Boccaccio
Governor
Arbuthnot Abbey, its ancient walls dark and dismal, overlooks the barren moorlands of Cranfordshire in southwestern England. The aspect of those grim walls reflect the grim and forbidding mien of the lord of that weathered edifice, Cecil Arbuthnot.
The area is sparsely populated and most of its residents, generations of whose ancestors have eked out a grim existence from the unproductive land since Norman times, are tenants of ‘Lord Arbuthnot.’ For so he likes to deem himself, although his ancestry is something of a mystery. Some familiar with the whispered rumors of his depravities believe him to be descended from a natural child of the vain and dissolute George IV; others contend that his great-grandfather had been the product of a liaison between Bertie, the future Edward VII, and one of les demimondaines de Paris, for whom the Prince of Wales’ admiration had been legendary. Whatever Arbuthnot’s ancestry, his penchant for debauchery is spoken of only in hushed tones by the common folk in the marketplaces and pubs of Cranfordshire.
Hedonists abound among those listed on the pages of Debrett’s. What sets Cecil Arbuthnot apart from countless other voluptuaries are the rumors of even darker desires, of his unbridled lust to dominate young women.
In the pages to follow we shall chronicle some of Lord Arbuthnot’s cruel and erotic adventures.
{By way of prologue I would like to express my gratitude to those, who have taken the trouble to anthologize the thousands of images contained in the archives of CF. Many of them have inspired the brief vignettes in words and pictures below. I salute you and I’m sure that many of those who may enjoy my adaptations of those images will do so as well.}