Slave of Desire

Slaves of Desire
By Emy Naso
A tale of Edwardian lust and sexual humiliation

Slave For Sale
It was the worse time in his life. Cast out, hounded for his beliefs, unable to love, seduce, or corrupt the young womanhood of the country. The man who had no doubts that he was the savor of repressed sexuality, lived in obscurity, without the company of civilized companionship or obedient slaves.

Two weeks went by in the stone cottage, situated on the edge of the rolling Lincolnshire Wolds, with the elegant town of Louth five miles away. Doctor Calvani hadn’t dared venture beyond a small local farm and shop in the village, where he purchased all the provisions. Every time he heard horses, or even voices, in the lane to the front of the dwelling, Calvani froze, fearing it might be a party of men sent to find him by Lord Thornton or Sir Gordon Treves, bent on vengeance for the heinous sexual crimes committed by the Doctor in the fishing village of Cromer..

He knew in his heart why he dreaded them finding him. He’d seduced the rich landowner’s young daughter, Emma, and abducted Sir Gordon’s favorite maid, the beautiful, black Alisha. She was now imprisoned in the cellar of the old cottage, chained but not tamed. He’d imagined she would capitulate to the inevitability of becoming his sexual slave, yet every time Calvani approached Alisha, she tried to scratch and tear at him with her nails, a tempting feral splendor who would not submit.

He could have let her go. It was an option. One Calvani dismissed, wanting her to be his completely, submitting in the same way that Alice had complied. It was true he’d already possessed her twice, before his escape from Whitby, yet both his pride and need for sexual mastery would not allow him to admit defeat. So far every effort to tame Alisha had ended in defeat. Five times Calvani went to the cellar and, after a titanic struggle to bind and secure the woman, used the cane on her gorgeous bare bottom. He’s also tied up the wild cat, and forced his sexual desires on her, taking the her on the filthy floor and also pressed against a wall, the fiercely independent Alisha spitting into his face as he imposed his cock brutally into her. Yet still she remained defiant, imprisoned, chain around her neck and fastened to the wall, naked in the dark.

The evening was still and warm, the sky glowing an orb of orange in the west as the sun set. Calvani became restless, distracted from his reading and attempts at submission of his would be slave. Leaving the house he intended to walk along the lane as far as the small hamlet. The enticing cluster of houses, two tall church spires, and the thought of human company made him go on toward the town of Louth.

It sat on the edge of the ridge, formed eons ago. To the west, the fertile Wolds, with hills and valleys, ancient woodlands isolating much of the district from the great north to south roads. From Louth to the east, the land sloped down to the flat plains toward the sea, much of the coastal area, salt marshes and even more secluded, a terrain first colonized by rampaging Vikings one thousand five hundred years ago, many hamlets named after invaders and settlers. .

He went on in his walk, reaching the outskirts of the town after about an hour. Even in the gloom he could see that it was an elegant Georgian town, noises of revelers coming from the inns situated around a large market square. For a long while he stayed in the shadows, watching and listening, folk walking in groups, cabs clip-clopping over the cobbled streets. Eventually the need for company urged him into an inn called the ‘The Royal’

Pushing at the double swing doors, Calvani looked into the first room, a mass of laughter, drink induced conviviality and raucous town folk. He sought company, but not that of the rough edge of humanity. Beyond he saw another room. The tall, handsome Doctor made his way through the crowds and into a small area of scrubbed wooden tables and dignified conversation.

There were six table. He decided on the one with a large, ruddy faced man, who diligently read a newspaper.

“May I join you, sir?” Calvani ventured.
The man, in his middle years and with a peculiar shock of hair, brown, except a white streak almost down the center, put his newspaper down, folded it meticulously and waved a hand to the empty chair. “You won’t have long to wait,” he said, his tone hearty, a bright gleam in his eyes, a man that looked to engage in talk. Calvani nodded, sat down and offered his more modest smile, not being a man of easy cordiality. He didn’t ask what he had long to wait for, but assumed it to be the service.

“New to the town?” the man immediately asked. Getting a nod in reply he offered his name. “Oliver DeLane,” he grinned.
“Doctor Calvani.”
“Well, a professional man. Let me welcome you to Louth with a drink.” DeLane shouted over to the barman, who was sharing a bawdy joke with two other patrons, “Two glasses and a bottle of rum over here, Jack.”

Calvani began to wonder if he should have given his real name, still concerned his past would catch up with him. Jack, a man who seemed to pride himself on indolence, grudgingly brought the tray over with the order, never once discontinuing his previous conversation.

“Shall I pour? We don’t want to wait on ceremonies, do we?” DeLane cheerily said, and picked up the bottle with his big, broad hand. “So how long will Mr. Gladstone last?” he asked looking up at Calvani and not concentrating, letting the rum overflow the glass.
“Mr. Gladstone?” Calvani responded, puckering his lips, disapproving of DeLane’s clumsiness. To add to his fastidious disgust, his companion took out a handkerchief and attempted to wipe the spill, not noticing, or perhaps caring, that the Doctor pursed his lips reproachfully.

“Yes. Our self righteous Prime Minister, who has just formed a new government now the Marquis of Salisbury’s administration has fallen apart.” DeLane tapped the newspaper to reinforce his knowledge of the political subject. “I give the man six months at the most before we’ll all be asked to vote again.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been…” Calvani paused, unsure what to say. He decided on, “…Abroad for a while.”
DeLane winked at him, poured more rum in Calvani’s half full glass and said in what he obviously felt was a whisper, “Then you’ll be wanting something foreign when your turn comes. You may be disappointed, good Doctor.”

Calvani had no idea what he was talking about, but catching the direction of DeLane’s glance, he turned and saw a man get up from the next table, grin at his friends and go over to meet a young red headed woman, who stood, arms akimbo, at the bottom of a flight of stairs, pinch her rear and walk, up to a higher landing.

“Sally might suit you, Doctor.”
Calvani stared back at DeLane. “Sally? What…” Sensual reality hit him as if it had been a man’s fist. “I didn’t come in here for that,” he shrugged. DeLane smirked and dug his big hand into Calvani’s arm. “But you won’t say no, now, eh?”
“Aren’t you participating?” Calvani asked.
DeLane roared with laughter. “Well, bless me, Doctor, I’ve never heard it called that before.” The rotund man flashed a grin at a few of his friends who’d looked over at the genial and licentious chuckling. “Thank you for the thought, Doctor, but as I…well, own…the ladies of entertainment I don’t often participate. DeLane again verbally played genially with the word.

“I did not realize there was profit in such a business,” Calvani asked, his interest in all matters sexual, aroused.

Oliver DeLane held a hand up to signal he was putting the question on hold, got up and went over to another small, pretty young woman who was now standing by the bar. He spoke to her, looked back at the Doctor, gave the brunette a pat on her arm, and returned to his chair.

“Now, sir, what was your question? Oh, yes. Making money from men’s needs.” He picked up his glass, finished the contents, licking his lips and adopting a conspiratorial posture, leaning forward on his elbows.

“I know it is usually for poor young women to earn a little money by plying their trade in the streets, but by working from my establishment they are protected and don’t get beaten up by their more violent clients.”
“And what of the authorities?” Calvani asked.

The corpulent man shock his head, a slow forming grin on his remarkably thin lips. “Don’t look now, Doctor, but the gentleman innocently playing cards in the corner is our Mayor. He comes in here once a week for a few free beers, a game with his friends…and half an hour with Sally in the best upstairs parlor.” Oliver DeLane leaned back so far in his chair, Calvani wondered if the well proportioned man would topple over. He then swayed forward and said softly, “I don’t tell the mayor’s wife and family what weird sexual delights he has, and he, good man, doesn’t tell the police inspector to take a close look at my hotel.”

Calvani suddenly shivered at the mention, and reminder, of authority. Visions of Sir Gordon Treves and Lord Thornton came rushing into his mind.

“Is law and order so casual,” he muttered.
“What we do here in Louth is of no concern to anybody else,” DeLane huffed, becoming contemptuous for a moment.
The Doctor inadvertently said, “But there are many men of influence and power. I know of some in Whitby who…” He stopped, panic in his expression.
“Where?” DeLane spluttered, chuckling loudly. “I know you said you’ve been abroad, Doctor…but really. Whitby is one hundred twenty miles away in another county. What goes on there is none of my business, as is what goes on here, there’s”

Calvani smiled weakly. Yet for the first time he began to think his fears were groundless. He was indeed a long way from his enemies and although the railway made travel easier, the country towns and counties were still isolated, one from another.”

“So, Doctor?”
“Sorry, had I not answered you, sir?”
“No, I merely meant, do you want to savor the hotel specialties?”

Calvani thought about a response.
“I can’t offer you anything exotic, Doctor. If I could I’d pay good money to have such an item for sale.”

The Doctor got his second idea of the evening. “What about a beautiful black woman?”
“Now you’re asking for the moon, Doctor.”

Calvani nodded, finished his drink and felt content. “What do you have for me, sir?”
DeLane pointed. “That young, slim brunette over there. The one I was just talking to a moment ago. Almost new in from the country. Only nineteen and ready to be taught all the ways to please a gentleman like you.”

The handsome Doctor looked at the woman. He began to think of the lesson’s he could impart.

“Up the stairs and second door on the left, Doctor,” DeLane smirked. Calvani got up, stopped and said to his companion. “Tomorrow I may have a valued item for you, sir.”

He then went over to the slim brunette, followed her up the stairs and into a room of his desires.

First Lesson in Louth
“If you’re looking for a key we don’t lock doors here, mister,” the young brunette said, taking off her dress and hanging it neatly over the only other piece of furniture in the garishly painted and decorated room. She turned and gave him a far too resigned smile for one that could not have yet been twenty. Wearing white high cotton hosiery stockings, fastened in the very latest, daring way to the hooks at the hem of a corset bodice from Paris, and color matching short upper thigh length French fancy bloomers, she went over and put a foot up on the other item of furniture, an ornate, bed, with brass railings at the head and bottom.

“Nobody is going to come in, mister. Unless I call.” She took a cotton sheet from under the pillow and spread it over the red, silk bed cover. “So, how do you want me?”

Calvani regarded her with a duality of interest. He was intrigued to discover something about his ideas on sexuality. He was also a highly sexed man and wanted to ascertain much more about this young woman’s body, not just her casual attitude to prostitution.

“May I ask your name?”
“Is it important?” The reply was not insolent, just disinterested.
“I like to know.” He continued to be urbanely polite.
“Call me Tilly,” she shrugged. “Now, how did you want me, mister?.” Getting no answer, the brunette, sat on the bed and patted a spot next to her, indicating Calvani should join sit.

“That’s better.” He was almost twenty year older, yet she spoke to him as if he was a young boy nervously seeking his first sexual experience. Tilly would not have been so mockingly confident if she’d known but a small part of the Doctor’s sexual history.

“Some men like me as I am. Other want me to undo the front of my bodice so they can play with me breasts.” She gazed at Calvani as if seeking his predilections. “And some like me completely bare.” Tilly took his hand and put it on her thigh. “What do you want?”

He indulged her manner, stretching out on the bed and leaning on one elbow. “Come here Tilly and tell me how you became a…”
“Prostitute,” she said, puffing out her cheeks and laying back next to him. “You ain’t one of those talkers, are you? Not that I mind. Trouble is some don’t want to pay if they haven’t had anything…if you get my meaning, mister.”

It was Calvani’s turn to shrug. He certainly wanted something. “It just makes it more excited if two people know each other before they indulge their passions, Tilly.”

The brunette idly played with the lace edging on the top of her risqué stockings. Such undergarments and her sexily short bloomers were thought to be worn only by ladies of the sensual boudoir.

“Passion,” she laughed ironically. “That’s a word some men use when they mean sex.”

Calvani stroked her hair and lightly touched the swell of her small breasts. They were laced tightly into her corset bodice, plumping them up and together, two perfectly squeezed peaches.

“Do you have fantasies about sexual encounters, Tilly?”
“Only about how much the men will pay me,” she said, teasingly.
He persisted. “What about being coerced in such a situation?”
“Coerced? What’s that mean?”
“Forced,” he replied.
She pulled away from his fondling hand. “Look, mister, I don’t want any rough stuff. You can have me stripped and in any position you like. I’ll even do kinky things…for extra money. But any violence and I shout out. Very loud.”

Taking hold of her arm and soothing Tilly’s hand, Calvani tried to smile reassuringly. “No, Tilly, you miss understand. Nothing more than this kinky way you mention.”
“So what is it you want, mister?”
“Let me undress you,” he said, urging the brunette to stand up before him.

He was fascinated with what she wore. The feel of the metal hooks holding her hosiery stockings was, to him, a new erotic sensation. The cool metal was a delightful contrast to the warmth of her thighs. Unclipping them he admired Tilly.

“You’d better unroll and take off your stockings,” he suggested. “My fingers are much too clumsy.” In reality he got a thrill from watching Tilly perform the task, bending and lifting her legs, unfurling the white stockings to reveal the pink skin of her calves and thighs.

“I think you will have to turn around while I loosen the laces on your bodice,” he instructed. Taking his time, he leaned forward and caught the feminine perfume of her hair. It was redolent of all the young women he’d possessed. Rotating the young woman, he contemplated and took in the scene. With sensual reverence Calvani undid the clasps, one by physically one, down the front of her bodice, luxuriating in every exposed sight of her body.

When his task was complete, Calvani wanted to savor Tilly. He wanted to see, yet, the suspense was almost as delightful as the reality. Pushing back the bodice he sighed at the enchantment of her small, flawless breasts. Pausing, he stroked and then kissed each nipple. Slipping the bodice off, she waited before him, her flaunting, fancy, fantastic short bloomers, the epitome of vulnerable sexuality.

“I’d like you to step out of your bloomers, Tilly.”

Again he watched, mesmerized by her movements, enthralled by the display. He was even more surprised when, at last, she was naked.

“What you staring at mister? Haven’t you ever seen a woman before.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Tilly rattled on. “It ain’t a surprise to me. Many of the married men that come here for my services never get to see their wives fully naked.”

Calvani grinned. “It’s not that, Tilly. It’s…” he stumbled for the words. She saw where he was looking, and smirked. “Oh, I see. It’s all the rage in France, so they say. The women in the expensive brothels all shave themselves so they are as smooth as a baby’s bum.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t you like me like this, mister?”
“Very much, Tilly,” he said, more to himself than her. Calvani pulled her close and felt her breasts, her rear and then slid a finger between her velvety thighs, finding the softness of Tilly’s clitoris.

“Now my young woman. How shall I have you?”
“You pay your money, mister and take your choice.”
Calvani licked Tilly’s nipple. “Have you ever tried bondage?”
“I get all sorts in here,” she smirked. “But remember, no rough stuff.”
“Do you have rope, Tilly?”
“We’ve got everything. You’d be surprised what some clients ask for.”

The brunette teasingly escaped his fondling hand, went to a cupboard and came back with rope.
“You or me, mister?”
“Oh, definitely you, Tilly. A bound naked woman so improves sex.” He playfully slapped her rear. “Lay back on the bed, my sweet slave.”

Spreading herself out on the white cotton sheet, she puckered her lips in a mock affectionate kiss.

“Arms up, Tilly.” He circled her wrists with the rope and secured it to the metal headrest. Caressing her mouth, his ran his lips down her body, stopping longingly at her breasts, stomach and then positively dallying at her loins, easing Tilly’s legs apart to gain erotic entrance into her vagina with his tongue. She giggled and said, rudely, “Is that all you want to put in me?”

Calvani stood up and grinned, commencing his own striptease. When down to his underpants, he looked carefully at her, removed the last of his clothes and knelt over her, erection above her breasts. He leaned down and ran it between the warm haven of her bosom before sliding all the way over her loins and thighs.

Taking hold of her ankles, Calvani pulled Tilly’s legs up, pushing them back, bending her knees.

“What you doing, mister?”
“I like to see and admire a young woman’s sex and watch my cock possess her.”
“Hey, this is a sexual act, not a peep show.”
“Do as I want, willingly, Tilly and I can look after you.” He began to sensual taunt her clitoris with the bulbous, hard tip of his cock.
“That’s what they all say.”
“Believe me, my slave. I am a Doctor, a man of influence. This work does not have to be your life.”

He shoved forward, going into her. Tilly caught her breath, panting as he started to rock back and forth.

“Why do you call me slave, mister?” she muttered, beginning to respond to his urgent fuck.
“Just my words, dear Tilly. I speak the truth. You are special and I could be your benefactor.”

There were no more words, just grunts and short, stabbing breathing, Tilly and the Doctor in the thralls of sexual excitement.

“Tilly, Tilly,” he groaned. “My lovely Tilly.” Calvani thrust a few more times as he leaned over her contorted body, let out a long sigh, slipped his cock out of her vagina and pressed it against her mouth.

“For me, Tilly. I adore you.”

The brunette accepted his words and cock, sucking hard until he filled her with his spent desire.

Resting for a moment, he untied her and began to dress. When he was attired correctly, he kissed Tilly and gave her the coins of sexual thanks.

“You meant what you said, didn’t you, mister?”
“Please call me Doctor.”
“But you did…Doctor.”
“Of course, Tilly.” He dwelt for a moment in a thought and said, “But now I have matters to discuss with Mr. Oliver DeLane”
“Is it about me, Doctor?” Tilly asked naively.
“Not at the moment, Tilly. I have matters to negotiate concerning another young woman.”

Submit Willingly, Or Be Taken By Force
The morning came, the weak sun shone over the fields and Calvani went down into the cellar. He took a lantern into the dark with him, pulled up a box and sat contemplating Alisha, her defiant naked body, chain around her neck, arched in an angry pose, the woman on her knees, eating the food he’d brought. The Doctor wanted a submissive, not this disloyal servant who willfully sneered at his presence.

“What are we going to do with you?” he scornfully said, idly kicking at the pieces of straw on the cold, stone floor.
“Let me go,” she spat back.
“Much too simple, Alisha. “Please finish eating and then we can discuss your fate in a civilized manner.”
“Keeping me here is not civilized as you call it.”
“If you will not stop this rebelliousness I’ll go away and leave you for another day. Now, do you want to talk about it or not?”
She stared fiercely, but remained silent.

Calvani, unless in fear for his life, never moved quickly when walking. His slow gait, reminiscent of a church dignitary at a solemn occasion, took him to the far side of the prison cellar. There, amongst the debris left by the previous tenant, was the object he sought, a whip he had brought earlier to this place of darkness in order to threaten and finally coerce Alisha to submit to her body being explored by his fingers. Picking up the instrument of torture, Calvani ambled somberly back to the kneeling young woman. All the while she’d watched him, at first her brown eyes on the figure of her forced detention, and then dramatically on the lash.

He leaned down, taking her by the shoulders and impelling Alisha to her feet. He sat on the old box, the naked woman before him, the chain secured to the wall, and then stretched around her neck, at its taunt limits.

“I had hoped you would submit to me as did my lovely Alice.” He anticipated her impudent interruption and tapped the handle of the whip on her mouth. The signal was clear. She should not speak unless he said so. “But that is not to be.” Calvani moved the hard, compacted leather handle down the front of her neck and circled Alisha’s impeccably formed, small breasts. “So I will give you options.”

The palm clutching the whip handle brought it back up her body so he held it in front of her face. The other hand held up the four strands of the whip. His fingers parted one of those cruel looking, thick leather threads.

“Firstly, I could leave you in this cellar and each day feed and wash you…” he smirked sarcastically…”Before I punish you and take my pleasure in seeing you beg when beated with this whip.”
“I will never submit,” she rebelliously faced him.
Calvani laughed, suddenly grabbed her, and whacked the whip across her thigh. Letting go of Alisha, Calvani sneered, “You would not have a choice to submit or not, young Alisha. Your daily punishment would be severe and with you bound and at my pleasure.”

The atmosphere became still between them, yet charged with tension. Calvani divided another strand of the whip’s lash.

“The second option is instead of forcing you to feel the daily whip is to let you experience my desire.” The Doctor put down the whip and ran his hands over her breasts and loins. “I am sure you understand, Alisha. I’ll make it clear. You will remain in this dungeon and be my sexual slave.”

This time she did not respond in anger.

Picking up the whip he separated the third strand. “You will se how I have considered you, Alisha. Here is the third choice. I have spoken to a man in town who has many influential and rich patrons eager for excitement and would come many times to this cellar for your favors. Your black, nubile body would be much sought after in matters of sexual amusement.”

Alisha stared for a few seconds. Then the import of what he was suggesting seemed to hit her. “They would have to fight me before I let them…” She let the graphic description hang in the cellar’s stale air.

Calvani smiled wickedly and patted Alisha on her rear with the whip handle. “My beautiful slave. How innocent you are. It would not be for you to put up a fight to protect your honor. No, no, it would not be like that at all.” He became almost serene. It lasted a moment. Then he assumed a malevolent expression. “These men would pay and come in groups. Three, four many more. You, Alisha would be taken in a glorious orgy. One by one, while your shame was watched by those waiting to degrade your body.”

The harsh Doctor studied her face, edged as it was with fear. Going over to a jug of water, he took a drink, offered it to Alisha and waited. In a daze she nodded. Contemptuously he poured it over her naked body. “That should at least bring you back to your senses.” Calvani took his seat on the box, took the whip and made the final parting of the leather strands.

“Now to the final option. Are you listening, Alisha?”
She still appeared stunned.
“Alisha?”
“Yes,” she managed.
“I think you will agree I am trying to look after your interests.” He waved away her incredulous expression. “I have consulted another man in town who expressing an interest in your value. He is a Mr. Oliver DeLane. This good gentleman runs the ‘The Royal’ and there keeps in some comfort a number of young women, who entertain the men who have the resources to enjoy such luxuries. He has said you can lodge with him and earn your keep with offering such pleasures as these men require.

It only took an instant for her to recognize this option.

“A prostitute!”
“A woman of the bourdoir, Alisha.”
“No,” she shouted.
“Think carefully,” he said. “You can earn money, be in the society of people and eventually be free.” He pressed the whip into her stomach. “Or would you prefer that your favors are taken by force in an orgy of savage sexual humiliation.”

Abruptly he got up. “You have one day to consider. Your new life…or servitude…starts tomorrow.”

Calvani marched from the cellar, up the stone stairs, slamming the heavy oak door as he went. Alisha feel to her knees cursing her captor, yet sobbing bitterly.

Political Proposal
There was no real choice. To be daily beaten or sexual possessed by Doctor Calvani, she would be a lone prisoner and the slave of one man. The third option, to be a plaything of groups of drunken men, intent on her naked misery and surrendering to their every sexual whim, was horrendous. Reluctantly, when the Doctor came to the cellar the next day, Alisha submitted to his fourth proposal.

He ordered a carriage and took her, bound but dressed, to the “The Royal’ and there to be incarcerated, albeit in style, becoming a prostitute in the service of Mr. Oliver DeLane.

Down in the inn owner’s private rooms, Doctor Calvani took brandy with DeLane.

“Alisha is a beautiful woman, my dear Doctor. Her ebony skin and passionate face will fetch a good price each time she entertains a man.” He raised his glass to Calvani. “She must be watched with that temper, though. For a while she will be locked in the special room at the top of the inn and kept for discerning and very rich clients. The young woman is not a flower to be stripped of her petals too often.”

Calvani smiled cheerlessly. “No doubt, DeLane, you will have to sample the good?”

The rotund brothel and inn keeper returned the grin, but with more enthusiasm. The Doctor did not give him chance to speak, adding, “Talking of valuable commodities, we must reach a remuneration for Alisha.”
“Pouring a generous refill to the glasses, DeLane eased his large frame into a chair and waved the tall, imposing Doctor to sit.

“I think we can come to a mutual agreement on matters of advancement, Doctor.”

Calvani sipped his drink, remaining, as he so often did, taciturn, until the situation was clear. Continuing, DeLane said, “I hope you will not mind me saying, Doctor, even in the few conservations we have had it is obvious you are an educated, even a learned man. Rare in these parts.” The rotund inn keeper coughed and let his glance go down, appearing not to want to meet Calvani’s stare. “However, I judge your circumstances are much reduced.”
“Is that any of your concern.” Calvani could be charming, when he tried.. He could also be prickly and acerbic. This response was reverting to his natural nature.

DeLane remained cool, yet wary. “Please hear me out, Doctor. I spoke yesterday of matters political. It is our view that very soon Mr. Gladstone, our Prime Minister, will go to the country and ask for a vote of confidence. It is not the intension of the business community in this town to give him that. When the time comes we need a candidate for a local Member of Parliament.” DeLane paused and patted his corpulent stomach. Then he issued an unexpected statement. “We want you, Doctor Calvani, to be our man in the town.”

Calvani had great presence of mind. He felt himself to be sophisticated. He did not judge he was a charlatan, although he certainly could thus be described. Not much fazed him. This proposal did.

“But why, DeLane?”
“Let me explain. The eloquent Mr. Gladstone is many things. One asset he brings is perceived honesty. And he spreads that attribute across the Liberal Party. We, in the local Conservative Party, have, how shall I say, encountered a number of embarrassing financial situations.”
“Corruption,” Calvani snapped.
“Well, maybe,” DeLane shrugged. “What we need is a local candidate who is refined, a professional man and not tainted with past scandals. In short, you Doctor.”

Taking a gulp of his drink, Calvani continued to be cautious. “What do I know of national politics?”
The inn keeper chuckled. Opening the small box on the table between them he offered Calvani tobacco for his pipe. While Calvani filled the bowl, DeLane walked over to a cabinet and brought back an envelope.

“Good Doctor. You need know nothing about the government at Westminster. We expect the Marquis of Salisbury to be our next Prime Minister. As a new Member of Parliament that will not be your concern. It is the politics of the town that interests us.”

“It is an appealing proposition,” Calvani said, lighting his pipe and blowing a stream of smoke into the room.
DeLane shock his head knowingly. “We are not benefactors Doctor.” If elected, we will expect you to run town and district matters in line with the local magnate, and our master, Sir Richard Dell. We have asked you for the reasons I stated and one other factor.”
“And that might be?”
DeLane suppressed a cynical smile. “We know you will cooperate, Doctor. A man who has sold a young black woman into prostitution has a past that we can use.”
“Blackmail?”
“Such an ugly word. Let’s not concern ourselves with these matters.” DeLane handed Calvani the envelope. “Sir Richard has an elegant town house and servants, which will become yours to use as you wish during the campaign. Naturally, money will also be made available. “Do we have a deal, Doctor?”

It was Calvani’s turn to get up and stretch his legs, and mind. Reaching the cabinet he inspected the row of bottles, picked up an expensive Burgundy and said, looking over at DeLane. “Shall we open it to celebrate?”

DeLane grinned. “Why not. And then perhaps I can offer you the services of the house.”
“God idea,” Calvani nodded.
“Will you want Tilly?”
“Why?”
“Oh, its just she said that…”
Calvani cut him short. “Young women get such silly ideas. What else do you have?”

DeLane went over to the far side and drew back a single drape. “Come and look, Doctor.” Calvani obliged. The small window looked down onto the bar room of the inn. “I can keep an eye on my clients, the women and the money” he laughed.

He took Calvani’s arm. “See the young fair haired woman serving?”
“Yes. A very buxom and ample figure she has,” the Doctor muttered appreciatively. “Is she available?”

“That’s a fascinating story,” DeLane began. “Anna is twenty-two. Most of the good farming land is owned by Sir Richard out on the Wolds. Anna and her husband tried to farm the thin soils toward the coastal plan. They borrowed money from Sir Richard’s land agent. It all went wrong.”

Calvani re-lit his pipe, intent on watching Anna. DeLane continued. “Her husband works up in the quarry and Anna has come here to my inn to…well,” DeLane hesitated. “I have told her that she must pay back part of her wage to clear the debt. At the present rate it will take ten years. So I’ve said if she wants to keep her husband out of the debtors prison and her from becoming destitute she must entertain some of our important clients.” He nudged Calvani’s arm. “Do you want to discover Anna, Doctor? It seems such a shame that a gorgeous body like that is only known by her peasant farmer husband.”

Both men went on, in silence, secretly watching Anna.

“Getting into debt deserves punishment,” Calvani mumbled.
“Room ten on the first floor in an hour,” DeLane smirked.
“I’ll need all night with her,” Calvani said.
“As our next member of parliament, Doctor, she is yours.”

Anna Learns To Give Herself In Sex
He could see all that they sought to hide. A window into the soul, not of an individual but the men and women in the inn. Calvani looked down from DeLane’s private room, as the inn keeper spoke below to Anna. The Doctor saw her protest, silently from his vantage point. He watched all the other happenings. Men drinking, gambling; the prostitutes coming to the foot of the stairs and summoning the next client to enjoy their bodies. It was a kaleidoscope of life, not as the moralists wanted it to be, but the underbelly of human dark desires.

Yet that was all incidental to his bird’s eye view. It was Anna he studied. Calvani saw how she, at first, became angry, then agitated and finally seemed to plead with DeLane. Calvani was fascinated, as always, with the minutia of her actions. Not being able to hear her words made the silent play even more sensually intriguing.

The learned Doctor had noted in the past that men would move in separate parts, hands animated or head rocking either in annoyance or laughter. They were many divided elements of a human being. But young women, that was different. When Anna moved, thought, expressed emotion, so did her whole body. Tossing her head to look away from DeLane, Calvani saw how her shoulders fell, her breasts swayed, hips swiveled, all to reveal a totally of passion. Doctor Calvani had often speculated that perhaps it was this entity of being with females that made them prone to be prisoners of their own desires.

He waited until Anna walked away from DeLane and slowly went up the stairs. Each wearily resigned tread mesmerized him, Anna’s hips moving so poignantly, her rear a coordinated progression of a body’s melodious song. He closed his eyes and imagined her in the act of sexual gratification, and in the picture he conjured he felt her sensuous soul cry out when he demanded humiliating compliance.

Now it was time. Calvani left the room, went down the back exit, across the crowded, noisy salon bar, and up the same stairs that a few minutes previously the delicious, reticent Anna trod. She was a pretty and buxom young woman. The thought of sexually possessing her had added sensual piquancy because he knew her reluctance. Coercing Anna, bringing her to his wishes, was something he savored as he went along the corridor to room ten.

It was an identical room to the one where he’d taken his pleasure with Tilly. The delicious Anna stood by the window, appearing to want to be as far away from the symbolic bed as she could. Calvani closed the door, not saying anything, contemplating the moment. He was a meticulous man. Whether in studies of his science or the art of sexual gratification he always planned everything. In his mind, he would have choreographed the woman’s sexual submission.

Walking up behind her as she stared out of the window, he placed a hand on her waist. The tension in her body was obvious.

“What is so interesting outside, Anna?” The question was meaningless. Calvani knew full well she only gazed so as not to face, visually and mentally, the man who came to take pleasure in her body.

Receiving no reply, he turned her to look at him.
“Do not be frightened. I will be gentle.” He lead her across the room, sat on the bed and kept Anna standing in front of him.

“We will talk first,” he smiled, the tender arm of the spider placed around the pretty fly, his hands rested on her curved ass. “I am told you are a farmer’s wife.” His fingers not so much fondled her rear as dug into the firmness of Anna’s shapely bum, prompting her to answer.
“Yes…I am.”
“Was he your only love?”

Her quizzical gaze suggested she didn’t understand the nature of the question. Had she but realized, Calvani was leading her along the road to discussing her sexuality. The entrapment of the victim, the verbal dishonor, was almost as sensually palatable as the moment when he physically savored her loins.

“I mean, is this husband the only man who has knowledge of your body?”
Her tongue licked dry lips, a perfect row of teeth nibbling anxiously. “Please answer me, Anna. We can talk and then I will be considerate in our sexual acts…or if you prefer I can make the experience something more traumatic.”

Her dress was a poor, thin fabric. His hands easily pressed into it and Calvani’s fingers felt the individual shape of her rear cheeks. “So, Anna. Has this husband of yours been the sole discoverer of this delightful body.”

Beads of perspiration ran down her face. “I think so.”
With mocking laughter, he pulled her close, fingers edging from her rear, under Anna’s cheeks, seeking soft loins. “What sort of answer is that, Anna. You may be shy but I can assure you that if a man had touched you intimately, then there would be no doubt in your mind. Tell me the truth.”
“There was a young man…but that was before I met my husband.”
“What did he do?”

Anna sobbed, her head down. He expressed no compassion.

“This is getting us nowhere.” Calvani let her go. Abruptly he snapped, “Undress, Anna.” Even more brusquely he added harshly. “Either do as I say or I shall strip you and then punish your bare ass severely.”

Never once looking at him, Anna took her clothes off, the whole act proceeding slowly and only pausing when she stood with just her long, full length body slip on. Calvani shrugged in exasperation, pulled it up over her head and threw it to one side of the bed, where he remained sitting. Anna wore no more undergarment. He pushed her arms and hands away, foiling her pathetic attempts to cover her nakedness.

Talking as if she were a naughty child, Calvani said, “Now where were we, Anna? Yes, you are going to tell me what this other man did. Let me help you. Was it sexual intercourse?”
Anna shook her head, her pale hazel eyes wide with fear.

“So he touched you. Like this?” Calvani fondled her breasts. “Or like this.” He forced her to let him slip a finger onto the soft lips of her clitoris.”
Almost imperceptibly she nodded.

His voice, deeper, trying to exercise control, Calvani asked, “And, Anna, did you touch him?” When the young woman fought for breath and tears ran down her cheeks, he showed no mercy. Rapidly undoing the front of his pants, he grabbed the petrified Anna’s hand and forced it onto his hard cock. Working his fingers with his, he compelled her to massage his erection.
“Yes, Anna. I understand now,” Calvani said knowingly.

“That is enough,” he ordered. Letting her remain, bare and defenseless, the sexually aroused Doctor, got up and started to completely undress, stopping, and taking hold of her chin, inducing Anna to look upon his own nakedness.

Encircling her waist, he dragged Anna intimately next to him, enjoying the feeling of his arousal against her loins.

“Now we must explore what your husband did to you, Anna. I see answering is going to cause you distress. There is another way.” His mood appeared to change. It was but a fleeting instance in the many dispositions of Doctor Calvani. Without warning he took hold of Anna, kissing her lips and finding succor down her neck and dwelling lasciviously at her ample breasts. Her struggles were token. He was determine to taste the young woman.

Ceasing for a moments rest, Calvani began to sexually maul her whole body, making Anna’s slight resistance less effective by rolling her onto the bed and seeking her pudenda with his tongue. Feasting desirously for a while, he leaned back and grinned at Anna. “Is this what he did to you?”

Getting no cogent reply through her weeping, Calvani knelt up over her breasts and pinned her arms flat out.

“Tell me if your education has taught you how to pleasure a man with your mouth?”

Timid incomprehension turned to fearful understanding when he imposed his will on Anna, making the young woman accept his cock between her lips, thrusting and groaning manically, “Suck hard and fast.”

Finding a temporary satisfaction, he fell back on the bed and pulled Anna next to him.

“Well, Anna. When you go back to your husband at the weekend you will have many new sexual enjoyments to show him.” Calvani tauntingly laughed. Leaning over her, resting on his elbows, he caressed her cheeks and found a perversity in whispering, “You are now to be mine, Anna. You have felt my cock in your hand and mouth, now I am going to penetrate deep into your sex and make you totally submit.”

Easing his weight on top of Anna, he slid his erection to the yielding lips of her clitoris, sucked at her nipples and entered the helpless woman.

“You do not have to be passive, Anna,” he grunted, making her bend legs up and wrap them around his body. For a long time he rhythmically fucked Anna, caring little that she shut her eyes.

Slipping out, he bundled her over and got between her legs, dragging her rear up so she knelt. “Another position you can tell your husband about Anna…not to mention the many clients who will be visiting you.” Calvani made the words cruel in their tone.

Enjoying her moist vagina for a long while he forced her flat onto her stomach, his cock coming out of Anna’s vagina. Fondling her rear and kissing the delicate shape of her spine, the Doctor kept his erection stiff with long, thrusts against the firmness of her bare ass.

“Almost over, Anna,” Calvani said, in a softer voice. Violently, he used fingers to pries her rear cheeks apart, giving sexual access to his cock, anally shagging her until his ejaculation filled her ass. His sexual blood hot, the remorseless Calvani roughly rolled her over, pushing fingers into her vagina while compelling the farmer’s wife to stimulate his semi-erect penis with her mouth.

“Is it over…for now, Anna,” he sneered, getting up and looking down at the woman he’d made his sexual slave. Leaving Anna sobbing on the bed, Calvani dressed and left room ten without another word.

We will learn more of this man Calvani. If we ask Emy Naso, our teller of erotic tales, nicely!

http://emynasoerotica.blogspot.com/