Isabella Awakening Ch. 02

"Drink little one," he murmured, tipping the glass. Isabella lapped as the water ran down her chin and neck into her nightdress. Anton tsk'd, tsk'd and lowered her head. He retrieved a 'kerchief from his jacket pocket, patting her chin and neck and then her breasts through the thin fabric of her nightdress.

"Oh Isabel, my sweet," he whispered as he lovingly caressed her breasts. "You are truly lovely. Forgive an old man this moment of weakness." Anton bent and kissed her half open lips before taking a position above her in the armchair.

Lying at his feet, Isabella wondered if that was to be all. Her initial uneasiness and excitement were giving way to disappointment. An odd feeling of deflation took root in her chest.

Anton continued to sit quietly but Isabella could feel his gaze upon her body, just as she could feel the gentle radiant heat of the fire. Then Anton knelt down beside her again, this time whispering to himself, "forgive me, Serena, forgive me Mother Mary" as he slowly undid the cord holding Isabella's gown. Isabella remembered that Serena was Anton's wife who had died from consumption some ten years earlier.

Anton's movements were both deliberate and gentle, almost reverential. He opened the gown fully and unbuttoned Isabella's night shift. He then sat her up and expertly removed first the gown and then the shift, folding each and placing them on the chair. Isabella was naked, having neglected to wear undergarments since her parents had left for Spain. Anton stood and looked intently at Isabella's presumably unconscious form lying before him on the rug.

"You are so beautiful, my Isobel", he intoned.

Isabella feigned a sleepy moan and fluttered her eyelids, keeping one open just enough to see Anton through her thick lashes. He continued to stand there, hands clasped together as if in silent prayer. Isabella moaned softly again and shifted slightly on the rug, as if dreaming. She clumsily touched her own thigh and opened her legs slightly, hoping to prompt Anton into some sort of action. Her ploy had immediate results. Anton mouthed a silent "oh" and started fumbling with his belt and trouser buttons. He lowered his breeches and Isabella saw his hard cock spring free. She squirmed again, this time involuntarily, and brushed her pubic mound with her hand.

Anton dropped to his knees at her feet and bent his head as if paying his respects to her now wet sex. He stroked her thighs with his large hands and moved to her side where he bent and kissed first her tummy and then each breast in turn, chanting "beautiful Isabel" as he did so. Isabella's nipples hardened as Anton's kisses landed on her ad her own moans became louder and more and more insistent. She started to grind her hips and welcomed his hand as it found her mound and his fingers parted her dark hair to find her pearl. He put such a gentle pulsing pressure on her bud that Isabella felt an instant wave of warmth through her belly and her thighs. She did not have to wait long until Anton's expert fingers slipped between the now well-lubricated lips of her sex and entered her tunnel. Isabella's met Anton's thrusts and she was soon loosing control and making grunting sounds deep in her throat.

Anton continued to finger her tight hole and to caress her thighs, belly and breasts with his free hand and his mouth. Isabella arched her back, pushing his finger deeper and grinding her button onto the knuckles of Anton's hand. She came in a heaving release, groaning and yelping like a puppy.

"Oh dear me, yes." Said Anton. "Just like my dear Serena."

Anton slowed his pace but did not remove his finger or the pressure on her clitoris until Isabella's heaving had subsided. He then took his cock in his hand and slowly at first, rubbed himself until he too was moaning. Isabella watched his cock and his face through slitted eyes while the warmth and power of her orgasm continued to flow in her womb.

Anton gazed at her body, from her open cunny to her face, as he stoked his cock faster and harder. It took some minutes before he too found his release, his seed falling onto the hearth as he jerked and exclaimed "Oh Isabel, Oh Serena, Oh God" until he had no breath left to make the sounds.

He then collapsed forward; supporting himself with one arm while the other slowly milked the last of his semen from his now deflating penis. His head bowed low, Isabella could see tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto the rug beside her.

"Oh lord, what have I done?" he gasped. "Forgive me." Anton wept for some time before dragging his body upright. He then moved methodically to rectify the scene. After adjusting his own clothing, he used his 'kerchief to clean Isabella's wine glass, recovered his own from the little table and decanted its contents back into the bottle, which he then re-corked. He rinsed and wiped out his glass and carefully placed both back in place in the liquor cabinet.

Anton then turned his attention back to Isabella, still feigning unconsciousness. He carefully sat her on the edge of the armchair and dressed her limp body. His actions were delicate and almost loving as he arranged her comfortably, legs curled under and her head resting on one padded arm. Looking around the room he found a travel rug on the bench under the large front window and used it to cover Isabella's body. Surveying the scene, he made one last rectification, using his kerchief to wipe his spilt seed from the hearth. That done, Anton bent to Isabella, kissed her rosy cheek, touched a finger to her lips and silently left, pulling the front door closed behind him.

Isabella did not move for a long while. She lay, eyes still closed but head clear, feeling warm and relaxed. She was somewhat puzzled by her own actions and she took stock of her feelings and thoughts.

Was she angry with Uncle Anton for using her so? Certainly not; Her own body had responded to his touch with honest arousal, and if anything, she felt even greater affection for his gentleness and caring. Did she feel manipulated? In a way, yes; but she had made herself his willing victim and she was honest enough to admit that her carnal curiosity had been immediately stirred by Anton's strange behaviour. In fact, Isabelle admitted to herself, the only truly negative emotion she felt was a slight disappointment at Anton's failure to take her virginity that night.

Isabella stretched and rose and took herself to bed. In her dreams that night a mysterious woman with wild hair and burning green eyes visited her. The woman comforted her and explained many things, none of which Isabella could remember on waking next morning.

As she went about her morning routine, greeting the servants and eating a light breakfast in the rear courtyard, Isabella found herself reflecting on her evening with Anton. She was aware of feeling on the cusp of womanhood. Insights and sensations flowed through her; all confirming the wonder and joy she knew lay at the heart of her sensuality, at the very core of her being. She was aware of the irony of her elation. Anton, the abuser, on the other hand seemed to have mainly felt anguish and sorrow, his repeated appeals to his dead wife and to mother Mary touching Isabella deeply.

Before she left for the convent school that morning, Isabella returned to the study, ostensibly to check that Anton had left no telltale signs of his visit for the servants to find. She also realised, once standing there on the hearthrug, that the excitement and power of their odd liaison remained in the room as a ghost. All she had to do was close her eyes to recapture those illicit moments of touching and stimulation. Glancing around the room, her body tingling from the memory, Isabella noticed that Anton had left her father's letter, the one he had used as the pretext for his visit, on the table beside the fireplace. Isabella smiled, put the letter in her satchel and resolved to use the same letter as her own pretext for a return engagement.

She spent the day dutifully assisting the sisters teach the younger children their Latin and Greek. She watched the children at their practice and their play, feeling a little sad for the brighter girls who, like herself and all the women before her, would be denied any formal education beyond the age of twelve. She took every opportunity to pass onto these girls in particular her own great love of learning and of reading.

After a meager lunch with the other teaching assistants and a brief visit to the stature of the Blessed Virgin in the chapel, as was Isabella's unvarying routine, she decided to put her plans for Uncle Anton into immediate effect.

Anton's house was several blocks from her own home, near the cathedral by the river. It was somewhat grander than she remembered. Walking up the steps to its shining black door, Isabella realised that Anton's servants might be around so she resolved to be particularly discrete and careful. Using the polished brass knocker to announce her presence, she was a little surprised when Anton himself answered the door. He was clearly shocked to find his recent victim standing before him smiling.

"Isabel! What ... I mean ... why... Oh my dear, do come in," he stuttered, ushering her in with a murmured "I'm sorry my dear, you surprised me."

Isabella immediately noticed that Anton had been crying, his eyes were swollen and red and he gripped a crumpled 'kerchief tightly in one hand.

" I am sorry to receive you like this, my dear," he said, looking away from her eyes. "I was feeling poorly this morning and sent the servants away for the day. I am afraid I am somewhat disheveled. Probably a chill from my soaking last evening."

"Oh, uncle, do not mind me. I am only here to deliver the letter you left behind last evening. And it is I who should apologise to you. It was so rude of me to fall asleep while you were visiting. I cannot understand what happened." Isabella smiled coyly.

She noticed Anton's visible relief. Perhaps he had been expecting her to confront him with knowledge of his crime of last evening.

"Now my dear, there is nothing to forgive. It was rude of me to impose on you at such an hour on such a night. Isabel, I would invite you in but I'm afraid I am not really suitable company right now."

Please, uncle, I will not stay long, but I would very much like to see your study while I am here. I have such fond memories of your library." Isabella's charm was irresistible to Anton in his emotionally weakened state and he assented to her girlish request.

In the study, Isabella made a fuss of Anton's taste in literature and art. She rambled on about her own love of books and said how much she regretted her lack of formal education.

"You have done remarkably well for a girl," said Anton. "Serena was also a great lover of books, you know, and she often railed against the meager opportunities for intellectual advancement for women."

"Do you miss her terribly?" said Isabella, meeting Anton's eyes.

He dropped his head as if struck a blow. "More than I could ever express," he said in a tone that touched Isabella's heart.

"I never really knew her, of course," said Isabella. "I think I was seven when she .... passed on. But mother speaks of her so kindly and with great love. I do remember visiting the beautiful sick lady with mama."

Anton turned away. "Yes, she was my goddess," he said quietly as he busied himself shuffling papers at his desk.

"Uncle," said Isabella, now more determined than ever to pursue her nefarious purpose, "can I ask you about the wine?"

"What? Wine? What wine?" He was flustered again.

"You know, the Portuguese wine you gave me last night. I think that's what made me doze off so suddenly." Isabella managed a blush and a giggle as she spoke.

"Oh, yes, that. A new shipment, very interesting. Fortified with brandy, you know, so it probably did have an affect on you. I'm sorry Isabel."

"Oh, don't be sorry uncle. It was wonderful. I had such...unusual dreams after drinking it. I was actually hoping you might spare a small glass for me now."

Now it was Anton's turn to blush. He coughed and tried to collect his thoughts.

"Um, I think it a little early for so strong a drink, don't you, Isabel?"

"Oh please, Uncle Anton. I will only have a glass and then go home." She smiled sweetly at him. Enough to melt his heart? She wondered.

Anton glanced at the shelf behind his desk and Isabella's eyes followed his until they rested on the half-full, recorked bottle that Anton had used last night.

"There it is!" cried Isabella. "The same bottle, I think. Please let me have a glass dear Uncle Anton."

Anton's mind was reeling now. Should he refuse and offend his beloved Isabel? How could he say no? And yet to allow her even a glass of the adulterated wine would send her back into unconsciousness for several hours. He decided to risk giving her just a small glass. She could sleep off the dose here, he reasoned, and he would take her home later.

"Alright, my dear, since you insist. But only a half glass. You father would never forgive me if I turned you to drink!"

Isabella wondered playfully to herself whether Anton thought her father would forgive him his other sins.

It was now or never for Isabella's plan.

As Anton took a glass and started pouring the doubly fortified wine, Isabella made a great show of urgently unbuttoning her tunic.

"What are you doing Isabel!?" cried Anton, spilling wine over the papers on his desk.

"Oh, this dress has so many buttons and hooks uncle. I thought it would be easier for you if I undressed before I passed out this time." Isabella smiled wickedly and looked Anton directly in the eye.

Even though she had been planning this moment all morning, Isabella's own confidence and control surprised her. It was as if there was another, older, wiser woman in her young body, directing her actions. She had the strangest sensation of watching herself from above and to the side, seeing and admiring her own poise and power, listening to her words as if delivered by an experienced actress. Simultaneously, she was aware of Anton's reactions and feelings, confused, slightly fearful and oh so deliciously vulnerable.

The effect of her words and gaze on Anton was devastating. He dropped the wine bottle, smashing it to pieces on the marble tiles. His jaw dropped and he could say nothing for at least a minute. When he finally found his voice, it was only to repeat his refrain of last evening, "Oh forgive me Isabel, forgive me Serena, forgive me Holy..."

Isabella cut in "Oh, I forgive you Anton," she strode confidently towards him, maintaining her smile and piercing eye contact. "Oh, I forgive you, but as far as the others - well, I cannot say. But I forgive you...." She was directly in front of him now. "But do you really think that I would let you ravish me that way and not seek my own satisfaction in return?"

Anton was as surprised by Isabella's confidence as by the words she spoke.

"Wha.. What... do you mean, Isabel?"

Isabella changed her tone to one of directness.

"Uncle, I will be honest with you now. I allowed, yes allowed, you to molest me last evening because it was something I wanted. I know you are shocked, but that is the truth. I have strong desires and you demonstrated, not by your subterfuge but by your gentleness and the respect and genuine affection you showed me, that I can trust you. I want you to teach me about physical love. I want you to be my first real lover."

Anton listened and collected himself. He sat at his desk and looked at this strange woman before him. He chose his words carefully.

"Isabel, I have displayed great cowardice in my actions with you and I regret what I did last night. Your words now, as heartfelt as they are, cannot...

While Anton continued his monologue of contrition, Isabella perched herself on the writing desk before him and continued to unbutton her blouse.

"Uncle," she interrupted. "I know you are an honorable man, despite your lapse of yesterday, but I am determined to have you now. So please do stop talking as if you have any choice in this matter." Isabella pulled open her blouse to reveal her firm breasts to Anton's now silent gaze. His eyes once again feasted on her young body and, as if in resignation to his fate, he bent his head first to one nipple and then to the other, kissing and caressing each with his lips and tongue.

Isabella shrugged off her blouse as Anton continued his ministrations. She felt his head in her hands and the strong flow of welcome sensations through her body. She raised his head and met his lips with her own, kissing him deeply and passionately. Anton's hands found her thighs and caressed them through her dress. Isabella broke their kiss, fixing Anton's eyes with hers and said, "To the couch, Anton."

He obeyed, lifting her in his arms as had done when she was a child and walking over to the deep, overstuffed leather couch against the far wall. He placed her gently on the cool dark leather. With a single movement, Isabella unhooked the clasp holding her skirt and wiggled free of its folds. She was now naked, her long legs and firm girlish tummy framing the dark patch or hair covering her mons.

Anton resumed their kiss and his hands traveled the landscape of her body with a tenderness that affirmed and heightened Isabella's passion. His lips traced the line of her jaw, her neck and breasts. His murmured caresses reached her tummy and the line of her hipbone as his hands traced the soft curves of her calves and outer thighs. As he moved down her body, Isabella was aware that he was also shedding his clothes. She felt the hairs of his broad chest against her skin and smelt his manly sweat mixed with expensive cologne.

His kisses had reached her inner thighs and he gently brushed her pubis with his cheek. He made no direct assault on her cunny, rather he skirted its outer fringes, resting his lips and tongue in the curve of her groin and gently parting the hairs around her vulva with his fingers. Just when Isabella thought she would have to urge him on, he opened his lips and gave her a long gentle stroke with his tongue. She felt the sudden rush of warmth, closed her eyes and moaned for him to take her.

His mouth covered her vulva as his tongue gently traced and caressed the lips and cleft of her sex, finding her hooded pearl with a touch as light as breath, and then retreating. He kissed her sex just as he had kissed her mouth a few moments before, with tenderness and love, their fluids mixing and joining in mutual heat and rhythm. His hands meanwhile continued to stroke her thighs, her tummy and her breasts, gently kneading and probing as they traveled lightly over her naked skin. As Isabella responded to the rising feelings of warmth and pleasure, Anton's movements increased in tempo, pulling a lip into his mouth to explore and taste every fold, pushing the tip of his nose into her pubis and exposing her clit to his warm breath while circular motions of his chin on her slick perineum opened her entrance to that ever probing tongue. Isabella found herself moaning and pushing and grinding onto his face, wanting him more and more to enter her and make her come.

His hands traced the curve of her hips and she raised herself as he placed them under her tight buttocks. Raising her now, as if her cunt was a sacred vessel brought to his lips as a sacrament, he plunged his tongue deeper and at the same time a slippery finger touched her virgin anus causing a surprising release of both physical and emotional tension. His finger tapped gently and her sphincter relaxed, but he went no further. He had hardly begun a gentle circular massage of her dark flower, when the combined sensations throughout her lower body sent Isabella over the edge of a cascading thundering climax. Anton instinctively relaxed all pressure but kept his mouth pressed to her sex to receive her flow and accept the caress of her vagina as it pulsed with her pleasure. Isabella rode the wave of her orgasm until it beached her lovingly on the sweat-smeared couch.