Isabella Awakening Ch. 04

"It has been lovely to meet you both,' she said sincerely. "Please accept these little oranges with my regards, and if either of you are passing my house - the stone farmhouse with the grey barn about a mile up the hill road," she pointed up the road, "please do feel free to come in and refresh yourself at my well."

"And I am sure there is some stonework needing the attention of a mason ... or an apprentice ... if you are free. Paid work, of course."

"Thank you, marm," said Pallachi sheepishly. "We're working six days a week here right now, but I might just send Octavo up one afternoon to help."

"I would like that," said Isabella, "I am sure he would be up to the job," she added, looking directly at Octavo, then turning to Pallachi and smiling before saying her goodbyes and heading back up the road towards home.

Three days later, on a Saturday, Isabella was busily airing and cleaning the house, taking advantage of the heat and Henri's absence to wash and dry the draperies and carpets. She chanced to glance out of her upstairs bedroom window and saw the figure of Octavo, carrying a heavy canvass bag, making his way up the long drive from the road. She hurriedly combed and tied back her hair, slipped off her drawers and adjusted her bodice to emphasise the swell of her breasts. She had immediately, and without a second thought, allowed and welcomed her inner seductress to take over.

She waited at the top of the stairs until she heard Octavo calling from the open front door. She called back and told him to come in before making her way down. He stood nervously in the entrance hall, holding the canvas bag with both hands in front of him.

"Octavo! Welcome, and thank you so much for coming so soon," she said, moving close to him and taking his arm by the triceps and walking him into the drawing room, stripped bare of its curtains and streaming with sunlight. "Can I offer you a drink? You must be thirsty after your walk, especially carrying those heavy tools."

"Thank you, Signora," he replied shyly. "Maybe I should put these down outside first."

"Yes, do that," she replied, indicating the rear entrance to the drawing room to the kitchen and the back door. "Just put them on the back step while I get us both a drink."

Isabella smiled to herself, remembering Anton's use of fortified wine and laudanum to knock her out when he was bent on his first molestation of her young body. Now that she was in the position of a would-be seducer, the last thing she wanted to do was make her quarry unconscious. She would use the more subtle ways at her disposal.

She poured two glasses of the pale red local wine she had purchased at the markets and sat, legs curled beneath her on the couch, while Octavo disposed of his work tools and returned through the kitchen.

Octavo reentered the drawing room and Isabella watched him as he took the chair opposite her and she handed him his wine. He was tall, probably six inches taller that Isabella. His curly brown hair and fine but tanned skin, his full lips, fine straight nose and square jaw, recently shaved she noted, gave him the appearance of one of Leonardo's archangels. His eyes wandered around the room, falling on Isabella often, but moving nervously on. Isabella also appraised his character objectively. She realised, for example, that Octavo was a virgin, naïve but wanting sexual experience. She was in no doubt that she would have him today, and that he would welcome her, but she did not want to frighten him with too direct an approach.

She engaged Octavo in innocent and animated talk of his work and home in Rome, of his friends and hopes. She divulged that her husband was away for at least another month and that she was lonely. He started to relax and she refilled his glass. She stretched out on the couch, half reclining with her head supported by one hand. With her other hand she began to absent-mindedly, but quite deliberately, stroke her outstretched thigh through her skirt. By leaning forward slightly she was able to give Octavo an excellent view of her cleavage. His breathing became short and he squirmed in his seat. Isabella notice that his pupils had become quite dilated and he was having some difficulty making full replies to her questions. It was at that point that she stopped speaking, abruptly and in mid sentence, and fixed her dark eyes on his. Octavo seemed mezmerised and just sat there, unaware of the sudden quiet, being drawn in further and further by her gaze.

Isabella kept her eyes fixed and simply said, "Come" and, like a puppy, he moved to her side, kneeling before her. She put a hand to the back of his curly head and drew him to her mouth. His hands clumsily sought her breasts while they kissed and she helped him push away her blouse to allow complete access. She knew she would have to lead him, and soon pulled away and quickly shed her clothes and joined him, kneeling on the floor. She told him to take off his clothes and helped him when he struggled to undo the buttons on his tunic. His pants were easier, held by a rope cord that loosened to her touch.

Once he was naked before her, Isabella had to hide her disappointment at what she saw. Despite his broad chest and chiseled muscles, he was not quite what she had in mind. His cock, stiff as it was, barely poked its swollen head out of his public hair. She lowered her head, both to get a better look and to hide her expression. Sure enough, it was very small, only about as long and thick as her own thumb. Even Henri's little thing had more substance that this one. Her immediate thought was that the "Octa" in Octavo's name must have been based on the new metric centimeters, rather than inches.

Since she was within reach, and no harm could be done, she took the little cock in her mouth and gave him a gentle suck. It swelled a little, but not to any decent size, and hardly had she begun to caress it with her tongue than Octavo started to moan and thrust his hips. She slowed down and put pressure on the tip, pressing it to the roof of her mouth with her tongue, hoping to slow him down. But to no avail. He immediately jerked and came in her mouth, spraying her throat with his warm sticky semen. She swallowed and licked his cock as it rapidly deflated. Rising to her knees again to continue, she was surprised when Octavo stood and retrieved his trousers and shirt from the couch. This was more that Isabella could stand and she rose to follow, grabbing him by the arm and turning him round to face her.

"No!" she said firmly, "Sit." Indicating the couch. She was determined to satisfy her own needs one way or another and, if Octavo's cock was not up to the task, she had other ways. Octavo did as he was instructed, looking a little worried at this development. Isabella stood before him naked, hands on hips, and gave him what she was sure was his first lesson in pleasing a woman. She emphasised the mutual nature of the exchange and the differences between men's' and women's needs in terms of time and focus. She showed him her clitoris and pussy and let him place a finger gently into her, she showed him how to judge her rhythm, how to follow and then lead with deeper, faster thrusts as she became more aroused and wet. She came and she held his finger in her so that he could feel her pulsing and her heat. She then sat and took his face in her hands, pressing his lips to her wet cunt, talking him through the different ways to lick and kiss her pleasure spots until she came again, wetting his face completely with her fluids. Finally, she turned over and let him open her moist arsehole with his little finger and explained the pleasure a woman, or a man, could receive from a gentle and caring lover who could open them there. When she rolled back over and sat up, Gustavo was hard again. Thank goodness for small mercies, she thought, as she kissed him and guided his hands to her breasts.

She lay on the couch and parted her legs for him, pulling him close and letting him fuck her. She managed his pace and was pleased when he ground his pubic bone onto her clit. This time, he lasted a few minutes before he came in her and she held him tightly while he recovered.

They both rose from the couch, Gustavo staring at her still, eyes wide and obviously in awe, or in love. Isabella had a pang of conscience and hugged him.

"Thank you Octavo, I needed a strong lover today and you were wonderful. I am sorry if I was little forceful, but I do understand that a young man sometimes needs guidance in these matters." She said. "We must be discreet in this, but I want you to come to me again and we will continue the lessons."

Gustavo was speechless, but nodded and picked up his clothes.

Gustavo returned to her the next day and several more times before his work at the church was completed. He was a good student and, while his cock never fulfilled Isabella, he gained great skill with his mouth and hands and was even learning to delay his own pleasure long enough when fucking her so that the sensations brought her close to orgasm. She tutored him on the ways of young women; what he should and shouldn't say, how to act with them so that their dreams turned to him and, most importantly, how to get them alone and aroused so that that could both enjoy the carnal pleasures they both secretly needed and craved. By the time he left, he was confident, talkative and eager to try his skills with the beautiful young women of Rome. And Isabella was able to part from him with neither regret nor guilt, and even with a touch of pride in her role in creating a competent young lover.

Octavo had been her last male lover and the thought of his gentle and competent mouth on her pussy now made her realise how much she missed sharing her bed and body with a man. Beatrice had been a wonderful lover and had slaked her desire and opened her to a wonderful new kind of passion, but it was a cock and a man's hard body that Isabella knew she needed. As she came back to reality aboard the gently pitching Della Virago, Isabella realised that her hand was inside her skirt, stroking and probing her wet sex like a mouth and tongue. She saw her leather satchel lying on the floor beside her traveling case and immediately thought of her whalebone dildo. She could not resist, and climbed down from the cot to retrieve it. Crouched over her satchel she rummaged before her hand emerged cradling its chamois pouch and feeling its delicious weight across her palm. She unwrapped and withdrew it with great care. It was, she realised, her most precious possession.

As she examined it lovingly a quiet knock at the door startled her. Quickly thrusting the dildo back into her satchel, she rose, straightened her dress and called, "Who is it?"

"Only Thomas, Isabella," came the reply, his deep voice comforting her instantly.

Isabella unlocked and opened the door to find Thomas. Head slightly stooped to avoid touching the low beams. "Father, oh, please come in," said Isabella.

"Thank you Isabella, and please call me Thomas – I know lots of different Fathers and I quite like the name Thomas," he smiled.

Isabella smiled back and ushered him to the little chair. She closed, but did not lock, the door, not being entirely sure of the correct etiquette applying an engaged woman receiving a priest in her cabin.

"I am sorry to interrupt your rest, but I thought that while the Captain and officers were still busy, we might have a talk now about how we can minimise the risks to you should we be boarded." He said these words so matter-of-factly that Isabella was taken a little off guard.

"Why, yes, of course," she replied. "As a matter of fact, your reassurances earlier had quite settled my mind."

Thomas smiled and resumed. "The fact is, Isabella, that an encounter with pirates is more likely than not once we reach sight of the African shore." She gulped at this revelation. "But it need not be dangerous. We have several courses of action available to us. Firstly, we can hide or disguise you. The sight of a beautiful woman will enflame an Algerine like nothing else, and we should avoid that if we can." Thomas's description of her as beautiful touched her more deeply than she would have imagined.

"Secondly, we must be prepared for the possibility of abduction." This shocked her out of her fantasies about Thomas.

"But .... I ....I thought that was not likely. I am scared of ..." She sputtered.

"Isabella, we must face reality here. Even if we can save the ship and the crew, if you are found aboard there is little we can do except to ensure that the Pirates believe you are more valuable alive and .... intact, rather than as a private trophy."

Isabella let this last statement sink in. So Thomas was warning her that the risk of capture and rape was very real, but that some ruse may protect her.

"Isabella, listen," he said, gaining her full attention again. "You will not be abandoned. I will personally guarantee your safety. But you must do as I say and you must prepare yourself by packing a small bag of essentials. Here," he reached behind him and took hold of Isabella's satchel, lifting it and tossing it gently in front of her on the cot.

As the satchel hit the mattress of the cot, it bounced slightly and, to Isabella's horror, her beautiful whalebone dildo rolled out onto the bed directly in front of Thomas. She gasped, and they both stared at the object for what seemed like an age before she leapt forward to grab it and stuff it back in the bag. She missed and knocked the dildo closer to Thomas who quickly grabbed it himself.

He held it up, turning it in the light coming through the porthole, a look of wonder and surprise on his face. Isabella meanwhile had slumped back on the cot, her head in her hands, shame and confusion blotting out rational thought.

"Isabella, where ..." Now it was Thomas's turn to be lost for words. "I... this is ...oh my god, Isabella, where did you get this .... object?" He continued staring at it as if he could not believe what held.

"Thomas," Isabella said softly, "I would not expect a ... priest... to understand a woman's ..."

"No, Isabella," he said, suddenly smiling and looking at her directly. "I knowwhat it is, what I am asking is how you came by it, who gave it to you?" He stood, holding it closer to the window and examining the fine scrollwork and blue script running along its spiral flutes.

Isabella was confused. "Thomas, I am ashamed. I cannot talk about such things with you. Please return my ... object .. and never speak to me of it again." She was trying to sound grown-up and serious, but the little girl inside her was fearing for her soul and expecting punishment.

Thomas sat again and held out the dildo. He thought for a moment and then leant forward, elbows on his knees and hand clasped.

"Isabella, please listen to me without judgment or fear for one moment." He met her eyes with his most penetrating gaze and her internal turmoil ceased and her inner voice went quiet.

"This particular object, this phallus or dildo, as it may be called," he saw Isabella blush, but went on "is an object of great importance. Apart from its intended use as an instrument of pleasure and sensual delight, this particular object, the one you have in your possession, is of special significance to my order. It is an artifact of ancient stories central to our faith and dear to our hearts, and it has been lost for nearly over forty years. Please understand Isabella, I am in no position to comment on your use of it for your own needs, and nor would I ever condemn you for using it. It is a thing of great beauty and power, and, for my people, it is also a symbol of our faith and of our founder. I tell you these things because I believe you will understand me when I say that my own mission, indeed my own life, is naught when compared to the importance of this object - and its eventual return to its place of honour amongst my people." He sat back now and watched Isabella for her reaction.

She had listened intently to Thomas's short speech and believed in her heart that he spoke the truth. But so many questions welled up within her, most only half-formed, that she felt at a loss and could only respond with, "Thomas, you have clearly spoken from your heart and from the depths of your soul. I have heard and am trying to understand what you are telling me. What do you need of me? What do you need to know?"

"My dear one, I must admit to you that I do not now know what to do myself. The appearance of the sacred horn changes everything, my mission, my plans, and my life. I must think on it and pray." He looked to her again for understanding and the sharing of minds that he hoped would help them both to understand the course they must take. His every instinct told him that she was one of his people and that she held in her the key to their future and their very survival. But how could he tell her such things without risking disbelief and her own faith in him? Isabella answered his call by moving to the edge of the cot and taking his hands in hers, looking deeply into his eyes, drilling down to the core of his being.

"Thomas," she said. "I am at your command. You must decide how we are to respond. For now, let us clear the air with questions and answers. Your decision may come to you as we talk or later, as a dream, as it often does for me." Isabella felt her inner guide stirring and awakening, the woman inside her who she knew would guide her and protect her through this trial.

"Thank you, Isabella, thank you," said Thomas, laying a reverential kiss on her hand. "Please tell me first how it is that the Horn of Joy is in your possession."

"Such a pretty, and appropriate, name," smiled Isabella. She then gave Thomas a brief outline of how she came by the dildo, without divulging her entire sexual history with Anton. She related his story of Serena and how she had treasured the horn and had told him that it was whale ivory from the fabled Narwhal of the north."

Thomas nodded and smile, "Serena!" he said. "We thought it had gone with Serena, but no one was sure. And Anton had clearly concealed its existence from the investigators. He must have been a perceptive man to recognise your suitability as its next protector."

Isabella did not understand his response, especially his familiarity with Serena or his obvious assumption that Isabella herself was somehow an appropriate custodian of this sacred horn.

Thomas saw her puzzlement and explained further, "Serena was one of us – one of my people. She left our convent at a time of great upheaval and danger, only escaping with her life and a few important possessions. Clearly, she took the horn, to protect it, and her unfortunate early death meant that it was never returned or passed on to another protector. Dear Serena. The Elders of the church sent a team of investigators to her home a few weeks after the funeral. Her will bequeathed her library to the church and they expected to find the horn hidden in the library or in the boxes of manuscripts she was working on. Nothing was ever found and the search for the horn continued elsewhere."

"Serena had a library?, asked Isabella, "What kind of library?"

Thomas smiled at her again, "Yes, Isabella, Serena was a researcher and translator and a librarian of our order. Just like Beatrice who you met yesterday, and their libraries, let us say, had a common theme. She was very gifted, as is Beatrice, as I'm sure you found out yesterday."

Isabella blushed again at the memory of both Beatrice's library and her body.

"Who owned the Horn originally?" she asked.

"Our founder was a woman from old France,' said Thomas. "Her name was Keira de Bruin and she lived hundreds of years ago. Her teachings and systems of worship and belief are the basis of our people's way of life. She is a holy figure to us, but a very real person nonetheless."