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From: "David McEntee" <gr8old1@earthlink.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Waterhouse  (MF rom)
Date: Fri, 16 May 2003 04:10:04 -0400
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"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.
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