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Mistress Agnes Ch. 01

By: LopendVuur



The title of this story suggests the content may be violent or involve mainly non-consensual sex. It does not.

Most of my stories explore feelings, relationships and morals, and so does this one. It was supposed to be a short story, but I seem to have difficulty letting go of characters. 

*****

'Mrs Beauchamp, your horse is ready.'

Agnes heard her butler speak up respectfully right behind her, Guy was so soft-footed she had not heard him ascend the staircase to the attic, though it was as old as the house and decidedly creaky. He was so close behind her, she could feel his warm breath in her neck, and a little thrill came over her as she remembered how soft his hands were, as soft as his tread.

Just this morning he had awoken her with his slender hands on her breasts, and his nimble tongue on her most sensitive woman-parts. She still felt the moist warmth of it, starting to explore it very gently, as Patrick leaned over his life's partner, holding his mistress' labia open for Guy to reach the soft flesh underneath, giving attention to a spot he thought Guy might have forgotten.

They were unmatched in tender loving, four hands and two tongues always finding new ways stir her heat up slowly but inexorably, until she gasped for breath with ardour and begged them for release from their tantalizing caresses in the most enticing places. 

Of course they did their very best to give her what she craved, they had tried from the moment they first met.

Actually, Agnes had met Patrick first, almost three years ago now, when she was still in mourning for her beloved husband.

Finding his mistress deep in thought, Guy now kneeled before the large bed she was sitting on, and addressed her respectfully.

'Mrs Beauchamp, it is cold up here, will you allow me to let Dick fire up the hearth if you are going to spend so much time in this room?'

'Thank you Guy,' she replied, still very pleased with her butler's respectful address, and the professional way in which he performed his actual job, as well as his fabulous skills in satisfying her need for tender loving.

'I'm not staying here very long, just getting the feel of the place, see if something still needs improving. In fact, I was just getting ready to go back downstairs when you came in.

Are you sure Dick can be trusted to make a safe fire?'

Dick was the latest addition to her staff, a tall, broad-shouldered man approaching his thirties, a local from a village about an hour's walk away, whom Agnes had hired to perform all the menial tasks in the household. Things that would usually be the responsibility of several maids, like doing the laundry, sweeping hearths, filling and emptying wash-stands, clearing the privies and dressing the carcasses of the larger prey Agnes killed during her hunts, like deer and boar.

Of course maintaining fires was also a menial task usually performed by a maid, but Agnes had reason to doubt Dick's ability to handle fire in a house built predominantly of wood.

'He's coming along very well, Mrs Beauchamp,' Guy now offered, 'but of course one of us would accompany him and check his work. He absolutely loves building a fire and we didn't see any problem in letting him do that. Do you mind, ma'am?'

Guy was such a mild mannered man, imagine Patrick and him spending so much time on Dick just because the big man liked building a fire. Agnes had done well to replace the maids with Dick, though it had taken Guy and Patrick a lot of time and effort to teach him his tasks, and Cook a lot of time to find a man like Dick in one of the villages within a day's walk of her house.

'If you keep an eye on him, or Patrick, he can build as many fires as we need. I trust you both. But there's no need for one in the attic, not yet. I'm never up here for very long, it's just that I feel something is lacking, and I hope to find out what by just sitting and looking around for a quarter of an hour.

You've done wonders with Dick, Guy, you really have.'

Pleased with the praise, Guy still couldn't help spreading it around a little.

'Patrick and myself did spend a lot of time on him, ma'am, but Cook managed to find him, which is almost incredible. He is everything you wished for, though you have taught him much yourself, and improved his temper a lot, which we could not have done.'

Guy was right, Cook had managed the near-impossible, even though he was a local and knew everyone for miles around. 

When Agnes had first asked him to find her a useful but dimwitted help he had looked at her as if she had finally gone mad, but he had of course complied with her request, asking around among his friends and family in the nearest villages.

They naturally knew people in the villages beyond theirs, and thus Dick, a healthy, strong man of nearly thirty years had turned up, who was just smart enough to follow orders, but a burden on his elderly parents who were pleased to have him find a safe, permanent place.

And indeed he had found a place with them, Agnes was very pleased with Dick, who not only worked hard without ever complaining, but cheerfully confirmed his name, being in the possession of a huge cock, and eager to learn its correct application to a rather spoiled lady's pussy. Relieving his pent-up sexual energy made him even more ready to be obedient and cheerful, and soon he was an integral part of the household, learning ever more skills of a domestic nature, and always eager to please his mistress.

While Dick was not exactly handsome, he was not ugly either, just rather homely, and tall, straight of limb, very strong, and clean. But most importantly, he had a stamina and fervour Agnes didn't think could be found in a man of normal capacities without having unwanted side-effects, like an urge to take over the household.

Dick was always eager to please her, and had learned to listen to her instructions very well.

When she first tried his paces, about a week after his arrival nearly three months ago, she had kept Patrick close with a whip to keep Dick from ravaging her in his potentially mindless ardour. He probably had ten years of pent up sexual energy in him, and Agnes didn't trust her power over him yet.

It had been an interesting afternoon, in the special room she had designed for use with Dick only, containing a large, sturdy bed, and a few decorative items reminding him of home. Patrick had seen to it that Dick had been scrubbed well from the first, getting him used to a routine was easier than they had expected, and apparently his parents had insisted on personal hygiene, for he knew how to clean himself and did it readily after a day's hard work and whenever Agnes asked him to.

He had already been introduced to Agnes on his first day, and she had been very nice to him the entire week, touching him casually in innocuous places, getting him used to her presence and her authority.

But when she had taken him to the special room, and undressed him and herself, it was clear he would certainly lose control at some stage of the process, and Agnes was glad that Patrick had insisted on staying to protect her.

Stroking him had been fine, he was kind of cute, he had been loved by his parents, but not touched much, and even a single caress made him shudder. Agnes felt an arousal at this that she had never felt before, he was so strong and so innocent, and by now she had seen he was incredibly well-endowed.

Of course it occurred to Agnes that it might be more sensible to build their intimacies up slowly, stopping each time Dick became overheated, but Patrick objected strenuously to that.

'But mistress, that wouldn't work for a man at all! After ten years of abstinence, there is no way a man would ever be able to control himself.

Stopping each time would only cause Dick to break and fly in a rage with frustration, making him truly dangerous.'

The likelihood of that happening was something Agnes couldn't deny.

So they decided to see it through straight away, Patrick ready to threaten Dick with the whip if he went too far, or even use it if he lost control.

With Patrick standing next to the bed as unobtrusively as he could, a figure of trust for Dick by now, Agnes led Dick to the bed, both of them naked.

There, she stroked him, her own heat flaring up at his endearing reaction.

She started in innocuous places, his shoulders, his neck, his face, and she surprised herself by kissing him full on the mouth. She had not expected herself to be able to kiss a dimwitted man, but her heat was up to an astounding level, and he actually looked rather pleasant, though of course not as handsome as either Patrick or Guy.

Frankly, she just wanted to feel that huge manhood inside her, and have him take her with all he had, but her common sense told her that he would remember that as a routine, and he'd forcibly take her from then on.

So she controlled herself, and proceeded to raise their intimacy slowly, he soon dared to answer the kiss, and he was so eager, so energetic.

He already knew she was in charge, so she really had to invite him to touch her in return, she took his large hand and stroked her own body with it, in the meantime answering his request for more kissing.

But now he started to get really heated, his dick seemed to stand up even higher, and he touched her spontaneously, but his big hands were hard with the work he did and he was too rough, he hurt her. At her cry of pain, Patrick moved in, but not to whip Dick off his mistress, but to patiently show him how it should be done.

Dick imitated Patrick faithfully, and Agnes showed him her appreciation, by kissing him again and stroking his hair gently. Of course Patrick got some of the attention as well, he was such a good lover, and now he helped Agnes break in what he might see as his rival.

Stroking and kissing under control, Patrick had retreated to the side of the bed once more, and Agnes took hold of the giant member, causing Dick to inhale sharply, and look at Patrick to see what was an appropriate response. 

Agnes couldn't think how Patrick would be able to tell him what to do without talking at all, but he managed, for Dick leaned back against the bed and let himself be touched without returning anything, he was quite overcome with heat and very afraid to do something wrong, though from the look on his face he did enjoy the attention.

Now Agnes had had enough, she just couldn't stand the anticipation and the heat anymore, she had to feel that huge manhood slide inside her, but she still wanted to keep a measure of control, so she merely sat on top of it and guided it in. With all the expectations she had built up inside herself, there was no resistance at all, she was so wet she was filled up in an instant, overcome with bliss for a few seconds.

And in those few seconds, Dick went mad on her. Some instinct must have taken him over, for he grabbed her, firmly but not painfully, and turned the tables on her, having her under him in the blink of an eye and pumping away inside her in total disregard of her dominance or the possible consequences of manhandling his mistress. For Dick obviously knew what a whip was, though living with his parents he couldn't ever have felt its bite on his own skin.

As Agnes totally lost herself in bliss, and a squeal escaped her with every thrust Dick's solidly muscled thighs produced, at the side of the bed Patrick did not know what to do. On the one hand, his mistress was no longer in control, and totally overcome by a tall and heavy man he knew only a week. She was making sounds that could signify fear, but extreme ardour as well.

The whole scene looked very violent, Guy and Patrick never made love to the mistress this forcefully, but frankly that was exactly why she had ordered them to find a strong servant with a slow mind.

He stepped closer to the mistress to catch her eye and see what she made of all this, but was caught from the corner of Dick's eye instead.

The tall, strong man must have seen the whip he still held loosely in his hand, for he instantly broke contact with the mistress and jumped behind the bed and under it in one fluid move.

'Please don't hit me, please Patrick! I didn't know it was bad!'

Agnes of course never saw any of this happen, she merely found herself abandoned in the midst of a very intense experience. She had never been so overwhelmed by a man, and though she had lost control over the situation, she actually enjoyed it a lot.

Dick's sudden move left her rather dazed, and very disappointed to be lying there with a burning and empty pussy, though when she came to her senses she understood Patrick's dilemma as well. Patrick later told her he was afraid she'd be down on him for spoiling her first time with a new man.

But none of that was on Agnes' mind, she wanted more of this, and she wanted Dick happy to rut with her, not afraid of punishment for something his very nature told him to do.

So she quickly regained her attitude, and crawled over the bed towards her new servant, who was curled up in fear behind and half hidden under the bed.

Such a strong reaction, Agnes was starting to doubt whether he had always been treated kindly before he moved in with them. It almost seemed he had felt the bite of the whip himself, not just seen it used on animals at his parents' farm.

Ignoring her own nakedness, she stroked poor Dick's back and behind gently and spoke softly.

'You didn't do anything wrong, Dick, you're a good boy, I wanted you to do that. No-one is going to whip you, Dick, please come out and let me hold you. Patrick was not going to hurt you, he was just afraid you'd squash me, you're so big!'

Her calm, pleading voice, and her loving touch did convince him to appear once more, and very soon she had a very large man in her arms, trying with all his might to keep from crying, very upset and not excited or dominant at all anymore.

'Why did you think Patrick was going to whip you, Dick?' she asked him patiently. This moment was going to decide the relationship they were going to have, a man like Dick would never forget the first time they made love.

'There was nothing else to whip but me, was there? And I lost it, my dad used to whip me when I lost it.'

'Oh you poor thing,' she truly felt for him, though she could imagine a father whipping a son this size in desperation. But to her, he had proven he could control himself, so she asked Patrick to get rid of the whip and come back.

'Have you ever seen a bull covering a cow, or a stallion with a mare?'

Dick nodded, still upset but no longer afraid to be beaten.

'That is what you were doing, it was what men are meant to do. Just wait until I want you to, and take care you don't hurt me, and then you can do nothing wrong. Do you understand?'

Happier now, Dick spoke up, 'If the mare doesn't want it, she kicks the stallion.'

He smiled, showing teeth perfectly sound and white.

'Exactly, except I don't have hooves, and you're so much bigger than I am.

Are you ready to try again?'

He looked up at her, his demeanour much more relaxed.

Agnes only added, 'Patrick will not whip you, he will teach you many things. And if you are afraid to lose it, you just go to your room or take a long walk outside until you calm down.

You can go now, Patrick, please shake hands with Dick, I trust him, you can leave us alone.'

Patrick did not object or even look hurt, he merely shook Dick's large hand affectionately and ruffled his hair.

'I won't hurt you, Dick, I like you. Just please the mistress, and enjoy yourself.'

And he left.

After that, they started all over again, with kissing and stroking, and soon Dick's member was standing up proudly once more. This time, Agnes dared let him on top from the first, and he was as eager and as energetic as before. But the dominance, the wildness, was gone, and though he had worshipped her ever since, and had made love to her whenever she wanted to, she had never felt that thrill of being overwhelmed again from faithful Dick.

By now Agnes was in the stables, thinking of her first time with Dick had brought back her heat, Guy and Patrick totally satisfied her longing for total dedication to her pleasure, but somehow they never managed to sit still to be pleased by her, or to take her firmly afterwards. She supposed that was because they actually preferred men to women, a fact she knew before she hired them as her new staff.

She had been newly widowed after ten years of being deliriously happy, married to her first and only love. They met when she was eighteen, on a city ball meant for their class to socialize and meet potential partners.

It had been love at first sight for Agnes, and Frederick had always told her it was the same for him. They danced, talked, flirted, and came to an agreement in just one month. Her parents cautioned her she'd be totally delivered to his every whim, fortune and all, and pleaded her to take a few more months to consider his offer, but she ignored their warnings and married within another month and a half into total bliss.

For seven years they lived in happiness, Frederick improving Agnes' mind with his knowledge of the world, and teaching her how to love a man, loving her in return. Sadly, their union was never blessed with children, but they were happy just being together, until after seven years Frederick's health started to fail and he was diagnosed with consumption.

They had three more years together, still happy despite his progressing weakness, still always together and faithful until death did indeed part them on a cold winter night.

Agnes was broken, unable to go on, though Frederick had left her his estate, his fortune and her own, increased manifold by sound investments. In his last three years, he had seen to it that she would be able to spend the rest of her life in comfortable independence. And total freedom.

Though she only found that out when she met Patrick at a social gathering she couldn't avoid.

He was not a visitor at her aunt's, he was her uncle's valet, a servant who took pity on the visiting niece who was obviously pining away with grief.

Daring to approach her he offered his services to build her life back up, and help her find joy once more. When she assented in desperation, he revealed his bond to Guy, and together they did indeed change her life around from being a broken-hearted bereaved girl to becoming an independent adult widow, enjoying life once again, in the freedom her marriage had bought her.

No longer devoted to a single man, she decided to let life revolve around herself for a change, and as a widow she could do whatever pleased her, nothing stood in her way except her gossiping, bossy servants.

Patrick and Guy helped her to replace each and every one of those meddling females with pliable male staff, Dick the last link in a whole chain of changes for the better. And despite preferring male company, actually mostly each other, to a woman, they devoted themselves to her pleasure whenever she wished, spending only the slightest attention on each other until she was utterly sated and unable to work up even the tiniest spark of ardour.

And yet, something was lacking in Agnes' love-life. She did not always want to be the one receiving, sometimes she just wanted to lavish attention on her partner, but Patrick and Guy were very reticent when it came to letting her suck or even touch their dicks, they never told her off, always treated her with the greatest respect, but it was clear they did not enjoy it, and they never offered to just take her roughly, often leaving her slightly out of sorts, feeling that something was lacking.

Like today, when she had retreated to the attic for half an hour to contemplate her latest idea to fill that lack of something in her life. 

After they had all moved to the family-manor some three years ago, Patrick and Guy had showed her how a woman could be loved by men. Agnes had settled for the stable-boy to give her just that tiny bit of extra they couldn't offer her, and for a while he did manage to keep her satisfied.


Mistress Agnes Ch. 01



But he was a local lad, and not very sophisticated, he had trouble showing her the respect she wanted from a dependent, bedding her caused him to become a bit dominant towards her.

There was nothing she could do but stop inviting him in her bed, after which he got engaged to a local girl. He asked her permission quite beautifully, and she gave it to him along with a set of rings for their wedding.

Then when the gardener retired, she thought she could do better, offering the position to an artist from town, who wanted a quiet place to work for a living and spend his spare time in the workshop that she gave him to create his works of art in.

It had taken half a year to lure him in her bed, but it was worth it.

That worked for a time, their conversation was wonderful, and the loving was new and exciting. But after some time she started to find him a bit too sensitive, and he started to get on her nerves, claiming her for himself, trying to get her to stop making love to Guy and Patrick.

So though both stable-boy and artist still worked at the manor, she no longer slept with them, and whenever she felt a little too heated after having been spoiled by her duo, she now rang for Dick to be sent to their special room, he was always ready to do his duty to her, and he always enjoyed it.

But though he readily took her as roughly as she wanted, he was not the kind she wanted to lavish attention on herself, it felt a bit weird to devote herself to a man who did the most menial tasks in her house, though he was very sweet and quite attached to her without making any demands.

She couldn't forget that first time with him, though, when he had been overcome with ardour and had taken her almost like a wild thing. She so wanted to feel such passion and yes, such violence again, that she had thought up another plan.

Today she was not going to hunt, her mood was too distracted, she kept thinking of the past, there was no way she was going to be able to concentrate on being silent enough to shoot a deer, or brave enough to go after a boar with nothing but her rifle, a tall hunter and her three large hounds.

Today, she would merely ride out, take the dogs for a run, let the wind blow through her hair, then return and probably have Dick over to blow off some steam.

As she sat on her tall horse and had the hounds released from their pen, she rode off towards the moors, her favourite place to go when she was not out for game. There was always plenty of wild meat in the house, even her staff got to eat venison and boar, her lands had been very prolific since she let the steward go who urged her to squeeze out every penny, by having her tenants till soil too poor to bear other fruit than heath and game.

Letting him go, and returning the land to its original purpose, wild hunting ground, had done a world of good. Her tenants could actually grow something on the land they had in cultivation, the abundant sheep and the few cattle that thrived here could fertilize a few small fields really well, or a lot of large fields really badly.

They had less work to do and more gain from it in the shape of mutton and potatoes, she had more land to hunt and happier tenants. They were all winners.

Except Agnes was still bored.

Riding out here, she longed for that wildness she had tasted for a few blessed moments in Dick. He was never going to revert to that state, he adored her and followed her like a puppy, only ten years of abstinence had gotten him to the point where he dared dominate his mistress. She couldn't wait another ten years for him to build up some fervour.

And a dominant man would satisfy her needs, but he would also try to take over her fortune and her life, and forbid her to see Patrick and Guy. He would probably force her to have a maid again instead of Patrick, who had been a valet when she met him, but was just as good a personal servant to a lady as he had been to her uncle.

There was no way Agnes was ever going to let herself be ruled by a man again, but she did want a man like that to grace her bed. Therefore, she was going to keep a slave.



Mistress Agnes Ch. 02



Of course that was against the law, but no-one would find out, they would take a comely wild youth from the back-streets of town, lock him up and tame him just enough to keep him interesting. Everything was in place in her attic, Cook didn't know, Dick wouldn't talk and wouldn't be believed anyway if he did, and Patrick and Guy were hers and hers alone.

She had spent half an hour of each day in that attic, sitting on the large, comfortable bed, stroking the heavy iron collar as if it already contained a humble victim, oppressed and obedient on the outside, but burning with fire within.

The room of course was clean and comfortable, Agnes was not going to visit her slave in a filthy dungeon, and naturally she wanted him to be well-cared for. His only problem would have to be lack of freedom, not discomfort.

Once she had her victim, she would feed him well and offer him books to relieve his boredom, and of course herself. A whip would guarantee her safety, and Patrick could guard her from behind a screen. Or if her slave was very large and very dangerous, Dick, though Dick might be even harder to control than her slave in an emergency.

But Guy and Patrick had promised her to solve that, they trusted themselves to find a suitable slave for the mistress, and had a contact in town scouring the streets already.

The very idea of the attic soon having its inhabitant, living his life just for her, to please her, gave her a pleasant shiver, and she braved the cold and the worsening rain without so much as a mutter to herself.

Her horse was eager for a run, and it was time to stop woolgathering anyway, so she cantered towards the nearest dry spot, and let it have its head.

A real hunter, it was very spirited, and soon reached top speed in a flying gallop. None of her men wanted to accompany her, neither of them had ever learned, because of their low birth or having spent their youths in the city. So Agnes went out on her own, her dogs her sole companions, and well-able to keep her safe from wild animals or poachers alike.

Frederick had been an avid hunter, but when he was alive she had never even contemplated riding astride on a fiery hunter or shooting a live animal. She had accompanied him on rides, but on a gentle palfrey, using a lady's saddle.

Getting back to the country with Patrick and Guy, and finding both her own horse and Frederick's hunter still well cared-for in the stables, she decided to sell her palfrey, but she couldn't bear to part with her beloved's horse. So she learned to ride it herself, feeling close to Frederick when she was out on the moors alone, with his pack of hounds, and his gun.

As hill after hill covered in heath flew by, she could feel the horse labouring for breath, and since her dogs were nowhere in sight she brought the horse to a walk and looked around her. Behind her, she could hear one of the hounds bay, the deep sound carrying even in the strong wind.

Turning her horse's head, it was time to return home anyway, she soon found them, gathered around some dead animal lying on the edge of a moor, a nasty, soggy place, with treacherous footing.

Her horse did not object to getting closer so it was probably safe to walk on, and Agnes wanted to see why the dogs hadn't snatched a few bites from the cadaver, as they usually did before she could call them off. They were trained not to attack live prey unless commanded to, so maybe there was still some life in this animal.

Coming close, the dogs made room for her horse, and she saw it wasn't an animal at all. Lying on the edge of a puddle, a mere two steps away from a watery grave in the spongy mosses of a moor, was a man.

Agnes slid off the saddle, and secured the reins to her belt. It wouldn't do to let her horse run off, with her all alone and no-one in the house in the possession of even the slightest sense of direction or knowledge of the heath and the moors.

No, she'd have to look out for herself.

The man was indeed alive, though very cold and not conscious. He was young, not even thirty she guessed, and he had been lost or on the run for quite some time, judging from his beard and the state of his clothing.

His coat was soaked and clearly military in origin. Could he be a deserter? The nearest military camp was at least three days ride away, and the weather had been atrocious. No wonder he was dying at last, it was a sign of incredible determination that he had made it this far.

He had no signs of rank on his coat, which meant he had either lost them, thrown them away, or never had them. A private then, and privates in the regular army were reputed to be rabble from town, only one step up from criminals, headstrong and violent.

Was this man the answer to her prayers?

Trying to evaluate how close he was to death, she counted his heartbeat and found it low. He was indeed cold, and his cheeks seemed hollow beneath a week's beard. He was too heavy to lift, and besides, her horse was very tall, she'd never be able to lift a grown man that high.

If she wanted to rescue him, she'd have to warm him and get enough life in him to get on the horse with just her help.

Decision made, she removed her cloak, and dragging him to a higher place with quite some effort, managed to wrap him in it. Too bad she didn't have a shot of liquor on her, as Frederick used to have when he went out. She sat down next to the man, trying to warm him a little with her own body-heat, never even considering he might be a danger to her, if he was indeed a deserter.

After twenty minutes, she guessed he should be a bit warmer, she was getting cold herself and needed to go home soon or risk her own life.

A bit of noise might help to revive him, so she slapped his face a little and shouted, 'Wake up, wake up, you lazy bugger!'

That was what she guessed he was used to wake up to.

And whether that was true or not, he did stir, and mumbled something, so she kept going.

'Come on, you, wake up, it's life or death now, there's a nice warm room waiting for you if you get up. And hot food, a bed, blankets.'

And it worked!

The eyes opened, delirious with hunger and fatigue, but they opened, a semblance of intelligence entering their depths.

'Where am I?' a broken voice asked.

'Never mind, man, get on my horse or I'll have to get help, which means half an hour or an hour longer in your soggy coat. If it pleases the hounds to find you again. Get up, come on!'

She didn't doubt him being a soldier anymore, he was very sensitive to commands, and tried to get up. With her support he managed to get to his legs, and she prayed fervently that he was strong enough to get in a saddle, and that her horse wouldn't shy from a stranger.

He was up, and seemed to have a last supply of courage to draw on, for he got one foot in the stirrup. One hand on the horse's flank, she pushed his butt up with the other, grabbing his belt to keep him from falling off on the other side.

But he didn't, he actually seemed able to ride. The stirrups didn't fit, of course, and he slumped in the saddle, and in a second Agnes decided to use the stirrup to climb on behind him. He was not very large, and it would be impossible to keep him on the horse from the ground, it was just too tall.

Releasing the rein quickly, and pulling it over the head of her horse, she climbed on and sat awkwardly on the back of the saddle. Feeling her hand on the rein, having had its run, the horse did what she asked and ignored the extra weight and the awkward balance of it.

When they reached the house after half an hour, Agnes was chilled to the bone, and deadly tired keeping herself in the saddle whilst trying to balance a heavier man as well as guide the horse. But being late also had its advantages, the stable-boy came running to take the rein, Patrick caught Agnes as she nearly fell off, and Guy caught the man as he really did fall off, unconscious once again.

Dick also came running, and Guy asked him to take the man into the house.

Looking helplessly at Agnes, she understood Dick would rather help her, but she could still stand.

'I can walk, Dick, thank you so much for your concern. But that poor man needs you more right now, please take him to the attic, Patrick will follow and tell you what to do. You can build a fire there.'

That pleased Dick, and he carefully lifted the still shape to his shoulders and walked towards the house.

Agnes left the horse and the dogs to the stable-boy, and was supported into the house herself by Guy and Patrick, until she felt life return to her legs as they warmed up.

'Patrick, will you see to Dick and our guest? I can manage to get to my room with Guy's help. I'll be with you as quickly as I can.'

And she did indeed reach her room, life returning to her hands and feet quickly as she walked through the warm house.

Once in her room, Guy advised her to take a hot bath, but she didn't want to take the time, so he merely rubbed her hands and legs warm, then helped her into dry clothes and towelled her hair dry.

Within half an hour she was in her attic, a cheery fire chasing away the cold and the dark, her soldier lying on the bed, still unconscious but cleaned up, dressed in a nightshirt, and tucked into the bed comfortably.

Patrick had everything well in hand, that was obvious, Dick was happy because he got to build the fire, and as Guy and the mistress came in, Patrick was just on his way out.

'I was going to fetch some broth and some smelling salts, I think he needs fluids, salts and a bit of nourishment more than anything. Know what you are about, mistress, his back was covered with stripes healed over. You asked for a bad boy, but this one may be more than we can handle.'

Agnes was not impressed, everyone knew that army sergeants liked to whip the privates under their command, and anyway, she wanted a violent man.

'Better get what you need, Patrick, if he turns out wrong, we can always set him on his way. He's a deserter, who will listen to his ramblings?'

Pretty soon, Patrick had their patient vaguely awake and sitting up, spooning some rich broth into his mouth, which the man eagerly swallowed, waking up a little more to fill his empty stomach.

When the young soldier became restless, Patrick stayed perfectly calm, talking soothingly.

'That's good, isn't it? There will be more later, but if you eat too much now, you'll be sick. Here, have some water as well. There is a pot under your bed if you need to go, if you are too weak, ring the bell and help will come. Calm now, you're safe here, just finish this broth, and rest and get warm.

You're not hurt or sick, are you?'

A thin voice said, 'Just tired, and still cold. Haven't had a bite in three days. A lady saved me, or was it a dream?'

Agnes sat on the other side of the bed, and took the man's hand.

'It was I who found you and put you on my horse. Please rest, you will be fed regularly.'

When the broth was finished, Patrick helped him back under the blankets where he fell asleep instantly.

That was a difficult moment, for it was clear Patrick was not going to take well to keeping someone who wasn't violent or raving mad restrained against his will.

'You need not watch this, Patrick, you did well. Guy, better take him downstairs and get some rest. This man will need a lot of care, we'll share the burden equally.'

As Guy took Patrick down the stairs, Agnes picked up the collar, and slowly, lovingly, shut it around the sleeping man's throat, putting the key in her pocket.

'I'll take great care of you, whoever you are.'

Then she resolutely turned her back on him, she was still heated and wanted her release.

'Come Dick, let's go to our room.'

Of course Dick followed readily, down the stairs, to the left, three doors to the right.

Closing the door behind them, she removed his shirt, then started on his trousers, as he carefully released her dress and helped her out of it. Their underwear followed, and this time, Dick tried to kiss her, and she let him.

As ever, she was surprised at the skills he had acquired despite his slowness, he really was a good kisser, and he even smelled nice, clean, but also rather exciting.

The sight of his manhood still caused her pussy to burn, and his legs were strong and well-shaped. He was actually quite a good specimen, if he had been normally gifted he would have had girls for the picking. But his mental capacity didn't matter to her, she had others to talk to, Dick was very useful to her, and his affection for her was touching.

Soon, they were stroking with heat, and he actually wanted to sit between her legs and lick her first. Where did he get that idea? She had never taught him to do that, Dick was good for firm coupling, not for tender loving, but he looked at her so pleadingly that she allowed him to.

And it was good, he was so eager to please, so greedy, he really wanted this, and now she was used to the idea of having him there she wanted it, too, he wasn't slow anymore, but positively active, he stuck a large finger inside her and found the exact right spot to get a surprised little cry out of her.

Soon, the world started spinning, and she could feel a release well up from deep inside her, shocking its way out with force. As she still lay savouring the ebbing feeling, he covered her with his entire body, and thrust himself in her with force, as usual.

But this time, it was different, every nerve in her body was set on fire by the high he had given her just before, and every thrust pushed one of those little squeals out of her. His stomach was rock-hard, he was not like so many other men of low intelligence, he did not overeat, and he worked hard so his body was firm with muscle.

He filled her up so totally that his solid belly touched her clitoris, which was already on fire and waiting for more. Leaning on his arms to open herself even more to him, every thrust brought her closer to some exquisite state of ecstasy, and it wasn't long before she cried out, a towering high washing over her.

He was grinning now, increasing his efforts, showing his own ardour, he looked different, almost like a normal man in the throes of passion. This time, the release came quickly and violently, and only a fraction after that he arched and crashed on top of her, something he had never dared do before either.

Of course he caught himself on his arms, or Agnes would have been crushed by his body, but still she thought it was rather daring of him. Ever since their first time he had been almost timid towards her, sometimes too much so. This was much better, but only if his attitude in real life didn't change. She would not accept such behaviour from him outside the bedroom.

He must have felt that, for he immediately rolled to the side and was back to his usual meek self. A cheeky smile did lighten up his plain face, though, and Agnes was relieved to find him still respectful of her, but also affected by his pride in his own prowess.

'That was really good, Dick,' she praised him, 'you really made me cry out this time.'

Of course he couldn't keep a secret, and he admitted, 'Patrick told me what to do. He said you liked that very much, he said I needed to get better with a new man coming. 

How did he know, mistress?'

Poor Dick knew nothing of Agnes' plans, so this must have seemed like Patrick predicting her finding the soldier on the moors.

Agnes felt some true affection for this gentle giant, and she snuggled against him and stroked his flat stomach, and the inside of his legs. He was not ticklish at all, and he enjoyed her touch, unlike the boys, who involuntarily shied from her. For a moment, she doubted her decision, wondered why she didn't just try to school Dick further, he would never try to rule her, and apparently he could give a lot more than just rough coupling.

'Why don't you have a baby, mistress? You told me what we do is like cow and bull, and mare and stallion. Mum told me they make babies.'

It had to take all his courage to ask such a frank question of his mistress, he could have asked Patrick.

'I think I cannot have babies, Dick, I was married for ten years and never had one.'

'That is sad, I like babies.'

Agnes said cheerily, 'Well, you won't have any with me. If you want babies, you'll have to find yourself another woman. But I've heard they are a lot of work and worry.'

'My mum said I shouldn't have babies, they'd be like me. Will you send me away now you have another man?'

That was so sad!

'Of course I won't! Dick, you do important work here. You can stay as long as you do your job well, and Patrick is right, I liked what you did just now. This will still be our room, we will still make love here. You know I make love to Patrick and Guy as well, I'm not going to send them away either.'

She stroked him some more, and kissed him, he was a good kisser, and she couldn't imagine any other man combining such a large dick with such fervour and so little hassle.

'Let's get back to work, and don't worry about that man. He's not here to harm you.'



Mistress Agnes Ch. 03



That man, meanwhile, had woken up from a deep sleep for a moment or two. His name was Dennis, and he was indeed a deserter from the army camp Agnes knew lay almost a week's walk away.

He felt weak and still very tired, but he was warm, and clean, and his belly was not full, but not empty either.

He knew from bitter experience that after days without food, one needed to take it slow and not overeat, so he bore his rumbling stomach easily.

His befuddled mind could not make heads or tails of the pressure on his throat, though, and he tried to feel what was wrong with it. A collar, made of iron? Was he a prisoner then? Caught by the army, to be tried and hanged?

Fear cleared his mind a little more, and he looked around the room. He was not lying on a pallet, but in a luxurious bed, under down covers, his head resting on a thick fluffy pillow. There was another one just like it on his other side, and the bed was a double.

The room was decorated with care in blues and purples, and there was a roaring fire in a modern hearth. No army camp this.

Feeling the collar once more, and finding the chain, following it to a sturdy brace in the wall, padlocking him to the very room, he didn't understand anything anymore. So he was a prisoner, but not of the army? Was he to be delivered to an army official in the morning, to die for his wish to live in freedom?

It was all too much for him, he was still so tired, and so relieved to be warm even for a single night, he let go of his fears and speculations and went back to sleep.

'Dennis, it's time for your lesson!'

Oh his mum, she was so sweet. People called her a whore, and though he was just nine years old, Dennis knew what that was. He saw her customers all the time, there was just the one room, he had a bed in a little nook, hidden by a curtain, and his mum knew he could see and hear everything, but what could she do?

Send him to Father Jonah to learn to read and write, to forget the world around him for a few days in a book he borrowed from the Father. And not have any more children, nigh on impossible with her job, but she did try.

In hindsight, he realized she had several abortions, lying in bed for a day and night, crying in pain, trying to hide the blood from her boy. Until the last one took her from him, unable to stop the bleeding, pain and putrefaction grew until she slowly faded out of life. Her clients were faithful, one even called a doctor, but that fellow could do little more than relieve her pain a tiny bit.

Little Dennis was heartlessly thrown out of his mother's rented room, landed on the street, no more lessons for him, just fight for survival, always cold and hungry, he knew the dangers of stuffing himself after days without food, or days with just a crust of bread and a spoiled turnip.

He came out on top of the local food-chain, leader of a gang of youths by the time he was fourteen, brash, dangerous and finally no longer hungry. But a few years later, well on his way to becoming a hardened criminal with very little empathy for himself or others, he was caught by the law and pressed into the army.

Life was even harder there, teaching hard bitten youths discipline and weapons skills being virtually impossible without threats and punishments, Dennis tasted the bite of the sergeant's whip more than once, and still he didn't break but merely bent to the stronger force.

After a year of training he was marched across the country in his company, now as familiar and as closely knit as his gang had ever been. But no opportunity to gain leadership for Dennis here, though his character made him very well-suited to handling responsibility for others, his social status precluded his rise through the ranks, a private he was and a private he would stay, always taking orders from soft nobles on threat of corporeal punishment.

Having crossed half the country on foot, he was led onto a leaky ship to be miserable and sick for days, then dumped on a mirror image of the coast they had set off from. The cliffs were the same, the grass and the trees looked the same, but the houses were different, and they soon found out this was France, defended by the superior armies of the Republic, and most of his company was slaughtered in several confrontations, Dennis surviving by luck, mostly.

The carnage he had seen and caused, and the hurts he had taken had taken their toll on his body and his mind, and close to raving madness he had been shipped back to England, marched across it once more on his last legs, then recuperated physically, but not mentally.

As soon as he was back on his feet he had been sent back into training, with another company, under another noble, being beaten by other sergeants, still suffering from nightly terrors and spells of sudden, incapacitating fear.

Being a veteran of the French campaign, his mates managed to hide his weaknesses from the commanding officers, they respected him and wished him well, and life slowly resumed its course.

But when word came through the ranks that they were going to be shipped off to the colonies next, something broke inside Dennis. He couldn't face another campaign of senseless bloodshed, of seeing all his mates cut down by a faceless enemy once again, and if he survived this time, again, and again, undoubtedly.

He decided to flee, desert the army, no matter what punishment awaited him if he was caught. If he could reach the city, he would resume his life on the streets, ready to take back the leadership of a gang, now a seasoned fighter as well as a smart thinker.

But the English moors defeated him as nothing before had ever managed to do. There was no food, no shelter, nothing to fight. Just endless heath and treacherous moors, for days and days he wandered without direction or goal, ever weakening, until at last he gave in to his fatigue and hunger and laid down to die.

He woke from his restless memories to the smell of food, but when he opened his eyes he also remembered the chain, and the threat of being handed over to the law.

'Easy, easy now,' a friendly voice spoke, a woman's voice, and a woman laid her hand on his rough cheek.

'You're safe here,' the voice said, and he saw the lady of the evening before. Had he slept through the night already? The place where they kept him was rather dark, there was no way to tell the time.

'Are you going to give me up to the authorities?'

The voice laughed, and a face came into focus. It was beautiful, no longer young, but beautiful nonetheless. And it found the thought of handing him over to the law very funny, but why the chain then?

'I am not,' she replied, 'rest assured, your neck is safe from the noose. Your uniform has been burned, you can forget the life that you had before, no-one is going to find you here.'

Why didn't that sound reassuring?

The hand continued to caress him, but Dennis was to weak to feel anything beside relief at not having to die in shame, though the lady was very appealing, and her touch was gentle, it did not excite him, he was still exhausted and totally confused.

'Never mind that for now,' she said, 'you must be hungry, can you sit up to eat? Patrick thought you might handle some solids already.

And after that he will give you a shave, I want to see what I have caught myself on the moors. How old are you, and what is your name?'

He did manage to sit upright, he was hungry, very much so, and the smell of whatever food she had with her made his mouth water. Grateful for the warmth and the care, he never even noticed her authoritative tone, in fact he wouldn't have thought much of it had he heard it, for his life had not had any sympathy or love in it since he lost his mother.

'My name is Dennis, ma'am, and I was twenty-two last august. Thank you for saving my life, and for not giving me up to the law.'

She never replied, though she did look surprised and pleased when he mentioned his age, she merely handed him a bowl of stew and a spoon, and put a plate with some bread and soft cheese in his lap.

'Don't stuff yourself, Dennis, or you'll be sick.'

He did not tell her he knew, for he was too busy savouring the food. Taking in the smell was the best way to keep himself from bolting it down, experience had taught him that, and it worked again this time.

The stew was still hot, so he started on the bread, breaking off a small piece, and taking a bite out of the cheese. There was no knife, did she distrust him with one? Little did this woman know, he could break her in two even with his bare hands, but what good would it do him? She kept him warm, she fed him, as long as she didn't treat him worse than the army had, he'd stick to her like a burr on a sheep, he would be her faithful servant forever.

The bread was the best he had ever had, and the cheese melted in his mouth. There was no way he was going to bolt this fare down, not even with his stomach urging him on. After taking his time chewing the bread, he tried the stew, and again, he had never in his life tasted something that good.

She watched him eat, and did not hide her surprise at his control.

'You've been hungry before, haven't you? You know how to handle a feast when starved.'

He nodded, a bit impolite but he couldn't stop eating, however slowly he progressed. With an effort, he refrained from taking another bite to reply, 'I grew up on the streets. One learns.'

For a moment, her face became soft, as if she pitied him, but she quickly suppressed it and got up, saying rather coldly, 'Patrick will be here in a moment, I suggest you let him shave you without making trouble for him, you are going to have that shave no matter what.'

Dennis did not understand her change of attitude. It was as if she didn't want to feel sympathy for him, but he hadn't given her any reason to be that way, had he? He was still very weak, and he thought he had shown his gratitude towards her very clearly. Her sudden coldness hurt him, and he wondered where his mental strength had gone, he used to be totally impervious to other people's anger or meanness.

The food was still good, though, and he took his time eating every single crumb, polishing the stew bowl with the last piece of bread until it shone.

When he was done, he stacked the bowl on the plate and tried to lean over to put both on the table beside the bed, the chain rattling as he moved. There were a pewter pitcher on that table and a wooden cup, they didn't even trust him with glass or earthenware? They must rate him to be dangerous indeed, which he had been most of his life, but no more. He was not just suffering from physical exhaustion, his mind was at its end, too, he could not bring himself to feel anger over being chained and treated like a wild animal.

He just poured a cup of water and drank it, then used the chamber pot he found under the bed to relieve himself. If they expected him to use that for his other business as well, he'd get used to that, compared to army latrines, or where he'd done his business on the streets, it was pure luxury. He did wonder who'd empty it.

When he was back in the bed, but before he could go back to sleep, there were soft footsteps on the stairs, and a beautiful slender man close to his thirties came in, carrying a tray with a large bowl. This man showed his sympathy for Dennis clearly, put the tray on the table and sat beside him, taking his hand.

'You look much better, fortunately. I was afraid you might still die on us, you seemed so weak. The mistress said your name is Dennis, I'm Patrick, I'm very pleased to see you awake and with such a good appetite.

Dick carried you up here, and I undressed you, gave you a good clean, then got this nightshirt on you. And now the mistress has ordered me to give you a shave as well. I hope you don't mind, the mistress is used to being obeyed.'

Time to set things straight here.

'I'm used to obeying orders, sir, if your mistress wants me shaved, shaved I will be. I will not resist anything or be any kind of danger to her or you or anyone. You saved me from dying of exposure, and you will find me very grateful. Please let her know, sir, I will do whatever pleases her.'

Why was that going to be a problem? Dennis could clearly see it was, Patrick was not a man to hide his feelings, and he showed great disappointment where Dennis would have expected him to be pleased to have his mistress safe.

'Will you please tell me what is going on, sir? Why am I chained to a wall when I can hardly move for exhaustion? Why do I get the best food but without a knife, or a glass? I admit I am a deserter, but I fled from the army because I needed to get away from the violence.'

Avoiding the desperate gaze, Patrick busied himself with the contents of his tray, but he did talk while he was working.

'Will you please call me Patrick, Dennis? There is only one mistress in this house, and she has decided you were to be chained and not allowed sharp objects.

Not because she knew you were a violent man, but because she hoped you to be a violent, passionate man.

The mistress wants to keep you as her slave, to sit here day and night, ready to please her with violent love-making, serving her every whim, obeying her every order.'

Dennis was still not getting it.

'But I want to obey her in everything, I'll throw myself at her feet, I'll make love to her in any way she likes!

As soon as I have a little strength back, that is.

Point is, I don't need to be chained to be her slave, I won't harm her, I'll worship her on my bare knees! I'm sick and tired of violence, I don't ever want to kill or even hurt anyone ever again, and I most certainly don't want to be beaten again. I just want a bit of peace and quiet, a job to do, and possibly a little love.'

Patrick was looking positively unhappy now, but he had gently spread a soft foam over Dennis' face, and was shaving him expertly.

'You're good at this, Patrick! I've never had anyone shave my face before, just my head, in the army, and they were cruel, they cut me and hurt me. You're so gentle, I don't feel a thing!'

'I used to be a valet, Dennis, I had to shave my master every day, and I was considered a very good servant. I still am, except I now work for the mistress, and fortunately for her she doesn't need shaving.'

Patrick put so much love into his work, Dennis felt himself relax under his gentle touch, and when he had given himself up totally to those hands, holding the keen-edged razor against his cheeks and even his throat, Patrick told him the harsh truth.

'The mistress doesn't want you to fall at her feet and worship her, Dennis. She gets plenty of that from me, my partner Guy, and Dick. You'll get to meet him as well, he's slow, but kind of cute.

What the mistress wants, is a violent, dominant slave that she can rule. She wants him to try to overpower her, then subdue him.

If you won't deliver, she'll turn you out as soon as she finds out. She probably won't turn you in, but you'll be destitute once more. Can't you pretend to be dominant and violent, go for her once in a while, take a whipping or two to have a comfortable home?

She'll probably relent in a few months, add you to her harem, she's accepted Dick, though he didn't deliver what she hoped for. I taught him a few techniques to please her, but as I said, he's slow. You've probably got quite a few tricks up your sleeve already, to please a lady.'

By now, Dennis' face was shaven clean, and Patrick wiped it dry with a lovely thick towel, then massaged some fragrant ointment into the skin. Dennis had never been touched with such care, such gentleness, and his shock at Patrick's words combined with his loving touch totally overcame him.

'I can't Patrick. I cannot be violent to a lady, and I cannot please her either. I've hardly ever been with a woman, I lived on the streets until I was sixteen, then got drafted into the army as the lowliest of the low. I never had a chance at pleasing a woman, I've never even really been touched by one, I only had girls from the streets and army-whores, we merely rutted in a ragged tent or against a wall, quickly.

I'm doomed.

I thought I was saved, but I'll hang after all.

But thank you for telling me the truth, Patrick, you've been the first person in a long long time to be nice to me.'

Suddenly, Patrick's face was really close to his, and the beautifully shaped lips touched his own. He smelled great, and those lips were so soft, Dennis had no choice but to kiss them back, he desperately needed some hope, and Patrick seemed to offer it.

And it was good, all soft and warm, and tasting so clean and pleasant.

When Patrick broke that kiss, Dennis felt cold, and lonely, and Patrick excused himself.

'I'm sorry, Dennis, I don't know why I did that. It suddenly felt as if I needed to kiss you, I didn't mean to impose on you. You cannot even leave, I feel so bad being involved in this, I just hate it!

I love my mistress, and I'd give my life for her, but it is wrong to keep someone prisoner, worse, for you did nothing to her at all, and I don't know how to deal with it.

Try not to think about it too much, she expects you to be weak for several days, yet, and you wouldn't become violent until you realized you were a prisoner here. That's at least two weeks to feed you up and come up with a plan to get you back to the city at the very least. Please don't give up hope, Dennis, Guy and I will try to give you a chance.'

Now Patrick looked as if he needed a kiss to give him some hope, and Dennis gave it to him. This time, there was some passion involved, Dennis had never been intimate with anyone, and he felt something stirring inside him.

'You sure you have no experience at all? Try to stay positive, Dennis, you may still gain some spirit as your body recovers. I can teach you things as well, I know the mistress inside out. Just overdo the exhaustion, and try not to be humble to her, keep your spine straight, and show some dignity. Don't suppress anger if you feel it, you can be out of that collar in a week, but it'll be back on the moors with you, if you want to stay, let it make you angry instead. I know you can tolerate abuse, I've seen the stripes on your back.

And if you decide to go for it, I'll sneak up and comfort you when you need it.

You're tired, you need to rest. Just get some sleep, next time I bring food I'll introduce you to Dick. Try to be kind to him, he's not important in this household, but he's a good man and he deserves more.., well actually more of everything than he gets, has ever gotten, except maybe food.

Sleep well, Dennis.'

And Patrick left as softly as he came, taking the tray back with all the stuff he brought, plus the plate and the bowl. He was very good at his job, that much was clear.

Dennis was left confused and disheartened, but he understood he needed to hide those feelings of hurt from his new mistress and try to encourage his anger towards her, show her his strength of will and a keen mind. Also, she would expect him to show lust towards her, and while he of course knew what lust felt like, he had suppressed it for years, and he was very sure he would not be able to overcome an experienced, older woman sexually.

But wouldn't she be pleased to know him very inexperienced? She was pleased to hear he was very young. And what if Patrick was not as friendly as he seemed, was in fact jealous? What if the mistress did want him to show humility and devotion, and he hoped to get Dennis to make himself seem unmanageable and dangerous?

Well, that was easy enough to test. If the mistress returned, he would show her some of his devastating hopelessness, and her reaction would tell him all. She had softened for a moment when she heard he'd been starved before, but after that she had turned very cold. Patrick seemed to be right, she didn't want to feel for him, because she wanted to fight him for dominance over her. As if Dennis could even think to compete with someone nearly ten years his senior who had been rich and independent all her life. The very idea nearly made him laugh.




Mistress Agnes Ch. 03



He decided to just encourage his fatigue, make the most of it, eat everything he was offered to gain strength, then see where his spirits would yet be prepared to lead him.

If Patrick was right.

But since he desperately wanted to have a friend, someone on his side, he couldn't imagine the beautiful servant as being anything else, it would be too heartbreaking to consider without clear proof.



Mistress Agnes Ch. 04



At the very moment she felt sorry for her new slave because he had had a bad youth, Agnes felt disgust for herself. How would she ever find satisfaction if she couldn't treat a man she never met before with the distant scorn one was supposed to feel for a slave? 

He was nothing, she was everything.

She forced herself to sound cold towards him, and to deliver a veiled threat, totally unnecessary, for what man would want to walk around with a week old beard? She saw it hit home, he was hurt, and she left quickly to hide another one of those soft spells.

This was not going to work if she showed weakness, he'd walk right over her and take over her life, this man was not a dimwit or a country boy, nor a spoiled personal servant like Patrick and Guy, this man was a hardened soldier, he could probably subdue her without the least effort. Patrick would be hopeless to stop him, and Dick would seriously injure him, he had as good as told her he was jealous.

What a mess she had gotten herself into through her fantasies, maybe she'd better feed him up and have Guy take him to town with a few crowns to see him through the first months. He seemed so vulnerable and young, but she had already had vulnerable and young, and it didn't work out. There had to be an iron core in him, or he wouldn't have lasted such a long time on the moors, he was probably still exhausted and scared to be delivered to the army's tough justice.

Today she would be nice to him, bring him more food, see what her touch did to him, but tomorrow she'd tell him he was going to be locked up in that attic forever, and he'd get angry and try to attack her, offering her her first chance to tame him. The very thought made her horny, and her regrets were soon forgotten.

When Dennis woke again, he had no idea what time it was, and how many days had passed. The fire was still the only real light in the room, there was a tiny window on the other end but he guessed his chain wouldn't reach.

He did not resist his impulse to check its solidity, Patrick had told him the mistress wanted him angry and violent, and though he knew those feelings well, he could not call them forward now, but feeling the reality of his captivity might do the trick.

But even realizing there was no escape from this chain didn't do it for him. It made him sad to face the certainty of being destitute again in a few weeks, but it did not make him angry. He didn't even scorn himself that being treated like a slave seemed preferable to him to being cold, hungry and in danger.

There really was no will left in him, the war had damaged him forever, and his recent ordeal had finished him off. He could not call up any anger, not even to reach the status of well-fed sexual slave in a safe house. When the mistress appeared he would fawn on her, and she'd turn him out in disgust at his cowardice.

Trying to get up, he found himself reasonably stable on his legs, hungry of course, and actually a bit bored. There was a bookcase just within reach, and supporting himself on the sturdy table he reached the shelves. They were laden with real books, row upon row of them, and he chose one at random. It didn't seem beyond his capacity to read, he guessed he would still be able to read, though he hadn't often had the chance to exercise or hone his skill after his ninth year.

Still, it seemed he had plenty of time on his hands, so he took the book back to bed with him.

To find there wasn't nearly enough light to discern the letters, was this supposed to make him angry as well? Promising him diversion, then delivering disappointment?

It did not make him angry, but it made him determined, something the mistress would also like a lot. He made his slow, unsteady way towards the fire, book and blanket in his arms, as far as the chain would reach. Just before it choked him, he sat down with the blanket covering him, and tried again. 

It worked, he could read now, and the book turned out to be really diverting, a short story on love and morals, witty, but also quite sharp. But reading was quite tiring for Dennis, it was not something he had been in the habit of doing, and his body was still exhausted, it was just the anxiety of his situation that had kept him awake.

Agnes found him right there, lying as close to the hearth as his chain would allow, on top of his blanket. She felt a stab of fear that he was dead, having wandered deliriously until the chain choked him, and she put the tray with food down where she stood, running to check on him.

When she came closer, it was clear he was merely fast asleep, rolled up on his blanket like a hound basking in the heat of the fire. Except her hounds weren't chained. And they didn't read.

She did not understand why he would choose to read in front of the fire, his chain pulling his neck uncomfortably, when he could lie on a quality bed with soft sheets and a fat pillow.

He couldn't have been cold, the room was warm and his blanket didn't even cover him.

The very sight of her new slave, wearing the sturdy collar, completely in her power, gave her a thrill of pleasure, but the way his innocent looking shaven face tugged at her heartstrings was not as enjoyable.

He was really very young, and without the rough beard he looked as attractive as her boys, less perfectly beautiful, but very manly and still, well, actually sweet.

She had determined she would wake him as soon as she came in, to show him who pulled the strings in this house, but something told her he already knew that. He was still so young, she might actually frighten him. He couldn't have much experience with women, having been in the army as a lowly private, and certainly not with strong women.

Maybe she should give him a little time to recover first, make him feel welcome. His attitude when he awoke would give her a clue. If she broke him now, she'd never get from him what she wanted, and she wanted this man very much.

Fetching the tray with food, and putting it on the table to not give any clue about her shock when she found him lying on the floor, she proceeded to kneel beside her slave, her hand automatically pulled towards the smooth cheek. It was incredibly soft, and she stroked it with relish.

Of course that woke him, and he reacted with unexpected violence, sitting up on his heels, not his knees, in a split second, the wrist of the hand that touched him in an iron grip, his other hand on its way towards her throat for a few heartbeats. Then at the very same instant, his eyes regained sense and his body gave out on him, and he crashed to the floor, chain snapping taut and wrenching his head around in the process.

He had released her arm as soon as he realized what he was doing, contributing to his fall, and he was now lying there, his whole body showing pain and shock, obviously very afraid of the consequences of his instinctive action.

But Agnes was thrilled, she knew now there had to be violence in him, but controlled, which was good, for it wouldn't do to get killed. And he didn't plead for mercy, or fall to his knees, he merely looked at her in acceptance, knowing he'd pay for his transgression. His dignity moved her, and she calmly held out her hand to him to help him up.

'I suppose I shouldn't startle an army man, eh?'

He took the hand hesitantly, his sudden move and the resulting choke of the collar had taken a toll and he had real trouble finding his feet, so Agnes supported his body with her own as she had supported Frederick's in his last months on this earth.

He found his voice, and it sounded surprisingly dry.

'And I lived on the streets before that, old habits die hard. I'm very sorry mistress, to have laid a hand on you, and I suppose I'll be even sorrier soon.'

Only his eyes showed his very real fear of being punished, Patrick said he had plenty of stripes on his back, he had probably known rigid discipline for years.

'Never mind, I'm not an army sergeant having to set an example for the other men. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose.'

She had helped him back into the bed by now, feeling rather heated by his deference, combined with such dignity.

'Here, let me get your blanket and your book. Did you like it?'

He was still on his guard, and he seemed to swallow a lot, so she moved in on him fearlessly and took hold of the collar, lifting it to check underneath.

'I'm afraid that will be a nasty bruise tomorrow. Why did you go to the hearth to read? Wouldn't it have been more comfortable to just stay in bed?'

She really had to control herself not to kiss his throat, where the collar had indeed made quite a gauge in the tender flesh. That would swell, better have Patrick look at it later.

A slight lowering of his head was the only sign of humility she could see in him, though she was sure he felt it.

'There was not enough light to read by, mistress, I'm not a very good reader, I need plenty of light to make out the letters. But I liked the book.'

Of course, a candle, that was what had been missing all this time!

'I forgot a candle, you'll have one next time someone comes up here.

But now, do you want to eat, or do you want to take some time to recover from your shock first?'

'Please mistress, the latter, I couldn't eat a thing right now, though my stomach begs to differ. I was so afraid you'd have me whipped, I'd certainly break down and cry like a baby. I know I deserve punishment for laying a hand on my mistress, and usually I can stand the pain, but I'm not just weak physically right now, I'd almost certainly fall on my knees and beg for mercy instead of taking it like a man should.'

Agnes' heat didn't recede any at the thought of this man lying at her feet, but that was not what she had in mind to get from him. A mere beating wouldn't bring the man she wanted to his knees, and he certainly wouldn't cry or beg. But that was just what he said he might do.

His actual reaction pleased her quite a bit, and she sat on the bed really close to him, and gave in to her desire just a tiny bit, stroking that smooth but manly cheek once more.

She did not ask him permission to touch him, he was her slave after all, and he didn't show displeasure or fear, he merely shuddered at her gentle caress. He really felt divinely soft, and she wanted to kiss him, so she just did.

That surprised him, but he didn't try to resist, or take over, he merely answered the kiss as it was offered, obviously enjoying the contact.

He kept stimulating her ardour, merely by not shying from her and not trying to take more from her, he just let her lead and followed where she went. His hands clutching the blanket, he let her stroke his hair and his face, again, it was so handsome and so tantalizingly soft.

And when she moved down, past the collar, and undid the buttons of his nightshirt, stroking and kissing his mostly hairless chest, his hands still did nothing, and he shuddered again. She sucked his nipples shortly, they were delicious, and he smelled very nice, manly but not too strong.

Moving down, she pulled back the blanket, so he grabbed the sheet instead, still keeping from touching her, still shivering, with fear or anticipation, she didn't know.

And told herself she didn't care, he was here for her enjoyment, not his, what he thought of it didn't matter. She had been aching to touch a man as Patrick and Guy touched her, and this man would not be allowed to dislike her touch.

But there seemed little fear of that, for when she had caressed his rather emaciated stomach, he must have had little reserves even before his flight, and moved further down to remove his underwear, he actually moaned. His dick was already standing for her, of course, and she did not feel her usual reticence to serve a man.

This man was totally at her mercy, so she could do with him whatever pleased her.

Of course he was not endowed as magnificently as Dick, but he was certainly not undersized either, and he was clean. She took the solid erection in her full hand, and moved it up and down a few times, seeing his hands clutch the sheet to refrain from touching his mistress again, and hearing him moan as if in pain.

She did look up to see if he wasn't actually in pain, but his face merely showed intense ardour, and she felt free to bend over him and take his dick in her mouth as far as it would go. 

Ignoring further sounds from her slave, she did what she had imagined doing, sucking it to her heart's content, licking the head with relish, then making it disappear in her mouth in its entirety. One of her hands was still holding this delightful new plaything firmly, while the other explored his inner legs, his testicles, his butt-cheeks.

As she touched his testicles, she felt him cringe, either that hurt or he was afraid it would hurt, but they felt good, very nice and soft, so she ignored his reaction and continued stroking them gently.

The moans had stopped, but his hands still clutched the sheet, when her hand, the one holding the shaft of his dick, felt it contract a tiny bit, little shocks at the base of it, echoed in his entire body now, and suddenly her mouth was filled with a sticky substance, hot and salty, frankly a rather unpleasant taste.

She managed to control herself to not lose her dignity, but she released his dick quickly and grabbed for the bedpan, opening it and spitting the contents of her mouth into it. A cup of water quickly followed, gurgling and spitting, until the taste had more or less faded, though she could still feel a faint burn where it had stuck to her tongue and palate longest.

Only then did she see the effect of what she had done on her slave. He was in total confusion, still startled by what had happened just before, wrung out by the towering climax she had caused him, and anxious over her extreme reaction.

She did not like to see fear in him, but she supposed that would fade as he gained physical strength, and yes, the ability to predict her reactions, get faith in her fairness.

'That did not taste well, did you know?'

He conquered fear well, for his voice again sounded neutral as he replied.

'No-one ever did that to me before. I knew it was sticky, of course, but I never tasted it.'

He was fighting sleep, trying to be polite, that was actually very endearing. Agnes knew most men fell asleep soon after climaxing, she just hadn't thought of it. Dennis needed to eat, he couldn't go to sleep just yet.

'You behaved really well, you let me do what I liked, that pleases me. Didn't you want to touch me back?'

'I wanted to mistress, but it would have been unforgivable after what happened before. I have no right to touch you, you're a lady, and I'm the worst kind of rabble, not fit to polish your boots.'

That was way too humble, though in fact Agnes was starting to suspect that dignity and humility generally excluded each other, and she might have to choose what she wanted from this man, the slave she had wanted so badly. It would bear some thinking.

'I will expect you to please me, too, you'll have to touch me to do that. Will you be able to?'

'Only if you give me your permission, mistress. Forgive me, but I have very little experience with women, I'm afraid I'll displease you.'

He was so young, so very young, it would be such fun to break him in, but how would she get him to cover her violently if he was so bashful? She had to find the key to release his dominance, she could feel it in him, but it was so carefully controlled, years of repression in the army most likely robbed him of his self-confidence.

She couldn't help stroking him again, he was so handsome and so sweet. If only she could get him to let go, on her cue, then go back to this shy boy.

Her touch caused him to close his eyes, he'd be asleep in seconds, so she shook him a little.

'You forgot to eat, you need your sustenance. You can sleep later.'

He opened his eyes obediently, but he was already more than half-asleep, there was no use insisting, he'd choke on his food if he ate it now.

'Never mind, love, just eat it when you wake up next time. It's late afternoon, I'll come back in a few hours to help you.'

The eyes closed again, and as Agnes stroked those lovely cheeks she could see the anxiety leave his features, and the innocence return. That was the moment she stopped stroking him, if he woke now he'd be startled all over again, and even a soldier had his breaking point. She would do well to avoid that, if she were to have a chance of bringing out the man in this boy.

Leaving the tray, she walked down the stairs, straight to Patrick and Guy.

'If you have business with our new guest, be careful not to touch him in his sleep, for he has lightning reactions and might hurt you without even being aware of it.'

Patrick immediately took her hands and looked her over carefully.

'Did he hurt you, mistress? I never thought he would do that, he was so thankful to be warm and safe. Do you want us to punish him?'

'He didn't hurt me, Patrick, he woke up just in time to control his reaction, and he awaited my immediate retribution, with dignity I may add. But I decided to spare him, he obviously cannot be held accountable for the reflexes of his past live, let us hope they will fade as he settles in his captivity.

He did get hurt, though, he landed in his collar with his full weight. Will you check on him tonight, Patrick? See if his throat doesn't swell up dangerously? Oh, and I promised him a candle.'

'Isn't that dangerous, Mrs Beauchamp?'

'He is not the kind to set a fire to escape, Guy. He's more the type for direct action. But I think I'm making progress in winning him, I'm just afraid to win him too quickly and too thoroughly, he's still so young, and he has little experience with making love.

But I want him to have the candle, he's smart and needs to broaden his mind. He'll have little opportunity to do that in his attic besides by reading.'

Did that make Patrick look decidedly uncomfortable? What was ailing him, why would he care about keeping a deserter a slave? The man would be hanged if they didn't protect him.

Dennis awoke with a gasp from a nightmare of being throttled by a French dragoon, but the feeling of being choked didn't let up. Grabbing for his throat he felt the iron collar, uncomfortably tight over a painful swelling, frightening him into frenzied attempts to get it off. Still half asleep, he only succeeded in causing himself even more pain, and for a moment he lay on the bed, gasping for breath, panic waking him but at the same time clouding his thinking.

The bell, ring for Patrick!

He stuck out his hand and pulled the cord, then concentrated on staying calm and breathing until help came.

It didn't take long for soft footsteps to sound on the stairs, and like an angel, beautiful Patrick came to the rescue. He immediately saw what the problem was, and turned to fetch the mistress for the key, but Dennis panicked when he saw the person he trusted walk away, wheezing and gasping so badly that Patrick feared he'd choke to death if he left.

So he sat on the bed and pulled the cord once more, certain Guy would come running, then tried to calm the poor boy down by taking him in his arms.

'Lie still, Dennis, help is on its way. Don't fight, don't thrash, it will only make things worse. Trust me and let me comfort you, I'm sorry I didn't see to you earlier, the mistress had asked, but I expected you to sleep for at least four hours. You did so far, you know.

Here, hold my hand, you may squeeze it if you're in pain, share the pain with me to make it less, just keep breathing, Guy will be here any minute, and he will fetch the mistress, who will give you a bit more space to breathe. You will be all right, just stay calm and trust me.'

But Guy didn't come, the mistress herself did, and when she bent over her new man, more like a large boy in his state of distress, Patrick saw real concern in her, and he felt a sudden hope that all would still be well.




Mistress Agnes Ch. 04



She immediately fished her key out of a pocket, released the collar, and kissed Dennis on his bare throat, bruised and swollen out of proportion.

Dennis took a deep breath, and another one, but he did sound wheezy, and Patrick feared his throat was damaged badly.

Lighting the candle quickly to check his colour, Dennis didn't seem blue or about to fade away, and indeed, he swallowed audibly, once, twice, and then the wheeze was mostly gone.

Seeing that the mistress wanted his spot, Patrick immediately got up and made way for her, and she sat down and took Dennis in her arms, stroking his hair, and his smooth cheeks, and looking altogether guilty and rather smitten.

She was talking sweet nonsense to him, almost enough to make Patrick jealous, though he had a partner he loved this much, and remembering that, he merely hoped she wouldn't make Dennis pay for her moment of weakness later.

Being held by the mistress didn't actually help Dennis, it made him anxious rather than calm, Patrick had done a better job calming him down, but he seemed out of danger mostly, and Patrick couldn't tell his mistress she was frightening him. Or could he? This seemed to be a moment of some revelation for her, maybe he would get away with a few words of advice.

Quickly, before the young man settled and relaxed in her arms, and she would feel the need to tug the rope once more, Patrick bashfully whispered, 'Please mistress, build him up. He'll give you everything you want if you build him up. He's worn down by life already, but you can bring back his spirit.'

This was indeed the moment, for the mistress now looked at Patrick with sincere affection.

'Like you built me up, Patrick, when life had me under its heels. I will heed your advice, but I will not let go of my fantasy yet. As soon as the swelling is down, the collar is back.'

But for now, she apparently indulged in some feeling that Patrick had never seen in her, true dedication, tender love, this was the woman Frederick Beauchamp had married and loved all his short life, the woman his mistress hid from the world, even from Patrick and Guy, her most faithful attendants.

And she lavished it on some deserter from the moor who was too far out of it to even notice, Patrick did feel a little stab of jealousy now, but not too much, for Guy and himself had a good life with the mistress, and Dennis had probably had very few experiences that could be called good in his entire life so far. Let her build him up, and then maybe he would find it in him to rage at her from time to time.

But Dennis was not as far gone as both his attendants thought. As soon as the collar was removed, he stopped fighting for breath, and his reason returned. He did feel his mistress' arms around him, and he did hear her sweet nonsense, but he knew that if she found out she'd hate him for witnessing her moment of weakness, he must let her think he was not conscious of what happened around him, and he succeeded above expectation.

It was incredibly difficult not to look at her in adulation as she held his face in her bosom and stroked it tenderly, her scent and the memory of what she did to him that very afternoon were driving him mad with lust, but the certainty of losing every chance at being loved like this every day helped him to keep his eyes shut tightly, and his hands to himself.

Patrick proved himself to be a true advocate for his cause as well, and finally, with so much goodwill surrounding him and the promise of a better future ahead, Dennis let go of his fears and promised himself to do everything in his power to please the mistress, even if he had to be a totally different person from who he actually was.

His new friend was right, she'd relent in time, and let him be himself, but first he would be the man she ached for, the domineering, violent creature of her dreams. It would mean walking a tight line between obedience and aggravation, and he feared he would be made to suffer for behaviour he didn't even want to show, but this was a good place to live and he would do his all to earn the right to stay here. Even if that meant being whipped and humiliated at times, for the love he would get when her moods were like this was something he craved more than anything.

He'd rather worship her for it, but if he had to rave and suffer first, so be it. He had always suffered for nothing at all, this time there was a reward to be had and he was going to do his damnedest to get it.



Mistress Agnes Ch. 05



Seeing her young slave in serious distress had overwhelmed Agnes beyond what she thought possible, and though she loathed showing her weakness before Patrick, she couldn't stop her softer side from emerging full force.

Hearing the bell ring for the second time, she had just known something was wrong, and she knew it had to do with the iron collar. Though the damage hadn't seemed profound right after it happened, and her slave had not shown any discomfort breathing while she was with him, he had jumped into his collar violently, and his throat must have gotten a serious blow. She had kept him in a constant state of anxiousness and ardour until he fell asleep under her touch, he probably hadn't noticed himself that something wasn't right, that he was hurt worse than he seemed at first glance.

His youth had reminded her of her first love so much, she really had to tell herself over and over again that a private drafted from the streets of town was not the same as the educated gentleman she had loved to distraction.

Besides, Frederick had ruled her totally, lovingly, and with her full consent, but totally nonetheless, and Agnes was not going to ruled again by anyone.

But she allowed herself her moment of tenderness, she needed it, and he would never know, as soon as the swelling was down he'd be back in his collar and at her feet.

Somehow, that really seemed to offend Patrick, and while it wouldn't change anything for Agnes, she did think his advice, given respectfully and very carefully, was sensible. She would not hold his audacity against him, and she would heed his advice for now, she really wanted to keep this young man, but his spirit seemed too damaged to give her what she needed.

The coming days would be crucial, as he gained strength he should gain spirit, and she would slack his reins a little to give him the opportunity to grow into his role. If he stayed meek, he'd have to be replaced, there was no place in this household for another worshipper, there were no more menial tasks to do, he had to pull his weight by delivering her sexual fantasy.

He did not wake while she held him, but his breathing slowed until it was clear he was back to a deep, easy sleep. His throat was still swollen, so she ordered Patrick to keep an eye on him and went back to her own business, putting the key back into her pocket.

As soon as her footsteps had died away, Dennis opened his eyes and searched for Patrick's face.

'You were awake all the time?' the handsome servant asked, nearly stunned.

'I was, I thought she'd hate me forever if I witnessed her breaking down, so I feigned sleep.'

'You are young, but you are wise, my friend. I must admit I was a bit jealous to see you the beneficiary of so much tenderness from the mistress, I never before saw her so devoted, so sweet. I love her, you know.'

Dennis was formulating carefully, and he didn't speak until he thought he had it right.

'I know, Patrick. And I know you are my friend despite that, which makes me feel very wanted. I've decided I will try my best to give the mistress what she wants, even if it costs me a few humiliations and whippings.

I will be working hard the next week to be much more forward than I really am, and I will test how far the mistress will let me go before she checks me. Will you help me to seem more experienced than I am? I have never really made love before, I just rutted in the way of teens and animals, I lack skills I will need desperately to deliver on the promises she made to herself.

And Patrick, I may need some support if things go wrong, if I cross the line. Which will certainly happen, for not only does she want the violence, she also craves to put me in my place. I will suffer, but there will be hope to help me bear it.'

Patrick took the younger, but broader man in a tight embrace, and Dennis returned it with all his heart.

'I'm certain you will suffer, and I may even be the one to inflict hurt on you, but I promise you, Dennis, I will make up for it, I will make it worth your while until the mistress herself delivers the love she is capable of. I think you will be happy in her service, but you will have to work for it, even harder than the rest of us.

I will talk to Guy, he will be on your side as well, but I have no influence with the others. Dick is a good man, but he cannot be trusted with a secret, he's simple, and if the mistress can choose between him or me beating you, I'll offer myself. Dick is strong and jealous of you, he fears to lose his position to you and rightly so. I fear for him as well, though he will always be useful because he does his work well. Please forgive me if I have to hurt you, Dennis, know I find no pleasure in it, but only pain.'

As if to prove that statement, he kissed him once more, his beautiful, soft mouth touching Dennis' lightly, his sweet tongue caressing the young man's. They kissed with heat, though Dennis felt apprehensive, if Patrick expected to have to whip his friend, what was he letting himself in for? Was this the best decision, shouldn't he just have himself kicked out and try to make it in town? Why choose another servitude?

After one day, her slave's throat was still bruised, but the swelling was gone, and Agnes personally slapped the collar back on it. He did not say a word, nor did he touch her, but he looked ready to spit nails. As she turned the key and removed it to put in her pocket, she dryly notified him, 'You will spend all your time here, bolted to the wall. I've always wanted a slave to serve my every need, and you're it. No-one will look for you, no-one will find you here, you will be here all by yourself, ready to please me at my every whim.

If you please me, you'll be treated well. If you are bad, I will whip you myself. Are you strong enough to stand?'

'I am, mistress.'

He answered politely enough, but he didn't drop his eyes as he talked to her, he looked right at her and his eyes seemed to mock her. Good. She'd let it pass, build him up for a while, until he dared show his dominance, until he got back his violence.

'Good, do try to keep in shape, there is not much room but I'm sure you know how to keep from growing fat. For the rest, you can entertain yourself with books, I want you to broaden your mind, so if you want others, or writing materials, let me know and you'll have them.

Now you may kiss me.'

He obeyed readily enough, but he didn't seem at all reticent to touch her anymore, he put a hand in her neck and pulled her in, then kissed her with ardour, a very dominant gesture she wanted to correct automatically by slapping him or talking to him sharply.

But she thought of building up and refrained from action, let him think she could be ruled, it would make getting him back in line so much more enjoyable.

Besides, it was as hot as she remembered, being handled by a man, she felt herself drawn to him inexorably, but that wouldn't do, that would be humiliating. She would decide when they made love, and today he would be without. Let him amuse himself, build up his resentment, build up his ardour.

She summoned Dick instead, he had to bathe first, and she decided to join him, he was such a good fellow and he deserved a little more than just a quick release of both their urges.

Joining him in the room where they kept a bath for exactly this purpose, getting Dick cleaned up after his menial and sometimes grubby tasks, she saw his surprise with pleasure. He was already in the bath, covered in lather, ready to scrub himself clean for her enjoyment, and Agnes quickly undressed under his stunned looks, then stepped into the bath daintily.

Of course Dick froze, he had no clue how to deal with unknown situations, but Agnes had her plans. She picked up his soft brush, he really did scrub himself before touching the mistress, and proceeded to clean his back for him first, progressing to his chest, arms and hands, then discarding the brush to a ledge where it belonged.

Dick was so cute, he relished the attention, and never tried to touch her in return, she always had to start him in a new situation. But she didn't now, she wanted the feeling of her slave touching her to linger, she wanted to be in control towards this other man, who was actually more her slave because he couldn't disobey her.

She had felt his erection against her thigh the whole time she scrubbed his front, and now she ordered him to make it available for her to clean up. He raised his midsection, his top half lowered into the bath, and very carefully, but also very thoroughly, Agnes soaped his large member, and his testicles, and his butt, especially the cleft between both cheeks.

Though not used to this attention he certainly enjoyed it, he was not as sensitive as her slave, and that was for the best, she was not going to suck that large dick for him, that just didn't feel right. Better he never knew it was possible to enjoy making love that subtly.

Her own heat was rising fast, thinking of what she was going to do to her new toy excited her more than anything before, his behaviour this morning really gave her hope he'd dare take her soon.

Dick was panting now, and she supposed he was clean enough, his hair was wet and his feet were all wrinkled with being immersed for some time.

She got out of the bath and dried herself, then led him out and dried him. He was totally overcome having his mistress serve him as if he were the master, too much so to be pleased with the attention. But he'd settle once they were in their familiar room, and when she playfully slapped his bottom he did manage a smile.

'You're teasing me, mistress,' he observed, but seemed pleased rather than put out.

'I am, Dick. Come, let's go to our special room.'

She led him by his large hand, and tried to push him over on the bed, but he was just too large. He got the idea, though, and when she next pushed him he dropped to the bed, landing in the soft mattress with a smile.

With a jump, Agnes was on top of him, going straight for the satisfaction of feeling his erection touch her inside. It was as good as always, at this moment she always loved her slow servant a little, he was so well-endowed, and his skills in bed were still growing.

She suspected Patrick of educating him, bit by bit, to enhance his mistress' pleasure, and to keep her interested in her big bear. For when she tired of him, Dick wouldn't understand he couldn't rut with the mistress anymore, and combined with his rising ardour that would make him potentially dangerous, and not in the way Agnes wanted her dangerous man. He'd almost certainly get hurt as a result, and he'd have to move, no longer safe to be around women because he had discovered the joys of having sex, and too strong for them to stop him from just taking what he wanted.

She'd have to talk to Patrick about that, too, have him teach Dick the basics of gentle behaviour, of leaving women and girls alone. Though she wasn't tired of his attentions by far, he had such an energetic thrust, and was so obedient, any woman would want to tumble him once a week.

Sitting on his lovely dick, feeling it reach every sensitive part inside her, she moved up and down slowly, relishing every second of this phase of their love-play.

Soon, he would start to get really heated, and he would want to go on top, and since that was the best bit she usually let him do it. But not now, not yet.

Disconnecting herself from him, she ordered, 'Sit on the ground, Dick, I want you to lick my pussy again. You did that really well. Did you like to do that?'

He probably did, for he was already kneeling before her, receiving her slim legs on his huge shoulders, his large hands very gently holding her labia, spreading them to access the tender parts beneath.

'You are very gentle, Dick, that is good. But if you want to, you may pull the hairy parts a little bit, yes, like that, oh that is good!'

Before he dug in, he looked straight at her, and smiled.

'I like this a lot, it's good. I liked taking a bath and getting scrubbed, too. Thank you, mistress.'

He did not expect an answer for he started to lick and suck her soft flesh with a relish, and soon she was shivering and shuddering in bliss, finally getting a release from the ardour she had worked up fantasizing about her slave, and letting him kiss her with a measure of dominance.

After her first high, Dick didn't stop to ask permission to take her, he inserted a large rough finger and just continued. He was so tireless and devoted, he obviously loved doing this, and Agnes laid back and let him bring her to another towering climax. 

Then she offered herself to him and let him cover her, his soapy scent all around her, his flesh everywhere but without the burden of his weight, he knew exactly how much to support himself. The bliss of her last climax was still with her, and the fervour of his pumping built on it, higher and higher, until she lost her mind in ecstasy, urging him on and on, a high washing over her with the next already waiting.

He had incredible stamina as well as superb force, keeping her in a state of bliss for minutes before arching in release himself and curling up next to her, watching her to see whether he had pleased the mistress once again.

'You did well, Dick.'

Agnes stroked his short hair and his slightly fleshy cheeks, his neck was just a little bit bigger than another man's, but his shoulders were so broad. She caressed them all, and even kissed him, he was sweet and needed some love. Who didn't? Dick couldn't help being unable to care for a wife and family, for being unappealing for someone to share their life with. Agnes was certain there were worse men about, and she would happily keep him around for quite some time yet, as long as he was clean and tractable.

'You may stroke me back, Dick, that was so good, you've learned so much. I bet you're really proud of yourself.'

A large, callous hand carefully stroked her shoulders, her hair, innocuous places. Dick knew how far he could go, and he was satisfied with what he got. If only she could be the same, but Agnes always wanted more, or different things.

Well, for now she was sated, Patrick and Guy paid her their respects almost every morning, and Dick usually gave her what they couldn't in the afternoons. Maybe she'd soon have her slave ready to really go all out on her in the evenings, that would be just the thing.

She really felt her sated body trying to work up some more heat, and it nearly succeeded.

No, Dick needn't be afraid to be replaced, Agnes had plenty of love for all her men.

'I am proud, mistress. Thank you.'

'Thank you, Dick, and now it's back to work for both of us.'

They went back to the bathroom to dress, and then they parted ways, Dick back to the scullery, and Agnes to her study, where she was writing a tantalizing story about a cheeky travelling musician, who not only entertained a new party of revellers nearly every night, but also most of the ladies in it, a bit more privately.

He was heading for Rome next, and she was currently reading up on the landscape, building styles, weather, clothing, everything on the capital city of Italy, to make her story credible to her faithful readers, ladies of standing who had enough money to buy limited edition naughty books, some of whom undoubtedly had known Agnes Beauchamp when she was still a regular visitor to town with her handsome and devoted husband.

Soon she was lost in her reading, ideas for a new romance taking shape in her mind.

To Dennis, the rest of the day was less lonely than the mistress intended. Patrick sat with him for at least an hour after bringing him his lunch, trying to give his new friend insight into the mistress' mind so he could please her without crossing her too often.

Dennis confessed it had been hard to be forward towards her, but rather hot as well.

'I hope I do get punished for being someone I'm not. What if I like being violent and domineering, what if she doesn't whip me for trying to take her, and I start to enjoy it? I don't want to become the man I'm pretending to be.'

'You could never be violent, Dennis. Just trust yourself, I do, and I have known you for less than a week.'

After that, he described some particularly sensitive spots of the female body, and how to stimulate them to please a woman, and what not to do when making love to the mistress.

'She will spend a lot of time on pleasuring you, it's what she aches for. Just accept it, it's not demeaning to her since she has you in chains, but be careful of showing dominance when she does it. That is sure to get you a hiding you'll never forget.'

Armed with this knowledge, Dennis felt a little more secure, but he mostly felt less alone, and liked, even loved, with Patrick going against the mistress' wishes by spending time with her slave.

And strangely enough, Dick was also great fun.

He had been in the attic before with Patrick to meet the new man, but he also took care of the bedpan and the fire, Guy let him care for the fire in the attic by himself since Dennis could ring for help if something went wrong. Dick did very well, the fire burned perfectly, and Dennis complimented him on his skills as one servant to the other.

If Dick had any hard feelings against Dennis, he hid them well, and from what Dennis had heard he was not the type to be subtle or two-faced. No, Dick was a good man, and Dennis planned to try and make friends with him.

As they talked a little, Dick found out Dennis had been in the army and wanted to know how that had been. Telling the large man about the iron discipline, and the constant training, Dennis found Dick staring at the iron collar. Though more than a little embarrassed, he asked the large man why he looked at it so steadily.

'Does it hurt very much, Dennis? When I fetched the pan yesterday night, the collar wasn't there, and there was a huge bruise.'

Touched by his concern, and impressed with his observation, Dennis said soothingly, 'It did hurt yesterday, Dick, but not so much now. Don't worry, I'll be fine.'

'You're not a dog, Dennis, why have a collar?'

That was very awkward. How could he explain when he didn't understand himself? Would he defend the woman who put it on him?

'I don't know, Dick. The mistress ordered it, so I cannot but wear it.'

Dick did not give up, somehow he had a strong feeling for wrong and right, like Patrick, and this was wrong.

'My father whipped me when I lost it, but the mistress didn't. Did she whip you, Dennis?'

Apparently, to Dick, collars and whips went hand in hand, and Dennis was glad he wasn't Dick's father's dog.

'She did not, Dick, not yet.'

'She won't, Dennis, if you're good she won't. She let me lick her pussy again, it was good.'

'I'm glad for you, Dick, and I'm sure you'll never get whipped here, you are such a good man.'

Dennis didn't exactly know what to think of the mistress with this large slow man, but mostly he didn't want Dick to get into trouble over lingering with him, he hoped to have a chat with him regularly, but if the mistress were to forbid Dick to talk to him, the faithful servant would obey, and that would hurt Dennis.

So he urged Dick gently to go back to work, and crept under the blankets himself, ready to sleep some more.

The next day she came back, carrying his breakfast on a tray. 

Being called a slave was disconcerting and strange, for Dennis didn't feel like one at all. For one, he didn't do any work at all, he was waited on hand and foot, even by the mistress.

It was uncomfortable and boring to be restrained, but in fact he hadn't had much more freedom in the army, and a lot more hardship and danger.

Frankly, Dennis didn't think it was possible to make a man a slave without keeping him in bad conditions and working him hard, to break him. And it seemed as if the mistress was taking Patrick's advice to build him up, his breakfast incredibly good fare, her tone friendly and concerned.




Mistress Agnes Ch. 05



She watched him eat, though he took his time, still careful not to bolt his food, it wouldn't make him sick anymore but if he made it last, he wouldn't be bored as quickly, and she'd stay with him a little longer.

He laid down for her again as she lifted the collar and checked his throat, which seemed to heat her more than a little, apparently keeping him constrained was a big turn-on for her. His body remembered what she did to him last time she held that collar, and fired up instantly.

But that was his body, his mind quailed, for he was planning to touch her unasked for next time she lavished attention on him, and he was still very afraid to be beaten. His mind had not recovered from his time in France and his ordeal on the moors, dreams often turned to nightmares, and loud noises made him want to find a small hole and crawl into it.

For now, his body won and his ardour rose, he could always not do what he planned, if he showed her some spirit once a week she'd probably accept it. He had not even been here one week, and he was still tired most of the time, and emaciated, though he had started to exercise his muscles as well as he could.

The strange thing was, he was trained in unarmed combat, even without muscles he had enough technique to floor any man, Dick included. But he seemed to lack the will, he had led a gang of icy youths, he had survived the French skirmishers, but he could no longer work up even the slightest anger or courage.

By now, the mistress had lost interest in the collar, she had removed his nightshirt and was kissing his chest. Suddenly she wanted him to show her his back, and he rolled over with the agility of a wrestler, startling her with his lightning reaction.

She recovered quickly, and kneaded his shoulders and back expertly until he was bonelessly relaxed, then traced all the scars from side to side, or up and down. There were many, and some had obviously not been caused by the lash.

A deep bayonet slash on his ribs, a bullet-hole on his buttocks, a series of knife-cuts from his childhood.

The memories assaulted him, and he wanted to beg her to just let him be, to leave him alone with his past, but his body betrayed him and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Her soft hands on his skin did feel very good, and she was very gentle, but what she wanted of him was just impossible.

He felt her hand enter the cleft between his butt-cheeks, and wondered whether she would find him clean enough to her liking. Dick had brought him water and told him the mistress liked her men very clean, but there was so much one could do with a cloth and a basin.

She went lower still, so he guessed he had done well enough, until she touched his testicles once more, stroking first, then holding the soft skin and its contents in her hand. He shivered, feeling vulnerable, but it was exciting as well.

Stroking his butt-cheeks a little more, her fingers raking his sensitive arse, he feared for one moment that she'd penetrate him with her finger, the ultimate dominant gesture in both army and on the streets. No-one had even thought of humiliating Dennis that way in his former lives, but he was weak now, it would have been the death-stroke to his efforts to seem spirited.

But she merely caressed it, and moved on, back to his testicles, his inner thighs, his lower legs. She massaged his feet, and he relaxed once more.

Then she turned him around, stroking his legs up until she reached his testicles and his dick, eager for her attention like a senseless puppy, totally blind to the power-play going on here.

She spread his legs and licked his balls, it was good, she hadn't hurt him so far, dared he trust her with his most sensitive parts?

'You're so sensitive, love, and so beautiful.'

Why call him love? She wanted to rule him, not love him, didn't she?

But his body just couldn't resist her, this was not how he remembered sex, it had been a lot of grunting and panting in a corner, half horny, half afraid to be caught at a vulnerable moment. Or a quick fix with a camp-follower, sad creatures barely recognizable as women, the release not worth the money and the risk of catching the French gout, or some other horrid disease.

He didn't have to do anything, yet, Patrick said to not touch her when she did this to him, she'd feel demeaned and flay him alive. So he let his balls be licked and kissed, shivering with ardour and still a bit of fear to be hurt, and he enjoyed the feeling of her warm, moist mouth and tongue on the head of his dick, and the rest of it.

She held it firmly with one hand, while her tongue caressed the ridge of the head, under it, and back in her mouth it went altogether. He thought he was going to go mad with lust, he wanted to grab her and take her, but this was not the time. She still enjoyed this too much, it was still new, and she felt vulnerable lying between his legs, in a subservient position.

Hands clutching the sheet once more, his head started spinning, and he felt a climax approaching. Not yet, this was too early, she wasn't done at all. And worse, he had to touch her now, for he could not let his seed foul her mouth again, she had hated the taste of it.

His obvious distress caused her to look up at him, and he managed to speak, voice husky even in his own ears, 'Please, mistress, have mercy, I'm close to my climax, I cannot control it.'

She was disappointed, he did have very little stamina, but he had never been served like this, and he had not had a woman in years, and never a lady like her.

'Never mind, love, you were dying on the moors only a few days ago. No wonder you're excitable. I'm on fire, too, do you know how to please a woman?'

He decided to be honest.

'I've never tried, mistress, never really had a woman to please. But I can try, if you tell me what to do...'

Of course it would have been better if he had been able to please her from experience. 

Or would it? She had plenty of men eager to do so, and skilled, even Dick apparently knew how to do it.

Maybe teaching someone was much more fun, maybe breaking in a virtual virgin was much hotter.

He awaited her orders, not with humility, but with eagerness. For Dick seemed to really like doing this, and somehow Dennis felt he wanted to learn.

His reward was a smouldering kiss, her body, still completely dressed, on his, and her tongue almost in his throat. It was easy to answer it in the same spirit, and he dared himself to hold her as he kissed her, which she accepted.

When they were both out of breath, she did something under her skirts, then carefully moved up until they covered his face totally. She had moved the chain so she didn't sit on it, the very touch of it stirring her even further, and he found the inside of her skirts much less smothering than he had expected.

In fact, they were rather roomy, and very exciting, for she had removed her own underwear, and right in front of his face he found the little patch of curly hair he knew would be there.

But hers smelled really nice, she probably bathed a lot, or maybe gentle ladies smelled better than camp-followers or street girls.

Patrick had told him to lie between her legs and gently move aside the flesh that the hair covered, and Dennis supposed he could do the same here, even though it was op top of his face.

He stroked the little curls, and carefully explored the flesh beneath them, to find out which way it would go. He couldn't see a thing, so he had to feel his way around, and he soon found an opening like the one he had used to relieve his urges on in his former life.

Probing it a little with a finger, he felt the mistress shiver, and he hoped it was as much a sign of ardour in her as it had been in him. But this was only to re-acquaint himself with the better parts of a woman, for the bit that mattered should be higher up.

His hands wouldn't be of much use there, and his face couldn't quite reach, he didn't have the stomach muscles anymore to lift his torso this high, so he wriggled down a bit until he was straight under her, the pulled her down onto his face, hoping it wouldn't cost him.

But frankly, his heat was up, he didn't care very much anymore, this was so hot, the smell, the moistness, the softness of it, he probed it carefully with the tip of his tongue, and found he could easily find where it felt best for her by just touching a part and judging her reaction.

There was a little nob, protected by a fold of skin, and it gave the best reaction, so he licked it a few times, getting a shudder each time. The legs on both sides of his face relaxed and settled, apparently he was doing well, and the mistress was making herself comfortable to enjoy it.

A few licks later, he got so heated he just had to suck that little ball, take as much of it in his mouth as he could, then use his tongue again, he wanted to taste all of it, every fold, and every corner, and he did. The reactions varied, but each time he got the strongest one on the little ball, and when he lost his grip on the flesh with the curly hairs and took a firmer hold of it, she moaned. So that was good, too.

He was quite comfortable, hidden away safely in the dark beneath the mistress' skirts, her legs spread wide to allow him access, her most sensitive and vulnerable bit in his mouth.

It never bored him, he loved the feel of it, this was so much better than grunting and rutting, he held her open and sampled her soft flesh greedily, until she moaned once and little shocks racked her slender body.

It was a bit disconcerting, and he stopped to find out if she was all right, but she moved away from his face, and kissed him as ardently as before, tasting herself on his tongue. As they kissed, he could feel her rubbing herself against him, and he wondered if this was the moment.

Should he take her now? She expected it, wanted him to, but she was so afraid to lose her dominance.

Again, his body decided for him.

Still kissing, he grabbed her, roughly, on purpose, and he swung her around and covered her with his whole body, pinning her beneath him. Her skirts were lying open, enabling him to thrust himself inside her in one firm move.

He held her mouth with his, he held her arms, and he held her whole body with his weight, as his lust shut down his doubts and forced him to push himself into her again and again, mindlessly pumping until his stomach hurt with the effort.

The pain of it brought him out of his fervour, and he could see and hear again, every one of his thrusts forced a little sound out of her, and her face was wrung with, not with pain, but with ecstasy. His fear of punishment came back, but he couldn't stop now, he had to plunge in, and out, and again and again, until she arched and wanted to kiss him again.

He bent over to kiss her, arching his back to reach her mouth, and this seemed to get an even stronger reaction, apparently through the arch of his back his dick touched some part of her inside that felt very good indeed.

As soon as her mouth released their kiss, she squealed again with his every thrust, and something almost seemed to pain her, making him unsure, until she urged him on, 'Faster, love, harder, just a tiny bit more! It's so hot!'

He tried to give her what she asked for, she was his mistress after all, and his own lust drove him on relentlessly, but his muscles ached and he was badly out of breath, the chain of the collar had gotten stuck under her body, and it was putting an uncomfortable pressure on his bruised throat.

Still his urges needed to be satisfied, and his mistress had to be pleased, and he chased his climax with renewed energy, pumping as fast as he could and as hard as he could, and just as he felt he had no breath left in him, he felt her freeze beneath him, and was overcome by an almost painful high himself.

He crashed to the bed heaving for breath, fear for retribution forgotten in his fight for air, world shrinking to one breath after the other. Then nothing.

When he woke up in the mistress' arms, he didn't know how long he had been out. She didn't seem too worried, but she was as sweet as the day before yesterday, stroking his hair, kissing his face, holding him tightly.

He still felt the weight of the collar on his bruised throat, though.

'You're awake, thank God. I thought you were done for this time.'

So she had been worried.

She did not offer to remove the collar, sadly. But neither did she threaten to whip him for taking her.

'You did well, love, you gave your all. More than your all. Better take care to lead the chain next time, I don't think you can keep fainting like this, I suppose it must be very unhealthy.'

What could he do but enjoy her affection? He would never understand her reasons to keep him chained up.



Mistress Agnes Ch. 06



And that didn't change in the next months. As his body gained weight, it lost colour and stamina, though he tried to exercise as much as he could by running in place and doing push ups and other muscle building workouts. The iron collar kept his throat in a constant state of delicacy, the bruise had become a permanent fixture, a source of pain that drained his energy and his will, and cost him even more breath than his lack of fresh air and physical activity.

He became very skilled at making love, and enjoyed the mistress' ministrations ever more, she never hurt him without provocation, never tried to demean him in their love-play, and she generally called him pet names, though she never used his name.

As he gained confidence in her wishes, he acted a lot firmer than he felt, pinning her under his body, kissing her roughly, grabbing her breasts and sucking them hard, fucking her with energy and never tenderly, as he would have preferred. He would have loved to have his mistress with him at night, to talk for hours, then fall asleep beside her and stroke her tenderly, for he had come to love her more than a little, and he yearned for tenderness instead of rough love-play.

Still, he anticipated her wishes well enough to earn his right to stay, and he never got hurt worse than the occasional slap if he was too rough or too assertive, she did not lead him on to become dominant, then whip him for it, as Patrick and himself had feared.

In general, Dennis was pretty content, but as his body first recuperated, then lost its fitness in enforced idleness, and his mind quieted down for lack of danger, then started to lose its edge for having nothing to do besides read and contemplate, he started to feel resentment for being kept prisoner without a single reason.

Instead of gaining respect for his mistress, he started losing it because of her unfairness, and though he still felt intense love for her when she spoiled him and urged him to unleash his fervour on her, whenever she left him by himself, to do things he never heard about, he started to lose hope to ever lead a normal life.

He had no idea what she did most of her time, or what her past had been, what her hopes and dreams for the future were, they never talked, she only visited him to have sex. She rarely held him with the love that he craved, the yearning for which had tempted him to try and win a place in her household, merely entering the room, exciting him until he took her, and then leaving him by himself once more.

She had never asked about his life before she found him, what his experiences in the army had been like, how his youth had been.

And since she never asked, she never knew about his nightmares, and the terrors that still plagued him, the enforced idleness and lack of new experiences causing him to dwell on his past almost continuously. 

Ever since his body had recovered from the exhaustion of the moors, he hadn't slept one full night altogether, he usually woke up sweating, sometimes remembering the faces of the men he had witnessed dying on the battlefield, or in the infirmary, sometimes trying to escape from being killed himself, shot or cut by rifle or sabre, choked or stabbed by a larger boy from a rivalling gang.

Choking dreams usually meant his chain had gotten stuck under him, or on the table or the bed, pulling the collar back into the bruise, causing it to swell for a few days, giving him an audible wheeze and a raspy voice.

But his broken nights exhausting him didn't matter, he had nowhere to go by day, no physical or mental exertions, he could easily catch up on sleep while everyone else worked, he could barely see the difference between day and night anyway, the attic was illuminated by the hearth only, unless he lighted the candle. A perfect atmosphere to make love, but not to live in day in, day out.

Of all this, the mistress was perfectly unaware. Dennis never complained, it was no use, she only felt the exquisite thrill of finally having her slave, lying in the luxurious bed, waiting for her to come and please him, or to have him please her, the only activity that could still get him to show a little spirit.

He jumped her, held her down, took her roughly, all an act, one that became harder to keep up as his spirits abandoned him further day by day, and his body couldn't keep up anymore for lack of breath and lack of will.

Dennis' pale, flabby body disgusted him, but there was nothing to entertain him in his long, lonely hours but food, which was always so good he ate everything he got. The boy who ruled a gang of thugs and the man who faced the French were gone, and he felt unmanned and listless.

'Oh Dennis, I'm so sorry to see you so unhappy! Why don't you just talk to the mistress, I'm sure everything will be all right.'

Patrick was trying to hearten him, but Dennis could clearly see his friend was sadly disappointed in the mistress, his lack of hope for Dennis shone through all his attempts at cheerfulness and they came to nothing. Dennis lost hope, and heart, and a resentment not previously known to him started to rule his being.

Then one evening, after making love to the mistress as she liked it, rough and bossy, he couldn't take it anymore. He was gasping for breath, the bruise on his throat hurt like hell, it was always at least painful now, making him slow and tired for lack of air, he waited until he could speak again, then pleaded with all his heart.

'Mistress, will you please release me from this attic? It's killing me. I can't breathe properly, I'm getting flabby and lazy, I'm not even half the man I used to be, whom I could be. For you, mistress.'

Agnes looked at her slave in utter shock. They were such a good pairing, he didn't rage as she'd hoped, but he was as skilled as Patrick and Guy, and more energetic than Dick, and he always let her do with him as pleased her. And now he told her he was desperately unhappy living just for her? He looked fine, he did gasp for breath often, but he always made love beyond his endurance, no wonder he felt tired afterwards.

'I need to see daylight again, mistress, breathe fresh air, run across the moors until I'm dripping with sweat. I'm feeling low half the time, and resentful the other half. I cannot live like this any longer.'

Low and resentful? She gave him the best food available, she lowered herself to please him, she actually loved him! Suddenly anger flared up inside her, and she slapped him, hard.

He didn't cringe, or show anger, he merely blinked once and stared blankly in front of him. 

She was losing him.

'I can't do it, love, you're my slave, you're just for me, I need you to wait for me here and be mine.'

Without meaning to, she put all her love in that sentence, her guilt at having hit a defenceless man overcoming her for a second.

'Even if it kills me, mistress? I will be yours for as long as you want me to, I've done everything you wanted me to, I'll kneel to you, or take you, whichever you want, but I cannot sit here all day anymore, in the dark, with nothing to do.'

Agnes didn't want to hear him, and left.

But the next day he wasn't back to his old self, being left utterly alone hadn't cured him of his foolishness. He was listless, he didn't respond to her caresses, he didn't show any displeasure at her attempts to excite him, but he didn't show any emotion either.

She was not going to plead him, she was the mistress, and she decided his life.

He did look awful, and it wrung her heart to see such a handsome man so unhappy, but he'd get over it once he could pin her under him.

But he didn't pin her anywhere, his dick still rose, but she couldn't get him to use it, not by threatening him, not by asking him politely, and not by hitting him.

He merely took the punishment in silence, showing the pain but nothing else.

She would not stoop to pleading him, even though she loved him and it broke her heart to have him reject her.

Some days later, angered by his attitude, she even took a whip to him, in anger, but also hoping to spark his anger so he'd take her again. But it didn't bring any life back into him, he didn't bow to her will as she had hoped, he didn't threaten her with violence to defend himself. In fact, he didn't lift a finger, he just laid there, lifeless but for his gasping breath, his face not showing any emotion at all anymore, blood dripping from nearly a dozen cuts.

After that, he barely ate for days, his breath wheezing whenever he saw her, or maybe all the time, and Patrick, Guy, and even Dick stared at her with reproach.

Patrick took care of him lovingly, cleaning the cuts with great care, feeding him titbits, fluffing his pillow and holding him whenever he thought his mistress was hard at work in her study.

Agnes took to spying on them, suspecting them of trying to fool her into releasing her slave, spoiling her dearest wish, but she soon had to admit that her beloved was indeed miserable. Patrick tried to cheer him, read to him, stroked him, told him all would be well but his voice betrayed the older man hadn't the slightest hope.

And her love did wheeze even when he didn't see her watching him, he was right, she was killing him.

It had taken her a week to get to the point where she whipped him, and it took her another week to realize she'd lose him altogether if she didn't free him. She was writing a particularly hot love-scene, totally taken up by the action, when she suddenly thought: this is how Dennis and I used to make love, it was so good, so full of love and trust, and now it's over.

That was the first time she used his name, saw him as a person, the man she had come to love.

Sneaking upstairs, she watched him for half an hour, in which he never stirred. His laboured breathing was all the proof she had that he still lived, and a slight sense of worry burst into outright panic.

He was lost to her already, but if she kept him chained, he'd just die.

Suddenly scared out of her mind, she stumbled down the stairs, ran into the kitchen, where she knew she'd find the boys, and handed Patrick the key, begging, 'Set him free, please save him. I don't care what the cost, get him well, set him up with a business somewhere, make sure he's happy.'

Then she stormed off to her bedroom, locked the door, and cried herself sick in total silence. Beaten by her own slave, then forced to live without him. But she would not have to live with the knowledge that she killed an innocent man.

Totally stunned, and not a little bit concerned, Patrick begged Guy to come with him to the attic.

'I'm so afraid to find him past hope, Guy, I can't do it on my own. Everytime I go up there I fear to find him suffocated in that damned collar! I feel so guilty to have allowed the mistress to put it on him, and keep it on him even though it so obviously hurt him all the time. But what could I do? I couldn't just oppose the mistress!'

'I don't think he's in danger physically, my dear, but I'm rather worried about his mental state. His life has never been his own, he has always lived in fear, and has never been loved unconditionally or free of restraint. I suspect he loves the mistress, but in dependence, not in a healthy way, just because he desperately needed something to love. I fear he can't handle life on his own, he has always been ruled by someone.'

Patrick hadn't even thought of that, and acknowledged Guy's point with growing anxiety, as they crossed the hall and climbed two flights of stairs.

'And he has terrible terrors, I've heard him talk in his sleep so often, thrashing and sweating. And when I asked him what he dreamed about, he told me he was always reliving scenes from his past, seeing mates killed before his very eyes, having to save himself by killing foreign boys his own age, being wounded and merely patched up, then sent back out straight away. No-one ever cared.'

'That is not true, Patrick, you care for him and have saved his sanity I'm sure, sneaking up to comfort him and keep him company whenever the mistress was busy, risking her anger, knowing how jealous she was of her slave.

And I admire you for caring for him, I didn't dare myself, I was afraid she'd kick us out. But love, you can go to that poor wretch now and show him you care, give him some of your love, and then we'll start building him back up. Don't worry, I'll be with you and support you.'

Of course Dennis was still alive, his situation wasn't that bad. And he was tough, his mind had given up but his body hadn't. Guy didn't even feel jealous as Patrick kissed the younger man tenderly before he unlocked the collar, and threw it from him in disgust. Then he stroked the pale cheek, still smooth for Patrick insisted on shaving Dennis every other day, showing his love by keeping his friend clean and neat.

Of course that woke him, not as quickly as it used to, he knew that touch and he cared for Patrick.

His hand felt for his throat, and Dennis looked his question to Patrick.

'She gave us the key and pleaded us to save your life and make sure you would become happy somewhere, no matter the cost.'

A pain worse than the whipping.

'She wants me out of her life?'

Guy now sat on his other side, and calmly said, 'I don't think so, Dennis. I guess she thinks you want to leave her far behind.'

'You understand me, don't you? I love her, I want to be her slave, I want to follow her everywhere. Why can't the mistress understand that? I'm hers more than anyone.'

He started to wheeze again, even without the collar, and Guy decided he needed a distraction.

'We'll see how things work out, Dennis. But first you need to go outside and breathe fresh air, and get some sunshine. And eat a hearty meal with us in the kitchen, meet Cook and and John, the stable boy, and see Dick's homely face by daylight.'

That was the worst moment of all, for Dennis lost every semblance of control and broke down crying. He was not going anywhere, he was just too far gone.

Guy took over entirely, for Patrick was starting to lose it as well, and he ordered his partner, 'Patrick, get a set of proper clothes, mine, yours won't fit him. And under things as well, and your old boots. Your feet are bigger.

Then get Dick to carry him outside. Now go, quickly.'

Patrick left, feeling better now he had something to do.

And Guy held Dennis, telling him he would feel better once he was away from the attic, really, truly. 

'You're a good man, Dennis, and this is not what life is meant to be for you. You need to face your past, and make a future for yourself, be strong again.

A better life is waiting for you, my friend, you can be anything you like. You can start a business, or learn a trade. You can be your own man, not beholden to anyone. And you're handsome, and young, and incredibly sweet, you will find love, disinterested love, and you'll have children, not too many, two would be fine, and you'll live happily ever after.

I'm sure of it. Dammit Dennis, you're free!'

By now, Patrick was back, with the clothes, and Dick, who kneeled before Dennis and touched his bare throat.

'The collar is gone, that makes me happy. You were never a dog, and should never have been whipped. I'm sure you never did anything bad.'

'Let me dress him, Dick, and then you can carry him outside. Do you know a nice sunny spot where he can breathe some fresh air?'

'Yes, Guy, behind the stables is a lovely field with an old haystack. It's perfect to laze about if you have the time. I'll carry Dennis there. You take care of the mistress.'

Guy had no idea how the fellow knew the mistress would be in need of attention, but he was right, and Guy said, 'Thank you for the offer, Dick. You go see the mistress, Patrick, you were ever her favourite, she'll let you in.'

'She has locked herself in somewhere?'

Even now, Dennis was more concerned with the woman who had mistreated him than with his own health and happiness.

'Don't you dare worry about her, Dennis. She hurt you so badly, when you never gave her anything but what she wanted.'

Patrick seemed more than angry.

'On second thought, Patrick,' Guy said quietly, 'you go with Dennis to make him feel safe and wanted, and I'll go see to the mistress.'

And so it went, once Dennis was dressed in proper clothes for possibly the first time in his life, Dick carefully carried him down the stairs, and across the yard, and deftly made a comfortable seat for him in the hay. Then he went about his business, leaving Patrick and Dennis alone in the field.

Patrick made a seat for himself right next to Dennis, and snuggled against him, hearing with satisfaction that his friend's breathing was already next to normal again.

They sat there in silence for half an hour, until Dennis wriggled to the edge of his seat, and asked, 'Will you help me try to walk a little?'

Patrick jumped to the ground, and stood firm, so Dennis could grab him if he were to fall.

He started out with an arm firmly on Patrick's shoulder, but after a few steps, he got his confidence back, and he breathed in deeply and let go of a heart-felt yell from the bottom of his heart.

'I'm very sorry I misjudged the mistress, Dennis,' Patrick started, 'I really thought she'd take to you, but instead you got hurt even worse. I feel responsible for what you went through.'

Dennis was striding out now, and he shook his body like a dog, and breathed with a relish, enjoying the sunshine on his pale skin.

'Never mind, Patrick. Who knows what would have happened if I had shown her my true self? It might have been worse.

But what will happen to me now? Did the mistress really promise me a happy life? I will not be thrown back on the moors?'

'After what happened, Guy and I will keep you until you are well again, and then you can decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. Guy will take you there, and the mistress will pay. That is what she said.'

'I'm hungry. Can I really sit with you in the kitchen and eat?'

'Yes, please, Dennis. I don't want you to go away just like that, let's have some fun together first, to remember you by. We've been good friends, haven't we?'

Grabbing Patrick's hands, Dennis foolishly spun the both of them around, of course losing his footing and tumbling to the ground. He lay there, gasping and coughing.

'I've missed this so much, clean air, daylight, freedom.

But where will I sleep until I leave, Patrick? I can't go back to the attic, not ever again.'

'If the mistress won't let you have a guest-room, you can sleep with us. Until you are strong again, the cuts healed, the wheezing gone. We'll take care of you, the mistress won't bother you. She's in her study, writing books most of the time.'

'You know I never knew that? What she did? She never told me anything about her life, and never asked about mine. We only made love. Or was it just sex to her? Then she left me, each and every time.'

'Oh Dennis, you're making me cry all over again. I've spent so many nights in Guy's arms, bawling my eyes out over you. I want to see you happy, you deserve it so much.'

'I'm sorry, I guess I'm just love-sick. I never got the chance to meet a woman, you know, so she was my first love. And I guess those are always painful when they end badly. I'll get over it. At least, I've heard most people do.'

'I don't mind, Dennis, I'll just cry some more tears over you. You deserve them.'

By now they had reached the house, and though Dennis felt really uncomfortable, afraid to meet the mistress and face her anger or disappointment, he was still acutely aware of his good fortune. She wanted him to be happy, and was prepared to gift him whatever he needed to be that. She could have thrown him out as he was, he had no-one to protect him.

Well, not entirely true, Patrick and Guy would have helped him, but of course they were her servants first of all.




Mistress Agnes Ch. 06



Nothing had ever tasted as good as dinner in the kitchen. Cook was nice to him, the stable-boy recognized him from the day of his arrival.

'I wondered where you had disappeared to.'

But after dinner, when dusk came, and they still hadn't heard or seen a glimpse of Guy, he started to worry again, afraid to be kicked out after all.

He felt himself starting to wheeze again, and realized it was a nervous condition, not a physical one, brought on by the anxiety of his situation. But compared to this morning he felt infinitely better, he had eaten well, and seen the kitchen, and most importantly, been out in the daylight and the fresh air.

The wheezing didn't stop, though, not until Guy came in to fetch his mistress her dinner, and to tell Dennis he could have an empty room in the servant's quarters, next to their own.

'Mrs Beauchamp would have given you a guest-room, but I supposed you'd prefer to stay close to us, and away from her. Let Patrick take you to it, you need rest, Dennis, you look fagged and you wheeze. Better take long walks each day, and stay outside as much as you can. Fresh air will do you good.'

Though something inside him still hurt, the anxiety left him for now, and the wheezing lessened significantly. He did take Guy's advice, not waiting to hear his friend's report on how the mistress was doing. It was of little use anyway, she had made her intentions clear, and he had to obey them. And probably for the best, he was rabble, and she a lady, and they should never have come together, nothing good came out of it.

He fell asleep almost instantly, dead tired with the emotions of the last few weeks, and apprehension for the time to come.

As usual when he felt so much strain, his sleep was plagued with frightening dreams of suffocating, being caught and hanged for desertion, being shot and killed and stabbed to death by enemy soldiers or rival gang members. He never cried out, he never even wakened this time, but the next morning he joined the breakfast table with dark rings under his eyes.

That night, Agnes hadn't slept either. Guy had talked with her seriously, not like a servant to his mistress, but as one friend to another. It was obvious Guy had never approved of what she did to Dennis, though he had never shown his censure as clearly as Patrick had.

His insights had enlightened Agnes more than she liked, and whereas she had at first felt sorry for herself, for her beautiful plan come to nothing, for a love lost, when Guy left she felt incredibly guilty towards Dennis. She had robbed him of his freedom, of his peace of mind, Guy was even afraid she had broken him, left him without free will or hope, and just as bad, had damaged his health permanently.

He wheezed all the time, it had been very bad at dinner, and Guy feared she would have to set Dennis up for retirement, to spend a few more years in comfort before his condition killed him.

She could afford it, Bath would be a good place for someone suffering from the wheezes, or maybe a smaller village at the coast where no soldiers came, to spare him the fear of getting hanged. He wasn't used to much, so he wouldn't require much, but the thought of having cut someone's life short for her own amusement just didn't cease to plague her.

And by the time the birds started singing outside, the thought of losing him from her life was still keeping her awake.

She took her breakfast alone, knowing that Dennis would be making fun of Dick in the kitchen, or exchanging fond looks with Patrick. She was dead tired, and couldn't concentrate on her book, so she decided to ride out and get some fresh meat for the pot.

The thought of exercise and fresh air cheered her up immediately, until she realized she had kept the man she had learned to love from experiencing that same comfort. Even when he begged her for it.

Still she changed into breeches and had her horse saddled, and within half an hour she managed to forget her misdeeds and her selfishness for a few moments, galloping across the heath in a fresh spring rain.

Dennis in fact was not making fun of Dick, but he did like to see his friendly face at the table. The big man seemed really glad to have him there, and finally Dennis asked why he was so happy.

'I'm just glad to see you here. No-one should be all alone,' he replied, 'friends are important. You will be happier with us. Does your neck still hurt?'

'Hardly at all, Dick. I feel much better.'

But his appearance belied this statement, he looked like death warmed over with his darkened eyes, his gaunt pale face and the huge bruise on his throat, and Guy suggested he walk out, to restore his spirits, and clear his lungs.

'You look worse today, Dennis, but you sound better. I wish I could make things right, but only time can do that. You know the mistress said you could stay as long as you liked.'

He didn't tell Dennis she had admitted to loving him desperately, dreading the day he would leave her for good. Just having him in her house made their separation easier to bear, for then she at least knew he would be all right, with good food and good friends.

But Guy couldn't betray her confidence. And he wondered whether Dennis would ever be free and happy with the mistress trying to control him. When Dennis asked how she was doing, Guy didn't get any further than, 'She felt really awful, Dennis. About what she did to you. She hardly slept at all. And she misses you, badly.'

See, that didn't help at all, Dennis seemed to fall apart totally, his breathing audible at once, his face in agony. Guy now also realized the wheezes were not physical, but a nervous condition. To him the knowledge was heartening, anxiety never killed a man before his time, there was still hope for his friend's total recovery.

Not realizing the mistress was on the moor, Guy practically shoved Dennis outside, urging him to not underestimate the danger of getting lost.

'Stay close to the house, or stick to the paths. You know how treacherous the moors are.'



Mistress Agnes Ch. 07



And so Dennis rambled outside, a borrowed coat keeping him warm on this wet day, his hair dripping on the oiled fabric, his spirits lifting with the renewed realization he was free!

He actually ran for a while, finding it easier than he expected, and totally exhilarated he walked on, sticking to the path faithfully, hope for the future taking over from his feeling of loss. 

When he reached the first village he crossed it to just see the sights, the tiny farms, the rough cattle, the village square with its gathering place around a large fire-pit.

Then he turned around and walked back, still keeping a good pace, ever wetter from the rain but not caring.

Almost in sight of the house he cut across a tall hill, planning to be childish and run down the long slope towards the house. Going up was a drag, but the path was climbing almost as much, though not as steeply.

And down was even more fun than he thought, faster than the wind, rain still drizzling, he breathed in deeply as he ran.

To be overtaken by three large hounds, they didn't threaten him but merely joined him in his fun, they rarely met a human who liked running as much as they did. At least, that is what Dennis thought when they passed him, then circled him and ran along with him, all the way down the hill.

Only when he reached the bottom and saw the house did he wonder whose dogs they were, and as they crowded around to have their ears and faces scratched, he heard hoof beats behind him. Of course he knew who it had to be, and he didn't want to turn around, so he scratched the dogs some more.

But when the hoof beats came to a standstill, the hounds ran to their mistress, and Dennis had to face his mistress as well. 

She was as beautiful as ever, sitting that tall horse astride, and proudly so. She didn't look a bit less feminine in breeches, and though he knew he was staring, he couldn't help himself. Two large birds dangled from her saddle, dinner for all of them, she always shared her kills with her servants.

Without a visible cue from her, the horse strode towards him and nuzzled his borrowed coat. He stroked its nose, he didn't have a lot of experience with horses, but he wasn't afraid of them, he could ride a little, and he knew how to care for them, at least for the hardy army horses.

He still stared at his mistress, and she stared right back, and for an eternity, nothing happened.

Then the leg furthest from him swung over the front of the saddle elegantly, a feat he would not have believed possible if he hadn't seen it. And before he had processed that image, he saw her sliding down the saddle, straight towards him.

He could either step back and let her land on her feet, or stay put and catch her.

In a split second he had her in his arms, and she clung to him, crying.

He felt his throat slam shut, his wheeze back instantly, he couldn't speak or even cry, he was just frozen up completely.

'Oh Dennis, my love, please don't leave me!' 

He still couldn't speak, no words came out, just wheezes.

She looked up at him, and he looked her straight in the eye, feeling only a slight inclination to kneel to her, easily suppressed.

'Oh my love, what have I done to you? Can you ever forgive me?'

He wanted to tell her it wasn't as bad as it looked, he had run down that hill after all, but still his voice didn't work, she was so beautiful, and he wanted her so much, had only wanted to please her, all this time.

But though he could not speak, he could show her his love by holding her, by nuzzling her throat eagerly, her scent faint but as delicious as ever.

That settled her, and still attributing his wheezes and his inability to speak to her abuse, she said through her tears, 'My name is Agnes, Dennis. When you find your breath back, will you call me by my name, please?'

'There is nothing wrong with my breath, Agnes,' he finally managed to whisper. 'The wheezes, they're just anxiety, nerves. I've never really recovered from the war, you see. I'm not just rabble, I'm damaged goods as well.'

'Aren't we all, Dennis? Will you stay with me for now, see if we can live with each other's rubble, maybe do some clearing up together?'

'I will, my love, I never wanted anything more than be with you all the time. I've been sick with love more than anything else the last few weeks.'

'Are you sure? I did some horrible things to you, they will take some forgiving. I shudder to think how I treated the man I knew I loved.'

'I've been through worse, Agnes, I'll forgive you readily if you are willing to share things with me.'

'Oh my love, you're too good for this world, I cannot forgive myself that easily. 

Let's get you inside, you're wet and cold, I'll take much better care of you from now on.'

The horse had long since gone back to its stable, but the hounds were still waiting.

Dennis fearlessly took Agnes' face in both his hands, and kissed her intimately. She leaned into him and returned the kiss, her hands stroking his cheek as if nothing had ever come between them.

But that didn't get him out of the rain, and into a warm house.

Maybe he doesn't want to be warm and comfortable, part of Agnes' mind offered. Maybe he wants to be outside, get wet, roam the moor in the rain to celebrate his freedom.

'Do you even want to go inside, Dennis? I can imagine your being reluctant entering a place where you suffered so badly. If you want to stay outside I'll show you how to walk the moor in safety, so you can go wherever it pleases you.'

'I'd like to learn that, Agnes, but I'm not in a hurry, we can go in now, I'm tired anyway with the walk I had. I didn't get much sleep.

And I never saw any part of the house, I really want a tour.'

She took his hand and kissed it, eyes downcast as they walked towards the house.

'Don't let guilt change you, Agnes, I like you in charge. And seriously, if you share your life with me from now on, everything that happened is forgiven. I will never think less of you because of it, nor will I reproach you with any of it when we fight.

For fight we will, if I don't agree with you on something, I'll tell you, and you're not used to that at all.

But please don't be humble, it doesn't make things better. Be firm, tell me what to do. If we argue about it, that's fine.'

'I keep seeing your face in despair, Dennis. It's so heart-rending, I can't forget it.'

He bent over her, his face glad, his hair plastered to his face and dripping.

'Look at me, Agnes, I'm happy! I don't expect you to forget what you did, but the sting of your memories will fade. Give it time.'

'I'll try. Do you want a tour of the house now?'

'I'd love to, but I think I need to sleep a little first. I had a bad night, again. Nightmares, of choking, fighting, killing. I get little rest at night, Agnes.'

'I'm sorry to hear that, Dennis. And I'm especially sorry I didn't listen to you before today. Will you join me in my bed, Dennis? Or do you want to keep a room of your own?'

'I want nothing more than to be with you, my love.'

'Then let's go to my room, I'll join you if I may, I didn't sleep much either.'

It was like heaven to lie in his arms, she had dried his hair and then they had each taken off their own clothes, he had really looked at her in breeches for a few moments, stroking her rounded buttocks gently, and with quite a bit of heat.

But they were both yawning in the sudden heat of the house, and before long they had snuggled together under the blankets, not stroking or caressing at all, just lying still and relishing their closeness. It wasn't long before Dennis' breathing slowed, a slight wheeze still audible in the silence of the country afternoon.

Were they really caused by nerves? She was sure the collar had started it, before he bruised himself on it he had not suffered from shortness of breath. Afterwards, it had become steadily worse. How had she allowed that to happen? Why hadn't she released him straight away? He didn't even want to get away.

It would be devastating to hear him fight for breath, knowing she had caused it. If indeed anxiety caused it, there was still hope he'd get over it eventually, and at least her crimes wouldn't kill him before his time.

Reminding herself that he had forgiven her, she let herself off the hook for just a moment. To pick up their lives, she also had to put his suffering behind her, though she couldn't just forget, she'd have to talk about it once in awhile or her guilt would consume her. Maybe Guy would listen to her from time to time, he had shown an admirable stability and clear-headedness throughout all this, without trying to take over.

But for now she'd go to sleep in the arms of the man she loved, and when they woke up she'd show him the house, and her life. Undoubtedly, she would learn more of his life, too, it would be hard to hear but he needed to process his past to lose his anxiety.

Still entangled, he woke up, dazed for a moment. He felt his throat, and it was unburdened, the painful bruise still there to remind him, but like the memories it would fade in time. Smelling the delicious feminine scent of his mistress, no, she was no longer his mistress, was she?

She was awake, watching him with softness all over her face, and he asked, 'Do you still want to be my mistress?'

She kissed his face, and the dark bruise on his throat, gently so it didn't hurt at all.

'No, Dennis, I just want to be yours.'

'I liked your firmness, I just couldn't stand being constrained and idle anymore. Had you put me to work like you did Dick, I'd have been at your feet forever, happily.'

'I was afraid you'd become like Dick, without spirit, without free will. I wanted a dominant, violent man, to take me. But only in bed.'

'I didn't have much will left even before I came here, the war took it from me. My dominance and spirit were all faked, I pretended to be whom you wanted me to be, to be allowed to stay.'

'You never lost it? You were insubordinate on purpose? To be with me? Chained up?'

'I was. I used to be like that, pushy, violent, but life beat me, Agnes. I'm afraid you'll not be able to love me once you meet the real Dennis.'

She could actually hear his distress, his breathing became audible instantly, but only for a second, apparently he trusted her more than he thought. And rightly so.

'I suppose I knew it wasn't real, Dennis, I never felt threatened and I know I would have if you had really overwhelmed me. I guess I must have fallen in love with the real Dennis in the first place. Do you think you'll turn violent ever again? Or bossy?' 

'No, not really. But if I feel the need to subject you to my whims you'll be the first to know.'

'Of course I will, you big ninny! I'm the one you'll be imposing your will on!'

'If I do, you may whip me again, and I'll bow to you and kiss your feet. And other bits, a little higher up.'

That thought turned him on instantly, and he snuggled even closer to his beloved, inhaled her lovely scent with relish, and moved one hand slowly towards her inner thighs, stroking them softly. It had been quite some time since he had made love, his dick pushed him to hurry up and just take her, but he didn't want to rush, he was lying beside a totally different woman and he wanted to explore her feelings at his leisure.

Was he taking control already?

It didn't matter, for Agnes felt much the same about things, she didn't go straight for his dick, but first stroked his hair and his face, close to tears once more, he was going to have to get used to that, it was easier to have suffered than to have abused someone, forgiving was so much easier than allowing oneself to be forgiven.

To distract her, he bent over her and sucked her nipples, that would heat her up and make her forget her guilt.

But it didn't, for now she saw the half-healed whip marks on his back and shoulders, the ones she had given him to force him to love her back. 

Her eyes started to look watery, her face in agony, then tears began leaking. She never made a sound, and her hands kept caressing his face, and his chest, his butt, his legs. Every touch seemed to cause her pain, and Dennis wanted to scream at her to just let it go.

But he couldn't have either, this had to be faced, she had to accept responsibility for every hurt she had caused him, and forgive herself for it.

Meanwhile, his lust was up rather forcibly, and his touch on her became ever more insistent, until she couldn't be self-involved anymore because he had several fingers inside her and was sucking on her clitoris blissfully. He was so happy to taste her again, to have her legs on his shoulders and feel her shuddering under his loving attention.

She pulled her warm, moist opening tight around his fingers with her solid riding-muscles, it felt as if she was holding him there, and his dick urged Dennis to drop everything he was doing to let it have a go as well.

But he ignored it, it was so good to make her mad with lust, to have her hold herself open for him so he could reach her most sensitive parts even better, to push the tip of his tongue under every fold and in every crease of her, and feel her shoving herself into his face in the heat of the moment.

Soon, she started to moan a little, and follow the movement of his fingers, impaling herself on them with quite a bit of force, her firm inside muscles kneading his fingers as they tensed and relaxed alternately. The moans changed into gasps, and soon she froze for a second, then shuddered in release.

Eager hands pulled him over her, bit him lightly in the neck, fortunately not where the painful bruise was, and she presented herself to him, trying to guide his dick inside her.

To please her, well yes, and it, he thrust it in forcefully, and she squealed with delight, urging him to give it to her. Which he already was, and pretty hard and fast, and she expressed her satisfaction loud and clear, 'Oh yes, that is good, I've missed you so much!'

He rode her in triumph, no gasping, no wheezing, he was doing just fine, impaling his woman on his solid dick, making her squeal, his own ardour rising ever more, so good, so fast.

His climax hit him like a brick, it nearly stunned him with its intensity, and he barely heard her cry of protest as he slowed down, his blood was rushing in his ears.

But she deserved her release, too, a few more pushes were enough to make her cry out as well, and he slowed down and lowered himself on top of her.

Nuzzling him heatedly, trying to kiss him until she saw he was out of breath despite his lack of wheezes, biting his neck again instead, but softly, he supposed she wasn't as sated as he felt.

'You still seem rather excited, love,' he observed once he found his breath back.

'I am, I always am. I don't wind down as quickly as a man does, and frankly I'd go on cheerfully if you weren't done. But it will fade eventually. I'll just rub my pussy against your leg a little until it accepts reality.'

That was better, no guilt, not tears, just heat and coarse language.

He rolled to the side and took her in his arms, very satisfied with life, and very much in love.

'Do you mind my biting you?'

Actually, he thought it was hot for some reason, and to feel his throat bare and bite-able, it was such a bliss!

'You may bite me anywhere, Agnes. Will you show me the house, as soon as we are dressed?'

'I will. May I look at those cuts, see if they're healing well?'

'Patrick has taken excellent care of me, love, but if you need to see for yourself, be my guest. I may turn around to kiss you, though.'

The relief Agnes felt could not be described with ordinary English words.

Her life seemed suddenly so bright, after having looked so dismal for weeks. Dear Dennis seemed to hardly remember his ordeal at her hands, he said he had forgiven her, and he clearly had. No-one would forget such mistreatment, ever, but he had held her so tightly just now, and made love to her so ardently, he must truly love her.

She still couldn't believe how fast it all had gone, riding back with her kills, seeing a strange man frisking like a child or a young animal, her dogs taking to him instantly, then realizing it was Dennis in a borrowed coat.

To see him so happy to walk in the rain, to run down a hill, to scratch a dog, to see her.

No, he hadn't been happy to see her, not at first. As she had been apprehensive to see him.

He had so many reasons to hate her, but still he had clearly shown his yearning for her, she couldn't believe it at first. But she had to try, had to make a move, he couldn't, she could not expect him to express his love for the woman who had demeaned him, unmanned him, abused him.

The sound of his wheezing breath had been torture, she had done that to him, Guy thought it would cost him his life within a few years, and he had made it clear who he thought was to blame.

The relief to find Dennis not only returning her love, but more forgiving than was humanly possible, and most importantly, in relatively good health, she'd thank the good Lord on her knees for sparing her the torture of watching a man she loved die by inches again, and this time through her fault.

He was waiting patiently for her to examine his back, his habits of obedience were still so ingrained in him. But not just by her, she allowed herself that little bit of lenience, he had been primed to obey at the threat of violence since before he was fully grown. 

No wonder he suffered from nightmares and nervous spells, his life had never been his own to live. Well, that would change. Agnes could not refuse him anything, he had asked her to share her life with him, she'd do better. She'd give up her name for him, and she'd give him her fortune, and she'd obey him as she'd obeyed Frederick. He would never ask her to marry him, he rated himself too low to ever dare look above himself that way, but Agnes was determined that she'd convince him to get married, and then he'd lawfully own her, a fitting conclusion to an outlandish tale, she was sure he'd take better care of her than she had done for him.

And if he were ever to return to the street scum he said he had been, violent and overruling, she'd suffer for him as he had suffered for her. The very thought made her quail, but she would see it through. Though it was impossible to imagine sweet, forgiving Dennis as a unconscionable sociopath.

She was lost in thought, and of course he wondered why she had asked to see his back, then didn't look at it. His face turned towards her, and he kissed her mouth tenderly.

'You're not beating yourself up over this again, are you? If you cry, I'll have to fuck you again to make you forget. You know I'm from the streets, I have no sense of propriety at all.'

She had never heard him joke before, he was so cute, so sweet, and so hot.

'Could you? So soon after?'

He kissed her again, with heat this time.

'Yes, but this time, I'd take you from behind, like a stallion breeding his mare.'

Heat flared up beneath her legs, he'd never done that to her before, no-one had ever done that before, not even Frederick, but the very thought caused her pelvic muscles to contract, as if to feel his dick slide into her.

He laughed out loud, she'd never heard him do that before, either!

'You actually want me to! I did catch you out, and now you're going to suffer the consequences.'

And he was behind her in one agile jump, lifting her butt so her arms had to support her upper body or let her face eat bedding, then stroked her pussy from behind with appreciation.

'That looks very appealing, let me feel around a little to find the entrance.

I've actually never done this before, privates and thieves do not rate anything classier than a three-penny-upright, you know, a quickie against the wall or a much-abused tree.'




Mistress Agnes Ch. 07



Kneeling in front of him, shivering with anticipation, feeling his fingers probe the lie of her opening between her bushy pubic hair, she relished his mood, he seemed a different man, he had humour, deprecating, but nonetheless true and very diverting. To think he was afraid he wouldn't measure up to her ideals, he had more true spirit than he'd ever had, just one day after his release from captivity and humiliation.

When he found it, he probed it a little more, making approving noises as he rubbed her clitoris, sending flashes of heat to all her nerves.

Then he carefully guided himself in, and when he knew he was on the right track, he actually plunged in all the way, forcing a cry of alarm out of her. He ignored it and rode her for real now, hand on her hip, the other massaging her from the front, rather roughly, sending wave after wave of delight through her.

She spread her legs a little more, lowering herself even more to make his member touch even better parts inside her, and he bent over her and bit her neck from behind, taking hold of one breast but leaving the other hand busy stimulating her pussy from the outside.

The waves did not come faster, for he was not pumping with speed, but rather very deep and relaxed, but their intensity did rise quickly, until she gasped in a climax and felt her lust build up again immediately. Could she never be totally sated?

He lasted longer this time, of course he was taking it easy on himself, and her, but just when she felt another climax nearing he sat back up, held her hips with both hands and went for it, chasing his own high with energy and firmness. This was not going to last, so Agnes applied her own hand to where it mattered, building her heat up quickly, and causing her to climax at exactly the same moment that he shuddered in release once more, his hands now both holding a soft and warm breast.

He nibbled her neck, and her ears, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, 'I hope you didn't find that humiliating, for it was really, really hot.'

Disconnecting himself, he fell back to the bed and contemplated.

'You know, as soon as the weather turns warm, and the hills dry out, I want to make love with you outside, among the heath, and in the old haystack beyond the barn, and yes, against a tree as well. I'll chase you up that long hill until I catch you, and then I'll throw you over my shoulder and I'll carry you to a little abandoned dell, where I'll ravage you at my leisure, this time against a young oak, the next under a prickly bramble.'

'We don't have those here,' she said, laughing merrily at his exuberance, 'will a birch do? And a patch of moss? And we'd better warn Dick, or he'll try to rescue me and lose it.'

'Then he can have a go, too, he seems slow, but I bet he can speed up a little when the mood strikes him.'

By now he was looking at her cheekily, expecting her to be shocked no doubt, but frankly she found the idea enticing, though she expected Dennis would refuse to share her and she accepted that. He satisfied her more than anyone had ever done before, he had such humour, and such a lively imagination.

Deciding to give as good as she got from him, she observed coarsely, 'You are right, of course, and he's hung like a stallion.'

Did he really have her talking like that?

'I must see that for myself, but I'd rather not feel it on, or rather in, my person. I didn't even fancy doing such things with Patrick, though he's stunningly handsome and undoubtedly very skilled. Can we invite Dick to join us some time, or are you done with him?'

The very idea made her drool, literally, to be fucked all out, then have it done to her again, why didn't she ever think of that before?

Well, for one, Dick didn't take to changes in his routine easily, and there was always the danger of him losing it. And for another, was it fair towards Dick to use him that way? She actually didn't feel a need for being with him anymore.

'I'd love to, if you think it's not promising him things I cannot deliver. I used to take him to our little room at least twice a week, and sometimes every day, but lately I have been so caught up in you that I have neglected him. He might feel used, and that could make him dangerous.'

'Don't underestimate Dick, my love. He is slow, but he can think, and he likes me. He felt really sorry for me, I can't imagine he could ever be so jealous he'd harm me. 

But Agnes, I'm a soldier and a gutter rat, I can fight really well though I've never shown it. I can defend both of us without hurting him badly, even though he may be twice my weight. I do not fear him under any circumstance, and I feel kind of bad for him that I took his place with you.

Can you show him that you still like him, though you no longer want to fuck him, or would that be injurious to your dignity? Don't get that the wrong way, I really have no idea how to handle staff.'

'I suppose I could. You think he would be pleased with normal attention as well?'

'Well, having sex with the mistress is better, of course, but being ignored after being intimate is much worse. He did please you, didn't he?'

'He did. But now I truly love you, and I want to be a good wife to you, and that means being faithful.'

Dennis experienced a physical shock.

By now they were in each other's arms again, and he gripped her tightly and exclaimed,' You want us to be married?'

She tried not to be hurt by his reaction and replied as calmly as she could, 'Yes, I want you to make me your wife.'

'But Agnes, I'm born lower than low. My mother was a whore, and I never knew my father. My birth was so beneath notice, that though I was an outstanding soldier, I could never be promoted above private. I should be ashamed to love a lady like you, let alone share a bed with her. Marriage is totally out of the question.

You should not marry anyone less than a gentleman, and even that would be most unwise. Any man you married would own you! I want to prove my love and dedication for you, Agnes, but I don't want to own you. That would be the world upside down!

I may talk dirty to you, and tup you like a billy, but I'd rather throw myself at your feet and worship you than be your master.

If you still want to take Dick to his little room, I'm fine with that. You don't have to be faithful to me, you just have to be you. Please don't deliver yourself to me, that is as wrong as keeping me in a collar.'

He was truly upset and started to wheeze again.

Curiously, Agnes felt a laugh well up. 'I suppose I have to fuck you, immediately, since you're upsetting yourself, but I'm sure you're as sated as I am.

So let's just lie here in each other's arms and do nothing. There is no rush, I'm not going to force you into anything. I would like us to be married, to prove my dedication to you, but I'm not a starry-eyed virgin anymore, I'll survive just loving you and being loved by you.

I understand you very well, though personally I don't care.

I don't care about rank, and I don't fear delivering myself to you. I think you'd take great care of me. But I did not mean to upset you, love, and I still didn't look at those whip-cuts.

Will you turn your back on me? I won't take a second.'

Her words appeased him, and his breathing improved immediately, he was right, it was a nervous condition. Knowing it wasn't dangerous she actually found it endearing, he looked so vulnerable and cute when he panted.

Quickly and objectively, she studied and probed the cuts she had inflicted on him about a week ago. They were indeed healing well, in a few months they would fade to pink, and in a year no-one would know they were more recent than the others, and given to him by a woman, hopefully his wife by then.

She kissed every single one, then took him in his arms until the wheezing had stopped, ready for some lunch by now, and looking forward to telling him about her writing.



Mistress Agnes Ch. 08



In the following days they really got to know each other, spending most of their time together, actually talking. Dennis offered to entertain himself for a few hours if Agnes wanted to write, he was looking rather forward to reading some of her books, but she said she wanted to spend this week with him, she'd go back to writing the next week, when he was settled in the household.

Of course he was settled within days, he knew half the servants already, Cook and John rarely said anything, and Charles, the artist who worked as a gardener, seemed mighty pleased to have someone new to talk to and show his work and the garden to.

But Agnes obviously wanted to be with him, and since he wanted to be with her, he didn't say anything and just enjoyed their closeness.

Expecting Dick to be jealous of him, Dennis was very surprised and pleased to find him sincerely glad that he was staying.

'I thought you'd leave when the mistress set you free, Dennis. Will you marry the mistress? She loves you.'

'Not yet, Dick, it's too early to think of marriage.'

'Do you want children, Dennis?'

Dennis didn't, but Dick seemed to find them important so he tried not to be blunt about it.

'I never thought of it much, Dick, life was pretty dangerous in the army. I was busy staying alive. I'll think about it now.'

'The mistress told me she can't have them, Dennis. Do you mind?'

'I don't, actually. Do you want children, Dick?'

That made him sad.

'I can't have any, they'd be like me. Mum said I shouldn't be with a girl because I might get her with child, but I couldn't say no to the mistress.'

'I think you'd be a great dad, Dick. If you want children, I think you should have them. Just choose a smart girl.'

'None of the girls would have me at home, they said I was stupid because I couldn't read.'

'I can't read very well either, Dick.'

'Why not, Dennis?'

'I only had lessons until I was nine. Did anyone ever try to teach you to read?'

'No, Dennis, they said I couldn't learn anyway so why bother.'

'So then you don't know how smart or stupid you are. I can't teach you because I can't read very well myself. But Guy can, he's very smart. Why not ask him?'

Dick obviously didn't believe him one bit, but Dennis wouldn't forget.

As the bruise on his throat faded, and the whip-cuts healed and almost blended in with the older ones, Agnes managed to come to terms with her guilt. She showed her beloved how to find his way on the moors, and they rambled for hours. But she also wanted him to ride with her, first on a placid horse she kept for farm-work and for John to use for running errands, but when Dennis had found his seat she offered to trade horses for a while.

'If you can handle a hunter, I'll get you one of your own. You don't mind my riding astride, do you?'

Riding the hunter was exhilarating, and seeing Agnes ride astride no less so.

Dennis did find her attitude disconcerting. Would she quit riding if he told her it bothered him? He admired her independence, he didn't want her to conform to his wishes. But she already knew that, so he decided to not attach any importance to this by talking about it.

For she gave as good as she got during their love-play, she became ever more spirited and creative. No sign of humility in either of them, they became ever more attuned to each other.

The moors came back to life as spring neared its end, the trees sprouted leaves, the heath shot up and looked green and healthy once more. Suddenly the weather turned balmy, and Dennis thought it was time to execute a little surprise he had thought up for his lady.

He had worked it out ever since their first week together, and prepared everything for the day the weather would improve.

After their morning ride, still on the road-horse but nonetheless very enjoyable, they had given the horses and the hounds over to John, and when they walked back to the house, Dennis grabbed for Agnes and missed her on purpose.

She ran off, and he chased her, as he had promised weeks ago. She cried out in excitement, and went for the long hill, undoubtedly expecting Dennis to catch her and take her against a tree or in a little dell. But when they were halfway up the hill, Dick came running from the stables, clearly not recognizing the playfulness of it all.

Dennis didn't spot him, he was too busy chasing his beloved, soon they were out of sight of the slope, and he caught up with Agnes and slung her over his shoulder, as he had promised. She forgot to mention seeing Dick in her instant arousal, Dennis was stronger than she had imagined, and he had a certain attitude she hadn't seen in him before, there was a fire in his eyes that reminded her of his past as a leader of a gang of youths, this was the man she had wanted to keep a slave, the dangerous man, the violent man.

He had assured her Dick could not stand up to him, and she believed him now. For a moment, she felt a little fear, what if he reverted to his old behaviour, she was helpless against him.

But that thought aroused her even more, she trusted him and let him push her against a sturdy birch, hidden from the main path by a brush of fresh green undergrowth, a rare cover in this open landscape, he must have scouted it out carefully.

He kissed her roughly and with great heat, then lifted her skirts, and pushed her up until she was on his knees, her back against the tree, her legs dangling above the ground.

One hand steadied her, the other pushed aside her underwear, and before she knew it she felt him enter her, a feat of strength that impressed her, and excited her like nothing else.

He was groaning and straining, his mouth still kissing her at times, and the whole situation made her head spin with lust and delight.

Until she saw Dick turn up from behind the brush, he must have been looking for them all this time, his face looked determined to save his mistress from being ravaged, and Dennis didn't know he was there, this was bad.

Totally overcome with heat now, Dennis was unreachable, and it was so hard for Agnes to concentrate on Dick's approach and the danger it posed to her beloved. A groan was pushed out of her, and another one, and now Dick was within reach.

'Don't hurt him, Dick!' she screamed, seriously alarmed by now, but Dennis did not let up.

Dick reached out, touched Dennis on the shoulder, smiling now, and asked, 'Can I have a go now, mistress?'

They had set her up! Dennis had set her up, and Dick had played his part to perfection.

Dennis pulled back, and carefully set her back on the ground, sweating with the effort, a bit overcome with heat yet. And he was not the only one, now she knew it was a setup, she couldn't wait to see what would happen, her pussy still ached for more, and to be taken against a tree by Dick had to be something special.

'Yes, Dick,' she panted, 'hurry, I want your big member inside me as quickly as possible.'

'You don't want me to lick you?'

He must really enjoy that to be so disappointed, but of course he hadn't had sex in weeks.

'Later Dick, first this.'

He started to show his excitement now, and something in Agnes hoped he'd lose it and take her like he did that one time, his first time ever.

Lifting her easily, the same move as Dennis had made, he had probably explained this to Dick in detail, the large man lifted her skirts, opened his pants, his huge cock bursting forth, Dennis exclaiming happily at the sight of it.

The large hand moved her underpants, and oh, to feel him slide in slowly, gently, that was just incredible. He was so strong, his loins carried her like a horse's back, she felt like she was riding only filled up by a thick, hard member. Thrown up, and down again on that fabulous dick, her legs dangling and her arms on his shoulders, she found his rhythm and rode him in one big wave of bliss, one powerful thrust after another.

Then he did lose it, poor Dick, he had built up so much fervour that Agnes got the ride of her life for several minutes, she couldn't stand the delight, it was so powerful, so blissful, she let go totally, holding his arms to stay on. A powerful climax hit her, and she nearly fell off, a hand steadying her until she sat back up, a bit disappointed, for Dick had slowed, before he even had reached a climax himself.

Why did he stop, and how? He had been out of control moments earlier.

'He really, really wants to taste your pussy again, Agnes,' she heard a beloved voice say. 

Dennis, he had stopped Dick, to give him a chance at what he wanted most.

Still floating on that high, she heard her voice giddily affirming, 'Sure, he can have whatever he wants after such a ride. My legs are trembling.'

She was now laid down carefully on a thick blanket, he had hidden a blanket as well! There was no way to tell who held her, lust had her in its grip and she was still totally overcome.

Now her legs were spread very gently, but by rough hands, and she felt her labia pulled aside with just the right force to give her a thrill of anticipation.

Then the warm tongue touched her, and everything spun round and round, a climax approaching but staying just out of reach for what seemed minutes, the greedy mouth sucking the little ball inside her pussy until it reached out for the warmth and the wetness, the tongue back again, exploring until it found the exact spot that caused her to pant and lick her lips.

Something was different, not just the heath, this was not a normal occasion for more reasons than the tree. Dennis was there!

She looked for him, and he was close to her, enjoying the sight of Dick finally getting his due, digging in his mistress' pussy with hunger. Her lover was not jealous at all, just incredibly heated, he touched himself lazily as he looked his fill of the scene before him.

But Agnes suddenly knew what she wanted, her mouth was eager for something to fill it as well, and she caught Dennis' attention and gestured to him. He got her point, and kneeled before her, his dick just where she wanted it.

She almost grabbed for it, and stuffed it in her mouth, tasting her own intimate juices, she sucked it greedily, and licked to her heart's content, totally overcome with heat once more, shuddering with another high, and still Dick wouldn't let up.

Frankly, she wanted to taste his dick, too, how would it feel to have such a member in her mouth, and how would he react? He had never experienced this, and he should, even if it were just this once, he might never have sex again.

As if he read her mind, Dennis carefully got up, and she let him go. Soon, her pussy was deserted for few seconds, then she felt the less fervent, but more deliberate touch of her beloved on her tingling softness. He added a finger, and she groaned in bliss.

Then she felt a large shape kneeling beside her, bashful of course, they had never done this, and it was a domineering position, something Dick had always been careful with.

But Agnes would have none of that, she pulled him in firmly, until he was touching her body with his knees, and then she took his member in a solid grip and licked the head gently.

Poor Dick nearly buckled, he had never felt anything like it, but he kept himself upright, and let her continue. She took it in her mouth, it also tasted of herself, and Dick actually cried out.

'Mistress, mistress, have mercy!'

He didn't seem displeased though, so she continued, taking it in as far as it would, it was magnificent, so large, so hard, and he loved her sucking so much. Making him shudder and moan was great fun, until Dennis' attentions started to take over, building up to a blinding climax.

She wanted to be fucked again, but she also wanted this cock, so she quickly presented Dennis with her backside, on her knees, bent over Dick's loins, sucking his huge member with relish while being filled up from behind.

Dennis rode her as she had ridden Dick, slowly at first, but ever faster, until they both cried out in release, and she was just in time to let Dick's seed spill in her hand when she felt his shaft contract slightly at the base where she was holding it.

They fell back to the blanket, both men, Agnes dumping the sticky mess in the grass beside the blanket before she settled between them. Dennis was laughing, chest heaving with the exertion. Dick was confused and delighted at once, though still showing his mistress the proper respect.

Dennis recovered first, of course.

'So how was that for the two of you?'

Poor Dick, no-one ever asked him what he thought of anything, he didn't know what to say, but he looked very satisfied.

'That was amazing, beloved, though I was frightened at first. You're such a good actor, Dick, I thought for sure you were going to beat Dennis off me.'

Now Dick knew what to say.

'I'd never hurt Dennis, mistress, he is my friend. Thank you for letting me join you, mistress, and Dennis. It was hard, not touching you for weeks. I know I must be obedient, but I missed it. I'm sorry I lost it for a moment, it was so good.'

'Never mind, Dick, it was the best ride I ever had.'

He didn't understand that, so she explained patiently, and they talked a little longer, Agnes found out Dick had been watching them from behind the brush until the moment was there to show himself.

She was amazed he could time that well, somehow Dennis had a much more realistic image of what his friend could do.

'I think it's because I learned so much here,' Dick actually concluded, 'you remember me from the first, but Dennis got to know me later. My mum never let me do anything, she said I couldn't understand, or I couldn't do it. But Patrick and Guy just explained again, or showed me, then trusted me to do it right. Cook even lets me cut the fillets now, that's very difficult.'

It was just incredible to hear Dick talk like that, he seemed almost like a normal man, in fact, only his humble attitude set him apart.

Dennis seemed to feel true affection for the large man, and to perfect his naughty surprise, she consented to join Dick and the boys for lunch in the kitchen.

Since their agreement, Dennis and herself lunched together in the dining-room, but Dennis clearly preferred to sit with all the others in the kitchen, they had great fun together, and since Dennis had no gentle upbringing, he didn't see that as beneath him. In fact, he had asked her to teach him how to dine properly, to teach him table-manners, and she had.

But now they went back to the house for lunch, washing up before they sat down, and Dennis helped put out the food as Dick ran off to fetch the last haunch of venison from the cellar in honour of the mistress joining them.

When he was gone from the room, John looked at his mistress directly, and said dryly, 'If you would pay him a decent wage, he could finally get married. He needs a woman of his own.'

Patrick and Guy looked outraged at his way of talking to the mistress, Dennis smiled broadly, apparently he shared John's view and was diverted by the stable-boy's spunk to call the mistress out in public.

But for herself, she was stunned. Frankly, Guy handled wages and other domestic affairs, Agnes had assumed Dick sent his wages to his parents like the good son he was.

'Do I pay him too little then, John?'

'You don't pay him at all, mistress. It's an outrage, he's dressed well, and he eats plenty, but how is he supposed to make a life for himself when he hasn't a penny of his own?'

Looking at Guy, her butler defended himself, 'He couldn't do anything when he arrived, Mrs Beauchamp, so I didn't pay him. We spent ages teaching him his duties, but John is right, he is a valuable servant by now, he needs little supervision and he works until he drops. I think he'd be a great husband and father if someone would have him.'

John humphed, Agnes couldn't imagine she had once found his country look ruggedly attractive, but he clearly had guts to talk to her like that.

'You pay him a normal salary, say like mine, and I'll have four pretty spinsters his own age for him to choose from, ready to meet him tomorrow. One of them, Maria Woods, is even rather smart, too smart for most folk around here. She never had a chance to marry, but I guess Dick likes smart women, being used to you, mistress. If my Beatrice talks to her she'll come to visit. Of course there is talk about this house and about Dick being stupid, but neither of those four will be picky or they'll risk being alone, childless, and living with their folks forever.'

'You'd always be good to your wife and children, wouldn't you Dick?'

Dick had just returned, and Dennis wanted to include him in the conversation.

'John was just saying it's time you got married.'

It sounded as if they had had this discussion before. Dick professed no girl wanted him, and Dennis told him they would, once they got to know him.

'You're doing so well learning to read! No one can say you're stupid anymore, Dick, and you're a great lover. A girl wants a good lover, you know.'

'But how would she know? I can't tell her if she won't even see me.'

'Leave that to me, Dick,' John said, 'if the mistress pays you the wages you earn, enough to keep a wife and family, I'll have my wife find you a girl. 

I was thinking of Maria Woods, she's nearly thirty but still very pretty.'

'Maria Woods? She'd never even look at me in church, when me mum and dad still lived hereabouts. She'll never have me.'

'And I tell you she will, Dick. That was years ago, when she still hoped a prince, or a doctor, would come and take her to town. By now she knows that ain't going to happen, and she's heard things from her friends who are married, about men drinking and beating their wives, about having to please them at their every whim, about men neglecting children, hanging in pubs, cuckolding their wives.'

'I'd never do that! I love children, and I never drink. And I can restrain myself, ask Dennis.'

As Dennis nodded to support Dick's claim, John made his point.

'Exactly, Dick, you'd never be like that. And you have a good job. Which makes you very eligible by now, there aren't that many bachelors left, and those as still are unmarried are ugly, drunk or raving mad. Or slackers, living with their parents and doing nothing. Believe me, Maria will be very pleased to see the new Dick Parsons.'

And surely enough, the day after the next Maria Woods came to tea, with John's wife Beatrice. They sat in the kitchen with all the servants, drinking tea or coffee with their usual fare, which was plentiful and of excellent quality, and Maria seemed impressed.

Dick didn't talk much, he was shy, but Patrick had groomed him the night before and he looked rather good, still homely, but well-built, and healthy, and very clean. 

John and Beatrice stayed with them throughout their visit, Patrick, Guy and Dennis merely said hello, then left the four to themselves. It was difficult to leave, for they'd depend on John for a report, and John was not a kindred spirit. Still, he had arranged all this, and he was a local, whereas the other three were townspeople and would stay such even if they lived here the rest of their lives and were buried in the churchyard.

Agnes of course couldn't be seen in the kitchen, the whole village would talk, and that would not improve Dick's suit.

When Maria had left, Dick looked a bit stunned, but not unhappy, and he went straight for Dennis. 'She noticed me, Dennis, she talked to me. I couldn't talk much, she was so pretty, I was a bit stunned. But John explained I was shy, and he said I was very good at my job, and very nice and always friendly. I think she liked me. She said she wanted children, and a home of her own, and a man who would really love her and value her.

John said that was me.

When she left, she said, 'Until next time, Dick.' And she took my hand. I think I like her.'




Mistress Agnes Ch. 09



Knowing what he had done, and what his early youth had been, Agnes was stunned to find him such a mild, well-mannered man. He really hadn't had a chance to learn gentle ways, but that didn't show at all, he could have easily been an officer or a tradesman.

And he was well on his way to becoming a gentleman in all his ways, which was good, for Agnes' editor was urging her to come to town for the presentation of her new book, shake hands with her readers, talk to them. Her books didn't have a large print, but they were very expensive and exclusive, and her editor knew exactly who her readers were, since they ordered their copies personally, deciding on the quality of the paper and the colour of the leather cover on the spot. They could have the titles on the back left off or have them worked in gold leaf.

With such a clientele, it was entirely reasonable to expect her to meet them in person, those who weren't ashamed to admit to reading naughty novels. Though for a certain fee she'd even talk to them in private, and of course the concerted sessions were not exactly public events either.

Going to town was always a chore to Agnes, her way of life met with so much disapproval of her own class, and to Guy and Patrick it was a constant strain to keep a distance from each other. They were used to being openly affectionate with one another, and that just wouldn't do among other servants.

She decided to just ask him, and when they next dined together on Sunday, Cook insisting on presenting them with his finest effort, 'To stay in practise,' and Dennis asked how to use some utensil and an extra napkin, she first explained, then asked a question that had been at the tip of her tongue for weeks.

'My love, how come you don't look or act like someone from the streets at all? Your accent is perfect, and besides these little details that show only on the most exclusive of dinners, your table manners and general comportment are so gentleman-like.'

He smiled delightedly at her compliments, he was still so eager to please her and so easy to please himself, his capacity to enjoy simple things was almost child-like, like running down that hill, or sitting in a pen with puppies, letting them crawl all over him. Then his face became serious, and he explained.

'I used to have an atrocious accent, I can still do it, my language would have blistered your ears. And during my first years as a private, nothing changed.

But then I got a new officer, a kind young gentleman who liked me, and who hoped I might rise through the ranks because of my skills at soldiery and leading others. So he spent time teaching me to lose the accent and clean up my speech, and he showed me how a gentleman looked and behaved in company.

Sadly, he never managed to get me promoted, and a year after we had both accepted I'd stay a private serving him, he was killed in action. I was devastated, but I had to fight on or be killed myself. Few of our company survived that battle.

I'm glad you think what I learned from him helped, I knew my old manners and speech would never serve me again so I worked hard to get over them, and I'd like to be worthy of your company some day, and not have people say you plucked a boy from the streets to do your bidding.'

Which was more or less what she had planned, but now things were different, now she wanted to take Dennis along to social functions, if he agreed.

'My editor wants me to come to London to talk to my readers, a few weeks' stay in which we can discuss a new book, handle the finances, catch up on each other's lives, and attend functions where the rich ladies who read my novels can ask questions and make suggestions about their own fantasies.

I always use the occasion to visit a few plays and order some new dresses and shoes, get a high dose of town before I go back to the country, so to speak.

Patrick and Guy always accompany me, as my personal attendant and my financial expert, but I always have to visit the other events by myself. Would you consider accompanying me this time? I dread people's looks when I arrive by myself, some men always feel called upon themselves to force their attentions on me, and when I refuse, they make things difficult for both of us.'

Dennis looked at her seriously and replied, 'If you aren't afraid that my presence will cause even more scandal I would love to. I'm a bit anxious to be caught out, though. I understand no-one will expect to find a deserter among the rich and famous, but still I'd worry. My neck is on the line, and your happiness.'

The very thought caused her to shudder, and she took his hand and pressed it to her lips.

'I thought of that, and asked Patrick, and he thinks he can change your appearance radically, your hair has grow enough to make it curly, dye a few strands a shade darker so the total colour changes, grow a moustache. Maybe wear colourful clothes?'

Dennis tried to picture himself as Agnes described him, and though he saw a dandy, he realized that would be his best protection, no-one would suspect a dandy to be a deserter from the lowest possible social class.

'Besides,' Agnes continued, 'your walk is different already, much less tense and less guarded, and your attitude is very secure and independent. I guess no-one would recognize you as an army man even like this, but to be sure we'd change your looks and change your name as well. I don't plan to join society heads-on, just those meetings and they will be very private, and a few public events. You'll love concerts and plays, and I wouldn't mind us ordering a fancy coat and some superb riding boots for you either.'

'I'm game,' he assured her. 'I'd like to see town from a whole new perspective, and I don't like the idea of your being exposed to obtrusive men. I feel a need to protect you, and you know I can, better than any hired retainer.

Would a hotel accept our word for being a married couple?'

That was actually very funny.

'We don't need to stay in a hotel, my love, I have a house in London. Didn't I ever tell you?'

Apparently she didn't.

'A house in town? In what part?'

She described the house Frederick had bought them, large but not oppressively so, very homely and with a ridiculously large garden for a town house.

'It costs me a fortune in staff and I hardly ever visit, but I don't mind, I have it to spare and my people need to make a living. They're not like the guys here, though, they do gossip, making my visits rather hard on Guy and Patrick. They'll keep an eye on us as well, but I don't really care, as long as we keep your past in the army a secret of course.'

'I can't believe you have a house in town. And a garden as well?'

'A beautiful garden. You'll love it, it's not as large as Charles' little paradise here, but the soil is so much better, things thrive there that would die here.'

For by this time, Dennis had taken to gardening, he had first accompanied Charles to make friends with him, but he found that weeding and pruning kept his hands occupied, and his mood sunny, even on rainy and stormy days.

Seeing things grow was such a pleasure, and Charles really knew a lot, even about Cook's kitchen garden, which he didn't mind keeping up for the older man.

Soon, Dennis was spending a lot of his time in the garden, freeing Charles more and more to spend time on his art, beautiful sculptures of iron and glass, and paintings, which he sold in the nearest town to buy materials for his sculptures.

When Dennis mentioned going to London, Charles sighed.

'I miss London, I came here looking for peace and quiet, and I found it, but now after two years here I find I miss the energy and the liveliness of a city. Customers, too.

But Mrs Beauchamp has been very good to me, and frankly I still need the income of a steady job. Still, a man can dream.'

And for some of them, their dream actually came true.

By now, Dick had met with three local spinsters regularly, and he admitted to Dennis that Maria was still his favourite.

'She really likes me, I think. She asks me questions, then gives me time to think of an answer, she really wants to know me. The others just want a house of their own and children, but Maria told me she wants passion, and a little bench in front of the house to sit in the evenings and watch the children play, or the sun set.

And when we were alone, she asked me to kiss her, and I did. You know, she had never done that before, and she waited for me to start, and to show her how it was done. It was so hot, Dennis, she let me lead. She said she never knew I was so nice, and had grown up so tall and strong, and when I kissed her she sat on my lap, right where my dick was beneath my trousers, and I nearly lost it. Of course I can control myself now, so I merely kissed her again, but I really want to be with a woman again.

Do you think she'll let me lead in bed as well? I hope I can do it, for John says it is different with virgins, they need careful handling. What does he mean by that, Dennis? What's a virgin? I didn't dare ask, I was afraid he'd laugh at me.'

Dennis soothingly said, 'You'll do just fine, Dick, you're such a great lover.

What John meant, was that virgin girls, girls who have never made love yet, are narrow and if you take them roughly, as the mistress likes, it hurts them at first. You need to be very gentle with them, take it easy and watch them all the time to see if they still like it.

But that is what people say, I have never slept with a virgin, so I don't know if it's true. Still, you'd better be careful anyway, with your size even a camp-follower would look twice.'

'What's a camp-follower, Dennis?'

'You know what a whore is?'

Dick admitted he knew. 'John told me.'

'Well, a camp-follower is a whore who lives in a camp full of soldiers. Very few of them live in very large camps filled with rough men. They are used by a lot of men who own little money, so they are poor and always tired. I pitied them, and they often carried diseases, so I chose to mostly relieve myself.'

'The vicar said that was a terrible sin, Dennis.'

'I never met a clergyman after my ninth year, so I was never told. But Dick, what is worse, lose it and get whipped, or help yourself and be calm? If you go without sex until your wedding-night, you'll risk losing it, and you might hurt Maria. Better help yourself and be calm, do it right by her.'

Dick understood that perfectly, and Dennis saw a light switch on in the large man's brain. He bet Dick would be a lot more relaxed the next day, and every single day after that. But he talked of something else entirely.

'I have to meet her parents before we can marry, she wants me to come with her tomorrow, just her and me, walk to the village where they live. What if they don't like me?'

'If Maria likes you, her parents will, Dick, she's nearly thirty and wants to have a husband, do you think they'll spoil her best chance so far? You're a good catch, Dick, and they don't know half how good.

What does her father do?'

'He's a tailor, and Maria helps him with his business, she does the hemming and other things he is too important to do.'

Those were her words, Dennis just knew it, sarcasm was beyond Dick, but Dennis liked Maria instantly, though he had met her only briefly.

'Will she move in with you after your marriage?'

'The mistress said she could, but then Maria'd have to walk to the village every morning, in the dark. She has savings, and she is talking of renting a cottage in the village. I'd like that, a house of our own. I could get a dog.'

'You could get a dog here, Dick, I'm sure the mistress and Guy would approve.'

'I know, but I want a small dog, and I'm afraid the hounds would get it, thinking it was a rabbit.'

Dick was so cute, Dennis really hoped Maria was truly a bit smitten with him, and just wait until their wedding-night. She'd adore him from the moment he was done with her.

And the next morning, Maria did indeed fetch Dick to visit her parents, who lived in the nearest village, a ten minute walk across the moors.

Maria, tall and well-formed, still beautiful at twenty nine in an earthy way, dark chestnut hair with a natural curl, fresh face, full bosom and ample buttocks, but with a decidedly narrow waist and a certain air that didn't seem altogether fitting in the village where she was born and raised, was truly pleased to lead Dick to her parents.

Maria was sharp, the main reason she had been left behind when all the other girls married and got themselves with child, most men felt threatened by her superior mind, and though Dick was not nearly as intelligent as herself, Maria knew at once he was honest, and had a strong sense of right.

Later, she found he never drank, was fond of children and wanted them very badly, and most of all, was slow, but not truly dumb or unaware. He was a keen observer, if one gave him the time, and he thought about things for a long time before he formed an opinion.

But once he did, it was usually sensible and upright.

And Beatrice had told her that John had overheard Patrick talking to Guy about Mrs Beauchamp praising Dick's prowess in bed.

Everyone knew Mrs Beauchamp liked young men, she'd had John, and apparently she had had Dick as well, and she had liked his performance. Maria wanted a man who was good in bed, she had wanted a lover from the time she was twenty, but not just anyone, not a drunk, or a dominant boorish farmer.

And according to Beatrice, Mrs Beauchamp was the same, only rich. If Dick pleased her, he would certainly please Maria, for she was still a virgin, and didn't know a thing about making love. They would have a nice income together, and if Dick agreed they could rent a house on the other side of the valley, where Maria would start her own business, out of sight of her father and mother, while Dick brought in the steady income with his work at the manor.

Mrs Beauchamp had a new young lover, a truly ravishing man who clearly had a keen mind and a dashing character. She'd probably already forgotten about bedding Dick, who would have no trouble staying true to his beloved wife.

And now they were on their way to meet her parents, but not just that. Maria was planning to take a little advance on her wedding night, she knew just the little dell a bit off the path, having kissed Dick and felt the large bulge in his pants, she couldn't wait for the moment he'd get it out and let her feel it.

According to Beatrice, who had heard it from John, who had overheard Patrick talking to Dennis, Mrs Beauchamp's latest catch, Dick was hung like a horse, and as eager as one.

Her pussy burned with all the anticipation of a virgin about to be deflowered in total bliss.

Poor Dick had no idea of his fiancée's intentions, he was merely nervous about the upcoming visit, afraid to be refused consent. He had no idea that sweet Maria's parents had never been able to gainsay their daughter, and that their consent was therefore assured.

Maria was an important employee for her father, and he had no idea his daughter was aching to test her wings and fly by herself, but despite Maria's sarcasm, he had the best intentions for his daughter, and he knew she wanted to marry and have children.

Dick Parsons had the reputation of being a dimwit, but Maria had contradicted that fervently, describing him as slow, but honest, and very sweet. He had a good income, and a steady job, and he never visited any pub in the village, had never caused any trouble fighting or stealing, so Maria's parents were even glad to have their daughter finally find a man she could live with.

As they walked the path uphill and downhill, the view over the moors spectacular, Maria still holding Dick's hand possessively, they passed by an outcrop of rough stone set at an angle.

This was Maria's destination, under that outcrop was a little dell that was perfect for trysting, all her friends had used it before they got married, and Maria was determined she'd do the same.

She expected to meet resistance from Dick, he would want her to stay pure until they were married, but she thought she could convince him to let her have this, he wasn't a virgin after all, so why should she be?

'Let's go over there and make out a little, Dick. My parents aren't expecting us yet, and the weather has been fine, it will be dry.'

Dick agreed readily, he was nervous, but he liked kissing Maria, and he was proud he could control himself so well.

Within minutes they were sitting under the outcrop together, Maria in Dick's arms, kissing eagerly, stroking his face and hair with fire. He barely touched her, and she took his large hand and put it on her cheek, saying, 'Will you stroke me, Dick? I want to feel you touch me.'

He was devastatingly honest with her.

'I would love to, Maria, but I'm very afraid to lose control and ravage you. I'm very easily excited, and very strong, and I want to marry you before I touch you with heat.'

She made her case eloquently, knowing he would understand.

'I want you to take me, Dick. All my friends made love for the first time in this little dell, and I always dreamed of doing the same. I know you're not a virgin anymore, so why should I be? We're going to be married anyway in a few weeks, no-one will notice.

I want to be naughty once in my life, Dick, don't you?'

'You know about the mistress?'

'Yes Dick, Beatrice told me, and I'm not angry, I knew all along. I want a passionate lover, and Beatrice told me John had heard a lot of praise about you. Please don't let me wait for months yet.'

'But it's a sin to have sex before marriage.'

'Do you really believe that, my love? Did you feel bad when you first fucked your mistress? Did it feel like a sin?'

He bowed his head, poor chap.

'It did, but then it felt so good I just lost it. And I couldn't refuse her anyway, she was the mistress.'

'Well just pretend I'm your mistress now, what would you do?'

She had him, that turned him on immensely, her virginity was on its way out, she'd be deflowered before her thirtieth birthday.

'She always started. She'd stroke my cheeks, and my hair, then unbutton my shirt, and she'd allow me to take off her dress for her.'

Maria had her hands on his coat, and Dick just couldn't resist her reasoning, he was not a virgin, everyone he knew had sex whenever they liked it, why shouldn't Maria? She was nearly thirty and a woman grown, she made her own money, and even had savings. 

He started on her buttons, her dress was different than the mistress usually wore, but it was simpler, very appealing though with her full body in it. The mistress was lean and small, Maria was tall and large, and Dick complimented her.

'You look very beautiful Maria, I can't wait to see you naked, you must have lovely breasts, everything about you is just right.'

They made good time undressing, though they did kiss a lot as well, and as soon as Maria had Dick's coat and shirt removed, she was all over his chest, smelling it, feeling it, kissing it, sucking his tiny nipples.

Her dress was the next item to go, and as Dick dared indulge in her incredible breasts, so full, so soft and fragrant, she quickly unbuttoned his trousers and carefully pulled them down.

His dick stood out its full length, even his underwear couldn't tame it, it had to stretch or tear.

The size of it had Maria stunned for a few moments, fortunately Dick was still eagerly exploring her breasts and the rest of her upper body, for if he had caught her shock, he would have stopped their little adventure instantly.

But Maria soon regained her composure, if Mrs Beauchamp had liked it, it had to be good, and Dick would never hurt her, Maria was sure of that. Still she wondered how all that would fit into her, she had once or twice felt herself down there, and her opening was rather tight.