Chapter 20

It was after eleven o’clock and Donald was in his giant bed. For the first time in years he actually looked at it. It was an immense canopied four-poster built for some ancestor. Oddly, it ended up with the identical internal dimensions of a modern king-size. As a result — and as another part of the castle’s restoration — the ancient mattress had been replaced. Although he had grumbled at the time — and threatened to end the project — the new mattress had been delivered and installed. He found tonight that he really liked it.

Unlike its predecessor, this mattress was very flat and very firm. He remembered complaining bitterly that it didn’t give the way the old one did. He recognized that the “give” caused the damned thing to be far more of a hammock than a bed, and caused him innumerable backaches. Although, being honest with himself, the backaches had been lost amidst his innumerable other pains, all of which were now gone. And tonight, for the first time in memory, he was actually reading a book without the aid of glasses.

The reason he was reading rather than sleeping was he was still enjoying the fantastic dinner the two women had prepared. They called it a modified New England shore dinner. Monroe had begun to serve at six, and they had only left the table a few minutes earlier. They had started with steamed soft-shell clams, followed by giant baked stuffed lobsters. These, Barbara said, represented the modification. Rather than being stuffed with bread crumbs, these were stuffed with Crab Imperial made from Chesapeake Bay crabs. Remarkably, she served it with corn on the cob — the sweetest corn he could remember ever eating. Blushing, Barb had admitted the corn was frozen, but was actually fresher than fresh because the whole process from picking to freezing took less than 30 minutes. Then Monroe had found some truly excellent white burgundy in the cellar.

I guess that’s one thing this pile of rocks is good for. The wine cellar is perfect, he thought. It’s truly remarkable, too, because I doubt if there’s a bottle down there less than fifteen years old. And particularly for white wines, that’s pushing very hard. He made a mental note to talk to his wine merchant in London about restocking.

But the very best part of the evening was the company, most particularly including that incredible tiger, Duke. When Karla had offered him wine to drink the toast, he had declined, asking for some American fruit drink called Snapple, instead. He did have a compote of champagne, though, when he offered a toast to the engaged couple. For the rest of the time Duke just sat like a giant house cat beside Karla’s chair. He smiled remembering how everyone at the table pretended not to see it when Karla gave Duke a small plate of crabmeat imperial which he cleaned off the plate in only a couple of seconds.

The conversation around the table was the most intelligent, well informed, and most far ranging he could ever remember. He just shook his head as he realized that his son and daughter-in-law-to-be, along with the Sloans, were very gently bringing him up to date. So much had happened in the several years since he had totally lost interest in the rest of the world. A querulous old man, he thought. That’s me!

Aside from the light on his night table, the room was unlighted. Because, like all the other rooms in the castle, his had a high ceiling, the light was just dissipated in the gloom. Then something caught his eye and he looked up. There, approaching the foot of his bed, was a slender figure wearing a white terry robe. It was the movement coupled with the white material catching some of the light that must have caught his eye. The figure came around to his side of the bed and his eyes widened as he realized it was Karla.

“What’s wrong, Daughter?” he asked. “Aren’t you feeling well? What brings you here?”

“Have you ever heard of droit de seigneur?” she asked softly.

He had heard of it. It translated into “right of the lord,” but he couldn’t really place it. “No, I guess I haven’t,” he replied. “What is this right?”

“When a subject is to wed, the lord has the right to take the girl to his bed — for inspection, I suppose — before the wedding.” With a cute little grin she added, “Can you imagine all the virginal blood that might have been spilled on this mattress over the years?”

“Not this one,” he heard himself replying, “but very possibly on its predecessor. God only knows how old the damned thing was when Doug finally got rid of it. Even though I complained, the fact was it stank to high heaven.” Then looking at her he said, “Surely you’re not offering me your virginity?”

“No, Your Grace, I’m not. But I am offering my body for your inspection.” With that she shrugged off the robe and stood before him stark naked.

“My God!” he exclaimed. “You are utter perfection! And you pass inspection. Now why don’t you go back to your room?”

“I left Doug with Duke to warm his bed,” she replied. Then with her head up she added, “You should know, Dad, that Doug and I have shared a bed literally from the first night I met him. I am still a virgin, but it’s getting harder and harder—”

“He’s trying to take your virginity, and you’re fighting him off?” the Duke interrupted.

“Not hardly!” she said with a wonderfully musical little giggle. “I’m trying to shed it! I can’t tell you how much I love him and want him inside me.” She paused and then asked, “May I share your bed? I’m really getting cold just standing here.”

Only when he pulled back the covers did he remember he was naked. Although he normally wore a nightshirt, tonight in celebration of his restored health, he was wearing nothing. Instead of appearing shocked or making a comment, Karla climbed up on the high bed — almost four feet off the floor — and knelt beside him.

“Milord,” she said softly, “permit me to present my body to you.” Cradling her breasts he said, “These are my tits, Milord. With God’s help they will nourish your great-grandchildren.” Then she leaned over backward and spread her knees so they were nearly 180 degrees apart. With her slender fingers she parted her nether lips and said, “This is my cunt, Milord. And it is very sweet tonight.”

“But...” Donald was nonplused. “You ... your...”

“I took off all the hair except for this small patch, milord,” she said, answering the question he had been unable to get out. “It prevents poor Doug from having to pull my pubic hair from his teeth after eating me.” Then she straightened up and asked, “Is there anything else you wish to see, Milord?”

“Yes, there is,” he replied. As her golden body moved in the light he had become aware of fine lines all over her body. He realized they were scars, but unlike any scars he had ever seen, they tanned to the exact degree her body did. “I wish to examine your body more closely.”

Responding to him, she moved closer. Now focusing on her body, very gently he traced a few of the lines and said, “This is the aftermath of your whipping, isn’t it? But how is it the scars tan? Normally, they just remain white and the more tanned the person, the more they show. Yours don’t really show at all, do they?”

“I guess it may be the result of having all my skin flayed off,” she replied softly. “I guess you could say I have none. I’m just one great big scar.”

“Honey, some of my boys were pretty badly burned in aircraft fires,” the Duke said softly. “I know what scar tissue is like. Your skin is like perfect warm satin that reacts to my touch.” Then he ran his again-sensitive fingers over her thigh and realized the extent of the muscles just beneath the surface. “You don’t have an ounce of fat on your entire body, do you?” he asked. There’s just satin-smooth skin over the most incredible muscle mass I’ve ever encountered.” Then he looked into her eyes and added, “Doug is right, isn’t he? You are female perfection.”

“Not!” she exclaimed. “You just got finished saying there’s nothing there besides yucky muscles all over the damned place...”

“Vanity, indeed thy name is woman!” exclaimed the Duke. “Never in my life have I encountered a wench who’s so constantly fishing for compliments! My darling daughter, your muscles never show. They’re just there.”

Again he focused on her eyes, while trying to ignore the massive erection he had developed from just stroking her body. “Now why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?” he asked. Then he just waited for a reply.

When he asked the question, Karla’s eyes had flashed in surprise for the briefest instant. Had he not been focusing on them, he would have missed it completely. Finally she said, “Milord, it was an idea that came to me flying over today. I was certain you wouldn’t let Doug marry me, so I thought of doing this to try to get you to change your mind.”

“We know that idea didn’t last long,” Donald said. “So why are you here?”

With her back up straight and her knees back together, he felt he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Then she replied, “Dad, your wife, Claire, was killed on Christmas day, 1940, wasn’t she?” He just sadly nodded his head. “And I will bet you my last dime you’ve not been with a woman since her death, have you?” He was going to object, but instead just shook his head. In an instant she launched herself on top of him and began to move her body on his.

“In that case,” she whispered in his ear, “we’re way behind in our celebrating!” Moving her body sensuously over his, she began to kiss him all over. When she got down to his groin she looked up and said, “This is for winning the Battle of Britain!” With that she took his now throbbing cock into her mouth.

Remarkably, she found she loved it. In fact, it was almost exactly like sucking Doug’s cock, although it wasn’t as large around nor quite as long as his. Using all of the considerable skill she had developed, she brought him to his peak repeatedly, but always changed her tempo an instant before he achieved his release.

Now Donald was pounding on the bed and pleading with her to release him. Finally he said, “Karla Kosta, what do you think your grandfather’s thinking right now, watching you suck my cock and forbidding me any release! What do you think he would say?”

She eased his cock from her throat, took it out of her mouth and licked it like an ice-cream cone. Very casually she replied, “He wouldn’t say a thing.”

Shocked by her casual response he asked, “And what makes you say a thing like that?”

Holding his cock in her hand preparatory to swallowing its huge length again, she replied, “Because he couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t? What do you mean, ‘couldn’t’?”

“Because he’s laughing so hard he can’t talk is what I mean.”

With that she swallowed his cock and continued his torment. Finally, she couldn’t hold him back any longer. Sliding it out so only its tip remained in her mouth, she took both hands and squeezed his swollen balls hard. Screaming in pain, he released in a flood. Immediately she began to squeeze his balls lightly in synchronization with his cumings, while she swallowed the flood of his cum as quickly as she could. Donald almost passed out from the experience.

Karla left him gasping for breath and hopped out of the bed. Going to the door, she picked up a wine cooler and two champagne flutes she had brought in with her and carried them back to the bed. Finding that the Duke was only just catching his breath, she carefully popped the cork and poured two glasses. Giving them to Donald to hold, she climbed back into the bed and lay down beside him after piling more pillows behind them both.

Gently clinking her glass against his she whispered, “To the Royal Air Force: ‘Never in history have so many owed so much to so few.’ And to Donald Whitfield, the very best of the few!”

“Thank you, Daughter.” Then with a grin he asked, “But why is it you don’t feel like my daughter right now?” They were lying in the bed and Donald was letting his hand roam across her magnificent body. Far from discouraging him, Karla slid further up on the bed and spread her legs to put her slit in easy reach and to open it for his exploration.

“But Dad, it’s so simple. Why in the hill country in the States, there’s a story told of a young man who marries and goes off with his bride. The next morning he came back home alone. When his father asked him what had happened, the young man replied, ‘She were a virgin, Pa.’ To which his father replied, ‘You did right, son. If she weren’t good enough for her own folks, she sure ain’t good enough for us.’” Then looking up at Donald who was laughing at her joke she asked, “Am I good enough for Doug, sir?”

“Well ... so far, so good,” he replied judiciously. “But I think you said you were very sweet tonight. May I find out for myself?”

“Oh, God, yes!” she exclaimed. “I was so hoping you would try.”

With a sweep of her arm, she threw off the covers that were over them and again bared her body. Running her finger up her slit she extended it to him and asked, “Want a taste?”

He licked off her finger and found that it was sweet. At the same time he realized that when Karla removed the bed covers it released the most magnificent fragrance he had ever encountered. Leaning over, he kissed her lips and then her perfect little ear. With his nose near her shoulder he confirmed what he suspected: the fragrance was that of her magnificent body. As he moved down on her body, kissing it and teasing her perfect nipples with his teeth, he was beside himself. It had been over 50 years since he had last been with a woman, and yet he felt like he was 50 years younger. On the other hand, he thought, Karla Kosta could give a hard-on to a corpse — if he hadn’t died more than thirty days earlier.

Remarkably, she really seemed to enjoy his attentions. Moving down between her widespread legs, he kissed her lovely little nest and admired the beauty of her bare slit. Seeing where he was focusing, she spread her lips with her slender finger tips and said softly, “Dad, your daughter is utterly shameless. Perhaps you can see my little clitoris standing at attention, hoping it will feel your lips, your tongue, your teeth...” Shaking her head she said, “I think my real talent is as a prostitute. I want Doug to use my body in every way a man can use a woman...”

“But, honey,” Donald protested, “some of those things hurt and hurt terribly! You can’t be serious!”

“Dad, if I should die from any treatment at Doug’s hands, I would die a very happy woman. My body exists only for him to do with as he will.”

But Karla!” he protested, “you’re—”

“A hot cunt and a great fuck!” she exclaimed. “At least I hope he’ll like me. A little bit, maybe...”

“We both commented on my grandson’s idiocy earlier,” Donald said, “But I can’t believe even he could be that dumb.”

With that he lowered his head and began to lick at her slit. The instant he did she raised her hips high to make it easier for him. Suddenly as he worked on her succulent love box he realized that Karla had bridged her body and was just holding her cunt in the air. Only her feet and her shoulders were on the bed; her pelvis was over 18 inches above the bed.

My God! he thought. She was absolutely serious. She will do absolutely anything to increase my pleasure, regardless of the cost to herself. Pausing for a moment he realized that he could put her legs over his own shoulders to support her legs while bringing her cunt close to his mouth.

When he did it, she breathed a soft sigh of relief and said, “Thank you, Dad, but it really wasn’t necessary. I could have held my position—”

“Of course you could,” he interrupted, “and you would, regardless of the cost to yourself. Karla, you are unreal!”

Returning to his work, he brought her to orgasm and then another, and quickly to a third. Then he paused for breath and asked, “What are we celebrating now, by the way?”

“America’s entry into the war?” she gasped.

“To the United States of America!” he exclaimed and returned to nibbling her clit.