The Beckon Call Of The Boudoir

Chapter 1: The Beckon Call of the Boudoir

Chester's brow crinkled as he looked up from his meticulous cleaning of a stained glass window depicting an emerald green bush with ruby cardinals hidden throughout like shy berries. The doorbell of the Humblewood Manor rang out with a merry tune, deep ringing bells and charming chimes that tinkled long after the visitor had been escorted inside echoing through the cavernous halls.

This visitor had elected to not only ring the bell three times in a quick succession, but was now also pounding on the door. Chester was not a young man and he did not appreciate having the song of his home, to say nothing of its peace, abused so. Anyway, whatever the visitor's business they would have to wait for him to shuffle his way slowly out to the antechamber.

As he opened the heavy oak door, twice as tall as a man and arched like the gates to a fairy cottage, his frown deepened; standing on the expansive front porch was a rather unwelcome face, that of the incorrigible Miss Miranda Featherwick, and she was wearing her most manic smile.

"CHESTER! Hello. Is she in? Please say Scarlett's around! I have news that can't wait a moment more." Miranda scooted inside past Chester, taking advantage of his decorum and unwillingness to block the path of a guest. "Wow wow, this old palace always amazes me no matter how many times I see it. I'd love to go poking about, but I know it would make you crazy so I'll be a good girl and wait here. Pinky promise!" She wiggled a pinky at Chester gaily, which he ignored.

"The mistress is in," he said, "I will check if she is available to meet."

"She doesn't need to be deeeecent~" Miranda sang after him with a giggle.

Chester winced inwardly, the flirty editor's words highlighting a very real concern and fanning a spark of dread in his stomach. Dread and guilty anticipation in equal measure. Scarlett Sojourner had a peculiar malady, only arguably a malady, really, that necessitated her working from home and remaining in solitude much of the time. It also required her staff to be wise and disciplined enough to control themselves around her, which generally meant older staffers like himself.

As he climbed the third spiral staircase up to his mistress' chambers, an especially eclectic one with dragons and nymphs cavorting in intricate carved reliefs along its iron framework, he heard the first shriek. Rather than increase his pace, he immediately stopped and sat down, heart already hammering wildly in his chest. He knew Scarlett's cries of ecstasy quite well and there was no mistaking them for distress. Problematic distress, that is. His own happy distress was rapidly reaching iron hardness in response to her siren song, and he stood for a moment to adjust himself down along his thigh lest he come into strained conflict with his zipper.

"Oh gods, sweet fuck I NEED it! Harder, fuck me harder! Be rough, take me, please! Faster, d*EEP*.....eRRRrrr~" Scarlett's voice thickened with a soul-deep groan and then rocketed to high pitch before peaking in a squeak that set Chester's heart pounding blood to his turgid member and finally relaxing into a languid purring growl.

His mistress's breathily breathless voice sang out loudly enough to carry through the entire manor, and probably also the neighborhood, so Chester's proximity made her beckon call nearly irresistible. While his manhood had always been striking at attention it achieved a truly astounding prominence when inspired by her power and her passion. It was twenty-six centimeters long and thicker than his lady's fist, and still growing. She could take him, he was certain; he'd seen her monstrous toys. Of course, she took her painfully sweet time with those and he was in no condition to ease into her. He shut his eyes tight and shook his head, angry at himself for letting his lust carry his thoughts off to dangerous realms of possibility.

Chester had served the Sojourner bloodline for centuries and he had a hand in raising Scarlett and her mother and her mother's mother... She was like a daughter to him. Or a great big granddaughter. Which was worse to desire so desperately, he wondered? Too often he found himself wondering such things.

As Scarlett's cries drifted off into deeply contented humming, Chester gathered himself up and stood. The tension in his balls was so painful it made him nauseous, but he determinedly arranged the obscene tent in his trousers to minimize its profile. Or at least keep it from pointing straight at the woman he wanted more than anything to flood with his seed. More than *almost* anything. He wanted her happy and well even more, and he was certain any dalliance with him would prove detrimental to the household. Maybe also her womanhood. Nevermind that she had never looked at him as anything other than a father figure. He was almost sure of it. The two of them together was a terrible idea. Monstrous. Scarlett's Lady's Maid Annie would have to take a few days off for bed rest when he finished with her tonight. Finished in her. Thankfully that relationship was well established, Annie was enthusiastically accommodating, and was at her time of life where contraception was no longer a point of interest. He smiled quietly; age wasn't all bad.

Striding as obviously as he could towards his mistress' bedchamber doors, Chester knocked with the perfect blend of polite gentleness and noticeable firmness. Speaking of noticeable firmness, he adjusted himself in his trousers anew as thoughts of Annie and the state of Scarlett in her private moments of afterglow and maybe both of them at the same time had him diamond-hard once more.

The bedchamber doors were lavish, ancient mahogany cut in delicate sweeping arches with a stunningly detailed carved forest motif; shy dryads peeked out from the shadows cast by the curve and swell of the forest, seeming to move about and appear in different places with different regions of their glorious nudity on display every time he beheld this portal to passion made manifest, the boudoir of love itself in the guise of a woman. And said woman of elemental loveliness was recovering from a wild orgasm, likely the latest of many in this most recent masturbation session, only a few meters away, likely naked or at least bottomless, bountiful chest heaving and glistening with the sweat of her energetic amorous efforts, large blush-pink nipples strikingly erect. Even if he were to barge in suddenly and she covered herself with a blanket, her arousal would be unmistakable. Chester gave up on corralling his member and merely stepped back from the door to give it room to point towards his desire.

"Oh! Just a moment, please," came Scarlett's small voice, high pitched and tremulous with her audible blush.

There was the sound of hastily rustling sheets and covers, likely hiding the puddles Scarlett tended to generate beneath her delectable derriere as she came, followed by the padding of bare feet over plush carpet and a tantalizing swishing as she donned her silk robe with beautiful lace trimming. She opened the doors a minute later, her waist-length auburn hair mussed and damp, wearing a sheepish smile. Chester had to grip the doorframe to keep from being bowled over by the overwhelming scent of sex that rolled out languidly from all around her.

"Hiya, Chester! What's up?" She quipped, not bothering to fib about her activities; she was still shy about sex around him, but with her needs it was impossible not to catch her at it pretty regularly, so she had long ago made peace with letting the obvious truth lie bare between them. Speaking of what lay between them, her eyes flicked to his crotch, as they did with every man she encountered, and they widened to saucers at the enormous tent aimed directly at her own nethers.

"Forgive me, Mistress. It is a natural reaction beyond my control." Chester must have apologized for his erections twenty times a day since Scarlett flowered into womanhood, but he still insisted every time.

"Not a problem!" Scarlett responded dreamily, eyes still glued to the package he had for her. She knew better than to ask if she could see it; she'd done so as a teenager and again as an adult woman a few times, and Chester always grew terribly flustered. She knew he thought of her like a daughter and truthfully she thought of him like a father -- to her, however, this was no obstacle. She'd never understood why or how the incest taboo extended to family beyond blood; it was clear that it did for most, but nothing tamed her ardour. She sometimes wondered if she would be attracted to her blood relatives, had any of them survived. From the perspective of a healthy gene pool, perhaps it was best she was the last Sojourner. On the other hand, genetics wouldn't be bothered by eager coupling with a female relative. Well, neither fate nor the Reaper had asked for her opinion, so here she stood as sole heir to a vast fortune, to a wondrous blessing and terrifying curse. She was the heir to a power that had buried her entire family before their time for millenia, but she was determined to master it. Except, of course, when she felt like being submissive.

"Miss Miranda is downstairs in the antechamber, waiting on your pleasure. Shall I tell her you are otherwise engaged?"

"You already know my pleasure's already visited; there's no need for her to wait," Scarlett laughed, pawing playfully at Chester's chest. "But, um," she faltered, playing with a lock of tousled hair as her pink cheeks grew hot enough to match her name, "Could you send her up to me, please?"

Chester swallowed hard as he fought to remain silent despite a volume of precum erupting from his cock that rivaled most men's entire load. He kept multiple pairs of identical pants at hand for exactly this reason. "Of course, Mistress Scarlett."

Scarlett grinned shyly at him, helped herself to one last eyeful of his mammoth erection, and quietly closed her doors. Chester breathed out a strained sigh, resting a hand on the doors while he composed himself. His hand inadvertently landed on the luscious breast of a teasing dryad and his cock throbbed so hard his vision tunneled for a moment. His new dryad best girlfriend leaned into his touch with a groan of ancient wood (and maybe someone more) and winked at him. He'd heard that same groan from the house itself and often thought it sounded a bit more yearning than the typical sounds of a house settling. Two busty busts of Sojourner matriarchs long past turned to watch with expectant grins as living stone dust ground free at their moment, smelling somehow rejuvenated as if it swirled in some sculptor's workshop where the last chip of unnecessary stone had just been chiseled away. Such strange magic was not unusual around his mistress; she brought out not only sexual energy but the passion of life itself in everyone and everything around her, occasionally so powerfully that she animated the inanimate inadvertently.

Even after all these years Chester was uncertain how the magic worked and if the animation was temporary or if Scarlett was permanently awakening all in her presence. Friendly statues, sweet carvings, and lascivious furniture did tend to go still after Scarlett was away from them for a while, but Chester always wondered if these animated artifacts could remember their adventures from previous awakenings. He hoped so; there were many soft and beautiful things in the manor with which, or whom, he had shared deeply intimate moments. Water-based lube opened so many doors, figuratively and in this case literally! He bought it by the liter. Anyway, he was quite certain that his mistress' family magic was the cause of his unnatural lifespan, and perhaps even his unlikely, if not quite supernatural, endowment. Giving the dryad's nipple an affectionate tweak, he turned away and began limping down the multitude of eclectic stairways, wincing with every bounce his mighty penis against his pressurized balls.

"Finally, I thought you'd gotten los- OH MY FUCK, what a cock!" Miranda squealed as Chester returned to the antechamber. "I take it Scarlett's a bit 'busy' then? Does she want company, by any chance, or did you exhaust her with that monster?" Her eyes did not leave his manhood for a moment while she spoke.

Chester rolled his eyes, not that she was paying any attention to his face. "Mistress Scarlett wishes to see you in her chambers," he said, trying and failing to keep jealousy out of his voice.

"Good thing I cleared my calendar for the rest of today, and tomorrow!" Miranda beamed. "But I can't leave you like this," she purred, striding up to him with exaggerated swaying of her generous hips. She reached out and touched the tip of her index finger to his tip, stepping up with him when he reflexively pulled back. "Plus I gotta see this thing," she grinned mischievously. "Do you want me, baby?" She breathed into his neck, bringing her lips to within a nanometer of his skin. "Maybe you'd prefer I call you daddy," she whispered.

"Please, yes. I need you!" Chester gasped, crumbling willingly under her ministrations.

Miranda bared her teeth at him in a feral, possessive, grin, telling him in no uncertain terms that she was taking the lead. She wiggled out of her pencil skirt and folded it several times over to make a cushy kneeling pad on the stone tile substrate, then knelt before him. Putting her ginger curls up in a quick ponytail, Miranda thrust her perky little boobs out against her stylish button-down, the top three buttons missed on purpose. Her chest fit her petite frame perfectly, and at the apex of her stretch they strained her pearlescent buttons. She never bothered with a bra, and while her nipples were always visibly hard they stood especially tall and proud pointed towards Chester's cock. His gaze slid off from her wide green eyes down the splash of freckles about her button nose and landed locked on the sight of one rosy pink nipple visible through a fold between shirt buttons.

Miranda glowed inwardly to see him drooling over her breasts; she'd often felt envious of Scarlett's endowment, and she appreciated having her insecurity proved silly. Plus, he still hadn't gotten a proper look at her ass. She was a bottom-heavy girl, sometimes called a centaur for her prodigious backside and thighs and how starkly they contrasted her modest proportions above the belt. With an eager biting of her lip, she pulled down Chester's zipper and her eyes flew wide when the true scale of his love club sprang into prominence before her, bouncing up towards her forehead and landing heavily on her lips.

"Well, that's convenient!" She thought, kissing his tip fondly. Its size was astounding, thicker than her fist and at least twice as thick as the biggest guy she's ever had inside her. And he could barely fit! The color of Chester's cock head was a deliciously angry purple, with velvety skin stretched tighter than a drum by his steely hardness for her. Well, probably mostly for Scarlett, but right now he was all hers. Her jaw ached even thinking about trying to wrap her lips all the way around, so instead she began kissing and licking along his length; many years of preferring girls had given her quite a strong and flexible tongue, and she worked it like a champion.

"My pussy is much too tight for this monster, big boy, so you're going to have to be satisfied with my mouth for today," Miranda purred in between kisses. Chester was beyond coherent answer, running his hands through her bushy hair while making visibly restrained little thrusts of his hips. There was plenty of room for her mouth and both her hands along his shaft, so she got to work licking all 'round his head while vigorously stroking him from tip to base. His thrusts increased in urgency and his heaving balls began slapping her wrists.

Alerted to their immensity, Miranda lifted up his cock to study them in intimate detail. "Gods all around us, look at those! Big as grapefruits, near enough. Are they sensitive? I wonder how much you can cu-" she had been experimentally fondling his heavy sac with both hands as she spoke, and before she could finish articulating the question she had her answer: at her touch his balls lifted and squeezed alarmingly, and his thrusting grew wild. His first cum blast hit her square in the forehead, splashing up into her hair and drizzling down into her pert cleavage, the force so great that her head snapped back a little and she saw stars for a moment. His vast ejaculation hosed her beautiful face with no less than 100 milliliters of thick semen, and that was all just the first nearly laminar stream.

Chester sucked in a deep growly breath and howled, "I can't stop cumming! I won't! Brace yourself, dear girl. MY girl!"

Cum-blind and panicking from the volume of fluid running into her mouth and nose as she tried to breathe, Miranda turned her head on instinct. As she did, her fluffy ponytail whipped around and brushed over Chester's erupting cock with an irresistible tickling softness. Roaring in a deep timbre of atavistic conquest, Chester seized her by the hair and wrapped it around his fist, tugging delightfully, on his way to losing control but still in control enough to be only gently rough with her. He then wrapped his fist around his cock and began jacking furiously, pulling her hair just hard enough to make her dripping wet without causing pain.

Miranda gasped, eyes wide and world spinning as an absolute torrent of molten cum drenched her gorgeous hair and drizzled down her back in copious rivulets to pool at the top of her ass. Some ambitious delving streams ventured further, dripping into her crack and joining her own honey in soaking her pussy lips. The flood of masculine warmth kicked off her first mini-orgasm and she thrust both hands into her underwear to encourage it, one hand grinding mercilessly at her hard clit and the other struggling to push one dainty finger in her vagina; she wasn't lying about her incredible tightness. Being small and an enthusiast of kegels meant that any insertion would feel like a mind shattering stretch, and she loved being stretched. A second finger slowly burrowed in beside the first and she lost her mind, bucking madly on her hands and drooling cream everywhere.

"Aah oh OH! Oh, FUuuuu-UCK! DADDY, YES! FUCKING BREED ME! Gimme all that cum," she shrieked as her orgasm spread from a conflagration in her pussy to a full body delicious madness.

After a good five minutes of continuous ejaculation and two more leg shaking orgasms from Miranda, Chester finally released her and she allowed herself to faint gracefully forward onto the cool tile to catch her breath. Chester's knees gave out and he joined her on the floor, graceless but controlled enough to avoid harm, his still-rigid cock spraying aftershocks of cum in every direction as it bounced with his change in posture.

"That sure was something," Miranda cooed, patting Chester's twitching and spurting cock fondly. "Something very, very good. Can't imagine what it would feel like inside me!" When she said this, Chester groaned like a rhinoceros in rut and bucked his hips, producing another large three or four splashes of cum that drenched Miranda's white top transparent. "Someday, perhaps, after I put my girl through a serious training montage," she giggled, winking at him in a way that made him need to lie back and close his eyes to keep his sanity.

Her job well done, Miranda stood and grabbed up her skirt; everything that hadn't pooled anywhere else had pooled there thanks to gravity and she wrinkled her nose at the heady scent. "I'm sure Scarlett will have something I can change into. I'm due for a shower, and she's gonna join me after she uses all this cum to style my hair for some boudoir pics. Later, Stud! I've gotta see a lady about a shared shower and some sweet sapphic lovin', and then about reports of a phallic dark god that's been irresistibly attracting women from all over South America and seeding them with strange glowing-cuttlefish-eyed babies down in the wilds of the Amazon; just another day at the office!"