Isabella and Ingrid in the Dog House
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Isabella Awakening Ch. 07 free porn video
Chapter Seven
In which Isabella learns some more history and makes new friends
For the first time in her life, Isabella awoke with a man’s arms around her and a hard cock between the mounds of her ass. She was in heaven. Thomas’s regular deep breathing told her he was still sleeping, but his cock was engorged and pulsing slowly and he occasionally moved his hips to seek purchase. Isabella lay like that for some time as the dawn shed pale light through the room. She considered slipping him into her and waking him with a gentle fuck, but her bladder warned her of impending disaster. She carefully slipped away from him and padded to the bathroom.
Once there, she realized that she was not familiar with the strange Arab plumbing and took a few minutes to come to terms with the strange privy. In the end, it was simple enough and she relieved herself sitting over the dark hole in the box. She examined herself in the mirror and, despite her tousled hair and a few fine grazes on her cheek from Thomas’s beard, she liked what she saw. Her eyes in particular seemed to hold a new and special quality that she could not name but knew signified a different and welcome change in her being. She combed her hair while filling the washbasin from the pipe in the wall.
While washing her body, Isabella reflected that she had failed to douche after her lovemaking last night. She had always followed Anton’s advice and washed out her cunny with vinegar after a man had come inside her. She had never wanted to fall pregnant to one of her casual lovers and the thought of carrying Henri’s child had repulsed her. Not that his bedroom endeavors provided too many opportunities for that. She was often relieved that he usually preferred to come in her asshole or mouth, on the rare occasions he took her at all.
When clean and dry, Isabella picked up the silk gown she had left there last evening and threw it around her shoulders, leaving the front of her body exposed. It was already warm and she felt so wonderfully free that she considered whether it would be possible to stay naked with Thomas all day.
When she returned to the main room, Thomas was already out of bed and standing on the balcony overlooking the Bey’s plaza. He had wrapped a shawl or small blanket around his lower body and was leaning over the balcony’s stone balustrade talking in an easy and animated way to someone below. Isabella stood back and watched him, recognizing the scars on his back and feeling an odd sense of proprietorship she did not remember feeling for any other man. The feeling disturbed her a little and she wondered whether this was part of the romantic complex of emotions she’d previously denied in herself.
Thomas turned and saw her standing there watching him. He smiled warmly and held out his hand, beckoning her to his side. Isabella held the silk robe closed over her breasts and moved to him. His arm encircled her waist and he kissed her cheek. ‘Good morning, my love,’ he whispered.
‘Good morning Isabella!’ came a friendly call from below. It was Gabrielle, standing amongst the lemon trees below the balcony and wearing a blue robe similar to Isabella’s green one. ‘I hope you slept well! Now, Thomas, talk to Isabella and tell me whether you are coming down to breakfast with us or not. Hurry up so I can tell the servants.’
Thomas turned to Isabella smiling. ‘Gabrielle is organizing our morning for us. She wants us to join her and some other friends for breakfast in the garden. Are you up to company?’
Isabella pressed herself to him, allowing the robe to open and her breasts to brush the hairs of his broad chest. ‘Only if you promise me that we can be alone again before you leave with the Bey.’
Thomas’s was clearly eager to continue their love-making, his growing erection causing the shawl he had wrapped around his waist to fall. ‘I am as eager as you are to continue our…conversation, my dear one,’ he said ‘but perhaps some food will help us to sustain the energy required.’
‘Hurry up Thomas!’ came Gabrielle’s voice from below. ‘Either fuck the wench or come downstairs! Sorry Isabella, no offense intended!’
Isabella was momentarily shocked by this blunt, but obviously appropriate, outburst, but she laughed and let go of Thomas.
‘I think we should go down, don’t you,’ she said.
Thomas sighed, ‘Indeed.’ He turned to the balcony and called to Gabrielle. ‘Thank you, Gabrielle. I gather you slept alone last night. We are coming now!’
‘Well, that was quick, Thomas! Not up to your usual standard!’ she replied, laughing. ‘Meet us by the west wing.’
Isabella wondered if this comfortable familiarity and casual attitude to each other’s sexual life was normal for the Bey’s palace or whether Gabrielle and Thomas had a special relationship. It did not matter to Isabella, she found the exchange between them both illuminating and strangely liberating.
Thomas used the bathroom, threw on a robe and Isabella tied hers more demurely. They left together, Thomas guiding her down the corridor to another flight of stairs leading to the ground floor rear portico. He told her about some of the statues and wall hangings as they passed and kissed her more than once as they made their way to the west wing.
A grand table was set and Gabrielle and three other women were already seated, talking and eating.
‘Here they are at last!’ said Gabrielle as they arrived. Thomas went around the table, kissing each of the assembled women, leaving Gabrielle herself till last. Two of the other women were Arabs, their dark hair and shining eyes making them look almost like twins. The other was a tall, remarkably beautiful black girl with thick sensuous lips, short-cropped hair and large earrings through the extended lobes of her ears. Isabella smiled and exchanged pleasantries as Thomas introduced them to her. Amalia and Marlesa were from Tunisia and Algeria respectively and the statuesque Kahlia from Ethiopia. All spoke fluent Italian and Isabella also heard them exchanging words to each other in French. She guessed them all to be in their late twenties or perhaps early thirties.
Gabrielle seated Isabella in the chair next to hers and Thomas sat opposite. She served them bread, fruit and small sweet delicacies from a central platter and poured a carafe of juice for each of them. ‘Coffee is coming soon,’ she said.
Thomas began to eat, fielding a barrage of questions from the two Arab women and from Kahlia. Yes, the visit was unplanned, No, he did not know how long he would stay, Yes, he was aware of the terrible things that had happened to Natalia and would accompany the Bey to Beja that evening, and finally, Yes, he was sleeping exclusively with Isabella while he was there. Isabella looked up from her meal at the last statement and caught a look of disappointment on the face of the three women.
Gabrielle turned to Isabella, a slightly amused look on her face, ‘So, Isabella dear, is Thomas the first Magus you’ve fucked, or have there been others?’
Isabella nearly choked on a grape and had to be patted hard on the back before she could catch her breath to answer. But it was Thomas who spoke, ‘Now Gabrielle, we both know that the role of chief bitch sits uneasily on your pretty head, so please let Isabella settle in here before you tease her with your wickedness.’ He smiled and caught Isabella’s eye with a look of comfort and reassurance. The other women giggled.
‘Oh, alright Thomas,’ said Gabrielle playfully, ‘but, as lovely as Isabella is, you can’t expect us to welcome an outsider without due explanation.’
‘Fair comment, and I will explain. But speaking of chief bitches, where is the fair Jacqueline today?’
‘She had a very late night and I don’t expect to see her till noon, ‘ said Gabrielle, helping herself to the coffee that had just been delivered to the table by a servant. ‘She knows you are here and is keen to talk to you about some recent developments.’
‘I shall look forward to it,’ said Thomas. ‘And Kahlia, dear, before I forget, I have some new books and manuscripts for you from Beatrice. They are in my room. Have them taken to the library whenever you like.’
Kahlia’s face brightened and she was effusive in her thanks. She finished her own coffee quickly and excused herself, obviously eager to find and study the packages Thomas had brought with him from Palermo.
Amalia and Marlesa also rose and kissed Thomas, saying that they had tasks to attend to in The Sanctuary. Amalia turned to Isabella and said she hoped that she would visit them there later. Thomas watched them leave and then turned to Isabella and Gabrielle. ‘I have not forgotten my promise to you, Isabella. We do have much to discuss — in words, I mean,’ he added, smiling. ‘And if Gabrielle has the time, I would like her to stay and fill in any gaps or add her own insights and perspectives, if that is acceptable to you both.’
Both women nodded their assent and Gabrielle poured coffee for her guests.
‘Then the only real question is, where to begin?’ said Thomas, taking up his coffee and leaning back in the chair, ‘Perhaps the historical approach will allow us to make a start.’
The story Thomas told started with a brief sketch of a continuum of thought and ideas reaching back to pre-biblical times, invoking the Phoenicians, the Egyptians and the Greek and Roman philosophers, singling out both Plato and Sophocles for special mention. He talked of Jesus and Mary — the Magdalene, not the virgin – of the early Gnostic church, of Isis and of a woman called Sarah, whose particular role Isabella found obscure. The nature of the ideas of which Thomas spoke was not unfamiliar to Isabella. She was aware, from her own reading about the heresies that were vigorously and sometimes violently suppressed by the early Popes in Rome and Constantinople, and it was of some of these heresies that Thomas spoke. Primary among them was the idea that original sin, a central pillar of Isabella’s Catholic upbringing, was an error of human thought, not a fundamental truth. The heroes of Thomas’s story had rejected original sin, seeing every human born as a perfect embodiment of the universal godhead, individual but divine. Each person, according to this heresy, was endowed with gifts or ‘potentials’, as Thomas referred to them, and it was their task in life — indeed the task of all society — to find ways to express and deliver these special talents for the benefit of the world. Evil, on the other hand was purely a product of the human mind.
‘This sound like the Pelagian heresy,’ said Isabella at one stage.
‘Indeed, yes,’ said Thomas in reply. ‘The Pelagians shared many of these views and were eliminated by the church in the early AD400s because of their doctrine — and its implications for church authority.’
‘The historical perspective on our faith is perhaps better explained in detail at another time by someone like Beatrice or Kahlia who are more knowledgeable than I am about the various paths and diversions. Suffice to say, it was these ‘heresies’ as you call them — articles of faith to us — that were rediscovered by Keira de Bruin and her people in the middle ages.’ Isabella flashed back to the story of sexual and spiritual exploration she had read in the little volume that Beatrice had presented to her in Palermo.
‘You see, Isabella,’ said Thomas, ‘our faith is not based on history or learning alone. We believe that the truth of our nature lies within us and can be sought along many different paths. The eternal goodness — the universal goddess — is not a separate being or realm. It is part of us and we are part of it. We are each an expression of that sacred being and it is only the blindness of doctrine, habit and conscious purpose that prevents any one of us from achieving a state of harmony and, eventually, unification and with the sacred. Isabella, I am speaking of a state of being that I know you have recognized in yourself. That is why I am telling you this and, in the greater scheme, why we are both here.’
Isabella had listened intently to Thomas and her heart and soul were weeping. Despite her naturally skeptical nature, his words were penetrating her like a knife and there was a deep feeling of release and recognition. It was if some part of her were rejoicing in hearing its own, never spoken, story confirmed and venerated. Her face must have betrayed her because Thomas smiled and reached for her hand. Gabrielle too was aware of the turmoil and release Isabella was experiencing and placed a comforting hand on her silk-covered thigh.
‘Isabella, these are the essential truths of my people – our people. Since Keira founded our order, we have sought to bring the joy and awakening to each person who seeks it. That has placed us, as you will realize, in conflict with the church in Rome. Over the centuries they have sought to mutilate or eradicate Keira’s memory, just as they revised and then destroyed the original gospels of Mary or the lives and works of the Gnostic saints. We have survived despite their campaign against us, but we must remain vigilant. Even now, in this so-called age of enlightenment, we are hunted and reviled by the papacy and its allies, particularly those in Spain and France.’
It was Gabrielle’s turn to speak. ‘You see Isabella, while our faith is based firmly in the discovery of each individual’s path to the God within them, we must also work to preserve our collective memory and history through the writings and stories of our kind. That is why the libraries here, in Palermo, Rome, Quillan, Vienna and elsewhere, are so central to our lives. We have a duty, summarized by the three words Defendo, Conservo, Exercitatio –Protect, Preserve, Practice.’
Isabella nodded and turned to Gabrielle. She had a sudden overwhelming urge to kiss her and their eyes met with mutual understanding as Gabrielle’s hand slid gently to the top of Isabella’s thigh, finding her warmth beneath the thin fabric of the robe.
Isabella breathed deeply and struggled to form questions in her mind. Eventually she turned back to Thomas and asked, ‘So you … I mean the Order, reject the teachings of the Church?’
‘Not entirely,’ said Thomas, shaking his head. ‘We certainly reject the self-serving orthodoxy of the papacy, which in many places has replaced the traditional teachings of Christianity. Our teachings revere Jesus as a holy man of central importance, just as the gospels are fundamental to our faith. But the Church has obscured and adapted these teachings, indeed they have obliterated the very meaning of Jesus’ life and death, for purposes unrelated to human joy. Their creed depends on original sin and the separation of god in heaven and humanity on earth. This view, of course, places the church and its priests as intermediaries between God and people, it makes the priesthood the holders of special wisdom, and it denies the role and responsibility of the individual in their own relationship with the divine.’
‘It is women who hold the key, Isabella,’ said Gabrielle. ‘The church is a male bastion, a patriarchy, and it uses only male logic and male strategies, including violence and the need to control, to pursue its aims. Keira’s vision was a faith that is primarily matriarchal, drawing hope and inspiration from the womb, opening the eyes of all people to the great wisdom and joy of pure being. It is women who see the difference between the particular and the relationship, between purpose and meaning, between want and need. Ultimately, Keira foresaw a union between these ways, a joyous coming together of the male and female. But those who controlled the church rejected her vision and sought to dominate rather than share. Do you understand? Men of power became the enemy of our order.’
Isabella most certainly understood. Her mind lagged her spirit, but she understood and nodded. Thomas coughed and Gabrielle corrected herself. ‘Of course not all men are estranged from Keira’s message. Some, such
as our dear friend here, are born to the Order and become a source of strength and wisdom that women alone could not attain. Others, very few, are brought in when they have proved themselves worthy. There are still others, men or women who support our cause but remain in conventional society. They are often wealthy men, married to graduates and sympathetic to Keira’s teachings. They are known as Patrons.’
Isabella nodded.
‘Thomas, my love, this is so much for me to absorb, but tell me this — why did you come to me on the Della Virago? What brought us together?’ Isabella believed that she already knew the answer, but needed it confirmed by Thomas.
‘It was your mother, Marisa, my dear. Marisa sought me out through an old patron in Rome and she told me your story and of what she perceived as your gifts. She proposed that I…intervene in your passage to Barcelona and offer you refuge in one of the Order’s outposts.’
‘But Thomas, how did my mother know of you and the Order?’
‘Isabella, you have probably already guessed at least part of the answer to your own question, but I will fill in the details,’ said Thomas. Gabrielle leaned forward. This was part of the story that she too wanted to hear.
‘Marisa Alatonni, your mother, was, or I should say is, a graduate of Keira’s school and a full member of the Order,’ he said.
Gabrielle gasped and interrupted, not knowing whether to address Thomas or Isabella, ‘Marisa Alatonni! Isabella is THE Marisa’s daughter? Why didn’t you tell me?’ She seemed excited by this news.
‘I am telling you now, dear Gabrielle,’ he smiled, then, continuing the story, ‘Marisa’s time there began before any of us were born, of course, and she became caught up in a terrible event that we call The Exodus of Quillan.’ Thomas paused and took another mouthful of coffee before proceeding. ‘It was forty years ago and the Inquisition in Spain had decided to finally rid the peninsular of the last remnants of the heretical sects it had harassed over the previous century. Keira’s Monastery should have been safe, being over the border in France, but the Inquisition had a particular hatred for our order and saw its proximity as a continuing threat. With the connivance of Rome and the French church, they planned to move on the monastery and eliminate the threat for good. Thankfully, you mother had sources of intelligence in the church and she raised the alarm with the senior women. They had a week to prepare and came to the immediate conclusion that they should flee. The monastery at Quillan had originally been a castle, built to withstand months of siege, but the women were reluctant to fight, knowing that death of friend or foe brings neither honor nor resolution. The Exodus started and graduates and novices began to scatter across Europe. My own mother took me, as a little boy, still in short pants, to Britain and Gabrielle’s mother sought refuge with a sympathetic order of nuns in Paris where she and the infant Gabrielle would be safe.’ Gabrielle nodded and squeezed her hand on Isabella’s upper thigh. This was a story that obviously stirred strong emotions in her and Isabella noted a tear travel down her cheek as Thomas continued.
‘For the senior women, including your mother and her dearest friend, Serena, the future of the order was of greatest concern. You see, everything the order owned, its ancient books and relics, not to mention its wealth, was at that time all held in Quillan. The women decided to distribute the Order’s treasures with the fleeing women and worked night and day to package and disguise every last item. As the week wore on, more and more of the women had departed, leaving only a few to complete the work. By the night before the expected attack, only Marisa and Serena remained. They packed the last of the books and relics into a farm cart hidden in a nearby barn and, in the early hours of the morning as the Inquisition’s troops advanced, they escaped through a network of false rooms and tunnels.’ Thomas rested again and a servant appeared carrying a platter of pastries and more coffee.
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- 10.07.2021
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