He stared at her as though he wanted to drag himself away from her sight, stop his ears and not be influenced by her looks, her smell and her story. But nowhere within him could he find the strength to do that.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Go on. We’ll stand here until you have finished your tale.’
‘Well, during this time, a young woman used to bring my grandfather and the princess food. She was lovely, though her face was angular and her chin rather strong. But it seemed she took a fancy to my grandfather, and my grandfather, whose gentlemanly conduct did not permit him to take advantage of the princess despite the inordinate hardness of his manhood, responded accordingly.
‘Of course, the young woman was fascinated by the sight of his permanently erect member, and each time she slid the platter of food beneath the bars of the cage, her eyes would rove up to where it stood so firm and so big.
‘After the young woman had passed the food, she would gesture for my grandfather to pass his member between the bars of the cage. At first, he was a little suspicious. What if she should grasp it in her hand, then produce a knife and chop it off? But he decided she had too excited a look in her eye to do that, so accordingly he passed his hard member out through the bars of the cage. By now, it was aching and rearing with tension and unrequited sexual requirement.
‘Duly, the woman kissed his glans, and licked at him with the longest tongue he had ever seen.’
‘How did he feel?’ Carew asked breathlessly.
Katie stared up into his eyes which burned like blue fire.
‘As if he’d been licked by a naked flame. His member reared and got even bigger than it already was. As though she were a dog lapping at water, the woman licked him and licked him until he came. On account of it being held back for so long, it was like a fountain. She swallowed most of it, but some did spray onto her face and into her hair.’
Katie paused. Carew was staring at her and breathing heavily. There was a marked bulge in the front of his trousers. Katie, her own eyes shining, continued her tale.
‘The girl made a habit of doing this service for him, though he always waited until she had gestured for him to put his member through the bars of the cage.
‘Of course, all this time, the princess, shivering and naked, watched. Whether she felt cold, or left out, he didn’t really know. All he did say was that she began cuddling up to him, wrapping her arms around his body, and seeking his mouth with her own. But he restrained himself from taking her. After all, she was a princess and betrothed. He was just an ordinary man, albeit an able and brave soldier of the Queen.
‘Eventually, just the licking of his member was no longer enough. He could resist the princess no longer and, even before supper had arrived, he had spread her legs and pushed his way into her.
‘She moaned under him and, being a man interested in finding out the most responsive zones on a woman’s body, he leisurely fondled and caressed her all over, until, to his delight, he discovered that her nipples were more sensitive than any he had ever known. As he played with her proud nipples, she shimmered with delight. He even told her himself that he’d never come across such sensitive little buttons. They aroused him to greater effort, but also lulled him into a false security. Before long, the shadow of the girl who brought their supper fell across them both.
‘He stopped in mid-stroke, and both he and the princess looked up at her with frightened eyes. The girl was transfixed, her eyes as big as saucers.
‘As usual, she pushed his food under the door then, to their surprise she fetched a key from her girdle, opened the door of their cage, and let herself in.
‘Grandfather, still being imbedded in the princess, did not know quite what to do. But his concern was short-lived. The girl, without invitation, straddled the head of the princess so that her quim was positioned directly before grandfather’s face - although of course, the fullness of her skirt covered both the lower half of her body and the face of his princess.
‘Grandfather, realising she wished to join in their antics rather than terminate them, began again to ride the princess and play with her hard and very responsive nipples just as he had before being interrupted.
‘Of course, the princess could not see his face, but she did wriggle somewhat more than she had, perhaps on account of seeing the genitalia immediately above her face.
‘But grandfather took it that she was just as excited as he was at the thought of such a handsome threesome, and played more vociferously with her pert little nubs. As before, she was soon shivering with delight, and thrusting her hips to meet his virile thrust.’
‘What then? Tell me, what then?’ Carew’s mouth was open, his eyes shining with wonder as he absorbed and relished everything she had told him.
Well, well, she thought to herself, then you certainly shall hear more, my dear Carew.
She took a deep breath, and matched her words with the actions of her hands. ‘The woman lifted her skirts - like so. And my father lifted his eyes to what he expected to see. The sight he encountered shocked him. Instead of a juicy young slit surrounded with a neat little jacket of hair, he encountered what was most definitely a penis. It was only then that he realised exactly why the princess was writhing so fiercely beneath him, and what it was that hung so near to her face.
‘What did he do?’
Katie shrugged. ‘He had no option. His desire was beyond the point of no return. So was the princess’s. Besides that, the “person” in the skirt had done him the favour of relieving his most aching need by licking his penis each time he stuck it through the bars of the cage. Therefore, he felt duly obliged to return the favour. Anyway, the boy, who was disguised as a girl, was so grateful for his service that he arranged for their release. The princess got her wedding and grandfather was out of the country by the time her first born came into existence just eight months later.’
Carew stared wide-eyed, then licked his lips and wallowed so forcibly it might have been thought a whole apricot had been stuck in his throat. Then he laughed and slapped her back.
‘What a tale you tell, Oliver Tempest. What an incredible tale and, quite frankly, I don’t believe a word of it.’
Katie laughed herself and stuffed her hands in her pocket like any young strapper would.
In her mind, she conceded the sweetness of the• moment; laughing together like close friends or kin. ‘But it doesn’t matter, sir. You liked the tale, didn’t you, sir? You did like it.’
The sweet piquancy of the occasion was not lost on Carew either. All the same, he did not confirm or deny. But then, he didn’t need to - not to Katie’s shrewd eyes.
She saw the flush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, and also noted the increasing bulge in his trousers. Carew was aroused and, in his enjoyment of stories, he was coming ever closer to her, irrespective of class, age, or sex.
Carew was still flushed and Katie remained silent as they resumed their walking. Every so often she looked at him, and at times felt like doing something completely female and blatant.
For his part, the images in his mind were too vivid, too erotically memorable to file away just yet. As he walked, he savoured them, and again and again in his mind - Oliver’s grandfather thrusting into the supine princess and a pair of male balls hanging like ripe peaches just inches from her royal face.
But the sounds coming from a clutch of tall ferns that divided the trees and shrubs from the river suddenly diverted their attention.
Carew frowned, then raised one finger to his mouth and beckoned her to follow.
All innocent-eyed, though she had some idea of what they were likely to find, she did as he requested.
Carew tied the dogs to a handy tree and, grateful for respite, all four animals sank down on their bellies and lay hot and happy with their tongues hanging out.
Carew in front and Katie just behind, the
y bent double and went forward.
Carew parted a batch of broad ferns with his hands and, without flinching or gasping or saying anything to her, looked directly ahead.
There, among the ferns and oblivious of their presence, were Gareth, the head groom, and Suzanne, the American girl - just as Katie had supposed they would be.
Suzanne was on all fours, her body bare from waist to stocking tops which were held up with yellow silk garters with daisies on the sides.
Gareth too was bare from waist to knees, his thick thighs urgently beating against the American girl as he slammed his member into her more-than-willing portal.
Katie was aware of Carew tensing and becoming suddenly immobile beside her. As her own arm lightly brushed against his, she too became still.
Gareth’s eyes were closed, but his mouth was open.
He was muttering the sort of threats that men do when their brains have slid to their groin.
‘I’ll give you what for, you little squib, I’ll give you what for!’
Now it was Katie’s turn to be wide-eyed and for her mouth to open like a catfish on a plate. In actuality, Gareth was slamming into Suzanne for all he was worth, but who was he really thinking of?
The hard buttocks of the head groom and the smooth whiteness of Suzanne entranced the eyes of Carew Bentley Thompson as much as they did hers.
She looked up at him, saw his eyes were transfixed on the scene before him, his breath coming in short, strangled gasps through his open mouth. Her eyes travelled further. Already aroused by the story she had told him, the bulge in his trousers had grown perceptibly.
Again, she looked at his face, then back at Gareth and Suzanne. So many urges were circling inside her, going round and round, before bursting through her veins and warming her body all over.
She fixed her eyes back on that bulge, which even now threatened to snap off his trouser buttons.
Dare she do what was in her mind?
With smoky grey eyes, she looked up again at Carew. He did not acknowledge her looking, but his pelvis began to move backwards and forwards - just very slightly, as though it were moving in time to some delicate beat and was responding with an equally delicate motion. On either side of him, his hands held back a clutch of drying ferns.
Before them, in the verdant green of the hollow, Gareth and Suzanne were still straining against each other. Suzanne’s buttocks rose to meet his loins with increasing rapidity.
Shall I do it? Katie asked herself. If she was going to do it, she had to do it now. She made her decision.
Slowly, she moved her hand across to his pelvis.
Softly, she touched his hip. He did not flinch and still stared determinedly ahead.
Encouraged by his reaction, she let her hand move further until her fingertips could feel the hardness of his erection. His appendage was as she remembered it from yesterday when the three girls had given him pleasure; big, vibrant and aching to be free.
All the time she perused the thickness and length of his member, her eyes did not leave the couple before her.
As Gareth turned Suzanne over and pulled out her breasts, Katie’s fingers were already on Carew’s buttons and, when Gareth closed his mouth over one of Suzanne’s nipples, Katie’s fingers had nudged through Carew’s underwear and were tentatively stroking his hot wand.
Carew’s penis jerked in her hand as her fingers folded over it and clasped it tightly and she began to jerk it up and down like some erstwhile plunger.
In time with the tableau before her, she pulled on him, tugging his flesh upwards and downwards, aware now that he must be biting his lips to stop from crying out and thus being discovered.
Gareth plunged harder into Suzanne, one breast in his mouth, the other covered by his hand.
As Gareth’s strokes quickened and strengthened, her own hand replicated his action and his speed. To Carew it would feel as though he was the one inside Suzanne, burying his penis up to its neck in her flesh. But it is me, she mused. It is only my hand.
But like Carew, she too could not tear her eyes away from the entwined limbs, and white flesh. How she wished she could be Suzanne, lying there receiving such a beautiful rod that only last night had lain spent and hot upon her tongue.
But she wasn’t Suzanne. Suzanne was nothing less and nothing more than another of those butterflies that fluttered so listlessly around the flame that was Carew. She was Katie Fisher, and Katie Fisher did not care to have her wings singed.
‘More, more, more!’ Suzanne was digging her nails into Gareth’s backside as he delved into her open furrow.
More, yes. I want more, thought Katie, her hand following the dictates of her eyes as Gareth quickened pace, then tensed as he ejaculated into the moaning Suzanne.
They spasmed together, groaning and ruffling each other’s hair, more tightly entwined in their climax than they had been throughout their coupling.
In her hand, a pulse ran from the stem of Carew’s rod to its very tip, and a hotness trickled over her own busy fingers. Now she sighed with satisfaction and, perhaps, even triumph. In silence, Carew had come and she had got him there.
But how about me? she asked herself.
Her breasts longing to be fondled, her sex longing to be divided by a thick, hard stem, she turned wide-eyed to Carew.
His brow was furrowed and his eyebrows met like an arrowhead over his nose.
There was no fond smile for her now. His hand hit hers away and, once the others were gone, he got to his feet and strode ahead of her to where the dogs were tethered.
I’m torturing him, she thought to herself, but it is something I have to do.
‘Sir, I trust I have not offended you.’
‘Keep away from me, Oliver. Keep away from me!’
‘Sir, please don’t feel bad about it. What with my story, and them two going at it like animals, I just got carried away.’
‘Shut up,’ Carew snapped.
He did feel bad about it, but he wouldn’t tell the boy that. He wouldn’t tell the boy that such things - like the beatings - are everyday occurrences at boarding school. He also could not tell him that - unlike the beatings - such happenings had sometimes been welcome to an adolescent boy, lonely and away from home.
But boarding school was a long way behind the master of Thompson Towers. Since leaving school he had never again indulged in such pastimes. In fact, he had made a point of being a ladies’ man, a man who took control in whatever sexual game he was playing. All the same, what had happened today had been totally unexpected, and it worried him.
Why did I let him do that? Carew asked himself. The scent of sex and sweat was in his nostrils, and his mind was dizzy and confused. Why? he asked himself again.
Beneath the sharp cut of his tweed jacket, he trembled. There was a nervous lightness in his stomach muscles.
As they walked, he could not bring himself to look at the lithe young lad walking slightly behind him. If he did, then he would be admitting to his own guilt, his own sexual preferences, and that was something he could not bring himself to do.
Silence predominated their return journey, although now and again he did make a stab at polite conversation. For the most part, his brows remained knitted and there was a faraway look in his eyes.
India, Katie surmised, had taken and turned his imagination onto a path he had never taken before.
All the same, he was thoughtful - even worried. ‘Here,’ he said tersely, handing her the dog leashes as they got back to the kennels. ‘Take care of them. And make sure you do. You’ll get a bloody good hiding if you don’t.’
He never looked at her as he said it, and he never looked back as he marched off towards the house.
Feeling suddenly sorry for confusing him so, she pondered whether she should let him know that she was Katie and not
Oliver. But caution prevailed. What was the point of what she had been through so far if she owned up now?
No, she had to persist with her pre-arranged plan. The stage was set, his imagination had been stirred and was now fermenting. All she required were a few props and some star performances from herself and a few others. But first, she had to get to see Phoebe at the tea shop. Not only did she require some old clothes to carry on what she was doing, she also needed Phoebe to satisfy the terrible thirst that both Gareth and Carew. had aroused. Phoebe was very good at that.
Chapter 7
‘Shall I get these washed?’
At arms’ length, Phoebe held up the garments Katie had just discarded.
Katie herself, who was emerging from the bathroom, viewed them with something resembling affection rather than disgust.
‘Only the underwear, the shirt, and the socks. Nothing else.’
‘Good grief! You mean you’re putting these dirty rags back on?’ Phoebe wrinkled her nose and separated a heap of dark green, white and brown accordingly.
As she was once again enjoying the comforts of Phoebe’s parents’ house, Katie had taken the opportunity to have a bath, but she made a point of not using any soap at all. With a thick white towel covering her nakedness, she followed Phoebe along the wide landing into her room.
The windows were open and gauzy curtains of soft cream billowed gently into the room and brought with them the heady smell of summer roses.
Phoebe hugged her for the umpteenth time that day and kissed her cheek.
‘I have missed you, Katie darling, I really have.’
Katie patted her friend’s cheek. ‘Nice to have someone care, Phoebe dear.’
Phoebe suddenly frowned and ran her warm palm over Katie’s naked shoulder.
‘You don’t smell of anything pretty, Katie darling. Why don’t you let me slosh on some eau de cologne?’
Katie gave that ‘poor, simple you’ look, and patted her plump fingers. ‘Because kennel lads tend not to smell of such things. On the whole, Phoebe my love, they smell of very nasty things - things you wouldn’t like on the bottom of your shoe!’
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