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Doctor Calvani - Part 2

Book By: Emy Naso
Erotica


Part 2 of serialization of the strange, yet handsome man

see also in my blog


Submitted:Sep 7, 2010    Reads: 224    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


This Is The Place Traveling by a series of coach rides, and a final train journey, they eventually came to the town of Dolgellau, the foreboding, flat top mountain of Cader Idris slumbering to the south. Settling, wearily, in a public house, Calvani ordered food and drinks, his mood dispirited, tired of wandering, unable to comprehend these lonely places in the mountains. Milly sat opposite the Doctor, not knowing how to break his taciturn manner. They ate in near silence, Calvani drinking heavily, pushing the meal away, half eaten. The Doctor borrowed a newspaper from the landlord, the edition three days old, and read, in more despondent humor, the report of the troubles in the London Docks, a strike about wages lead by Thomas Mann and others. To a Victorian like Calvani, who believed in the proper ordering of the classes, this action by the working man was near heresy. Shaking his head and mumbling darkly into his fifth glass of whiskey, the Doctor looked up when a large group of people came into the pub, a tumultuous crowd of laughter. They went to the bar and loudly ordered drinks. Still in his curmudgeonly mood, Calvani beckoned a young waiter over. "Get me another glass to drown my ears from such a noise." The young man shrugged and replied, "Better get used to such folk, sir. These people from the cities are bringing money to the town." Before the waiter could depart, Calvani reached out, grabbed his arm and held him tight. It was the mention of money and the realization that there were at least three young women in the group that caught the Doctor's interest. "What brings them here?" Calvani asked. He wanted to add, 'to such a dreary place' but delayed the insult, least it deterred the waiter from imparting information. "Climbing, sir," he grinned, looking down at Calvani's hand holding his arm, but probably deciding the stranger was too big and powerful to start an argument. "Climbing what?" Calvani huffed. The waiter stared. "The mountains all around us, sir. Hadn't you noticed." "They don't look as if they could climb steep stairs," the Doctor sneered. Looking over at the pretty young Milly, the waiter smiled, adding, "I tend to agree with you, sir. But these fancy magazines are all saying that the fresh air is good for the health. Even some Doctors recommend holidays in the mountains." Calvani released his grip, gave the waiter a scowl, seeing how the impudent young man eyed Milly with a degree of sensuous approval, and said, "Forget the drink. And ask the landlord to come over." Milly gave Calvani a comforting grin. "Where are we going to now, Doctor?" "Nowhere, young Milly. I think we are going to stay right here." A look of relief spread across the blonde's pert face. "Do you like it, then?" More to himself than the woman he saw as his sexual slave, Calvani spoke slowly. "If all these young, impressionably and no doubt rich people are coming to the town for exercise and seeking good health, what will they need…" he paused and finished the whiskey in his glass…"A reliable Doctor of experience who can guide them into fitness of the inner mind." Before Milly could answer, even if she comprehended Calvani's scheming mind, the landlord came over, a man who so corpulent, he would find difficulty climbing into bed, let alone up a mountain. "Alan, says you want words with me, sir. Hope the food was to your liking," the landlord said, seeing the Doctor had left most of his meal. Dismissively, Calvani waved the idea away. "Tell me. If we wanted to take lodgings in a substantial house, befitting a man of education and wealth, what would you recommend?" The portly landlord began to sidle into the bench seat next to Calvani, but stopped, when the Doctor gave him a disdainful glance. "Let's see," the generously built man pondered. "Most of the accommodation is in the inns. And that's for the folks on their climbing excursions." He also gave Milly an admiring glance, leaning precariously forward for someone so generously proportioned, like the young waiter doubtless noticing that the blonde's dress was low enough and tightly filled to show an appealing suggestion of bosom. "I think the only residence that fits your requirements, sir, is 'Cymer House' down where the bridge crosses the stream. "Is the house available to rent?" Calvani asked, nudging the swaying landlord, almost sending him tumbling. "Well, sir. The sisters live on the ground floor, but the rest of the big house has been empty ever since old Mr. Rhinog died." "Rhinog?" Calvani said, a quizzical expression spreading over his face. In a conspiratorial manner, the rotund landlord did his best to lean forward and whisper, piggy eyes darting around as if the devil was on the prowl. "Folk say the family got their name from the mountain out toward the sea, 'Rhinog Fawr' But as long as my grandmother has told the tale, they have lived in Dolgellau at the big house." Calvani got up, Milly immediately following. The leering landlord looked longingly at the departing rear of the blonde. So entranced was the he with the display of feminine engineering, he reached out to rest and lust on a table that was not there, causing mirth as he fell, then staggered to his feet. Loss of pride came after his fall. Cymer House From the inn, the walked briskly down a slope. Toward the bottom they came to the old stone bridge, the waters in January gushing swiftly, fueled by the winter rains and snow. In summer it would be little more than a babbling brook. Cymer House was impossible to miss. The other buildings were small, mainly terraced cottages made from the local flint. Set in its own gardens and towering at least six story high, the red brick edifice had a crenellated balcony at the top, shutters on the widows and climbers on the walls, mainly plain green ivy. The entrance was through double wrought iron gates, so badly rusted that the crest was impossible to distinguish and even though Calvani was a strong man he could hardly open them. They creaked like a lone bat screeching into the jaws of hell. "Leave all the talking to me, Milly," Calvani stopped and instructed. The place was so scary the young blonde looked as if she did not need any encouragement to stay silent. The crumbling path was lined with yew trees, old and gnarled, forming grotesque shapes as they withered and died. Three steps led up to the front door, a black, metal bell pull to one side. Three times the Doctor tried to make it work, but the lever refused to move. Finally he hammered on the door. There was a long wait. Then a faint light appeared at one of the ground floor windows, seeping through the broken, but closed shutter. Another few minutes went by before they saw the light move away from the window and eventually appear through the small, oval glass in the door. When someone inside appeared Milly stepped three paces back, hiding behind the Doctor. His breath was taken away at the figure. Not often lost for words or overawed, Calvani peered at the woman holding the candle. It was not in a holder. She held it in her bare hand, the hot wax dripping down on her fingers. "As you were knocking at the door, it is customary say what you want." She spoke severely, a haughtiness laced with danger. In due course he discovered his senses. "I am informed you may have rooms to rent." "Who said so?" It was more inquisitive than dismissive. "The landlord at the inn." She smiled. Not a facial expression of silent laughter, more indulgent cynicism. "And is that of interest to you?" "We are looking for a substantial resident to rent for…" he let the time constraint go unsaid. Her movements did not match her cruel voice. With a graceful sweep of her arm she gestured for them to enter, gliding across the dark hall and into a room, leaving them to collect their wits, shut the front door and follow. When they entered a large room she was busy going around the room lighting more candles. In the new illumination, her extraordinary appearance was even more startling. The lady was of willowy form, dressed from neck to feet in black, a many stranded pearl necklace adoring the plainness of her clothes. Calvani assumed the lady to be in her thirties. As her hair was long, undressed and had silver flecks in it, she could have been either older or much young than his mental conjecture. The length of her nails was considerable, with a huge diamond set in a ring on one finger. Most of all he could not be unaware that she was strikingly handsome, the face of an aristocratic Roman, aquiline nose and piercing dark eyes. "Have you nothing to say?" she suddenly confronted the Doctor. "I believe, Madame, I have made my business known." She laughed out loud, the sound a series of amused, strident breaths. "And your pretty friend? Does she say anything…or has she other attributes to pass the time?" The noble looking lady stretched out an arm and ran a finger nail along Milly's chin. "She is my servant," Calvani said firmly. The lady shook her head, gently from side to side and peered at Milly. "I am sure you would say that." It was said with such impudence, an indifference to its effect, it left Calvani speechless. "You said you are looking for rooms," the lady broke the stunned atmosphere. "That is right, Madame." She went to a table, flipped up the lid on a silver box and took out a cheroot, before selecting a taper from the mug on the mantle piece and handing it to Milly. "Well, girl. If you really are a servant don't you know what to do." The young blonde looked to the Doctor, then quickly went to one of the candles, lit the taper and, with shaking hand, held it in front of the lady's face so she could light her cheroot. Inhaling deeply, finding some amusement in blowing the smoke at Milly, the lady turned to Calvani. "This Madame title you call me, makes me sound like some brothel keeper. My name is Theresa Rhinog." She offered a hand, the one not holding the cheroot. "I believe somewhere in our blood the name goes with a title…but that is best forgotten." "Doctor Calvani," he said, lightly touching her hand. "And what do I call your….servant?" Theresa grinned, puffing more smoke at the blonde, this time through perfectly pouted lips. "It is Milly," Calvani answered. "So, Milly, are you dumb, or have you other talents that make your silence more bearable?" Theresa went close and stroked the young woman's blonde hair. "I'm sure there are things people could do to you that would make that pretty mouth, if not speak, at least cry out." Again, the lady rapidly changed the subject and turned to Calvani. "My sister and I live on the ground floor. If you wish to occupy the rest of the house we would expect you to totally respect our privacy…as we would respect yours. Although you may dine and eat with us whoever you wish." "That is understood," Calvani said. "Are you intending to just live in the house…with your girl…or do you practice your profession?" "I am retired and a man of means, Mrs. Rhinog…." "Just a Miss, Doctor." "I beg your pardon. As I was saying, although retired I do intend to take on certain patients in my psychoanalysis work." Theresa stubbed out her cheroot. "So all I need to do is get the agreement of my sister." The lady went to a faded bell pull and gentle tugged. While they waited, Theresa offered Calvani a cheroot, which he politely refused, then did the same to Milly, seeming to take a pleasure in mockingly bait the young woman. The door to the room opened. Theresa's sister came in. If the first Miss Rhinog was startling, this one was astonishing, causing Calvani to involuntarily gasp. "My sister, Rose," Theresa said. Calvani stood, static in his incredulity. For a moment all he could do was stare, open mouthed, at Rose. Gradually, like a melting snowflake, thawed by the hot radiance of a rising sun, or in his case, Rose, he managed to stop ogling, looking around at Theresa, becoming embarrassed as she was smiling sardonically at him. "Have your wits returned, Doctor Calvani, or shall we wait a little longer?" Theresa grinned imperiously. Mortified that his interest should have shown so clearly, he made a jerkily uncoordinated movement toward Rose, waiting, politely, for her to offer a hand. But she never did. "Rose, my dear sister. Doctor Calvani and his…erm…friend…want to take the upper floors on rent. What do you think?" There was a sisterly likeness. But also subtle differences. Rose had her sister's dark hair, without the silver streaks, and jet colored eyes. But whereas Theresa was handsome, the younger sister, and she was by at least ten years, was a ravishingly beautiful lady, the noble Roman features softened with a more exotic look, maybe from the mother. Also, she was not as willowy and tall, her figure far more obviously feminine, even though she wore a plain black dress like her sister. "I think their company would be most welcome, sister," Rose answered. Calvani could not help noticing the younger sister spoke in a distracted manner, her speech and far away look suggestive of someone whose thoughts were still in a recently left dream. "So that's settled," Theresa said, lighting another cheroot. "I would suggest, Doctor, you give us two days to have the upper rooms cleaned and made ready. Also, if you are to have patients visiting we will have the garden tidied and the front of the house made more presentable." Theresa went to the door and opened it. "You must excuse us this evening, our maid and handyman both have the day off. Next time you come we will be able to offer better hospitality. Until Tuesday, then." Calvani reluctantly left the company of Rose, who remained in what appeared to be a light trance. He went to the front door, followed by Milly, who jumped as Theresa delicately patted her rear. Doctor and servant walked back to the inn, ate early and retired to the rooms he'd taken. "I must write and make observations in my chronicle, Milly. Will you pour us both wine and come and sit at my feet." Calvani arranged a table so it was before a comfortable chair, took out pens and ink he'd acquired from the landlord, opened his chronicle, sipped at the wine Milly put before him, and read the last few entries, remembering his time in Cardiff. Doctor Calvani thought of himself as a serious and erudite man. Indeed, had it not been for his predilections and self delusory stance about the true nature of his sexual interests, he would by now have been a professor at one of the renowned medical schools or universities. He also had an immature attitude when it came to women, almost like that of a young man just entering puberty. Initially when he came upon young ladies he acted, from that moment, as if they were the greatest discovery in his life. He could not see that it was infatuation, both of the educational and sexual kind. His chronicle was full of his feelings about Maria in Cardiff, yet here he was only a week later believing that Rose was the most beautiful and captivating lady he had ever met. He also distinguished, in his Victorian hypocrisy, between ladies, of refinement, and women, who were working class. Those from the higher strata of society attracted his love, those from the lower order received his desires. All were eventually subsumed in his lust and fetish ways. He picked up his pen and wrote: Such a remote and desolate place. I never imagined for one moment that in this barren small town I would chance upon the most divine creature. And one I can already tell is in serious need of my administration. It is obvious from her demeanor that Rose is agitated by her inner turmoil, and it is fortuitous that our paths have crossed. For a moment he put down his pen, sipping the red wine, a poor quality vintage from the landlord. Calvani looked down at the blonde head of Milly as she sat, obediently, at his feet. He felt she was a lucky young woman to have come to meet him. He wanted to show her how much esteem he held her in at this time. "Milly, stand up." She lightly got to her feet. Without speaking, he undid and took off her dress, pulling it over her head, watching her nakedness reveal itself. "Before we go to live at Cymer House, I must take you into the nearest town and buy you new clothes and undergarments. It is only proper that you are not walking about that house wearing so little." While he spoke, Calvani ran his hands over her breasts, delighting in their firmness. Reaching around Milly, the palms of his outstretched hands settled on her rear cheeks. He'd always found her ass a perfect example of female precision. When in his private company, and she strolled around the room naked, he marveled at her two pleasing features. Milly's flawless, upright large bosom and the prettiest curved rear he'd seen, its fullness being a sign, so he believed, of her fecundity and aptness in sexual enjoyment. It was almost certainly his own enjoyment he had in mind. "I must finish my chronicle, Milly. Will you kneel before me and rest your head on my lap while I finish my work." His naked sex slave did as he commanded. Calvani picked up his pen to finish the annotations. There is other matter that have presented itself to me, and affords the opportunity to branch out in a totally different field of paranormal research. Much of the psychosomatic literature has concentrated on those that exhibit symptoms. Yet, sexual denial must have a cause and be embryonic farther back in the female mind than we normally admit or study. In this location there are many young women who have chosen the healthy outdoor life and it would suggest their incident of instability and repression should be lower than in the average population. But is that true? Supposing I could show empirically that there was a residue of sexual malaise just as prevalent in the female sample in this location. Would that not throw new light on the subject? Calvani felt his cock harden, Milly's soft right cheek resting on it. With his left hand he undid the buttons on his pants and eased the erection out. Milly stirred, beginning to lift her head. He held her in the position desired, turning her face so she looked at his arousal. "You have relieved my anguish before, Milly. You know what to do." The blonde tentatively took his penis between her thumb and first two fingers, moving his foreskin up and down, revealing, in the descending strokes, the bulbous head of his cock, letting it caress her lips. After her tenth stretching of his hardness, Calvani directed Milly to not just gentle kiss the swollen tip but take it into her mouth. The blonde, continued to smoothly taste his cock, while the Doctor moved his eyes from Milly's oral comfort to his chronicle. My plans will be put into action immediately. I intend to set up a clinic, advising the females visiting this mountainous region on the most propitious manner in which to look after their health. Whilst undertaking this civil duty I can quietly seek to advance knowledge and understanding of my sexual subjugation thesis. Calvani momentarily closed his eyes. Putting a hand on the blonde hair he silently urged Milly to accept his cock deeper into her mouth, murmuring, "Suck hard, my sweet slave." He wrote: When my work is published, the world will come to realize how I have suffered and sacrificed my soul and body in the pursuit of wisdom. The road to my epiphany has been long. The pen scratched, Milly's saliva moistening his cock, her tight lips around Calvani's shaft, bringing him along another, more sensual, path. Where will it end? I can only hope to be vindicated in my belief that in order to understand the inner mind it is not possible to reach the truth without their being both pleasure and pain. The Doctor groaned. He took up the sand shaker and sprinkled it on the damp ink, his words then dried with a fresh sheet of blotting paper. Calvani edged Milly's head up, letting his cock slide from her mouth, taking a clean handkerchief, dabbing his ejaculation from the end of his cock and around the blonde's lips. His writing and passion were complete for a while. http://emynasoerotica.blogspot.com/ http://shop.renebooks.com/SearchResults.asp?Cat=118 http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/emy-naso http://twitter.com/EmyNaso




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