The Lady And The Lake
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Sadistic,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A mysterious Naked Lady fascinates a sadistic criminal. He cannot get her out of his mind. Finally he has his wish and comes face to face with her.
Alf Mancini didn't really own Hartford Hall. Some little brat still at school would come into it one day, but Alfie was sole Trustee for the lad's father's estate. In any case, the Hall had been mortgaged to him by the late and intellectually challenged owner, Edward FitzWalter.
FitzWalter's family had come over with the Conqueror and been living here ever since - not that the present Hall was that old, being the third home the family had built on this site. The present building dated back to the mid Seventeen Hundreds when an atypically enterprising FitzWalter had made a fortune in India - one of the so-called Nabobs of that era. The latest of the line - poor old Edward - had had neither his ancestor's energy or ability - not even a fraction.
Alfredo had met Edward by a series of accidents and subsequently wormed his way into the fellow's confidence, putting to him a scheme whereby he could restore the family fortune. Alf then set up a series of elaborate transactions, using the poor dupe as a front man.
When the dim-witted but honourable FitzWalter had learned of the deeply unpleasant nature of Higgins's dealings in white slavery, drugs, people smuggling, and general high octane villainy, he had announced his intention of going to the authorities and confessing. Stupid bastard! I mean! What planet was the guy living on? Alf gave commands. That was the end of Edward!
It had been tricky for a while, but Alf was good at intimidating witnesses and fixing the authorities. This wasn't 1930s Chicago, perhaps, but the old country was fast catching up on Transatlantic ways! Not that the U. K. had been the scene of Edward's departure from this to a (hopefully better) world.
Alfredo had caused Edward to be killed in a part of the world where the local Police were well and truly in the Mancini pocket. Plenty of people suspected he was behind the poor guy's death, not least Edward's grieving widow, but no one would ever prove a thing. Certain people in Scotland Yard KNEW he was to blame! After a discreet interval skulking in various extradition-proof hideaways he had at last felt secure enough to move the base of his operations back to England.
Now that his time of waiting for the heat to die down was over, Mancini was able to enjoy the life of a country squire. The Law was still half-heartedly out to get him, but those incompetent bastards had nothing on him. It pleased him to stick up two fingers to British Justice, which he despised! Alfredo, to give him his full name, despised all justice except, of course, the brutal kind he meted out!
Our little tale begins with Alfredo eating breakfast in the appropriately named Breakfast Room, looking out on a dazzling vista of snow covered lawn falling away to a frozen lake in the middle distance. It was snowing again after a clear moonlit interlude last night. So any footprints she had left must have been covered long ago. He certainly could see no prints; not a trace. Maybe he had dreamt it all. But he was a practical man, not given to bizarre dreams. He usually dreamt about money and well upholstered masochistic blondes (for whom he had a great deal of time!).
Mrs Powers came into the room with fresh coffee. She was the sole member of staff left over from Edward's time. Alfredo continued looking out of the window as the stout lady poured some hot black and strong fluid into his cup. He spoke without looking round.
"Not the weather for skinny dipping!"
Because he was looking away from Mrs Powers, he didn't see her face turn white! Neither did he see her hand shake as she poured the coffee. He noticed some spilt coffee in the saucer, though, and frowned. Then his thoughts turned to other things and he put last night's vision out of his mind. He munched on his cornflakes and read the morning mail.
Alfredo Mancini had gone to bed early the previous night, accompanied by Gloria, the latest in a long line of blonde airheads whose only saving grace was being good in bed and amenable to being treated considerably more than a little roughly as the gross Alfredo worked off the frustrations of the day. Finally he had finished his systematic and violent love making, leaving even the phenomenally durable and willing Gloria totally exhausted, badly bruised and bleeding. She had finally lapsed into a deep sleep, while the satisfied brute got up and wandered over to the window.
He saw something that made him blink to see if the vision would disappear. It did not. A tall and fair-haired lady was standing directly underneath his window, looking directly up at him. She raised a hand to him and smiled. It was not a nice smile and had about it all the bitter cold of this winter's night and much more besides. Mancini shivered and not just with the cold. Despite the vision's sinister appearance he was enraptured with the sight of her. She was pale as death and her pallor was eerily accentuated by the moonlight. The full moon had just broken through the clouds after a day of heavy snowfall. There was something familiar about her, something very familiar. But for some reason, his brain was not functioning properly.
Time seemed to have stopped and he did not know how long the creature stood there. Then her long white cloak fell off her and lay in a heap on the ground about her lovely bare feet. Without the cloak she was totally naked and Mancini gasped both at the loveliness of the woman and her hardihood in standing bare to the elements in such bitter cold. It must be painful, even for a only a few seconds. He looked back at the bed and the equally undressed Gloria. Quite a contrast! Gloria was well built and healthy - a solid girl with large firm breasts and the sort of bottom that jutted out so that you might almost rest a teacup on it when she was standing. This girl in the snow was slim and delicate and with curves that were subtle and understated but dangerously enticing. Who WAS she?
She took up her coat, arranged it over her arm and started to walk away. As she walked she looked round a few times directly up at the window as if she could see right into Alfredo's evil heart and filthy corrupt soul. If it had been summer, he might have gone out to speak to her, but it was horribly cold that night and Mancini had no wish to venture out. Amazedly he watched the vision walk over to the ornamental lake.
She stood looking down at the solid icy surface for a few seconds. Then she seemed to be looking around for something. He soon realised what she was looking for when she picked up a large stone and threw it onto the ice. For a switch slim and ethereally delicate woman, she was pretty strong! With even more incredulity, Alfredo watched her jump into the hole made by the rock.
He wanted to go on watching. He wanted to watch her for ever! But suddenly, he was tired, more tired than he had ever known... Gloria might be more dead than alive after the seeing to he had recently given her, but Alf was in far worse condition and the ineluctable urge to sleep overcame all curiosity. He got into bed next to the battered and unconscious blonde and was soon dead to the world.
Gloria had still been fast asleep eight hours later and Alfredo was obliged to breakfast alone. This annoyed him. He liked his women to be around when he wanted them. It was nice to see her pretty face opposite him at meal times and her absence set him to think about looking for a replacement.
With a cruel inward smile he reflected that Gloria's face would be none too pretty today!. He had given her a real beauty of a black eye for some reason or other. Happily for both, he might like dishing it out but she seemed more than willing to take it.
And then Gloria came down and sat opposite her employer/lover/abuser. She had done a good job on the eye but not quite enough to hide all evidence of the strength of Alfredo's right jab! He grinned at her and she smiled back.
"You get rougher all the time, darling. You ought to watch it, you know. I still ache all over."
"Fuck off, bitch! I pay you enough. And don't tell me you don't like it! Anyway you'd better like it. And you'd better go on liking it because there's plenty more coming your sweet way! No one walks out on me. Ask the last owner of this place!"
He laughed loudly at this witticism. If Mrs Powers was amused by her employer's jibe at the poor departed Edward, her plump comfortable features did not give it away. Mrs Powers had a hard look about her as she went back to the kitchen.
Gloria finished a very hearty breakfast. Alfred looked admiringly as she demolished what would be a good meal for one twice her size. She really had the most amazing metabolism he reflected. (He didn't actually use that long word - I paraphrase).
"I'll leave you to finish that, doll. Unless you fancy a walk down to the lake."
"In that freezing cold! What's come over you Alfie? You'll have your balls frozen off in seconds!"
"Not if I wrap up, honey. I'll see you tonight. Have a nice day!"
And Mancini put on his heaviest and warmest coat as well as a hat and gloves. Thus insulated, he crunched his way through the white virgin snow down to the lake where he had watched last night's amazing woman. There was no sign of the ice having been broken. The surface of the lake was smooth and no bits of debris were to be seen. There was also no sign of the white cloak, that she had left by the water's edge. Very strange. Alf trudged his way back to the house outside which his driver was ready to take him to the "office" and a round of meetings and deals. He would be back here late in the evening and ready to screw the backside off that Gloria once again and leave a few more angry red marks and ugly purple bruises on that sweet skin. Life was good these days! But he'd earned it.
On the way to his work he remembered where he had seen the mysterious midnight bather before. She had been naked then - always naked!
Mrs Powers had a good view of the drive from her vantage point in the kitchen. As soon as the master was out of sight she pulled on a heavy coat: she also needed protection from the cold, which was the most severe for ten years.
She needed to go into the village to get a few supplies from the local shop. On her way she passed the church. She went inside and knelt for a while at the rear of the nave. On her way out she saw a lone figure standing near the FitzWalter vault. A new-looking bunch of roses had been placed at the barred entrance. Mrs Powers nodded to herself. Just as she thought!
Gloria had a lonely time that day and for a while afterwards. Alfredo was warned by a contact in the Crown Prosecution Service that new evidence had come to light linking him with some very serious crimes. He had taken the first flight to the Republic of North Cyprus and was soon ensconced in what he earnestly hoped would long continue to be an extradition free zone.
Gloria was to follow a week or two later in order to resume her role as mistress cum punching bag and he was forced to avail himself of the services of local ladies of easy virtue, who while lusty and busty were also a little on the dusky side, although a fair amount of Eastern European talent was around these days. He preferred to have fair haired and fair skinned women beat up.
The bruises hardly showed on his current bitch and he hit her hard enough! She was good at taking it though and was able to dish it out as well, as a sore nose and swollen eye were to demonstrate for several days after his first night with her. He would be glad to see Gloria again, but this girl was an acceptable substitute for now. He liked a bit of fight in a woman, although this one would never hit him again! Not after he had finished with her! She knew who the boss was now, alright. It had certainly been fun taming her! He looked down at his bruised fist and laughed out loud at the memory.
He was staying at the same villa that old Edward FitzWalter had once owned before selling to Alfredo. One of the first things he did after coming off the phone and hurriedly rearranging his affairs was to go and look again at that picture in what had been Edward's room. He remembered the conversation the two had had.
"That's a nice looking chick, Teddy!"
"Oh, that. Yes! It's an ancestor of mine. She was called Isabella and married to John FitzWalter, my great grandfather. She died about a hundred years ago. She rescued her little boy from drowning a few days before she died. Caught pneumonia you know - you can see how delicate she is and it was very cold in the lake that night. If it hadn't been for her I wouldn't be here. We sort of feel she is still watching over us and keeping us all up to the mark. A woman who gave her life for her son - a braver person than I am, I am ashamed to say"
"Unusual for a great lady to be painted in the nude!" thought Harold. He said out loud "She certainly was a beauty, but maybe a bit slim and frail for me. I like a bit of meat and muscle on my women!"
"She was a bit of a Bohemian before she married my ancestor. Posed for a number of artists. Well, she's dead now and safe from your lecherous intentions!" laughed Edward.
And a few days after this conversation the scene had taken place when Edward had found out just what a horrible business he was getting mixed up in and tried to shop his now despised partner. Very silly of him to go to the police in this town! It had been a Lieutenant in the local detective force who had fired the fatal bullet!
And now here he was, looking at that lovely lady for the third time! He had realised it was she on his way to "work" the very next morning after seeing her walk to the pond across the snow-covered lawns. It MUST have been a dream. She had looked too substantial to be a ghost and in any case he didn't believe in ghosts.
He could see why the late Edward FitzWalter had been in such awe of her. There was a look in that face which spoke volumes. This was not a lady who would have stooped to criminality to recoup her family's fortunes. It must have been a spark of his long dead ancestor's spirit that caused Edward to act as he did and almost blow the whole enterprise.
Back in England the Hall was shut up and Mrs Powers was in charge. She was sitting in the breakfast room and talking to two ladies, one of whom was Gloria and the other a tall and careworn lady who looked fifty but was in fact only thirty five.
"When do you rejoin him, Gloria?" asked the third lady.
"In three days, Ma'am. I can't say I'm looking forward to it much. I can take a fair bit of pain and I usually get quite a kick out of it, but that bastard is something else! I just hope it all turns out to be worth it in the end!"
"Don't fear, Gloria. We'll get him! Just keep your eyes and ears open and keep reporting back. Take no risks, though."
"I wonder how long I'll be in Cyprus for? I don't like the sun too much, not with my fair skin, and he likes his bimbos around the pool, showing him and his guests most of what they've got - maybe all - being bloody fried just for his pleasure. I fucking hate that wicked bastard more and more every time his fist rearranges my face! Sorry about the swearing, Mrs! Make sure you get him! That's all I ask."
"You really are very brave, Gloria." said Mrs Powers.
"You are, indeed!" said the third lady. "Please don't take too many risks my dear. I want justice very much indeed, but not at the cost of another life!"
"Don't worry, Mrs! Old Alf is a clever sod. But he has one weakness. Bit of a male chauvinist, and one who badly underestimates women. He doesn't think his tarts have that much up top! I'll be careful. I'll get what we need and in a few weeks that bastard won't know what hit him!"