  She walked, barefoot, with her hands 
clasped before her in prayer.  She was the exquisite vision of a young 
vestal virgin, demure and holy.  She was also a willing participant in her 
own sacrifice.  I felt the first stirrings in my loins.
	When we all had reached the baptismal font, Nina again nodded, and Senora 
Flavia dipped her hand into the font and brought it out, dripping the soft 
scented oil that had been put there.  I stepped forward, parting my robes, 
and she gently applied the oil to my rising cock.  Her hand was hot, her 
eyes were fevered.  She seemed in a trance, perhaps unwilling to believe 
that she was actually participating in the ravishment of her own eleven year 
old daughter.
	Continuing to hold and massage my cock, she turned, and we all proceeded to 
the mass table.  Nina untied Lucinda's tunic and it fell open, revealing her 
soft undeveloped chest and a pair white silken panties, the last defense of 
her virginity.
	Nina lifted the girl and sat her just on the front edge of the eucharist 
table.  She lay Lucinda back.  The table was just wide enough so that 
Lucinda's shoulders rested on the far edge.  Her head was unsupported and 
fell back.  Quickly Nina strapped Lucinda's arms out to the sides, in 
imitation of Christ who now seemed to be looking down upon her.  Her legs 
hung down before me. Nina came around the table and produced the silver 
dagger, and as Lucinda strained her head up to watch, Nina handed the knife 
to Sondra Flavia.
	Carefully the mother slid the blade through one leg opening of the white 
silk and across her daughter's pubic area beneath the panties until the 
point protruded out the other leg hole.  With a single swift motion she 
slashed the sharp blade upward through the fabric, exposing the little 
girl's soft and swollen cunt beneath.  Lifting the now useless flap that had 
been the front of the panties, she raised her daughter's right leg, bending 
it slightly and opening it to the right.  Nina did the same with her left 
leg and Lucinda's hairless and budding cunt opened before me.  Her mother 
guided my cock inexorably toward her eleven year old daughter's virginal 
center.
	My cock swelled massively as I slowly deflowered the little girl.  Even 
oiled as I was, the entrance was very tight, and I had to shove somewhat 
roughly to make full penetration.  Lucinda had been straining her neck to 
see what was happening, but as I thrust home she cried out and let her head 
fall back fully, the pulse at her neck beating fast .
	I stroked in and out briefly, marvelling at the tightness and the heat of 
this little one's vagina.  But, even for one as jaded as I, the experience 
was intense, and I felt the sperm building quickly, flowing to the base of 
my cock, about to erupt.  I pulled out just as I was coming, and shot rope 
after rope of white cum on the little girls dusky stomach and chest.  As I 
reentered to drain the final spurts deep in the little girl's womb, both 
Nina and Sondra Flavia bent to lick my cum from the girl's body.  Lucinda 
lay nearly unconscious, staring up at Christ, upside down (from her 
perspective) on his cross.  I thrilled at this exquisite rendition of the 
Black Sabbath.

	In the days to come, both Nina and I enjoyed mother and daughter in 
innumerable ways.  Sometimes the little girl lay with her head between 
Nina's legs, playing with Nina's cunt and watching as I fucked her mother in 
the ass.  At other times all three sucked me off and fed each other my cum.  
It was more than a week before I began to tire of my guests.

	When the novelty finally began to pale, I decided to strike a bargain.  I 
would set up Senora Flavia and little Lucinda in a dress shop, in Rome, the 
second floor of which would be an elegantly furnished suite of rooms for 
entertaining.  On occasion I would recommend discrete clients (of either 
sex) to her, both for dresses and for quiet entertainments in the suite 
above.
	I must report that the arrangement has worked quite satisfactorily now for 
several years, even after the birth of Sondra's baby boy, who now runs 
around the apartment like a little naked cherub.  And indeed, little Lucinda 
has begun demonstrate a rare talent for creating sexy apparel, which she is 
very willing to model for her clientele's intimate inspection.  Whatever 
else goes on in the apartment is only for my clients to say.

	Thus the outrageous is made to seem inevitable and if the circumstances are 
right, the innocent are made available for our pleasures.

The End.

________________________________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com