CHAPTER SEVEN WEEK TWO: TUESDAY

The morning reminded me of some ski holidays I had taken in my university days. People milled about in various forms of dress, scrounging for food then sharing conversation over tea. Colleen and Amanda were not there. They left early to help their mother during the busy check out time. Caroline Starling left soon after. She needed to beat her husband, the Vicar, home from his tryst. Her daughters remained.

The football team and I were introduced. The premise was originally a "sleep over", here, at Carfax manor. Now, after my writing, it was a breeding session. Each girls' parents sat at home, hoping, praying, that their daughter found favor in my eyes.

Beryl and I were deferred to, but there seemed to be no class distinctions. Neither Beryl nor myself could make Fatima or Molly stop attending us. The sitting room seemed to be the popular choice. Eva arrived and whispered in my ear that Marjorie and Heath said they wouldn't be down, "Until they made a baby." Then she said that she was ready for a bath when I was. My dick surged. The tall, blonde, leggy model was back in my stable of mares.

Amy remembered the two American girls and their mother. She brought them upstairs. They were famished. Beryl felt badly that they had missed all the fun and ordered Mareet to fetch them something to eat. As I ate, I could see why Jessica picked them. Their mother was slim, and pretty, but looked weary and worn out. Her skin was wrinkled from the sun. Her wispy nutmeg hair showed signs of thinning. Her face testified that a frown was her most usual expression. I had seen the look before, on the tenured professors who would quit in a second if they could figure out anything else to do with their lives.

The daughters were incredibly sexy. They had the sun-bleached hair and tans that California is so famous for. One wore designer overalls over an off-red t-shirt. The taut straps ran right over her nipples. The effect was one want desperately to see her globes "free." She had a body of all dramatic curves: luscious tits, an ass a man could sink his teeth into and thighs he could spent a month between. She had curled her shoulder length hair. The other's daughter was a study in contrast.

She wore a moss green peasant shirt with a loose cinch-type collar that hinted at the treasures beneath. Her grapefruit sized tits forced the hem up to reveal her navel above her tight, braided, low rider jeans. She possessed a healthy enough chest and a pinched waist but it was her ass that fascinated me. Her pooper was so small as to be non-existent. I could have bounced a shilling off of them. Her legs, pins to be sure, flowed into her back with barely a bump. Her poker straight hair would have run to the middle of her back, but she contained it in a pony tail.

My queen squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear. "You like them?"

"What's not to like? And money too? Jessica did a great job."

"You want them?"

"What, now?"

"Better get used to it. We have a world to conquer. That's a lot of wombs for you to fill."

Almost as on cue, the taller one in the peasant blouse recognized me as the man from the tape. In mid-chew, she nudged her sister and the two, hungry as they were, forgot their breakfast.

As the shorter one's chin rose up, her melons strained against the straps of her overalls. Mouths still, full, they looked to their father for permission. He nodded and then approached us, the mother lagging behind.

The short, fulsome one spoke first. "Hello, I'm Suzy."

"I'm Kimmy."

"I'm Catherine Moss. Pleased to meet you."

I saw their father, at the far end of the room when the girls spoke. His eyes lit up in anticipation. Then he soured when he heard his wife's formal tone of address.

Beryl had thought our initiation ceremony through. Like last night, they would taste both our sex.

I commanded the daughters to strip slowly. Their mother could take their place by my side. The worn, middle aged woman did not look eager to be seen naked in a room full of beauties. Our court drew the chairs around in a circle. Other chairs and cushions were fetched from adjoining rooms. This was to be our first formal, initiation.

The girl in overalls, Susan, unclasped the straps and let the denim fall around her feet. She wore what looked like hot pink boy's shorts. I couldn't be sure. Her oversized shirt draped loose beneath the shelf of her bust to her thighs. Susan pulled off her shirt. She wore no bra. She cupped her hands underneath her chest, leaned forward and licked her lips across her teeth, enticing me.

The girl in the low riders, Kimberly, undid the top button on her fly them slowly worked the brass zipper downwards. She had big blue eyes and thick lips. As she zipped open her fly, her eyes flicked up, silently, innocently asking "Like what you see?" She wore seamless purple panties. She opened her mouth in a smile as she shoe-horned out of her constricting jeans, drawing them off, inside out, like a stocking. She tuned and jutted her ass towards me, twisting her neck to watch my reaction as she slipped two thumbs inside either side of the elastic and slipped the satin down, over her hips. Fatima, kneeling at my side as always, watched my growing erection with adoration.

My lady commanded them to lay down on the Oriental rug. Beryl straddled Susan's face. She command her to please her Queen. Then I stood, my staff rampant and lay between the blonde's velvety legs. I recall they had small blonde hairs on them, almost a fuzz. I pointed and plunged. Her pussy was so eager for me, I audibly slurped my way in. She yelped as she took in my meat.

Carmen swore and went lifted up our bums to slip a tea towel under her, before her blood stained the carpet. But there was no blood. I took Beryl's then Susan's tits in my mouth. I slathered my tongue all over her glorious mammaries, picturing my child giving each suck nine months from now. I fucked and sucked until I spewed inside of her. I kept pistoning the wench until Beryl came. Then we two, bother and sister, swallowed each other's mouth, completing our sex act with the initiate.

We repeated the process with the second sister except I took her from behind. I had to try that abnormally flat ass for myself. Damn! She was as tight as drum. I wasn't sure I liked the lack of a bum. There is nothing like squeezing a healthy hunk of meat when taking a woman from behind. While she sucked on my prone sister-wife, I squeezed slowly in until I hit her cervix of her tiny pussy. No longer happy to spectate, Molly sucked on her mistress' tits and called a girl from the football club over to help. Once in, I didn't dare let out. I simply gyrated my hips. That was enough for Kimmy. She broke from sucking my wife to whimper in orgasm after orgasm. She was quite helpless, so Molly took care of servicing my Lady's needs. I paced myself to cum when she did. The waves of my seed-foam overflowed from Kimmy's tight envelope of flesh and dripped to the floor. Fatima was getting expert at eating back blow.

I slid out. My penis was red from the constriction. Fatima licked it clean as a whistle. I found her warm saliva soothing.

Their mother clutched their torn panties to her breast like relics and worked a single hand inside her twat while her husband scouted the beginning orgy for an opening. I waved Carmen to keep an eye on him.

I ended the orgy dressed and called the American man forward.

"Thank you. I've been wanted to do that for so long. Now it all seems all right." He grinned insipidly.

"Really? You don't mind impersonating me?"

"No, perception is the same thing as reality. My card." I had no idea what a "production consultant" was. He removed his checkbook. "Now, how much was it again, fifty thousand pounds okay to start? You know, I could help you a lot, if, you know, play ball. Let me tell you something about how Hollywood works..."

Beryl looked at me with anticipation. The poor girl, this was exactly what she intended, the rich and famous of the world paying tribute to me. She expected me to demand the house and boat, as promised, but grandfather and the book had taught me better. I surveyed the room. All eyes were on me. It was a dramatic moment. I knew the Carfax Dynasty would be marked by what came next.

It would be the time I would move beyond Beryl's designs. I had resigned myself to rule, but I was going to rule my way.

I punched Derek Moss in the nuts as hard as I could. He folded like a house of cards on a windy day. I stood and use the sole of my foot to kick him on the side of his skull. The cushion of the Flemish carpet kept him conscious. Then I placed my heel, hard, on his cheek. "How dare you!" I looked to my audience. My demonstration was for them. I was laying down the law. "A Carfax is never to be bribed, ever! You owe me complete obedience and I owe you complete service! How dare you try to put a price on loyalty? You fucking Americans you think you know so much. You don't know shit." I ground my heel in his face, tearing his skin. I felt a bone crack. "Listen here, you lot. No one ever takes a bribe. Got me? The Carfaxes are not going to be like every other government. We are going to be honest and hard working and more interested with the welfare of Britain and doing the right thing than our own careers. We are men and women NOT a pack of political jackals. Once we start taking bribes or courting favor with the likes of this bastard." I twisted again,. This time the cheekbone gave. "We've lost the right to rule. It's time we rediscovered what 'privilege' really means, serving the people of this great Empire is privilege not a license to steal." They applauded, of course.

Never mind I had stolen their souls. At least now I could be assured that if my heirs did rule, at least they'd be honest, efficient and really care about the demos. The people would lose freedom of the press and speech and probably the right to vote too. But then the Carfaxes would wipe out hunger, unemployment and keep the civil service all keen and Bristol fashion. As long as I kept the taxes low, I saw no reason why I shouldn't get away with it. Beryl was right. It was socialism in it purest form; the government controlled the natural resources and industry and parceled them out for the benefit of all. I deluded myself into thinking there was a chance for me after all.

I looked down at Derek Moss and hated him. He was embodiment of everything I loathed: rich, ignorant and self-serving. He would whore out his daughters to get in on the ground level. Only the appearance of integrity mattered to the likes of him.

"Punjabi, get this pig out of my sight."

The Indian man must have had some experience as a bouncer. He snatched up the man by cuff and strap with ease and gave him the bum's rush, But not before the Yank had the presence of mind to snatch up a tea towel to staunch his belled cheek.

His wife went to join him but I held her back. "Wait!" The whole room froze, waiting to obey what I said next. The feeling was eerie.

"Punjabi, take this maggot into town." I pointed to his wife. "You will stay." She looked very unhappy. Moss shot his wife a wicked look and then Punjabi took him away.

I spoke to the poor woman. "You didn't join us, why?"

"Look at me."

She didn't look that bad. A positive attitude would have done wonders for her sex appeal. Catherine Moss was a short woman, she was only in her early thirties but past her prime. In her younger days she must have looked pixie-cute. She figure was still wispy but it had a stressed appearance to it, like taffy pulled too thin. Her nutmeg hair was fine and hung limply around her head. Tension had obviously caused some thinning and the strands were of indifferently cut. Too much sun had worn wrinkles in her face. Her willowy frame bent with the weight of care. She once had pert tits and a strong gluteus. But gravity had gotten the best of both features and they sagged. She looked pitiful.

I considered my next move. I needed an American base. That was political reality of the world, for now. This family seemed involved with film and that could prove useful. But most of all, I genuinely felt sorry for the old girl.

I decided that she needed an unladening of her spirit, accompanied by increase in her energy and physical attractiveness. She also needed a man. Don't misunderstand me. I do not mean to imply that women cannot and do work fine on their own, but this particular woman, Catherine Moss, needed a man, like she needed her father or Derek before. He had to be someone she and I could control. I couldn't afford to have her leaking Carfax secrets to a series of boyfriends until she found one willing to serve our cause. I had to keep our circle tight, for now. Then I recalled something I had heard. The solution was distasteful, but after bedding my sister, I was hardly in a position to criticize.

"Catherine, I'm sending you into town, on a mission. You will need to trust me. This is all for the best."

I considered whom I wanted for her escort. I wanted my siblings in town to weigh financial situation of the Inn. Marjorie and Heath. If Catherine was going to head up the "California Office" she needed to be a priestess. That meant Rebecca and Cindi should be in on her training. Everything was so clear! Again that marvelous, guiltless feeling overwhelmed me and I put my plan into motion.

After a whirl of activity, Marjorie, Heath, Cindi and Rebecca were waiting in the rover while I said good-bye to Catherine Moss.

Catherine fretted "George, what's going to happen to me?" She looked up me with big, sad eyes. Her upturned nose and pointed chin made her appear to be like a very sad elf.

I did not blame her. In the space of a day, I, a veritable stranger, had driven off her husband, entranced her daughters and instructed her to trust me with her life and the life of her son. I talked to her like she was a schoolgirl. "Don't be afraid, Catherine. I am sending you to a very special place with Cindi and Rebecca as guides. Do what they instruct. There, you will get a second chance at life. When you get your chance you must seize it. You must take charge of this new life I offer you, understand?"

"No." she said pitifully.

"You will, trust me. Then I want you to talk to your son about us." Her mouth went agape in shock. Before she could form words I all but shoved her into. the Rover. Susan and Kimberly, her daughters, and I waved from the front steps. Catherine put on a brave face and waved back. As the four drove off, I returned to the study with Susan and Kimberly.

After making two phone calls, I instructed them to relate me the unvarnished truth about their family in general and their mother and their brother, William, in specific. With the data they supplied me as a springboard, I spun the following tale. I made it strong. The United States would be vital to any plans I made. Being as the supply of vellum was running out, I wrote down a series of key commands and adjustments. The list I created makes for poor reading and so the following passage is partially related as narrative.

The layer of snow crunched beneath Catherine Moss' boots as she jumped out of the Rover. The party had stopped in front of a charming forest cottage. It seemed the resident was not home. Marjorie must have been very familiar with the owner, Catherine reflected, because she walked in like she owned the place. The two girls followed got she went along.

The house was cold. The two girls set about turning up the electric heaters while Marjorie brought out a stack bathing towels and some patched army wool blankets from the linen closet.. "What's this about? This a long way to come for a bath."

Marjorie replied with one word. "Strip."

From her tone of voice, Mrs. Moss knew she meant business. Cindi and Rebecca undressed amicably enough. So she timidly went along, like she often did and hated herself for her lack of spine. She looked at the two women naked and was embarrassed by her worn form. She used to be so vain about her body. In her day she was the prettiest thing on Malibu beach. But that was before Derek.

Marjorie handed each a towel and a blanket. The girls wrapped the blanket around themselves and held a towel in their hand. Marjorie knew that her brother solved the secret of the rejuvenating waters of Wose House but she did not see any reason to delve into the mystic. She was a practical, modern girl. She would be far too busy making money. "Don't dawdle. We was a full day ahead." The two girls nodded and Marjorie set about occupying her time productively.

Catherine could not believe what she was about to do. Wrapped in a threadbare army surplus blanket, she gingerly stepped out into the snow covered ground of a late December morning. She followed the mad girls. Her feet were numb before she reached their destination, the creek bank. A dam had been built there and the backflow created a pond of sorts. The dam had been there a very long time for oaks grew on the riverbank, their branches overhanging the waters. It was those branches that Cindi and Rebecca used to hang their blankets and towels

They had to wrestle the blanket from Catherine's grasp. "Are you crazy? It's freezing!" she protested. Neither girl seemed bothered by the chill. But Catherine knew they must feel it, their nipples stuck out like tacks.

"You heard his majesty. He told you to follow out instructions." Cindi seemed impatient.

"Or don't you love him?" Rebecca cooed and softly smoothed each of her shoulders.

Yes, Catherine loved, no she adored, the great man that had inseminated her daughters. Watching him take them was like watching those nature films where a great beast takes a mate. Still, the water looked very, very cold. The mud was frozen. Arms crossed over her chest, she put one foot in the water. "Its......!" Rebecca shoved her in.

Cindi followed and tackled her, ensuring a complete ducking. "Get in there!"

The air in her lungs seized up. The water was bone chilling cold but it was also clean. It flooded her ears, her nose and her lower orifices as well. It flushed out her old life wherever it touched. Her whole body seemed to freeze and shatter. Then her old life fell away in shards, like frost on a sloped roof. The girls let her up and she stood, wiping the hair back and out of her eyes. She gasped and gulped the air. The snowmelt purified her in a way fire, or years of therapy never could. A phrase from her childhood came back to her, "cold comfort." Now she truly understood what it meant.

She was aware of her two sisters next to her but she had to have more. This time, voluntarily, she dove towards the deeps. She swam in the liquid crystal, enjoying the cold, enjoying the pain, it made her feel vigorous, alive! It was odd. He whole life was spent avoiding pain. Now that she had embraced it, she understood, really understood how pain made a life richer, more visceral, closer to the bone.

She came up for a breath and dove again. There, surrounded my life, she understood what her dear George had said. A baby begins its life in a cocoon of warmth. When it is born it cries because he is cold. But also the struggle and glory of its life had begun. Life is cold. She felt born again.

But even her born again muscles were cramping in the near zero degree waters. She swam to the bank. Cindi and Rebecca both gasped as she arose from the water and why not? Even as she whipped her sopping hair back, away from her face, she knew that she was beautiful again. The beauty that had drawn the boys from far and near was back.

Clear water dripped from her pointed, elfin face and champagne glass tits, sending ripples across the obsidian surface. Her skin was pale and smooth. She stood up straight. The slouch was gone. Her upper body was heart shaped, pinching in at the waist before flaring our dramatically at the hips. Her slight frame made her 32 inch tits and ass appear bigger then they were. And everything was hard, the muscles toned, just like in the old days, like she had spent hours on end in the pounding surf. One change occurred in the skin. It was smooth and as pale as ivory. She would never ruin it again with too much sun. She vowed much would be different.

But she knew the outside was mere reflection of the inside. This was what it meant to be a Carfax woman, to meet the world head on, without apologies. She could not love another man as much as she loved George Carfax in that one still moment when she stood waist deep in pure snowmelt, surrounded in the shade of oaks, dripping with rain, dusted with flake leaving two priestesses speechless.

Without a word, Cindi and Rebecca bent at the waist and nursed on the clean, perfect teats of the petite Venus known as Misses Catherine Moss, no her name was as she remembered it, when she walked the world with the power of her sex, Cathy Black. She caresses their heads, it reminded her of her wilder college days and a particularly sexy spring break at Palm Springs. But she didn't want women right now.

No, her pussy, practically new after three children and the last a tricky c-section, craved a man, but not a man like she was used to. No. She had walked down that path before. Derek in his day was a sweet talking Apollo, cocky, self-assured and a matador in the sack. But after marriage, his ego mania took on a far more menacing nature. Her father had despised him. She should have listened to her father. The old studio executive was far more canny about people than she.

His affairs started within a year of the wedding. (I did not make this up. He had almost bragged to his daughters of it.). He seemed to keep Cathy around only to make a son, a immortal image of himself. She was excused for having two daughters, at least they looked and acted like him. But when the third and final child came, it was a son with Cathy's features. William was small, slight of build, sensitive and artistic. That's the way it was, Derek's daughters: Cathy's son. He couldn't even throw a football. Derek went out of his way to let the boy know he didn't measure up.

It was with not small relief when William escaped the family van and booked an excursion to sketch churches in the Southwest. He was free of his father's and sisters pressures at last.

Cathy realized that William should have arrived back at the Inn by now. Cathy licked her lips. Her sweet, naïve son was so, so, tasty,. When her Lord had first mentioned William she was shocked. Now she saw the beauty of his plan. Cathy was sure he was a virgin. She would bring him into the fold .with relish.

She thought about having a young, hard, sensitive lover at her beck and call. She would train him to do all the things she liked. And he was such a momma's boy he would comply without much fuss. She would introduce him to sex. Then with any luck, she would be allowed to bring women to her precious little man.

The three walked back to the cottage. Though she used the towel, Cathy disdained the use of the blanket. She embraced the cold and embraced her re-birth into a new world, a world, a world where she, as a member of House Carfax, would rule.

Other events were happening concurrently; events I knew nothing about.

It was a slow morning at Caym Clinic until an American man came through with a broken cheek. It was almost an hour before the doctor on call showed up. He had a lot of time to snoop around the clinic. One photo caught his one unswollen eye especially. It was a picture of a big man with his arm around a girl he had seen in Carfax Manor, the one in the towels, the one Carfax had called, "Amy."

Moss hadn't gotten as far as he did by being ignorant of human nature. Now if the man in the photo was the doctor on call... When Doctor Fife did show up he had a medical tape on his re-set nose and two black eyes. Moss smiled. The scenario was better than he hoped.

Dr. Fife had probed the wound expertly and doctor on call stitched him up neatly. Only after the nurse had taken away the dermal staple equipment did he follow through on the cause of the injury. "Auch. This is only a stop-gap. You've got some broken bones dere. You'll need some reconstructive surgery sure. What happened?"

"What happened to me? What happened you, pal?"

"I had a little accident."

"Accident, huh? Well I had the same accident. The name George Carfax ring a bell." Fife black look told him all he needed to know. "I guess it does. Do you know where your wife is?"

The drive to town was interesting. Marjorie drove while Cindi and Cathy made out in the back. There weren't great deal of people on the streets. The rain had begun again. Marjorie dropped and the three off at a girls boutique near the hotel.

Cathy shopped for new wardrobe to suit her new life. She needed an outfit that looked cute and fresh. But it had to look mature enough for her son. She chose a silvery-gray, squared off shoulderless top under a coral jacket and a dusty pink tube skirt beneath. She was down a to her high school size, three petite , but she squeezed into size two's to make sure William got the idea. Then she found some black strapped high heels. Her bunions and callousness were gone too.

The girls wanted to shop some more but she had needs, urgent needs.

Back at the hotel, William awaited his mother in the bridal suite. William was slight, but his dancing lessons kept him hard, if thin. Unlike Derek's red gold hue, he skin was both pale a dark at the same time, liker hers. He had no chest or body hair to speak of. His hair was a fine nutmeg, like hers. And he was a sexual innocent. The poor boy was exceedingly darling with his fine facial features but he went to pieces around girls. He preferred nights with his sketch pad to nights out. He had arrived to be informed the family had changed rooms and gone a day trip. The room was fine for him. He sat down, placed his sketch pad by the widow and worked on rendering the harbour. He was so rapt up in the gray sea, he did not hear his mother enter.

She leaned over his shoulder giving him a whiff of some of the sexy perfume Cindi had lent her. "Hello, Billy."

"Oh, hi, mom! How was your trip?"

"I didn't go. I went to a day spa instead. What do you think?" she spun for him.

He swallowed hard. "Wow, mom! You look so young...I mean."

Cathy used her best laugh. She stroked his cheek with her new, smooth, long nailed hand. "Thank you dear, you always say such nice things about your mother." She bent over far at the waist and kissed him on the cheek. She remained bent to give a view of her cleavage, (It would have killed her old back) "Sketching again? I suppose you didn't meet any nice girls on the motorcoach?"

"No." He blushed beet red. "Just old ladies." William expected the usual, "get out more" lecture.

"Good. That will give us some time together. Come here!" With both hands Cathy grabbed her son by his arm and dragged him to the bedroom. He trusted her enough that he simply wondered what she was doing. At the foot of the bed, she stood close and smoothed his cheek. "Billy...no William, you are a young man now...well...I think I need to tell you something, now when were alone. I love you William." She touched his lips with a finger. "No. Don't speak. William I married the first man I slept with, your father. You and I both know what a mistake that was. I don't want you to make that same mistake. I want you to learn about love, from me William. I don't want you to make the same mistake I did. Now is the perfect time."

William was stunned. He should have been shocked and ran but it was like some strange force kept him there. Against all reason and morality, his blood stirred. It was like his dream come true.

Don't think of me as your mother. Think of me as a woman, a woman who aches for your touch. Look at me! Am I not beautiful? Doesn't your body feel something for me? Something happened to me here; something wonderful, for both of us!" Then she kissed him.

William kissed his new girlfriend back. He saw the truth and didn't run away. He had a loved his mother his whole life and hated his father for just as long. If he wasn't abusing his mother, he was tormenting William with names like "queer-bait" and "fag." His sisters were even more awful, embarrassing him in front of his female friends and exposing his failings in public.

He had gotten to know his mother. She was just like him, shy, sensitive, quiet and a good honest woman. Now even more beautiful than before. She was smooth, without hair, just the way he liked women in the magazines. The times he wished he could take his father's place, the times he jerked off to this beautiful woman's image were beyond count. "I love you, Catherine." It was the first time he called his mother by her first name.

The kissing was good but it did not slake their thirst. "Strip! I've go to go to the rest room. I want you nude when I get back." When she returned, they stood, naked, three feet away from each other. The more experienced partner took charge. It took every bit of control for William to keep his hands by his sides. His cock prodded the air, like a ships' jackstaff.

Cathy took in the scene. He was as smooth as she, hard too. His dick was a respectable six inches or so, but it was very, very thick. ( I did not know if it was true. I thought I was doing him a favor.) Her pussy flowed as she imagined it stretching her wide. She didn't want to waste time. She approached, cupped his cheek in her left hand and pulled him close for a soul deep kiss, meanwhile her right hand reached down and stroked his phallus. Her hand barely fit around it. She made a ring of her fingers and ran in up and down. She still felt a little slack. He was still nervous. But she knew one sure way to get a man his hardest. The bed beckoned. She flattened her palm and pushed her virginal lover onto it.

William propped his arms up. Cathy dove onto his cock. William closed his eyes and moaned at the sensation. It was better than the kissing and that was better than he ever hoped. His dick swelled another inch and half. His hips trust upwards, meeting Cathy's full lips.

Without the tempering of experience, William went instantly from the familiar burn in his balls to ejaculation. But his paramour anticipated that this might happen to the young man. His squirting did not catch her unawares.

She actually enjoyed for the first time in her life the taste of a man's cum. Derek had always forced her head to stay. His cum tasted nasty, like an alkaline salt. But William's tasted both sweet and salty, like a chocolate truffle. She drank it down.

"I'm sorry m...Cathy."

"Mmm." She wiped her chin. Years of bedroom abuse had broadened her mind, sexually. "Don't say that. It's beautiful, William. You do love me, right?" He nodded dumbly. "Love makes it beautiful. Besides, now your second time will last much longer. And now I will have to suck you some more to get you hard again. Or was that part of your plan, you nasty boy?" Down she went. William lay back, closed his eyes and relished the moment. With the energy of youth, he was hard again in minutes. "There! Mmm. That's m'boy.

Lust burning in her amber eyes like coals, Cathy lifted her body above the youth. She held his prick between her thumb and forefinger. William craned his neck and was amazed as the amount of saliva dripping from his lover's pussy. It was drooling for his dick.

"This is going to feel sooooo goood!" Catherine lowered herself of the fat prick, enjoying every slow inch. "Damn but you are sooo thick, William. You spread me sooo much. Oh my lord! Lord! LORD!" An eruption of erotic flame coursed through every never in her body. Her pussy was never that sensitive in the past. It must have been HIS doing, her lord, George Carfax. As she felt pure erotic pleasure set fire to her very toes and fingertips, she praised the day she met him. Sex with Derek had been a pure ego trip for him. This fucking was for HER! It was all her. Her sweet delicious boy was giving himself to her, gift-wrapped in a milky white bow.

As for William, Catherine's pussy struck him with its pure heat and smoothness. Her drool coated his thighs. Catherine closed her eyes and called his "My big lord!" Over and over. He felt like the man. Catherine was right, He did last longer. He was happy to watch her ride him, her taut breasts jouncing. Her sweaty palms stroked his bare skin. She threw her head about. Her screaming and words urged him to meet her frantic pace. He felt an odd burning at the base of his shaft. Instinctively he arced upwards, just as his woman bore down and the two crashed together like an like a wave meets a seacliff. Trite as it sounds, "the earthed moved."

Catherine felt like she had building up that orgasm for decades. It was like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had finally had sex for HER sake. Spent, she flopped over to William's left side and caught her breath.

"So, this is what it is like to be a man." William thought. "My mother is my lover." It felt right. He felt an odd obligation of some sort. He played with his dick. It was hard in no time. He rolled over and spread his lover's legs.

"William what are you doing?"

He knew exactly what he was doing. He was attempting to play the man's part. "I love you, Catherine."

"I love you too, but for...oh lord!"

William ended her protests by slipping in before she could say 'no." It was far too late for "no. " "I love you, Catherine. I love you, Catherine. I love...I...!" Over and over he shouted with each lancing. His motion was just like a man shoveling coal and her pussy was the furnace.

Catherine reeled. She had always been a more than one orgasm girl, but this fat-dicked boy of hers was driving her mad. Over and over he lunged between her legs, desperate to please her and she was quite helpless to resist. She fucked a boy, now a man fucked her in return. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. "Fuck me good, William, oh yes, give me a really good fucking." She had no idea she need another one so badly.

He kept up his motion. This time she came TWICE before he finally shot his load. Then he rolled off of her. But he didn't go to sleep.

They lay there staring at their reflection in the mirrored ceiling, holding hands. Their breath slowed over minutes. Her juice stuck to his thighs and light nest. Her pussy leaked his milky cum.

"William, I have a confession. Your father abandoned us, your sisters and me this morning."

"I thought it might be something like that." He squeezed her hand. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you now."

"There is one more thing."

"Oh?" He got up on his right elbow.

"There is a man I want you to meet, George Carfax. He wants to help us. He's very powerful. I think you, as the new head of the household, should talk with him."

He squeezed her hand again. "All right. If you want me to." He stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"The shower. I can't meet him like this."

At first, Cathy was stunned by his stamina and sudden maturity. Then a smile grew across her face as she considered all the sleepless nights that lay ahead of her. When she heard the water running she pivoted towards the mirrored closet and removed her contraceptive sponge. With the sponge in one hand she slid open the closet door and handed it to the man inside. "Here. Get rid of this. You get all that?"

He held up an ashtray for the sponged, refusing to touch it. "Yes. And his Lordship says for you to eat dinner in the lounge before you go. The bartender knows more." "Sound's good." She slid the door shut. Then she went off to wash. Her boy was so new to sex, he didn't know that two could wash as easily as one.

THE STORM

I had little more than one half a page left, but I needed an American base. That's lay of the land.

After the shower, William and Cathy dressed in nice clothes. The only thing that fit Cathy anymore was her little black cocktail dress. William wore a simple shirt and slacks with his bomber jacket. William was famished as well and agreed to quick bite.

The two strolled into the bar, arm in arm. Becky was waitressing, happily taking the order of a nice, elderly couple. Cindi sat at the bar, sipping a ginger ale. Jessica seemed at home behind her bar and waved Cathy over.

Cathy was excited but did not think William should hear her instructions. She guided her son over to the corner booth. "Wait here. I'll order us some drinks." As she walked over to speak with the barkeep (and Cindi), William admired the way her high heels made her ass jiggle.

"What is it?"

"George wants us to give the boy a taste of what to expect. He wants him to have time to think about having other women in his life."

"So soon?"

"Sorry, Cathy. But its for the best. Now were are all supposed to flirt with him but who do you think stands the best chance? Personally I wouldn't mind. He looks like a tasty treat."

Cathy looked at Jessica. The tall, tan blonde was too much like his sisters and every other California beauty who hurt him in the past. Rebecca was keen enough but her boy would feel guilty pulling her away form her job. Then she considered Cindi and smiled. She had once found three racy magazines while cleaning her son's bathroom. Two concerned Asian women. (the other was a clothing catalogue that featured very young girls in very revealing clothes). And then there were all those anime books and movies he liked. "Cindi would care to join us?"

"Sure."

"Play it sweet and innocent. He likes that." She patted Cindi on her knee. Cindi smiled, picked up her drink and walked over to the booth with Cathy.

Cathy sat across from her lover and introduced the two. Then Cindi slid into the bench right beside a blushing William. "Cathy, you didn't say your boyfriend was so cute." William didn't notice she wore the same perfume as his mother, but it must have played on his subconscious. When Cindi sat close enough to touch he did blushed and tensely look to Cathy who only smiled. He relaxed. He only cared if she did.

"Don't worry William. It's only natural that other women find my man attractive." She smiled and slipped off her shoe. "In fact I find it quite sexy." She ran her foot up his pants leg. At first he was startled, then he enjoyed the feel of the genuine silk stocking on his leg.

Becky showed up to drop off menus and take their drink orders. William was about to order a soda, but his mother stopped him. "He'll have a lager, something local please. And not too unusual, this is first time."

"Sure." Becky never needed to write any order down, now. She spun off.

"Mom. I'm not twenty one."

"You are eighteen. This is another country. The rules are different here."

The idea finally began to sink in. "Oh yeah."

"Shame on you Cathy for keeping him all to yourself."

"He is really thick you know, Cindi."

"MOM!".

"Oh, is he?" Cindi purred.

William reacted poorly. He scooted into the corner and sulked

Jessie gave me a ring at the manor. I was just getting ready to leave for a jaunt on the moors. Her report was not as good as I hoped. William cared far too much for his mother. Still dressed in my heavy wool jacket, I kept on the line as I banged off a few notes and molded the American boy to my purpose.

William found girls' attentions satisfying. He had always had a penchant for oriental girls and now that he was feeling quite the man, he did not shy away from Cindi's attentions. When Cindi stroked his thigh, he did not turn away. He simply looked her in the eye and returned the favor. William was a man now. Cindi found him attractive. He found Cindi desirable. It was a simple as that.

"Cathy, you didn't tell me your boyfriend was so cute." Cindi nuzzled up to his ear. "I could just eat him up alive."

"I wish you would. William always had a thing for Eastern girls."

"Really?"

William picked up her hand and put it on his cock. "Really." Jessie told me the good news and I hung up.

I was almost out the door when my cell phone rang again. It was Umaphong. I took the news as quietly as I could.

"Who was that?" Beryl appeared and wrapped herself around me. Damn but she felt good.

"Umaphong, Suneesa's mother."

"The nurse? Why did she phone?"

"Seems like Harold Fife was Derek's attending physician. Derek's spilling his guts about everything he learned here. They are planning to get together all the men and teach us a lesson."

"How? Can they do that?"

"Ordinarily I'd say it was so much hot air. But the first person they enlisted was Caw. He'll make sure they follow through. They are going to burn my house to the ground."

Beryl laughed. "We'll they have a surprise coming, don't they? Want me to get the book?"

"No. I used the last page up securing our American base of operations."

"George. We agreed we were going to save it for emergencies." Her voice sounded disapproving. "Oh well, we'll live happily ever after no matter what."

"Not necessarily. We could be happy and broke, or happy and crippled or worse, we could be happy until the end of our lives."

"You mean we are not safe? Didn't you secure their loyalty like I asked?"

"That's what one gets for writing when I am not right in the head. All I did was make this a feudal state. Peasant uprising were common enough in the old days."

"You were supposed to make us safe!"

"Get real, Beryl. How could one sentence make us safe from the whole world?"

"I told you we should have saved that last page! Now what are we going to do?" Her face took on my grandfather's aspect. "Oh, George, how could you have been so stupid?" She panicked and began railing at me. She had lots of ideas, remaking the book and such but I knew, just knew, that none of them would work. The book was used up. Its fate was finished.

Beryl was behaving like Grandfather so I did what I always did when the old man got my nerves. I went riding out on the moors. I took grandfather's bay gelding . I simply needed time to think; just the heaths and the sky for company.

I crossed the road and galloped out to the hillocks facing the sea, the ones with the standing stones. In ancient times, the Beltane fires would be lit here and carried on to the next peninsula. It celebrated the return of the sun.

That day the sky was perfectly gray. The sea seemed as slate black, with foamy whitecaps speckling its surface. The wind almost whipped my old fashioned Monmouth cap off my head. This place, this weather, suited my mind temper perfectly.

I made a mental list of all my enemies, husbands, fathers and the rest. There were a lot of people who hated me and had me within reach.

I thought about how, bit by bit, I had entangled myself into the book's web. Most of all, I wondered at my writing. I had served as the voice of the book, me, George Carfax. What did that mean? I chuckled. An idea came to me. I tried it out and spoke my first Wyrds.

"It looks like a storm is coming." The far edge of clouds took on a bruised appearance and the wind picked up. "Cornwall is not far from the terminus of the Gulf Stream. Sometimes it throws a lot of energy our way. It looked bad, the storm of ages." Thunderheads swelled up from the weather front.

I experimented. I closed my eyes and spoke a vignette, freehand, so to speak. I selected two women I didn't care that much about and imagined them performing a feat no sane woman would even attempt. It had to be something credible and harmless, yet definite. Then I spoke the words into the air.

"Violet and Amy worried for their beloved. They resaddled the horses they rode in the morning and looked for him on the moors. As they rode, each reflected on what George meant to her. For Violet he meant a fine good fucking. He was a man, the only man for her. The galloping pace reminded her of the rhythm of him taking her from behind. The memory made her feel wild. She tossed her cap aside, pulled at her binding and let the wind whip through her long black hair. For Amy, George was the finest, fittest man in the world. He had healed her when her other, inferior man had hurt her. Now she and the raven-tressed beauty rode to him over the moors. There was no need to wonder what each would do when they found him. They would mate with him, ferociously, wantonly the way nature intended. She tossed her cap aside as well. Her short, golden brown hair whipped about in the wind. More, her breast seemed to burn. She reigned up. Violet reigned up too and watched her to see what she was about. Amy tucked her jacket away, unbuttoned her shirt and removed her bra. The winter Cornish air was cold and refreshing. Her breast felt free and invigorated. She stretched like a cat, reveling in the sensations. Curious, Violet tried the same thing. Yes, the wind did feel electric, transformative. The lack of confinement impressed a sense of the Amazon on her: bare-chested horseback, riding across the moors. She closed her eyes and inhaled her newfound feelings. When she opened her eyes, Amy was right next to her. The bare-chested women leaned together and shared a passionate kiss, their hands behind the other's neck. The shared tongues, spit and passions. The felt their free breasts touch, caress and crush the others. Erect nipples gently scraped the other's areola's summoning forth gasps of amazed pleasure. The horse shied away and that broke the kiss. They were left breathless. Then Violet got a determined look in her eye. "Let's go find that man of ours." Amy mirrored her sister's ferocity. "Aye." They galloped across the moors, bare-chested to the elements. They allowed their pussies to slap against the saddle; every horsewoman's special thrill. With each jounce they imagined that it was their powerful lover banging their Venus-gate. It wasn't long before they spied him next to the standing stones. He was facing the sea, rapt in his own thoughts. They didn't think he even noticed them when the bracketed him. Only when each touched a thigh did he seem to come to attention." "George?"

"George?"

I saw them, bare-chested, next to me on a day when no woman should be without her woolens. But here they were, topless as strippers, their hair tangled and wind-tossed, bosoms red and wind burned.

I opened my cell phone, called Sela and warned her about the incoming Southwester. Marjorie and Heath were with her so they were the first to know. As I talked to Marjorie, it occurred to me that she and Heath were still being discrete. They may still be holding on to the old ways of doing things. I wanted them to embrace the new and I tried to conceive of a way to make it happen.

Then I wheeled and led the two women to the center of the circle of standing stones. There lay a dolman, a gray lichen-spotted slab-stone table with a slanted "roof." At the low end a monolith lay half buried in the earth like a megalithic stepping stone. Local legend had it that the druid priest stood on the step when performing the unspeakable fertility rites. It was time to see how far the Wyrd went.

"How did you two know where to find me?"

"We just knew."

"Aren't you cold?"

"Yes, but it feels good."

Violet and Amy couldn't take their eyes off their man they rode slowly to the dolman. To them he seemed to be singing a song, under his breath. They ignored his mumblings. The ride to the stones had gotten them quite hot. They promised to do nasty, sexual things to him.

"George let me suck you cock."

"Me to. I want to drink your sperm down."

Amy, the health fanatic, broke every rule she ever had about hygiene in her desperate urgings for George. The need for him to render her unclean brought her to tears.

"George let me lick your anus clean. Or piss on me. Please, need it so much." She wept. "Oh, why ever did I say that?"

Violet, the cold snob, wanted nothing more from life than to be his thrall. She panted as she swore to perform the meanest acts of submission if he just let her call him "master."

"George, you are so strong. Please, I'll do anything. I give you all my wealth. Just, jet me wear a collar to your name on it's tag. Hold the end of my leash, anything, just let me call thee, master. What am I saying?"

We were almost at the dolman now. It was clear. Everything had to be plausible or I had to spend time making it so. Violet would wear a leash and collar but she would loathe it. Amy would lick my anus clean but vomit after every swipe of her tongue. I wiped their memory and tested the depths of plausibility to which I must sink. Golden showers held no appeal for me so...

As the three approached the dolman the girls remember nothing of what each had spoken moments before. All they remember is that magnificent beast, George. Amy was quite sure that he was the fittest, greatest man on the planet. She had obviously settled short when she married Harold. As she stared upon George's magnificence, she fantasized curling up on his leg, obeying his every whim, her womanhood bending to his virility, fetching her lusty man cigars, brandy, whatever he wished. In her fantasy, she wore a collar, a collar that marked her as his property. Her life she had been searching for a man worthy of her utter devotions, at last she had found him.

The Carfax family was far older than the Sheffield's. Violet thrilled to be close to such and old, noble family. The blood of kings and princes pumped through George Carfaxes veins. She could almost feel the majesty radiating off of him. He was good, he was kind, he was strong, he would be the sovereign of all England. She felt her old blood stir, the blood that called her to mate with the conquering knight while her father's old castle burned to the ground. He would carry her off on his horse and be a serving wench in his keep, serving in his household, breeching HIS magnificent bastards. Serving this man would be the greatest dream she could ever hope for. She clutched her neck, wishing she wore some sign so other women would know who it was she served and could bow down before her.

As I dismounted the bay, I tested my handiwork. "How are you feeling ladies?" In an instant I had each clutching a leg. I almost toppled over.

"Splendid, my lord."

"Fine, my lord."

"Excellent. Now let's see if the legends are true. Strip down to your boots." Eagerly they did as I instructed. "Violet, place your hands against the lower lip of the dolmen." Violet obeyed and jutted her ass forward. I stripped , except for my boots and heavy, wool great coat.

As George rutted Violet, naked Amy wrapped him from behind. Inspiration struck. She uttered oaths of devotion and felt a spark of psychological pleasure. The more depraved her oaths, the more her mind rewarded her.

Violet was definitely catching a chill. I had to make this quick. I stepped onto the slab and slipped into her. She sighed. I banged her pussy good. I felt Amy's arms and a leg. She was dry-humping me as I fucked the slack-jawed brunette.

"Fuck her, master but fuck me next. My pussy burns for you, my hot stud, my master. I will be your slut, your whore, your cunt, anything as long as you command it."

"Fine. Then encourage me to fuck Violet."

"Happily, my lord." She bit my ear. "Fuck her my lord. Bang her cunt hard, harder! Look she moans! I can hear her slurping. I can hear your balls slapping against her ass. Fuck her! FUCK HER!"

Over an over, she encouraged me. Violet was now, cheek down on the bare stone. I saw how exposed I was, how public it all was. The fertility rite left nothing to hide. I thought of Marjorie and shot my load, groaning with delight. I bent over Violet, cheek to back, enjoying the last spurting inside her hot slit.

We changed positions. I sat up on the dolman. The stone was cold on my cheeks. Under my direction, Violet licked my dick clean, while Amy squatted beneath her lapping up my spare essence mixed with her juices. Then it was Amy's turn. Sitting up on the dolman gave me an idea.

Amy spring up, sat on the dolman, lay back and spread her legs, awaiting her mate. She noticed the sky was gray. She could feel the cool ocean breeze all the way to her cervix. Then her rampant man filled her cave. She ran her hands over his chest. He was like some magnificent animal. Her arms ran under his pits. She bent forward and ran her nails down his back. She slid forward on his pole and gasped at the extra penetration. He took a cheek in each and lifted her up. Then he bounced her on his obelisk. Up and then an abrupt stop over and over. Her boobs bounced hard. Drunk with overwhelming emotions she felt she lost all humanity. She was a rutting animal, a bitch in heat, a life support mechanism for her cunt. Her male's dick was both the only thing tying her to the planet and launching her into undreamed of heights. Meanwhile, Violent clutched her man and whispered vile secrets in his ear.

So, Amy bounced, helpless on my dick and Violet whispered obscene secrets of the upper crust in between licks. Amy came with a howl and that set me off. I lay Amy on the damp ground and dripped upon her slack, satisfied face. Violet cleaned off the rest.

Satisfied, Amy and Violet dressed and rode back with their new lord and master. They would ever relish the memory of the day at the stones, the day they bonded with their new lord. They would serve him with a fierce, proud love.

Back at the Inn, Becky was on one side and Cindi on the other and his mother playing footsie with his leg when William heard the of the oncoming storm. Sela Shamus burst into the lounge and delivered the news. "Ladies and Gentlemen a severe storm warning is in effect for the coast. You are advised to evacuate immediately. I have made accommodation for you at the Gold Key Business Suites fifty kilometers inland, safe from the storm front. I suggest you make speed. Maps to the Suites are available at the desk. Now, MOVE!"

Sela's daughters and Rebecca, Jessica, the Blacks and the temporary staff had the storm shutters barred in trice while Sela helped the customers to evacuate. Marjorie, Heath, and Cindi allowed William and Catherine to use the rover and invited them to last out the storm at Carfax Manor. They left the Inn only a half an hour after Sela, her daughters and the Foss girls.

Fife, Moss and Caw met at Foss's bar. They had noticed the strange goings on. Moss's testimony firmed up their suspicions.

"The Carfaxes always were a queer lot."

"My father said they were in league with the devil. Now this proves it."

"Brainwashed my girls they did. I gave them nice clothes, steady jobs and food on the table. Now they just up and leave me, their dear old dad, witchcraft that what that is."

"And my wife."

Caw did not mention where he suspected where the Carfaxes struck his family. He did not want the men to know he was vulnerable. It was all about business to him anyway. He loathed his little shit of a son since the day he was born. But this was an opportunity. "Mister Moss. Would you be so kind as to repeat the names you heard that night."

"Chure." He now spoke with a lisp and had a permanent nasal drip. He kept a box of tissues handy. "But Ish don't know all the namesh."

"Caym-by-the-Sea is still a small town. First names and descriptions should suffice."

"Wot den?"

"Then we make a few phone calls."

William sat in the back seat between Cathy, his mother, and Cindi. Marjorie and Heath sat in the front and the first raindrops began to fall. It was long, lonely, dark drive and getting darker by the minute. Cathy took her son's jaw in her hand and drew him towards her. The two kissed to kill the time. William was a fast study he had already discerned the subtlety of kissing actively without being vulgar.

William felt a long-nailed hand on his left thigh. Cindi was feeling left out. When he broke from his mother they made a smacking sound. He rolled his head to his left and found Cindi's gaping mouth awaiting him. He met her and welcomed her tongue as she welcomed his. She tasted warm and sweet. Her mouth was bigger than his mother's and there was much to explore. She tasted different, somehow. Judging from the deep throated moans issuing from her throat, he was performing well.

He felt his mother's hot breath, then her tongue on his right ear. Then she took his right hand and brought it over onto Cindi's heavy, right cup. William was grateful for his mother's cue. He was still new to the game and understood he needed guidance. Cathy's hand did not leave his. Her fingers guided his, teaching him how to alternate between sharp pinching, massaging and gentle caress. Cindi arched her back and gasped into his agape mouth to show how much she appreciated each touch.

He cast his eyes to the front seat. The Carfax siblings seemed to be discussing a serious matter in low tones. They were deeply wrapped up in their own affairs. William might have been reading a book for all the reaction the siblings showed.

Suddenly, the auto swerved of the track and onto a gravel road. The potholes were a bit jarring but not so much that it stopped William's mother from pressing her boy's mouth onto Cindi's self-exposed tit. Suddenly, the Rover ground to a halt. Heath and Marjorie, dressed in their Kashmir overcoats, left the auto. They left the engine and the heat running. The blast of chill wind put a halt to back seat escapades. William noted that there wasn't a house to be seen for kilometers. The two black figures were marching off to a series of gray standing stones a less then a dozen feet away. One set of stones formed a slanting megalithic table with a fallen stone forming a kind of stoop at the lower end.

Cindi made a sound of recognition. William asked, "What is it?"

"It's the old stepping stone. I wonder if...they are! In the rain and everything. Just watch." Marjorie and Heath proceeded to unbutton their coats. Marjorie shimmed out of her hose and then hopped her bum onto the edge of the dolman, a black mark on the gray, lichen stained stone. Heath stood on the actual "stepping stone" and guided himself into her.

In the cold, wet, Cornish weather, in the face of a breaking storm front, Marjorie and Heath Carfax threw aside their reasonable selves and dove face first into the old rites. Heath covered his sister with the flaps of his Kashmir overcoat and rutted like the druids of old. It wasn't just sex for them, it was their final act of commitment, a public signing of a contract. They could deny nothing now.

William was fascinated. It was if he could feel time rolling back. The hair on the back of his neck tingled. He could feel his blood stirring. His heart beat like a drum. His lungs filled with air. He looked to either side, the rite was doing something the women to either side of him as well. He wasn't sure what. Catherine was gnawing on her upper lip and rubbing the back of her sweaty neck. Cindi was wiping the palms of her hands, hard, against her thighs, splaying her fingers wide.

William had seen porn videos before but never someone doing it live. He didn't see anything, really. Heath's coat covered them both. But it was incredibly sexy because the couple's act contained an explosive yearning and urgency to it. Marjorie strained against her man's phallus. Heaths cried out to the nature that made him in pure gratitude for the moment.

In the distance he saw the Inn's red van drive by on the road. On the way to Manor, he surmised. His attention was taken away from the road by his mother's hands. She was unbuckling his belt and licking her lips while Cindi lifted up her behind to get her own skirt off. Cathy pulled down both his trousers and boxers to his ankles. Cindi side-stepped until her peach-fuzz ass was staring him in the face. Then he felt his mother's thumb and forefinger guide his thick prick into the lowering form of Cindi. She felt sweet and warm, like a hot tub for his dick. He inhaled her thick, silky, black hair. She leaned her head on his left shoulder, allowing him to enjoy the ride with her. She bumped in time with Marjorie's convulsions.

"Fuck her, William." His mother hissed. "Fuck her. Claim her for your own."

William's head swam. How had it come far, so fast, so soon? But Cindi felt, smelt and tasted so right. His mother urging him on triggered something inside him. He wrapped his arms around his lover, grabbed Cindi's globes and tweaked her nipples. "That's my boy." Catherine's tiny, pointed tongue licked his ear. Then she reached around and tickled Cindi's clit.

"Oh Cathy, he IS so thick. You are so think William. It hurts. It hurts so good." She whined

There in that confined space, he jerked up and down, until he shot his teenaged wad. He was hot, sweaty and sticky. He felt great. Then his mother got his lover to cum. Cindi's cumming cunt squeezed his dick like a fist. This was the best vacation ever.

Foss's Pub was a mean, dark place made than much meaner with the ugly, angry men inside. They men had dripped in one by one. Each was nursing a grudge against George Carfax. One by one the pieces fell together. Moss was more than happy to put off his surgery to fill everyone in on just who he had seen that day and night at the Carfax orgy. Foss was kept busy refilling the pints and shot glasses as the Yank related each sordid detail. Foss did not count the cost, Caw was gladly picking up the tab for all of it.

One father no longer wondered about Sean and Colm running off with a Thai bitch twice their age. Cindi's father knew where she had run off to. In general all the fathers, brother, husbands and sons now knew why their daughters, sisters, wives and mothers exercised and seemed so intent on attending classes or school functions. Collective shame filled each man that his failure should be aired in public. At first, their wrath was directed against the messenger, Moss. But Sheffield, with his solicitor acumen directed their outrage to its proper target, "Look. Carfax took his girls, just like he took ours. There is only one bastard I want to teach a lesson, only one man who has made a pact with the devil and that man is George Bloody Carfax!" The roar, in that confined space, was deafening. The glasses emptied in a blood toast.

"Look. I've got enough flares and petrol to take of that George Carfax asshole once and for all!"

I say we burn his lordship's bloody manor to the ground!"

A spewing of hate erupted from the men. Fife took it from there. "Go home. Get your things. Get everyone you can. Meet back here in fifteen minutes, then we burn down his fucking place!" It was another half an hour before everyone filled their flasks and walked purposefully to their homes, every man jack of them boiling over with hate. Even Foss left his till to drag out his family's antique Purdy.

Caw thought he was the only one there. He helped himself to his first drink of the evening. Things couldn't have worked out better. After the smoke cleared, no one could blame him. He would claim he bought the drinks in an effort to assuage the mob. Losing the manor was a bit of a hurt, but the real money was in the land. That was something the Carfaxes had taught him when they had tossed his family out of the home they had inhabited for a hundred years. Land was everything. Then he heard weeping.

He bent around the corner of the bar to see a dark, Italian-looking man cradling a near empty bottle of port, weeping. He was dressed in wrinkled cotton shirt and ordinary denim jeans and very unkempt. He was curled up in a corner, staring at a photo that lay on the sticky plank floor.

"Who are you?"

The dark man, his eyes puffy, lifted up the snap towards Caw. The snap captured a happy man and a happy woman on a sunny day. The woman held a bouquet of lilies. The two looked like they were standing in a garden. "She left her family for me, you know? I am just a poet but she left everything behind for me."

Caw had know idea who the I-tie was. The girl was nice bit. He couldn't fault Carfax for his taste, that was sure. Maybe, after it was all over he could find out Carfax's secret. "I am sorry lad. Here, let me help you up."

The windows were steamed up when the two peers re-entered their Rover. They had to roll down the windows but the cool air felt good.

They drove until they rejoined the main drive then proceeded onto the manor. The weather had really picked up. It was a driving rain when the auto sopped and Heath stepped outside. William could see two stone archways, one larger than the other, in the gloom of the headlights. Marjorie flipped a switch, activating the rear facing floodlight. It's beam allowed him to see what Heath was about.

He was opening a pedestrian gate, a postern gate. He recalled it's name from Shakespeare. Then Heath crossed to the auto gate, dropped two pins, a bar and locked it tight with the padlock he took from the postern gate. He re-entered the car and kissed his sister. She re-engaged the clutch and drove on.

That's when I re-entered the house, with Violet and Amy a proper three steps behind me. Beryl was more than a bit concerned.

"Where the hell have you been?" she was holding a shotgun.

"The horses needed rubbing down." I brushed the barrel aside. "Put that away."

"But there are hundred's coming."

"Who told you this?"

She pointed to Starlings.

"Caroline how good of you to come." I kissed her and her daughters lingering on Faith.

"May I introduce Pilar?" She indicated the young woman holding the vicar's leash. Starling was licking her bare toes. I noticed Amy and Violet's reflexively move their hand to their throats. I thought about the play on the words "bridal" and "bridals."

"George!"

"What?"

"Pay attention. I said there is a mob coming to burn down Carfax Manor. The whole town is coming. The Vicar was there to hear it all."

"And you brought him to me? How thoughtful. But I already know."

"You do?"

"Yes. And it's not the whole town. Just those who haven't seen the videos. Miss Pilar, my pleasure. So what inspired you bring us this news?"

"To be honest. I was hoping for a reward."

"A reward? For doing the right thing?" the girls went silent. "Very well." I offered my hand to the tiny island beauty and spoke wyrds. I no longer needed to speak them aloud. When she first came to the manor it was with the intention of cutting a deal. But that was before she laid her eyes on him. Now she knew there could be no compromise with so great a man. As the vicar was hers, she was his utterly and completely. "What kind of reward would you like?"

She fell to her knees. "I seek only to serve." She rubbed her cheek against my boot.

"Mistress!" Carmen burst into the entryway. "I see fire."

For safety's sake I took away Beryl's gun and we, as a group stormed upstairs to Grandfather's room. It commanded the best view by far. Grandfather was already there, staring at the glow the distance. "It looks like the Gamekeeper's Cottage."

Caw was disappointed. He wanted the manor burned down, not George Carfax's personal residence. But it was in the nature of mobs to go a bit askew at times. At least now, his Jaguar, once at the end of the line, was now at the front. He would lead them to Carfax Manor. Meanwhile, he would let them dance about the burning building, pass around the whiskey and feed their frenzy.

"Oh, George, the cottage!" Faith began to cry. The other girls clucked like chickens.

"What do we do?"

"Let's call for the police!"

"No."

"No?" Heath whipped out his cell phone.

"The electrical storm had knocked out all the cellular phone towers and land lines by now."

"Bloody hell. He's right. Nothing but static."

"What do we do?"

"There are more than enough guns." Grandfather suggested. "Enough to make a stand."

"George?" everyone looked to me.

It was as good a way as any to keep them occupied. "Fine, but grandfather, you will keep all the ammunition to prevent accidents. We'll see them coming from a long way off; plenty of time to load. No need to go shooting ourselves."

"Quite right."

The crowd dispersed, grandfather leading them to the old hunting locker. Only my faithful Carmen remained by my side. Ironic, considering she was my first. "You are staying?"

"I am not afraid, master. Even if they burn the manor Carmen will be by your side, always."

I mumbled Wyrds she couldn't hear and the glow in the distance winked out. I turned to see her reaction. She was crying. I wonder why.

"Good thing I am the one leading the mob." Caw thought, "The fools almost burned down the cottage. I can' t afford for them to expend all their wrath on the wrong target." Everyone got back into their autos and proceeded to the manor, at least now Caw, in his jaguar, was in front.

The procession of autos pulled up to the gate to the ground of Carfax Manor. It was chained well and good. No doubt the chain could be broken, but he wasn't about to ruin his brand new Jaguar. Fife and Sheffield, impatient as always, jumped out of their cars and checked the main gate by hand. It was Fife who noticed the pedestrian gate was open. It was only a hundred yards or so to the manor, nothing a to intimidate a real Cornishman.

They snatched up their weapons, petrol cans, flares and torches and streamed towards the old estate. The freezing rain and driving wind felt appropriate, somehow.

About then my people re-entered the room. They carried a hodge podge of weapons. William even carried an old halberd. It was just as well, there was barely any ammunition. I opened the balcony doors to give them an unobstructed view of the enemy's approach. At first they were cold. Then they were too frightened to care.

In dread, they watched the mob surge towards them, three hundred plus men, all well armed with weapons they knew how to use. I surveyed the room. We had nothing but five men, some women and very few of us knew how to fight. In another world it would have been a slaughter.

Beryl panicked. "George, do something!"

I could never refuse Beryl anything. "Don't worry Beryl." This time I spoke aloud. I let all witness my power. "Crossing the flat moors during a winter storm is very dangerous thing. In Cornwall, every year men are killed by lightning strikes. Usually it is golfers. They are out in the open, carrying rods of steel. But the same rules apply to a gun toting mob. Crossing the moors, during and electrical storm, with steel in one's hands is very unwise. Suddenly, a lightening bolt struck the mob, dead center."

In the ordinary world, a lightening bolt DID hit the mob, dead center. Thunder drowned out the screams. I looked at my sister-wife. She was dumbfounded. I continued proving my point, that this was no accident. "Miraculously, the lightening bolt did not kill all. A few men stood up. But they still clutched their rifles. Lightening does strike twice in the same place, when metal is involved. A second bolt hit the survivors."

We saw a few men rise. Suddenly, everything went white and the windows rattled with the thunder. This time everyone held their hands to their ears. They couldn't hear my last paragraph and third lightening bolt stuck any that remained living, dead.

Little by little, hearing returned. I saw Caw's Jaguar turn on the road and peel back to town. I shut the balcony doors.

"George?"

I followed the sound of Beryl's voice. Grandfather lay dead on the carpet. Seeing me become the living book had been too much for the old man. I think I could have brought him back but I have my limits.

Carmen knew what to say. "The Lord is dead."

My court took up the cry. "Long live the Lord!"

Caw drove back to town at breakneck speed. Over a thousand men, dead. He saw it all. He was sure it was that George Carfax he saw standing in the window watching three lightening bolts strike the mob down. He was taking it all so calmly, like he expected it! Pact with the Devil! That's what it was.

On his way back to town, the storm dissipated. He was grateful for the improved visibility. The good, clear night improved his mood. He began to make plans. He had friends in politics and the press. Carfax might win, but it would be messy, very messy indeed.

He turned into Market Square and hit the brakes. Everyone was there, decked out like for a fair. The first thing he noticed was the lack of men. Of course, most of them were back there, dead on the moors. He called to Officer Greene. "You there, what's going on?"

Greene stood right up to Caw. "I'm not sure I like your tone of voice, Charles."

"That's Lord Mayor, to you Officer Greene."

"I suppose it was, Charles. But I still don't like that tone of voice."

"Was? Look. What's gotten into you? What's going on here?"

"I'm directing traffic, sir. All this running about is very disorganized. But I suppose we'll have it all worked out in no time."

"What running about?"

"While you were off with mob sir, the citizens had a little meeting. We elected a new council and re-instituted some local traditions."

Caw was not stupid. He was getting the idea. He dropped his haughty tone and tried to calm down. "Pardon my prior rudeness. I did not know. Please, tell me, what new laws."

"That's more like it, sir. Why, it's right of first night, the night when his lordship beds our best and brightest. It wasn't easy choosing I'll tell you. But the women got it all sorted out. Oh here we are."

A dozen women all dressed in heavy felt, fur and finery processed passed the two men. They were surrounded by candle bearers.

"Go on Gertrude! Bring us back a full belly!" Gertrude Wynns husband yelled while he held their daughter in his arms. He picked up his daughter's hand and used it to wave. Her mommy, a chestnut haired beauty since her school days, waved back.

All around him Caw say the same scene repeated with different players. The Kenyans sent off their daughter with tears of joy. Weeping friends congratulated Kelly McGuire. In every case the friends and relative cheered the women's coming pregnancy. Suddenly, a tall German woman caught his eye. "Heidi!" He tired to rush towards her but Officer Green held him tight.

"Let. Go. She's my m...friend. Heidi! What are you doing?"

"Why I'm going to get bedded by our good and gracious lord, Charles. Isn't that great? I can't believe I was chosen."

"You silly bitch. I'll have you kicked out of that fancy townhouse, out of the bloody country for that matter!" She ignored him and walked onto the decorated tour motorcoach with a beatific expression. "Look here, Greene. She's my mistress you can't do this."

"Beg pardon, Charles but I think the fact she's your mistress sealed the deal. You and the Lord being enemies and all."

"No!" With his last bit of energy, Caw tried to break free and that gave Greene the excuse he needed to knock him down.

A detective approached the scene and looked sown at the fat, damp, unconscious man. "You all right here, officer?"

"Fine. Thank you, sir. Been wanting to do that for the longest time, I must confess, but he gave me no choice."

"Quite right. Well the motorcoach is away. I suppose the pubs will be filling up."

"Yes, sir. And if I may. I like to buy you a drink on the occasion of your happiness: a niece and your sister? You must be quite proud."

"Very." He grinned from ear to ear. "I was rooting for your own twin daughters. Oh, well, there is always next year. Meanwhile, I think we can go off duty."

"What about him?"

"Leave him. His sort is nothing his Lordship need bother about again."