Chapter One
To the Manor
For many years I have resisted the urge to set down the story of my adventures at
Cheatem Manor during that unforgettable summer so long ago. But now that I’m in the
twilight of my years, the time seems ripe to pen this account of the happenings at that
remote country estate where a strange world had been brought into being; an unnatural
world, dominated by strong-willed females whose unholy reign of terror ran unchecked by
the steadying balance of a strong male hand. It was a world of sexual perversion, and
licentious decadence -- artificially created and totally hidden, completely cut off from
the unsuspecting eyes of the God-fearing folk of Claymoor County.
I happened upon the secret of Cheatem because of a promise I made to my cousin
Rupert regarding his young son, a likable good-looking boy named Edward. One night, when
we were both in our cups, and old Rupert seemed to be acutely feeling his own mortality,
he made me promise to look after the lad should anything happen to him. As it transpired,
I was with my regiment in India when Rupert finally passed away.
To my surprise, I was notified that I had been named heir of his country estate,
Cheatem. I say surprised because I had assumed it would pass to his half-sister, a certain
Lady Amanda Longleigh, a widower who lived with her wards, a couple of young sisters, at
the Cheatem estate for a number of years, managing the estate for its absentee landlord,
as Rupert seldom ventured out of the City. What I didn’t know was that Rupert and Lady
Amanda had had a falling out several years ago, and the old man had changed his will so
that upon his death Cheatem would become mine. As I found Army life quite congenial, and
had no plans to retire, I wrote to ask Lady Longleigh to stay on at the same terms; she
graciously accepted, agreeing to manage the affairs of the estate for me, much as she had
for Rupert.
At that time there was a spot of trouble brewing at the Afghan frontier and all leaves
had been cancelled, so that I could not travel back to England for the reading of the
will. It was only later I found out about the fate of young Edward. It seems that upon
Rupert’s death, the lad had not quite yet reached his legal majority and so a local judge
decreed him to be a temporary ward of Rupert’s half-sister, Lady Amanda Longleigh.
Cheatem stood as a mighty fortress at a time when ruthless Barons struggled
insatiably for land and power, and it still has an air of being impregnable to frontal
assault. Unfortunately, as with so many of the old values Cheatem came to signify for me,
its virtues had been undermined; I only found out by chance that that which could never be
taken from without had been gradually reduced and weakened from within.
The first Lord of Cheatem was a totally disreputable rogue who fought, at various
times, both for and against, his King. He greedily took what he could, roaring through the
countryside in a bloody campaign of rape and pillage and mayhem, that ended with him
establishing himself as lord of all he surveyed, and then going on to reign in the
splendid isolation of Cheatem castle.
Over the years the castle has been much modified, gentrified to take on a more
refined, civilized look, albeit one that retained something of the sinister atmosphere of
the original fortress. Today the imposing manor house still dominates the hill where the
mighty Baron decreed his castle should be built. The earthworks and moat are long gone,
replaced by gently rolling lawns that sweep down and way from the House, trailing off into
woods that thicken so as to become almost impenetrable. The entrance to the single access
road is well hidden, so that even today the place discourages visitors.
At the time of our story Lady Amanda was undisputed mistress of Cheatem where she
resided with two pretty wards, the young ladies Catherine and Prudence. The household
staff had been greatly reduced over the years but there was a still a maid, a perky young
thing named Sarah, as well as a family of trusted retainers who lived on the grounds: Ned
Glunt, the groundskeeper, his wife Maud, who served as cook, and their son William, a
somewhat inept, if willing, handyman.
It was into this little closed community that young Edward found himself abruptly
transplanted. His memories of his aunt Amanda were vague. In his mind’s eye, he remembered
looking up at a tall, imposing woman who loomed over him, her long black hair piled high
on her head. But those fragments of memory stemmed solely from a few visits they made when
he was very young, not yet old enough to attend school. They had been miserable times; he
had been teased and tormented by his wicked “cousins” once the children were well away
from the supervising eyes of the adults.
He still remembered vividly the day the girls had taken him to a secret hiding place in
the woods. There they introduced him to a game they played called “hospital.” He would be
the sick patient, and they would be nurses come to examine him. He remembered thrashing on
the ground while one of the girls sat on his chest and the other yanked his trousers down
his flailing legs. And he remembered how they laughed at him as he broke free, running and
stumbling through the woods, desperately trying to hitch up his displaced pants with
trembling fingers as he ran.
He never learned the purpose of those childhood visits, but in any case they ended
abruptly when there had been a terrible row between his father and his aunt, the result
being that his father vowed never again to set foot on the estate.
At the reading of the will, and later at his custody trial, his aunt had been
represented by her solicitor, so Edward had not actually seen her for many years. He was
frankly a bit mystified as to why this distant relative should take such a sudden interest
in him, insisting that she be named as his guardian for the year or so he had remaining
until he would come into his own, with full control of his rightful inheritance.
But Edward was an obliging lad by nature, and he rather looked forward to what might
well become a pleasant leisurely holiday in the country. Then too, he was curious about
Lady Amanda’s girls. They would be quite grown up by now, no longer spiteful brats, they
would have matured into young women only a year or two older than he; lonely girls with
healthy urges, he dared to hope, and no one but each other and their dour guardian for
companionship during the long summer in that big house. They might readily welcome a
handsome dashing male, for thus the lad thought of himself at that age. He reached up to
touch his fledgling mustache, wondering if the girls were still as adept at slipping away
from under their guardian’s watchful eye. Suddenly it seemed to the randy young man with
all his youthful optimism, that the world was alive with possibilities.
These thoughts went through his head as Edward gazed out the window of the Rolls,
barely noticing the lush green countryside. They rode in silence: his chauffeur, who
respectfully introduced himself as “Ned,” was a sturdily built man of few words, but
Edward noticed that he smiled knowingly, nodding to himself when Edward mentioned that he
was quite looking forward to his stay at Cheatem, and hoped it would not be too dull.
The stately sedan made its way up a long serpentine gravel path, barely wide enough
to accommodate the big car. As it rounded the final bend, Edward had his first good look
at the massive Manor House; an impressive pile of gray stones with a vaguely forbidding
look reminiscent of those stalwart Norman conquerors whose castles once dominated the
lands.
As he stepped out of the Rolls, the lad glanced upward to catch a glimpse of a
blonde face in an upstairs window, a girl, he was pretty sure, who had been watching as
they drove up, but fleetingly vanished when he turned his face up to study her. There was
a spring in his step, a certain jauntiness about his slender figure as young Edward
bounded up the curving stone steps.
Ned plodded along, leading him down the long thickly carpeted hallway, showing him
the way to the drawing room. The room Edward found himself in was spacious and high
ceilinged, furnished in an old-fashioned style that still retained a certain grandeur; a
room lavishly decorated with potted palms and opulent, overstuffed furniture -- a room in
which Queen Victoria would have felt quite comfortable. He waited ensconced in a big old
wingback chair, which smelt of polish and old leather, idly studying the intricate pattern
of the fine Oriental rug. In a few moments the door opened and a statuesque dark-haired
woman glided into the room.
In Edward’s memory she remained what she had been when he was a mere lad: a stern
woman, matronly, and terribly old; but now he realized, with something of a shock, that
his aunt was in fact an attractive mature woman, probably in her forties. She still had
the same long black hair, soft and shiny, piled up in a neat chignon. And she was tall; in
her high heels almost as tall as the gangly youth who scrambled to his feet to stand
awkwardly before her. Her well-endowed figure was clearly evident through the simple black
dress she wore, high-collared and buttoned up primly, giving her the air of a headmistress
at a very proper school.
Now Lady Amanda extended an elegant hand, and for a moment the absurd notion flitted
through his mind that she might expect him to kiss it. But he merely took the proffered
hand in his, holding it lightly in a gesture that never quite became a handshake. For a
moment, she held his eyes with her own, icy blue eyes that studied him with an intensity
that caused him to blush hotly. Then, as the hand gradually withdrew, her expression
softened and she welcomed him, politely if a bit formally.
For a moment longer she let him fidget uncomfortably under her appraising gaze
while she took her time, looking him up and down. Then, apparently satisfied with what she
saw, she nodded her approval, dryly declaring him a ‘fine young man’, before finally
allowing him to sink back into his chair.
His aunt rang for a servant and took a seat directly across from him. Settling in
comfortably, she asked him to tell her all about himself. Edward, never reluctant to
discourse on what was probably his favorite subject, and especially so when his audience
was a receptive female, told her all about his fascinating young life. His aunt listened
attentively, regarding him with interest, her handsome face set in a polite smile. She
interrupted only rarely, and then to encourage him to elaborate.
And as the young man rambled on she moved smoothly, casually crossing her long
legs, allowing her dress to ride up over the rounded prominence of her bent knee. The
fabric slid down either side in two draping folds, revealing the exquisite shape of that
attractive feminine leg encased in a sheer black stocking. The Lady seemed totally unaware
that the folds of her skirt had dipped down in such a way as to invite a salacious view of
the very top of a stocking and just a sliver of the white flesh beyond. Edward tried to
keep his eyes on her face as he chatted away but he found them inevitably drawn back to
the seductive contours of that dangling leg, his gaze held by the narrow foot that swung
idly in its black pump.
She listened attentively; her eyes studying his face. And her eyes never left his face
when, after a few minutes, she shifted in her chair and slowly uncrossed her legs, this
time letting her knees fall apart just a little. The movement left the skirt stranded high
up on her nyloned legs and gave the young man a fortuitous view straight up between the
woman’s opened thighs. Edward stammered, coughed to hide his embarrassment, and snuck a
surreptitious glance up his aunt’s dress. Was she aware of the salacious view she was
providing her nephew?
No! It was ridiculous! He was sure that any moment his aunt would notice where his
attention had strayed, stiffen indignantly, and promptly move to righten the errant
hemline. But she made no such move. If she noticed at all, she remained blithely
indifferent to the provocative view she afforded the lad, seemingly quite content to let
the young man look.
Edward’s somewhat distracted monologue was interrupted when the door opened and a
pretty serving girl appeared balancing a tray with two glasses of sherry.
This, he learned was Sarah the maid; the conversation stopped while she served them.
She was a slightly-built girl, slim-hipped, with small pointy breasts. She had fine,
delicate features, a small chin and a wide mouth with pouty lips. Her dark eyes glanced up
at him from under long lashes, although she mostly kept them lowered demurely as she moved
gracefully between chairs and tables. Her rich brown hair fell into straight bangs that
fringed her brow, while at the sides it was pulled back to be tied up before the loose
excess was allowed to fan down over her slender shoulders.
Edward found the girl especially fetching in her maid’s outfit: the simple dress
that buttoned down the front, and opaque stockings, all in black, except for the small
white apron and the rounded maid’s cap perched on her head. He noted with surprise that
the maid’s dress was cut quite short, some might say shockingly so. The hem rode well
above the knees revealing almost the entire lengths of a pair of coltish legs.
Her job finished, Sarah was dismissed. Edward watched her walk away, intrigued by
the small tight bottom that swayed so seductively under that little skirt. When he turned
backed to his drink, he found his hostess staring at him, closely watching him watch the
departing girl; a wave of embarrassment swept over him. To hide it, he ducked down to
quickly take a sip of sherry and then eased back in the chair, drink in hand. He was just
about to continue his monologue when they were again interrupted, this time by the muffled
running of footsteps in the hallway. The door flew open as a wide-eyed girl burst into the
room waving a tennis racket.
Amanda introduced her ward, his “cousin” Prudence, who flashed him a big grin and
bounded over to her guardian to deliver a quick peck on the cheek, before turning back to
more fully regard the cute boy. Prudence looked trim and youthful in tennis whites that
left bare her supple arms and strong girlish legs. The thin white top she wore was cut
like a singlet or jersey, sleeveless with a shallow scooped neckline that allowed a modest
view of a pair of nicely rounded breasts, small plump tits that peeked out just above the
curving neckline slightly damp with perspiration. The breathless girl’s dark eyes were
shining with excitement as they darted from her guardian to the slender young man who rose
to his feet at her bustling entrance.
Edward found himself smiling with the sort of infectious enthusiasm the girl seemed to
bring with her, as she rattled on, eagerly telling her guardian all about the smashing
tennis game she had just finished. Prudence’s hair was dark as Amanda’s, but unlike her
guardian’s it was cropped short, bobbed in a bold modern cut that shaped her head in a
soft bowl of softly curving silk. Soft bangs fell in an even row across her brow and
framed her flushed, animated face. Her brief tennis skirt swirled about her athletic
thighs as she strode over to where Edward stood and extended a hand, shaking his firmly,
like a man, although accompanying her welcome with a decidedly feminine smile.
They exchanged only a few words before the bubbly girl spun on her heel and ran
off, calling over her shoulder that she simply must shower immediately. Amanda raised her
eyebrows at the girl’s parting remark, but before she could say anything the girl was
gone. They listened to the soft thud of her tennis shoes receding down the hallway. Amanda
smiled with what could only be parental indulgence, shaking her head at the swirling
departure of impetuous youth.
“She loves sport, you know; both the girls; they are quite the little athletes,” his
aunt confided, as if that explained a lot.
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