Frankengeld Pt 27

Previously in Frankengeld. The Mystery Club have studied the ancient map and made their plans. There has been an announcement at the Summer Fair. Young Frankenstein's servant has been murdered and there is a monster on the loose. Damion returned again to help Madam Minna with her erotic needs and stayed late. The next day Damion and Helena set out to visit Hans, the glass-blower, in hope that he can make a juice collector - a vital part of the work to create the Elixir of Pleasure.

Now read on...

18th June in the year 1784.

Hans the glass-blower had brought us a tray of items covered with cloths, their shape could be ascertained through the material. They were dildo's. No wonder Anya had been confident he could make our juice-collector.

He revealed the first one, and lifted it out. It was pale pink in hue and about the same size and shape as my own member when erect.

"This is The Handyman," Hans said. Helena, fascinated, took it in her hand.

He then pulled out the next one, which was scarlet in colour and about the same size as Paul's generous member, the one I had decided would be the terror of a sacked town. "This is The Cossack," he said.

Helena's eyes widened and she took it into her other hand, comparing the width and length to The Handyman. Why did I get the feeling she would be happy to make the same comparison with the real thing?

"This third," said our host. "Was a special request."

He removed the black felt covering and lifted a dildo, equally black, into his hand. It was half as long again as The Cossack and the girth made me feel quite faint. Hans grinned at us, "It is named The Nubian."

I did not think Helena's eyes could get any wider after her glance at The Cossack, but I was wrong. To free up a hand she placed The Handyman into her cleavage where it gave me a feeling of deja vu. Then she grasped The Nubian and studied it.

They were magnificent pieces of the glass-blower's art. Every detail, except obviously for the pubic hairs, had been reproduced, including the veins that twisted around the shaft. At the root a grip had been created to help hold them firmly.

"What is under the last cloth?" asked Helena.

"Ah," said our master craftsman. "That one is too much for most ladies. Even to look at it has caused matrons and young brides-to-be to faint. It is somewhat mythical, and based on a description by a Norwegian who passed through here two years ago."

"I want to see," said Helena.

"Very well, at your own risk," Hans replied and carefully removed the cloth.

"Oh shit!" said Helena. She carefully put the others back in the tray, in the slots that had been expertly carved to accept them, and ran her fingers down the length of the monstrosity before us.

"Helena," I said, quietly, and gave her a look.

"Oh... sorry... good gracious!"

I judged that more lessons in being upper class were needed by Helena. I must make sure Helena attends Freida more regularly.

"I call it The Troll," said Hans, sitting back in his chair.

It was half again the length of The Nubian and the girth was greater than my fist, quite a bit greater. It was deep green in colour, heavily veined, with an enormous scrotum. The ridges and patterns on the shaft had a decided animal appearance to them, and would - undoubtedly - give considerable stimulation.

"Like the Nubian I had to make it hollow," said Hans, touching his masterpiece gently. "Or the weight would have been too much to hold. So, my customers, I ask again. What size?"

I was about to point at The Handyman when Helena stood up, took the tray, and rather breathlessly said, "I need to test these. Is it permitted? And where shall I go?"

"You may test them, mistress," said Hans. "But I have no separate room, just my sleeping quarters there." He indicated a curtain that separated the long room into living and sleeping areas. Helena, still holding the tray, bobbed a curtsey to him and pushed her way through the gap in the curtain. The two sides of the cloth fell back, not quite closing.

Hans offered me another drink and we sat while increasingly loud moans came from the other side of the curtain. I smiled wryly at the glass-blower as Helena started to get really passionate in her cries. It was a strange experience. When I was in bed with her the moans and little cries she made seemed perfectly normal and I added my own grunts and groans without thought of what it sounded like to someone listening from outside the room. Now it felt very weird, sitting chatting with this stranger, while Helena's gasps echoed around us.

"She's a passionate woman," said Hans.

"Yes," I agreed, as Helena made the noises she usually made when she achieved her climax.

"It would be nice to sleep with her, if she'd have me," said Hans. When I looked surprised, he added, "I've been very lonely since I lost my wife."

"Oh I'm so sorry," I replied. Life could be cruel; illness, injury, childbirth, all could take a woman swiftly and without mercy. One month you were sharing a life together, the next you were alone. "I will have a word with Helena," I assured him. "She can be most generous with her body."

"Thank you," he replied, glancing over at the curtains that separated us from very heavy breathing and gasping yelps.

"When did your wife die?" I asked.

"Oh she's not dead," Hans replied. "She ran off with a tinker."

"A tinker!"

"Yes, he were Cossack to my Handyman," explained Hans.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied, feeling tricked. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I think she'll be back," he grinned. "Sleeping in hedgerows and fucking in fields of meadow flowers is all fine in summer, but come winter..."

He left the implication of chilly copulation hanging, then continued, "... so I'd appreciate it if you would chat to Helena sooner rather than later. Before the wife returns, you see."

I took a gulp of my wine and we sat quietly while Helena demonstrated her vocal range. It was terribly tempting to peek through the gap in the curtains. Just to check she was alright, you understand. When I glanced back at our host Hans was leaning over. Either he had drunk too much, or he too was trying to look through the gap, to glimpse what was beyond that thin barrier of cloth.

"Perhaps we should take a look," Hans suggested.

"Yes," I agreed. "But just to make sure she is safe and well"

"Aye," he agreed. "She might be having trouble with The Troll."

We stood as one and walked over to the gap in the curtains. Peeping through we saw Helena on her back on Hans' bed. Her legs were spread wide and she had both hands on The Troll.

"Hnnnnnnn," she moaned as she tried to push the thing into her. It was distorting her quim, spreading her labial lips wider than she had ever had them pushed before, and putting considerable pressure on her secret nub.

"Hnnnnnnn... Hnnnnnnn..." she groaned as she tried again and again. But she simply couldn't make it enter her. The more she pushed the greater the weakness she suffered. You see the The Troll was giving her pleasure every time she pushed. But then she swooned from the pleasure and, as a consequence, couldn't continue pushing. It must have been very frustrating for her. But she was clearly making a valiant effort.

I called to her over the curtain. "Helena dear," I said. "Are you alright? Do you need help testing these dildos?"

"No," she replied. "I'm fine. I've made my choice. The Nubian is the right size. I'd like it to have been The Troll, but it's just too big for comfortable use."

"Right," I replied, trying not to reveal that a moment ago I was watching her trying to fit the green monster into her vagina. "Did you get that, Hans?"

"Yes master Damion," said the craftsman.

"Helena?" I asked.

"Yes Damion," she replied. "What is it?"

"Hans here has been much stimulated by your cries of joy."

"Don't tell me, he has a desire to pleasure me."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Just a lucky guess," she replied, appearing at the gap in the curtain drenched in sweat, looking as if she'd run from Marathon to Athens like the legendary Pheidippides. She smiled at Hans, and crooked her finger, inviting him to join her on the other side of the cloth.

"No woman at the moment, Hans?" she asked.

"No mistress Helena, she ran off with a tinker."

"You go home, Damion," she said. "I'm just going to negotiate a discount with Hans. I'll be along in a bit."

I left them to it and made my way back to number 34. As I strolled through the town there were now quite a few people who acknowledged me. A smile, a hasty thank you, or just a quiet nod from someone who had shared an embarrassing medical condition. I had, in just a few weeks, established myself. My family should be proud of me, but probably were not. And sadly I found myself unable to be proud of my family. I was confident I knew who had ordered the death of the old doctor and his daughter, my Father. And my Mother had written the fateful letter, so she was an accessory. Were Karl, Elodie and Gerda involved as well, or were they just innocent bystanders?

I shook my head to clear the depressing thoughts and contemplated instead the comments Lord Mutunus had made about Helena. That she had the nature of a Shepherdess of Arcadia. He was right. Even now she was tumbling in the sheets with a man she had only known a brief time, simply because she felt sorry for him.

Alicia was sat in the kitchen surrounded by our staff. Una was chatting away over the stove, Anya was cleaning one of the brutal weapons from the hallway wall, and Yani was cleaning more conventional cutlery. There was some tension but, as I sat with them, I began to understand that it was related to the stories of the murdering monster that stalked the district, not Alicia.

"It shall not pass," Alicia was saying with a firm expression on her face that would have terrified me if it had been aimed in my direction. "You have taken me to your hearts and I will not allow you to come to harm. But we must also show strength to the people of the town."

"I do not understand," said Una.

"Fear is the greatest danger," replied Alicia. "Fear limits people, keeps them small, hiding in their homes."

She was, I believed, talking about herself.

"Then," I replied. "Let us go out into the Summer Fair after our evening meal, and show we are not afraid."

"There's a dancing bear," said Yani, suddenly. "Or so I'm told. Someone called Esmeralda makes it dance."

I vividly remembered Esmeralda's dance, and what happened after, and chuckled.

"That's not quite what I've heard, lad," said Anya. "But I'll not need you this evening, I've some sewing to do. You go and watch the Dancing Bare. It'll be an education for you."

He smiled at her gratefully.

"Take Una," continued Anya. "It'll be an education for her too. And Yani.."

"Yes aunt Anya," he replied.

"The pair of you might want to take a front seat, you'll have a chance of getting really involved in the show, if Esmeralda catches your eye."

As we were preparing for dinner the doorbell went. Yani left the kitchen to answer the door, as was his duty, and returned to announce, "Gerda Frankengeld, master Damion."

It was typical of my sister-in-law to require a formal announcement of her arrival, ever the one to stand on her status, when she wasn't lying underneath a gardener screaming for him to plant his seed in her. I remembered the event, even if she refused to acknowledge it occurred.

I had invited her to visit for dinner, and to attend the Summer Fair, but I'd expected some notice in advance. The dining room had not been made ready and I had been given no time to let Alicia know we were expecting guests. Gerda stood in the hallway outside the kitchen, removing her small cloak and gloves, and showed no sign of joining us. I stood up and went out to welcome her.

"Sister," I said, kissing her hand. "You are very welcome, but you find us about to have an informal meal. I hope you don't mind joining us in the kitchen."

I could see Stephan standing in the hallway. He perked up at the mention of a meal, but Gerda's expression was less than enthusiastic.

"The kitchen," she said reluctantly, as if I'd suggested she eat her meal off the floor.

"Yes," I replied. "The whole of my... team... often eat together. It is a most practical solution if we have plans for the remainder of the evening."

I didn't mention that sometimes those plans included the Mystery Club in which I plotted the downfall of her father-in-law.

"I suppose so," she replied. "But understand, I do not usually sit to eat with servants."

Gerda permitted me to lead her and Stephan into the, rather crowded, kitchen and glanced around. Helena she had seen on her consultation, she'd met Yani at the door, and possibly she'd seen Anya cleaning something. She focussed on two faces. Una and Alicia. One she knew, the other she did not.

I hadn't thought what might happen when someone from Durishaus met Una, but I needn't have worried.

"Oh," said Gerda. "The maid that went missing. I did not know that your father had sent her here to work, Damion."

"Yes," I lied. "She is now part of our household." Not a complete lie, just a shortening of the truth, leaving out some of the details.

That left Alicia. Helena stood up and welcomed Gerda, "Mistress Gerda," she said, then touched Alicia on the shoulder. "May I introduce Countess Alicia Von Hinterleitner."

Gerda halted, confused. I could see by her expression that she felt everything was wrong. Here a low class person, Helena, was introducing a noble. This was acceptable if it was a steward making announcements at a masked ball, that was his job and implied no familiarity, but a medical assistant, in a kitchen! And touching the Countess as well. Her confusion continued as Alicia stood and returned the touch, as if she and the medical assistant were friends, which surely wasn't possible.

Alicia moved to greet Gerda. I do believe she was prepared to be informal with Gerda, she had started to learn to overcome etiquette based on the late fifteenth century, but Gerda was having nothing to do with informal. She sank to the floor in a curtsey that could not have been deeper if Alicia had been royalty.

"My Lady," said Gerda, her voice a little muffled from the fact that it was originating from just above floor level. In this position I could see straight down her cleavage and noted the delectable fleshly channel made from her chest and her two wondrous globes. Perfect for what Lord Scunthorpe once referred to as a 'titty wank' in the expressive way the English have.

"May I introduce Lady Gerda Von Frankengeld," I said. "My brother's wife. And a keen supporter of the creators of fine stonemasonry, and elegant gardens."

It was naughty of me to make the joke, and Gerda glanced up at me with a brief, furious, expression on her face to remind me of this fact. But at least it confirmed what I had decided. She would, until the day she died, continue to act as Mother's slut for lower class artisans and merchants, whilst denying that these couplings had ever happened.

"Gerda," said Alicia. "I am so pleased to meet you."

Gerda rose up and looked up with wonder at Alicia. So struck was she to be in the presence of another aristocrat that I think she failed to take in Alicia's deathly pale skin. As they turned towards the table to sit Alicia gave me a look over Gerda's shoulder and silently mouthed, 'Can I eat this one? She is a terrible snob.' I shook my head, very slightly, and Alicia gave a grin. Another joke from our undead friend?

Helena gave up her seat so that Gerda could sit next to Countess Alicia. Gerda was only too happy to take the position of high regard, until she saw that Yani, the lowest in status of our little family, would be sitting on the other side of her. She baulked, like a horse that has been directed at a fence too high for it to jump. Alicia pointedly turned away and patted the seat for Helena to rejoin her, at which signal of disapproval, Gerda overcame her misgivings and sat.

She rushed to sit and bumped down onto the chair quite heavily. Her breasts bounced in a most interesting way. She then hung her little bag of personal items onto the back of the chair, to consolidate ownership. I remembered that Karl was very happy for me to fornicate with his wife. He had almost ordered me to do it. I had to admit the temptation to take him up on this offer was growing each time I met her. Each time I saw those wonderful spheres and anticipated the fun that could be had with them.

Conversation started and a little later the bell rang again. It was the tavern nearby delivering our meal. A most agreeable arrangement. The cooks there made an excellent meal, which would be delivered by two of the tavern's staff, and in the morning they would collect the dirty pots. Alicia was drinking her not-blood tonic, and red wine, but I could see no evidence that this lessened Gerda's hero worship of our undead friend.

We had agreed not to bring up the subject of a murdering monster in the district, so this topic did not come up at all. But, I confess, I had been naughty again. During the temporary confusion the the kitchen when the food arrived I had taken Yani aside for a moment and told him what I wanted him to do.

"Really?" he said, astonished.

"Oh yes," I replied. "She enjoys it at mealtimes, believe me."

"Oh... right master Damion," he said, not sounding entirely convinced.

"Best wait until she's had a few glasses of wine," I advised, and he nodded.

I think I was being naughty because of the stress I had been put under the last time I had a meal at Durishaus. I had been criticised by Karl for not accepting that Mother will choose my bride. And told I should endeavour to make his wife pregnant. It was a most upsetting meal and I wanted to get my revenge. And, since I could not strike back at Karl, I had decided I would play a little joke on Gerda. It was unworthy of me, but then I'm not perfect.

It did not take Gerda long to have a few glasses of wine and become quite giggly. She seemed to be trying to match the Countess drink for drink, and it looked as if she thought the not-blood tonic was merely a different kind of wine, not a form of food. I watched Yani make his move.

His hand slid across under the table to rest on Gerda's thigh. She turned to look at him quizzically and he grinned back at her. But before she could open her mouth to complain Alicia asked her a question and she was forced to turn her attention back to the Countess. At that instant Yani slid his hand down and flicked up her dress. Then her ran his hand between Gerda's generous thighs, under her lace knickers, and had cupped her quim. All quicker than I can write it down.

I had assumed that Yani had performed this duty for Anya, and possibly for her sister's too, and I was right. He knew what to do in the art that at least one play-write had called 'groping for trout in a peculiar river'.

Gerda gave a little gasp as Yani pushed in, but she made no complaint and did not even attempt to push his hand away. She tried to keep conversing.

"My family?" she replied in answer to Alicia's question. "There's just five... oooh... of us at Durishaus."

Servants didn't count, obviously.

"Karl's father, Kurt, is away much of the time," she explained.

That was interesting, not starting with her own husband.

"But when he is... oh... home we have... we do... well I let him..."

She stopped, she was clearly about to say something significant. Yani renewed his efforts which made her wriggle her hips.

Alicia leaned in close and whispered, "Sorry Gerda, you were about to tell me everything about the wonderful relationship you have with your father-in-law."

That voice, infinitely seductive, and clearly so to both men and women, was being used to some purpose here. Ah, I thought, Alicia is using her powers to help us learn more about my Father.