It was a cool, foggy night typical of the Northern California coastline and he was searching in dismal visibility for a bed and breakfast that promised to be an identical copy of a French Chateau in the Loire Valley. He was from Nebraska, and having never left the United States, it interested him.
He was tall, strong, and handsome with the chiseled jaw and commonsense manners of a Midwesterner. Having lived in the same proximity his entire life, he yearned for something different; a different style of architecture, different foods, and of course an entirely different kind woman. He had left behind a failed marriage and was still reeling from the grind.
Deep in thought and driving a little too fast northbound on Highway 101, his body jerked when his headlights reflected off a faded green sign with black lettering, Chateau Daphne. He screeched to navigate a sharp left onto a long and narrow, winding road that led to a jagged coastline barely visible through the primordial forest.
The trees rose like tall shadows against the light foggy mist that hung in the air, and he passed through an elaborate wrought iron gateway that was swung open. He parked the car on a small landing that led to an entry, got out and inhaled a deep breath of anticipation.
The Chateau was statelier than he had imagined it to be. A weather-beaten grey masonry structure stood as if in defiance of time and nature, embellished by a precarious iron and glass marquise entry. Kind of like the fancy french hotels he had seen in travel books.
He scratched his chin and walked around the back of the car to pull out his suitcase before he approached the dark, arched front door. Conscious of the heavy silence around him he reached up for the large brass ring attached to a lion’s head and, with a loud thud the heavy doorknocker hit the damp surface announcing his arrival.
He waited for what seemed to be an eternity before a petite, delicate woman came to the door. She was dressed in bedroom attire from another era; a pastel, silky slip clung to her breasts and a short bed jacket floated loosely around her shoulders. Puffy balls on the front of satin high- heeled, slingback pumps peeked out from below the floor length-slip.
He was flustered, not knowing what to say or how to react; uncomfortable and thrilled at the same time. She welcomed him and told him to take his bag upstairs. His room was the first door on the right. Obediently, he walked up the long half spiral-staircase to find his room. Lovely with white, fluffy bedding and red roses in a tall, pale blue vase perched on a carved stone fireplace mantel.
He had been driving all day and was tired as hell. He plopped down on the bed to take in a deep breath. He lay there for a few minutes listening to a piano in the distance being played by someone who was not only skilled, but passionate-- playing a concerto by Schubert.
Curious, he set off to explore, and passing through the dimly lit hallway lined in silk wallpaper he descended the stairs, following the sound of the music to the great room.
He marveled at the soaring fifteen-foot ceilings domed and adorned by a fresco depicting angels with arms open. It felt like they were beckoning him to receive his spirit to heaven and gave him the creeps. At the end of the room was a large picture window that dominated the space with its views. It looked out to where the cliffs dropped off to a mysterious black sea. A desolate and churning Pacific Ocean in the darkened moonless night.
The piano was at the edge of the room near the grand window, and she was seated on a stool lit by the eerie glow of single base-floor-style candelabra.
She squiggled her back and raised her chin, signaling to him that she could feel his presence behind her. He sat in the stuffed chair near the piano, staring at her. She did not look at him, but he could see in her profile that her expression had changed to something more enticing.
She played the piano with an engaging intimacy. It felt to him as though the notes she played sang between them and he felt compelled. Compelled to do what? He was not sure. He thought it was odd that suddenly all the blood rushed to his groin and he became hard.
The music stopped for a moment and in the new silence between them she removed her bed jacket. She sat at the keyboard in her nightgown with the candlelight shining on her shoulders and across the lacquered grand piano, and she began to play again.
He felt sure his instincts were sharp and she was seducing him with her music. The enticement was no longer surreal when she dropped the straps of her nightgown one by one to reveal her gorgeous plump breasts, illuminated in the golden light. There she sat playing the piano with her back, breasts, and delicate waist bare to his World.
Is this where we should stop tonight?
No, please keep going.
He felt like an awkward child who got an erection at the church pew. He was so hard and he did not know what to do.
Was this complete and beautiful stranger offering herself to him? He wanted to take her. He wondered if there was anyone else in the house, and as the heat of a hunt overtook his anxieties, instinct kicked in.
Breathing heavily, he stood behind her and slid his hands around the soft skin of her breasts and fondled them as she began to play again. He could see her struggle to contain herself as her concentration was strained.
It was a new game. Tease her as she resists with her fingers on the keys, as if she were invisibly tethered to the piano like a slave and not able to defend against his sexual advances. Would she continue to fight to hold onto the rhythm of the concerto as his hands distracted her? Would she succumb to him, or stay focused on the music?
It was his sole intent to torment her to the point of no return. He brought his mouth to one of her breasts and breathing heavily began drawing her nipple between his lips. He reached down to her pussy with his thick hands and continued to suck her breast, focusing on her nipple as she struggled to continue playing.
He lifted her flimsy nightgown, and while he had one breast in his mouth his fingers found her wet cunt. She was passionate in her musical delivery, as he felt her pussy in an intimate way. His lips slightly brushed skin down to her waist and kissed her from front to back, licking her side as she began to cum, and tried desperately to continue playing.
He kneeled in front of the piano bench, and as she played began to lick her. He spread her legs and gently sucked on her clit while his finger found the entrance to her pussy. He slid his finger in while he continued to gently massage her with his tongue and she began to cum, finally letting go of the piano.
He won. Now for the prize. She surprised him by pulling him up from the floor and unzipped his pants. She was impatient, and like a starving child she put his hard cock into her mouth. She ran her lips across his shaft with her tongue dragging behind licking the delicate skin of his cock, while her hands caressed his buttocks, careful not to ignite his fuse too soon.
She brought his cock to her hand and gently guided him like an animal on a leash to the fainting couch where she unbuttoned his shirt. She laid her body on his and began to press her moist lips against his lips in an unstructured kiss. Her tongue raced along his neck and tasted his musky, natural scent. She moved her kisses back to down to his cock.
He could tell she approved of his gift by the way she touched him. Women had described his cock as a “can”-- so thick it hurt-- but they always found a way to take it inside. He knew how to please a woman with it.
She touched him lightly, one finger at a time, then licked him, then touched him again…like a game. It was excruciating. He wanted to end the game and put his entire cock in her mouth for her to suck it hard.
Is this where it ends?
The angels on the ceiling appeared to be smiling and moving in a circle. He was dizzy with molten desire drowning him from the inside, he needed relief. When he felt he could not control himself any longer, he pulled her mouth off and she sat on top of him very slowly, taking in his thickness. He started to penetrate her, and she moaned with what was a combination of desire and pain. She licked her fingers to add more lubrication to her pussy, and tried again to take in the full width of his shaft.
Slowly it moved deeper inside as she carefully focused on taking it all. Her breathing shortened as she began to cry out in ecstasy and pain. She kept him deep inside her with little motion as her cum ran out onto his groin. The only feeling between them was the deep warmth of her pussy locked tight around his thick cock.
He felt like he was being used, and it felt so good. He felt a sudden surge of desire that was convoluted. He wanted to hurt her and love her at the same time. After all, she had asked for this, right?
In a moment of uncontrolled passion, he lifted her off himself and threw her onto the floor. His act was more forceful than he had anticipated and there was a look of shock on her face. He mounted her. He was swollen and throbbing and her cunt stretched tight as he forced himself inside her. She whimpered, begged him to keep going. He knew it was rough, but he needed it to be that way. He held her down and fucked her the way he wanted to. He could feel the sweet friction of skin on skin inside her and he wanted to cum, his way.
He pulled himself out and lifted her up, placing her on her knees and slid his dick into her pussy from behind. It was so big and full she cried out when he penetrated her. He held her hips still and as she surrendered and her pussy relaxed, he fucked more. Her chest dropped to the floor raising her ass upwards and finally, with one hard thrust, he exploded into her.
She fell to the floor and curled into ball.
He embraced her tenderly and she wept softly as he tried to figure out what had just happened.
The Chateau was built high on a cliff over the Pacific Ocean in the year 1932. It was commissioned by an aristocrat forced to leave France who brought with him his young parlor maid. He had his way with her many nights until one night, he was too rough, and she skewered him with a candelabra. She lived in the house alone for many years and not a soul knew where he disappeared to.