The Secret Workshop

Traveling through the serpentine streets of Florence many years ago, there was a 
waif named Francesca, who was at one time the mistress to a powerful Lord. 
Although the Lord was kind, he required sexual favors. And although he was not 
inconsiderate of his mistress, he was far from the ideal match that she would 
imagine as they were in the bed chamber. At such times, she would imagine the 
statuary of the marble figures that adorned the spatial estate and pined 
away--thinking how much more erotic her times could be if only one of them could 
indulge in the delights of her body, rather than the indelicate Duke. Thus, 
even though every material good was offered her, they could not satisfy the 
pulsating energies that would course through her thighs and breasts when she 
played her fingers against her own ripe sex. For this was the only way to 
compensate for the indifferent engagements required of her. 

Which is exactly why she now found herself--garbed in peasant's clothes, an 
anonymous urchin in the marketplace of Florence. She had stealed away in the middle of the night only several days before, as the images of a powerful masculine presence overpowering her made all her jewels and silk so much indifferent ornamentation. She had heard but never seen the magnificent David, sculpted by that famous artist who was both admired and loathed by King and Pope and other dignitaries of the kingdom. The artist was known to be temperamental and self-involved--but there was also a rumor about that he used alchemical means to practice his art and give himself inspiration that was second to none--in fact vastly outshone the artisans of the land.

Standing before the magnificent sculpture took her breath away. The organic 
form, the majestic triumph of art that could find the aesthetic in the stone. 
And how she imagined what such a masculine work of art might be if it acquired 
human substance. But that was fanciful thinking--the kind her master had chided 
her for--claiming no such creature truly existed among the living.
But that last night, when her plans had been laid out, she felt a powerful 
organic force that teased her breasts and thighs so intensely, she knew there 
must be a source for these craving of hers.

Now as she walked the busy narrow streets, heard the merchants hawking their 
wares, seeing the lascivious women of the commons laugh heartily and unabashed 
in their loose, translucent clothing, not embarrassed by their display of their 
sexual delights but enjoying the attention they were getting from common man and 
officiate alike, she knew there must be a world beyond the confines of her 
former sequestered longings. She had heard of the baths, of the orgies among 
the elite, of the public displays of sexual acts, of the contests among couples 
to see which had the ability to perpetuate their love making--and even recalled 
talks of wagers among the observers--betting as though at an athletic event.
As a stranger here, however, where could she turn for clues to these hidden 
exploits. Tired, she found a public well, and finding a young lad, asked him to 
pour bucketfuls of water to cool her hot skin. Refreshed, she noticed that now 
her clothes clung to her, and were as suggestive as the garments that the 
tantalizing women about her. She noticed how this young lad of perhaps 17 
stared wide eyed at the way her fabric outlined her breasts and thighs.
"Are you looking for the master's secret workshop?" he whispered. 

Francesca wondered what it could be that gave her thought away.
"Why, how could you make such an assumption?"

The young man said in a tone beyond his years: "You see, those attracted to the 
workshop have a presence about them. They are the ones who have been touched by 
the sensations that vivify the body. Although these sensual waves pass through 
the land, only some are called. And from much experience, I can see you are one 
of them."

"Lead on," Francesca said, not wanting to miss this seemingly serendipitous 
opportunity. The young man took her by the hand, and passing through the 
market, began to take her through less inhabited land, where the houses were 
sparser and fewer people were about. Finally, they arrived at a marble 
building, a bit darkened from age, but mysterious in the runes and odd figurines 
that graced its facade: shapes that made Francesca even more heightened in her 
consciousness of a growing desire. She thought of the David and somehow made an 
ephemeral association. Outside the door were two golden haired woman, dressed in 
loose wrappings but a bit more elegant than what she had commonly seen. 
"She is one that has been called," the young lad said. 
The two sybarites smiled, glanced at their blonde counterpart and welcomed her in. Within one could not see clearly because of the thick steam that enveloped the air. But what was lost in sight was gained in sensation. Francesca felt herself relax: the warmth was evocative and her attire soon was thoroughly soaked so that her fine flesh was visible from head to toe. 

"Invite her into the chamber," one of the women said. The young man, who had already garnered the trust of Francesca, turned to her--she realized he was quite tall, and well developed for his age. He embraced her with such suppleness and warmth and desire, she could not resist. And when his young lips pressed against hers, she felt the thrill of sensations spreading through her breasts and neck and thighs. The young man slipped the fabric from her shoulders and her firm and pointed breasts were exposed. But everything felt so natural, she felt relieved of the oppression of her garment rather than embarrassed. He once again took her by the hand and led her into a more inner chamber, then stopped for a moment to regard the activities. men and women, covered only by the scantiest of cloth that barely hid their buttocks 
were filling a pool heated by steaming rocks with buckets of water. 

Francesca watched their muscular motion. The men whose cocks were apparently in various states of hardness. Some bulging against the silken fabric; others nearly ready to burst out of their constraints. Likewise, the women whose full buttocks were exposed seemed to be tantalized with every stride they made--the fabric stimulating their soft mounds which at times peeked out from their tiny 
coverings. Francesca felt her own groin heat up and pulsate. This was indeed 
nothing like her former abode. 

"A few minutes longer," the young man said, smilingly. "For what?" Francesca said. "For something I believe you will greatly appreciate. In fact, I can see you are already enjoying the fruits of the workshop. With that he took out a mirror, and handed it to Francesca. She observed her self. Her smooth fair skin was as appealing as ever. but she noticed the tension that had slowly developed from the many unpleasant nights with her former patron had dissolved. She looked younger and relaxed and even had a hint of joy. The lad took the mirror from her and turned to her.

"Do you appreciate the effects of the workshop?" he said. Francesca smiled graciously. 

"Oh, yes. wonderfully so." And as she uttered her words, the youth stepped 
forward and slid her dress entirely off, and as it rested on the ground, Francesca in her nakedness felt erotic and sexy. The youth--either from her response or his own, now ravishingly kissed her. He caressed her breasts and bent down before her, and unlike her previous master, was unabashed in pleasing her. She watched his thick black hair from above hover about her pussy, his hands holding her buttocks. His full lips being succored by the folds of her pussy. soon he was ravishingly licking and stroking her; it seemed he too was transformed. Suddenly a bell rang. the men and women had completed the filling of the pool and left. Moments later four couples entered: each so well formed they could serve as models for a great sculptor. The woman prostrated themselves by the poolside. their breasts were ample and firm; nipples erect, buttocks perfectly proportioned. And the men were their masculine counterparts. Well developed, muscular chests, not large in girth but slim yet powerful. Thighs with ropes of muscle and buttocks hard and chiseled, which, Francesca imagined, would have the power and endurance should the women be serviced. But most impressive among the men were their cocks; each with perfect, long shafts and well proportioned heads, as though a sculptor's vision had already molded them. Two of the men of blonde complexion had golden shafts; the other two, darker and more of Mediterranean appearance had dark, mysterious but equally impressive tools.