Message-ID: <42480asstr$1053072604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <000701c31b40$23b6b820$7eddf7a5@mcentees6owwpg> From: "David McEntee" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1106 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 15 May 2003 17:14:36 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} The Waterhouse (MF rom) x-asstr-message-id-hack: 42480 Date: Fri, 16 May 2003 04:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw "The Waterhouse" by David McEntee (MF rom) "It's not right, mistress," the elderly lady in waiting said for the umpteenth time. Silver hair pulled into a severe bun and her plain garb made her appear the archetypal maid. "You shouldn't go out swimming so long as he's about, you know. What would the master think?" "Oh, Besque," Quian sighed. "My lord Frahl is a little too busy to notice my goings and comings." She stifled a giggle to herself. "I'm young and I'm flirty. Surely that's not a crime." At eighteen years of age, she had been mistress of the Waterhouse for the last two years. Olive skin, raven hair and almond shaped green eyes gave her an exotic beauty unparalleled in these parts. "That seducer is old enough to be your father," Besque replied with some heat. "Yes," Quian replied smoothly. "And yet, he's younger than my husband." "Not by much," the maid grumbled. "Besque," Quian said, "Who is mistress here?" Somewhat flustered by her young charge and mistress's tone, she replied, "You are, milady." "That's correct. Try not to forget it again. I will have breakfast on the patio when I return from my swim. Please watch for my return." With that, Quian left her bed chambers, clad in a floral robe and white shift. The Waterhouse was a long, proud white and red brick manor. Standing three stories tall, it was the tallest building for miles around. It was built on one of many small islands that dotted the shallow lake and was the heart of this particular aquacultural center. The main entrance was on the northernmost short wall. A causeway and a dock could be found there. On the back of the Waterhouse was a patio with steps that lead down into the clear, fresh waters of the lake. This southerly facing patio was washed with the light of the sun all day long. The Waterhouse Manor is situated near a largely residential area of the lake town. As a goodwill gesture when Frahl's father founded the Waterhouse Farm, he granted the local people the rights to swim, fish and go boating in the channels nearest the House. In actuality, few of the locals made use of these privileges. It was on this patio that Quian stripped off her robe, left it over a chair and descended the steps into the water. Once waist deep, she dropped forward and dove under. Throughout most of the farm part of the lake, the water was rarely more than ten feet deep. And even at this early hour, the water was warming up. It would be a beautiful day. Swimming over the bulbous lake shrubs, Quian reflected on her husband and her lover. When she first found out that she would be marrying a man five and twenty years her senior, she was appalled. The man was only two years younger than her own father. Yet, he was not a repulsive old boar as she had feared. Of course, being now three and forty years old, he had a bit of a pot belly. But, at least he wasn't covered in hair. His head was, but that once golden hair was greying with time. All in all, he was a fine specimen for his age. And, a conscientious lover, too. He was kind and gentle with her on their wedding night. That which she had been dreading he did not rush or force. He woke something in her. A desire that she had been hardly aware of before that night. But, management of the Waterhouse Farm took most of his time. She had to admit that at least he didn't seek her out solely for the purpose of warming his bed. If, for whatever reason, he been away from her on business, he would take time to reacquaint himself with her before seducing her. He was terribly romantic, if often absent. Treece, however, was a very different type of man. Twice Quian's age, he seemed to be carefree and full of life. A powerfully built man, his hair was still very dark. His eyes were the type a girl could get lost in. She met him quite by accident. Quian had taken to morning and evening swims during summer as it's too hot during midday. It was during one sunset outing that she blundered into Treece. Literally. She had swam far that evening and was returning home. But, she was tiring and was still quite a ways from the House. Treece happened to come by in a small boat as she began to founder. He dove in and expertly got her into his craft. He was nothing but gentlemanly to her, making no lascivious actions towards her. His manner was so much like Frahl's that Quian found herself smitten. But, there was one way that Treece differed from Frahl. Treece was gentlemanly, to be sure. But, he was flirtatious whereas Frahl was not. Frahl was not cold, just more reserved in his sexual attentions. That was not to say that Quian and Treece had been sexually intimate. But, such a union seemed inevitable. She had not swam far from the House when she encountered Treece. Quian, floating on her back and stroking idly, felt a hand gently seize her ankle. "And what seems to be in his master's waters on this lovely morning?", Treece asked by way of greeting. "'Tis an unmanned vessel." "Good morning, Treece," Quian said sweetly. "Do you think yourself man enough to sail me?" "My lady," Treece went on suggestively, "I am an experienced sailor. I have tamed many vessels. A skillful helmsman am I." "Many vessels, eh?" Treece seemed more familiar today than he had been previously. "If I am a vessel, how would you guide me?" Swimming closer, he just about rode up over her. "'Twill be a challenge, but you have three helms from which I could control you. Here," he kissed her right nipple through her shift, "here," he kissed her left, "and here," at last he kissed the tuft of hair between her legs. While Quian was aroused by his attentions, he was usually not so forward. Brazen seduction was not his method, normally. Treece was usually more romantic in his seductive intentions. He had embraced her, kissed her and even caressed her. But, his actions today were moving faster than Quian was accustomed to. "Treece, you seem very ... eager today," she said, turning over and swimming a yard or two away. "Perhaps," he replied smoothly. "I am skilled in what I have mentioned. I am also younger and more vigorous that your lord Frahl. Perhaps now is the moment for the events of the recent past to come to fruition." Quian was becoming nervous, but tried to hide it. Treece had said "many vessels" and now was telling her he wished to make love with her. "Perhaps this is not a good place or time. We could be observed." "It is no matter," he said dismissively. "I have been observed before. I know your good lady in waiting has tried to watch me at every opportunity. She is beyond what I consider desirable, she may be disappointed to learn." As much as Besque's fussing annoyed Quian, she did not like hearing her maid disparaged like this. "I've observed you and your lord on one occasion, in fact." That was too much for her. "How dare you!", she spat. "You dare to mock Besque in my presence and now you confess spying on my husband and I?" Where was the man would used to dive for the precious fruits that grew on the lake shrubs for her? Where was the man would bring river lily blossoms to her? "Calm yourself, my lady," Treece soothed. "You know I speak your own mind. I know you desire more attention than your busy lord can provide. I could even provide him with an heir, since he seems loathe to do the job for himself." "Pig!", she screamed at him. Part of her anger was for the unashamed way in which Treece so freely insulted Frahl. Part of her anger was for the fact that Treece had indeed spoken her mind. "Leave me and never pollute our waters again!" She turned to swim back to the house when the hand once again seized her ankle. The hand was not tender this time. Treece pulled hard so that Quian was spun around, treading water and facing him. "What makes you think you can deny me?" Treece sneered. "My patience with your flirting has grown thin. It is now time for you to fulfill my desire." "Do you desire to drown here and now then?" There was a light in her eyes that few had ever seen before. Treece was almost frightened. "If you will not submit willingly and properly," Treece said menacingly, "then I shall be forced to compel you." He reached out to seize her breasts. "Not bloody likely." Quian dove straight down, her shift floating up about her. As she hoped, the fool Treece grabbed for it and pulled hard. Freed her of her shift, Quian was now able to swim much swifter. She could outfight Treece, she was certain. But, not in water. Her style of fighting was best suited to land. Treece, being a fairly brawny man, would excel at wrestling, the best type of combat in water. "Dusky whore!" Treece called after her arrow like form and plunged after her. He was strong, but she was at home in the water. She looked so slender, but she was a far faster swimmer than he. Stroking like he never had before, Treece crashed through the water after his prize. He would have her. She wouldn't be the first wench he'd taken by force. She wouldn't be the last, either. Conquest would be his. Quian was tiring. Though an unparalleled swimmer, she was not prepared for such an undertaking. She could see the steps ahead, but could hear the violent splashing of Treece behind her. Her hand slapped a step hard enough to sting as she reached the House. Climbing out of the water, she heard Besque crying out, "Mistress! Mistress!" "So," panted Treece. He reached the steps as Quian reached the patio. "My water baby has thought to try to play the serpent, eh? Be gone, old hag!" he shouted at Besque. "Or I'll break your neck." Quian struck without a word. Treece was granted a unobstructed view of her nether regions before the foot smashed into this already heaving chest. He was caught completely off guard and tumbled back into the water. "'Serpent' doesn't quite do you justice, Quian," he growled, not using the honorific that was her due. "Hell-cat would be better." He launched himself at her. Besque fainted. As Treece prepared to seize his prize, she pivoted, took him by the wrist and flung him over her. The force with which he landed on his back stunned him momentarily. It was then that Quian brought her heel down on his once so handsome face. He was much less handsome with a broken nose. Rising up on his hands and knees, he took another kick full force to the ribs. Quian had no intention of letting up. She was about to smash a chair over his head when Frahl stopped her. "There's no need to kill him," her lord said soothingly, "though it may satisfy your rage now. Let him live unmanned." The once proud seducer was, in short, a mess. Blood flowed freely from his ruined nose. His arms and legs were still burning from that furious swim. At least two ribs were bruised, maybe broken. He looked at Quian with something almost like respect in his eyes. "I underestimated you, Quian -" "That's 'my lady' to you," she barked with another kick. Even now, nude before her husband, her maid and some of the household staff, she was proud and sure. "'My lady'", Treece wheezed. "But, you know I can offer you what your lord cannot." "Even now, you dare insult him?" Quian shook her head. "He, who spared your life? Your manhood could be twice his length and girth," all around were shocked to hear her speak thusly, "and you would still be half the man my lord is. Be gone, or even he will be unable to protect you from I. Know that I have killed a rapist before." Treece was escorted out of the Waterhouse's bounds. Quian rushed to Besque's rooms. "She'll be alright," the physician said. "A bit of a bump and too much excitement. You may want to go easy on her for the next week." Around noon, Quian found Frahl in his study on the second floor. From his favorite chair, he had a clear view over the patio and the submerged gardens Quian had loved to swim in so often. He was still in his finery, despite being within his retreat in the House. She herself was much more demurely clad that normal. While not in finery, she was clad in a gown worthy of a luncheon party. "My lord, I -" "Quian, my dear, there is no need of such formality between us," Frahl said gently. She threw herself at him, her face onto his knees as sobs wracked her slender body. "Forgive me, my lord," she cried. "'Forgive me'?", Frahl cried. "I might ask the same of you!" She lifted her face and asked through her tears, "Why do you need to be forgiven? I was the adulteress! I caused Besque to faint, nearly braining herself on my account..." "Shh." Frahl kissed her forehead. "Do you remember when we met?" The question took Quian by surprise. "Yes, my lord. I was but twelve years old when you came to my father's house." "Yes, and I was thirty seven. By that age, I had been master of the Waterhouse farm for twenty one years. My father died young and I became master at the age you were when we were wed. Since then, I have been trying to do my father proud. I have been remiss in my duties as a husband and lover." "You ... you aren't cross with me for seeking another's attentions?" "Quian, did you seek pleasure or did you seek love?" She held his gaze. What had been her intentions? Treece had made her feel wanted, to be sure. But did he make her feel loved? Frahl most certainly did. She considered her heart and mind and finally said, "I sought pleasure, my lord." "Do not call me 'my lord' again," he said with mock sternness. "Ye gods, woman, how old do you think I am?" He paused and said, "Had you said you sought love, I would have been sorely grieved. But you sought pleasure. Considering your age and ... your ... passion, this is no surprise. You are forgiven, if there is anything to forgive. Do I have your forgiveness as well?" She made no verbal answer, but stood before him. In a rush, she stripped herself and turned to lock the study door. Returning to Frahl's seat, she took him by the hand and lead him to the divan in the corner. He wasted no time in stripping himself as well. He was not as comfortable in his own nudity as Quian was in hers, but liked nonetheless their reflection in the mirror. His own skin seemed so pale when next to hers. They forgave each other's sins, his neglect and her lust, as they began to make gentle but passionate love in the warm afternoon sun on that divan. Quian took control of the situation. This she rarely did. While flirty she had been with Treece, submissive she was normally with Frahl. But, not this time. Without preamble, she took his not quite flaccid member into her mouth. He responded to her attentions quickly, soon growing to the point where she could no longer accommodate his entire length. Slowly, deeply, warmly, she bobbed on him. She would bring him close, back down and bring him close all over again. After her third such pause, Frahl directed her to change places with him. Quian lay down on the divan, luxuriating in the feel of the velvet under her skin. Spreading her legs wide, she beckoned to Frahl to enter her. Instead, her lowered his lips to her folds. His tongue probed and found her clitoris. Before long he had her gasping and writhing. Frahl reluctantly pulled himself away from her fold, kissed his way up her body and entered her. He set a slow, steady and very deep rhythm. There were times when he would thrust faster, but she much preferred this slow stroking. He filled her to the fullest. Even though he was reaching the point of no return, the speed of his thrusts did not change. It seemed he was going deeper each time. Their orgasms were great, in spite of the tender pace of their coupling. Basking in the afterglow, Quian and Frahl drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. ---------- Comments? Email me at gr8old1@earthlink.net -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+