The Manor House

By Jayne C.

An erotic who did it like dinner, with a touch of adult themes and blackmail. Pulled into a world she knows nothing about and learning and exploring the awoken sexual desires created from the mystery night, Susan learns who she is and what she has become to embrace the wantonness as it takes control. Can she live with the people now involved in her life? Can she be free to choose who she wants and when she wants them, or has her life been turned upside down for the pleasure of those around her? Who has her best interests at heart—Aaron, the butler; Bruce, the driver; or Bruce’s twin brother, Dan? Maybe Luke has more to offer Susan then she first thought. Can he train her heart like he’s about to train her body?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543409932

Jayne C.

Jayne C lives on a little man made island in the north of South Australia with her Husband. Loves her four Huskies and the pictures nature shares with them daily from their deck looking out over the water and hills. Following a passion for writing, she now spends her days tinkering away at the keys of her laptop and lunches with her grown children and grandchildren.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Jayne C.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2018906927

ISBN:              Hardcover                            978-1-5434-0995-6

                        Softcover                               978-1-5434-0994-9

                        eBook                                   978-1-5434-0993-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/16/2018

Xlibris

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Epilogue

CHAPTER 1

A UTUMN HAD BEEN magical. Leaves of all colours falling to the ground had now made way for windy nights and frost in the mornings, snow lurking round the corner. After a few weekend jobs but mostly a free day of just pottering and resting, it was time to dress. Deciding what to wear for dinner had never seemed like a chore before. Then again, Susan had never been asked to go to a ‘Cluedo’ dinner, a dinner party you attend where you play the part of solving the murder as if you were playing the board game. The theme set for this one was the Roaring Twenties. So Susan could go dressed as a character either from The Great Gatsby or the Titanic tea party, in Gigi chiffon fringe or a silk Hemingway, accompanied with, of course, a headband with feathers, stockings, suspenders, a fox shawl, a clutch purse, and the most divine shoes Susan could find.

The instructions read, Drive to Fox St. Park your car and hail a black cab. Ask for 69 French Terrace. Arrive by 4:00 p.m. sharp for cocktails on the patio, followed by dinner in the great hall.

So following these instructions and checking the distance on Google Maps from Fox Street to French Terrace, Susan made sure she was dressed and there to hail a cab, which seemed almost ready and waiting, so in doing just that, Susan was assured to arrive precisely at four o’clock.

Stepping into the cab was like being transported back in time. The driver had on a matching outfit and cap with shiny black shoes. He held the door open for her while Susan climbed in. Having lived there all her life, Susan was amazed to see that they drove along streets she had never seen before, again making her wonder if she was dreaming or had indeed travelled back through time.

Turning onto the terrace was more like turning into one of those dreamy estates you see in the movies, trees lining the road perfectly trimmed, lawns perfectly cut. Even the flowers refused to see that winter had arrived and were so colourful. Turning for the last time, they arrived at a massive pair of black wrought-iron gates with shields on them, yet Susan was unable to see the crest clearly. The walled garden hid everything from view. Even at 4:00 p.m., the winter night had started; dusk and clouds hid the sun.

As they pulled closer, the gates opened automatically, and they drove up the gravelled drive towards the house. All the garden lights were on, yet the house looked oddly dark in contrast. The cab pulled up, and the driver opened the door for her. Stepping out, Susan lost her footing, with her heel sinking into the gravel. The driver grabbed her arm in a supportive manner to help steady her.

‘Careful, miss,’ he said.

Susan thanked him absently and looked up once more towards the house, but it was the door that caught her attention. It was a massive shiny black door, rich in the depth of its colour, with solid brass knockers polished to such a shine and handles almost in size to fit the door rather than a normal hand size. Shadows cast by the torch lamps standing guard sent a shiver down Susan’s spine. She brushed it off, claiming it was from the excitement of being here, yet there was a pull towards a more ominous feeling. Even though the sun had not set, there was a chill in the air. Pulling her fox fur tighter around her shoulders, she braced herself and took a step forward.

Susan could hear laughter and voices being carried on the breeze, so gathering her nerve, she stepped forward and reached for the knocker. Just as her hand was about to close around the knob, the door was opened, and Susan was greeted warmly by a butler in full costume, waving her through the door. He closed the door behind her, arm stretched out, asking for her fur, all without speaking a word. A warm silky-smooth voice asked for her to follow him.

They walked through an enormous hall which had a grand staircase in the centre of it, dividing the room in half, slightly hiding the back end. The size of a normal lounge, it was wood panelled and had the most unusual carvings. Mirrors reached the ceiling from different points around the room, bouncing her own reflection not just back at her but around her. Crossing over from the hall, they entered a lounge, not just any lounge; this was a crazy large and formal room – deep, rich leather lounges, Persian rugs, and highly polished dark wood furniture running what appeared to be the whole length of one side of the house. All the French doors were open, with billowing sheen curtains following the sway of the breeze, leading the way to the patio, the other guests, and the start of a night Susan had never experienced before.

As she walked through, the conversation took a pause, causing her to walk onto the patio just as silence fell. The only sound to be heard was from the heels of her shoes as they echoed on the flagstones. Hearing this, everyone turned as one to watch her walk towards them; in some ways, it resembled that pivotal moment in a movie when we meet the romantic lead for the first time.

A waiter stepped forward, offering a glass of champagne. Taking the glass, Susan moved towards the first group of people. Introductions were made, and she learned the blonde was their host for tonight’s dinner party. Turning her full attention towards their host, Susan expressed how grateful she was at receiving the invitation and how fantastic everything looked.

She brushed off the compliment and said, ‘The best is yet to come.’

They mingled amongst themselves out on the patio while a few more people arrived; it was nice to see she wasn’t the last. Shortly thereafter, a gong sounded from within the lounge, and the butler stepping into the doorway announced dinner was now served in the main dining hall. The host stepped forward, taking his outstretched arm, leading the way. They followed him and their hostess back through the lounge, out into the hall, where they were led to a doorway slightly to their right. Susan could see the candle flames dancing from the open door as they drew closer.

The table was set as you’d expect, as one long row of plates and glasses. They were each shown to their seats, which put them as male, female, male, and opposite to the other side, which meant three out of five possible talking partners were male. This seemed to be the case for all the female guests. Their glasses were filled, and their host made the first toast, thanking them all for coming and wishing them a great night of fun, mischief, and mystery. Susan must admit she was a little perplexed with the mischief part until she saw how some of the male and female guests were observing one another.

As dinner progressed, the game and how it was to be solved was explained; as for rules, they were informed there were none. Once dinner was concluded, they were free to roam and move about the manor as they wished. The gong would sound once more at roughly 1:00 a.m., and at that point, they were all to return to the lounge and disclose whom they thought had done the crime, in which room, and with what weapon.

Susan’s dinner companions had some interesting points of view on tonight’s events. Some, like Susan, had almost declined the invitation, some again, like Susan, not even sure how they had come to be invited in the first place, while others agreed it was a riot, a fun night to be had by all. The only thing they all seemed to agree on was that they had never experienced one this well planned or conducted. It seemed theirs was not just for dinner but also for the night, the whole night. The other common factor was no one knew anyone else, except some seemed to know their host.

Conversation would rise and fall as food arrived or plates were cleared away, the same as any dinner party. Introductions were made, although Susan was sure like hers, most would be forgotten before dinner was even finished. The local news was discussed, not in any real depth, along with celebrity gossip, which seemed to be the stronger of the two topics. They did talk about the reason for being here tonight once or twice, and since Susan had never done one of these, she asked a male to her left who had and how it was done. He explained that the ones he had been to were that some would have everyone discuss it while having dinner and that they must write their guess on some paper, and after the meal was completed with tea and coffee, their notes were read and a winner declared. Another said he had been to something which was more like this. You got to wander the house. In rooms, you’d find clues. After some time, you all met back together and again wrote your guesses and see who won. Susan looked along the table; there sure was a wide and varied rank of guests; some, Susan guessed, came from money, while others seemed to be like herself. Titbits of conversation would meet Susan’s ears from time to time. She blushed at one lady’s suggestion of the number of bedrooms that would be used tonight.

Finally, the host rose and pronounced that dinner had formally concluded and that they could now leave the table at their leisure and go explore the delights the house and the night had to offer. Again, Susan must admit she was still slightly perplexed at her meaning. They had enjoyed a wonderful meal of pumpkin soup, three roast meats, and a very light chocolate mousse, tea, and coffee, of course. She didn’t recall anyone’s glass ever being empty for the entire night, but she did recall the waitstaff filling glasses throughout the meal, yet no one was showing signs of being drunk as they left. Susan lingered in the dining hall for some moments after she had taken time to look around the room once the guests had left.

The pictures lining the walls were all hunting scenes, some of horses and dogs, some of men shooting and then returning home after the day with their spoils. The large mirrors framed in gold filled up the remaining wall space, and candles shone from the corners, the doorways, and the ceiling. Susan took note of the pictures and what was in the room for the game but didn’t see any clear clue written down. Nothing stood out, no object or clue like you’d expect from the board game, so she came to the conclusion that the dining room or hall was not included.

The whole room added to the atmosphere being dark, with heavy polished wood furniture and crystal drops flickering in the candlelight. During dinner, the mirrors had allowed her to view other guests along the table; some seemed very interested in their seating companions, while others like her were looking around. Susan did notice the sexual tension building among some of the guests, while most, herself included, relaxed and enjoyed the night. Susan’s mind wandered to the butler for some reason, tall, dark, handsome, not clean shaven but, then again, no real definable stubble either, broad shoulders … but she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Surely, he wasn’t …

Wasn’t what? she asked herself.

Leaving the dining chamber, Susan wandered down the hall to her left as she couldn’t see a door on the right. The room right next door was a small washroom/powder room, and then at the back behind the stairs was the kitchen, currently very busy with people cleaning, packing glasses into boxes, all the normal activity that goes on after a dinner party of this size. So Susan didn’t go in; she caught sight of some stairs in the far corner near the rear door, both cast in shadow, but the back door was again that rich dark black with glass panels. There were no lights on outside, so she was unable to see past the door itself, which seemed strange and gave her that funny feeling again. How the mind can wander and be filled with such nonsense. Jane Austen and Emily Brontë books came screaming to the front – dark homes, dark secrets, lovers amongst the staff and upper family.

Susan turned back into the hall and saw that the back wall had a door dead centre. It looked smaller than the others. She was normally not a look-see person, but tonight, with all that imagination and mood set so far, she was. Susan knocked, but hearing no reply, she tried to turn the handle; she found it locked. Strange that they had been told nothing was out of bounds but this door was locked. Looking back towards the stairs and front entrance, Susan saw a door on the same side of the lounge. The stairs must have hidden it when she first looked around. This house was bigger than she had first thought.

CHAPTER 2

W ALKING TOWARDS IT, Susan could hear quite a few different voices, laughing, talking, and some music. As Susan opened the door, she also heard something else – she thought she heard people enjoying each other, as in having sex. Walking in, Susan was taken aback, not only shocked by the smell of cigar smoke but also frozen by the sight before her.

All the women in the room were at some stage of undress if not completely naked, and most of the men had their hands or mouths filled with the offerings. The front area of the room from which Susan had just entered was like a seating cards game area, while at the back of the room, there was a billiards table. Lying upon it was indeed a couple deeply entwined, enjoying the sexual pleasure of each other, regardless of how many or who were watching, cheering, or even touching as they performed.

She could feel the door pressed tightly on her back and the door knob intruding firmly between her butt cheeks, thinking that somehow she could melt her way backwards through the door. The smells, the noise, the sights before her had her head feeling heavy; the more she looked around, the more sexual lust surged through her veins, creating a hunger she didn’t know she had. Susan knew from the indication of moisture between her thighs how wet she had become and in such a short time.

A man walked towards her. Susan didn’t remember seeing him at dinner, handsome, strong, full of confidence, and so fixed with his purpose. His chest was bare and large, just like she’d seen in her dreams. Stopping before her, he put both hands up against the door, trapping her, the smell of him so close, warm, spiced, seductive, male, coupled with the smell of sex from the room, causing her head to swim. Susan was full of desire for this guy, the look of pure lust within his eyes; the wanton in her took over, and she leaned forward towards his warmth. Before her lips could find their target, his met hers in a crushing kiss, forcing his way into my mouth and filling her. All Susan could do was react; her arms, moving of their own accord, snaked around his neck, pulled him closer, his chest pinning hers between his muscles and the hard door. Feeling his heat through her thin Gatsby number, Susan was bathed in such warmth; she could now understand why these women were naked.

He pressed his whole length against her. She was not only wrapped in the warmth but was also feeling how strongly he wanted her, his cock large against her belly. His strong arms lifted her up; instinctively, her legs wrapped around his hips. His hands cupped her buttocks, while his fingers started searching for flesh beneath the dress. In the blink of an eye, both his hands were not only planted firmly on her flesh but also massaging the cheeks, having met no resistance since Susan had skipped wearing underwear and went for loose French knickers instead. They curled inwards, and the lightest of touches now grazed her pussy lips, swollen and wet; they had already opened themselves to this intruder.

Looking back and remembering the lust running through her, she could understand how she had missed it. Suddenly, it wasn’t his fingers Susan was feeling at the entrance of her pussy; it was his engorged head, pulsing against the folds, knocking for entry. Susan opened her doors with a welcome, and he drove his hard cock home, filling her house with his presence. Both her arms and legs locked into place around his neck and hips as he took her for a ride, withdrawing slowly before driving upward with rage-filled desire. Susan clamped her mouth to his to stop the whole house from hearing her as she burst through the clouds and came crashing down upon his spear, sending him to the end of his performance and filling her with his seed. Nothing she had experienced before had been so strong, so short, or so intense.

Susan must have made more noise than she was hoping for as she was brought back into the present with a round of applause and whistles from the others not too occupied by their own lustfulness. She removed herself from him. Without even putting himself away, he turned and bowed as in thanks and gratitude that they liked his performance. Susan, on the other hand, turned and fled from the room, running up the stairs in a blindness; she blundered straight into the first room with an open door.

It turned out to be a library, books lining the walls from floor to ceiling and deep, rich leather chairs, with a fireplace crackling and inviting. Susan sat down and curled her legs up beneath herself in one of the large chairs, resting her head against the wing. A butler appeared and handed her a brandy balloon. At first, Susan was surprised to see him there, let alone a ‘stiff’ drink in hand. Pushing the tray closer, he encouraged her to drink. He stood waiting until Susan took the glass and lifted it to her lips. The liquid was fire to her throat but a warm comfort to her belly.

Susan let the