Obsession

by Cathryn Cooper

  ‘Squib!’ The word seemed to stick in his throat. As though it were the most precious find imaginable, his hand stayed cupped around her breast.

  ‘Don’t tell! Please don’t tell!’ Her voice pleaded, her eyes pleaded, and her hands cupped his face above hers. ‘Please.’

  Her hair was wet and framed her face. Her eyes were wide and full of anguish.

  Gareth looked shocked, but also intrigued.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Although there was no one around to hear, he said it softly and his face was bright with excitement.

  Katie gathered her wet shirt around her. Gareth bent down and picked up her pullover. In silence, and still with a half grin playing around his mouth, he watched her and waited for her to explain.

  This time, she told herself, she could not escape telling someone of her plan. But she had not come this far to be undone. One thing she did know was that Gareth could be controlled, though he might not know that himself.

  Unwilling to concede defeat at this stage, she turned the full force of her eyes and her voice on him. ‘Please, Gareth. There is a reason for me doing this. Please don’t give me away.’

  ‘Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.’

  Katie took a deep breath. Now those dark-lashed eyes that were all-consuming, all-inspiring, did their very best work. They had a slight slant to them when she looked at someone like that; a cajoling, black-edged sensuality as though they were mirroring the innermost desires of the subject they beheld. Gareth was no exception.

  ‘I will tell you everything, Gareth. But not now. Later, in your - in our room. I will make it worth that shilling you lost. I promise. I will kiss you, I will suck you, I will bare my bosoms, my backside and my sex to you. I will do anything you want me to do.’

  The last sentence was not strictly true. With the weight of her words and the strength of her character, she would convince him that what she wanted was also what he wanted. That was her creed and nothing could change it.

  Gareth’s grin was replaced by wonder. She had him. He wanted her in any way she saw fit to bestow on him. He shifted position, stood with legs astride as though what was swelling between them was too big to encompass.

  ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘You tell me after supper and then you can make up for that lost shilling of mine.’

  Supper was what in a restaurant might be called a potage, but in the well-scrubbed scullery set apart for the estate workers was called a stew. It was hot, it was nourishing, though it settled a little too heavy in Katie’s stomach. A mere side issue. In her head, it was her thoughts that were lying heavy. How would Gareth react? Would he sacrifice her presence for the sake of a shilling and his master’s favour? As yet, she did not know. In time, she would.

  It was approaching ten when they climbed the rough chipped steps to bed.

  Below them, the horses snorted as they settled down for the night.

  For Katie tonight, there would be no settling. All through supper Gareth had behaved as he normally did, even to scolding her and calling her squib. Now and again, his hand had gripped her knee, although his gaze had remained fixed to his plate.

  As her legs relaxed and fell apart like they would if she had been a man, his hand travelled to the warmth of her crotch and, gently, his fingers caressed the most sensitive spot in her body.

  ‘You’ve caught the sun, young man,’ said Mister Benson, the gamekeeper, as she flushed.

  ‘All that fresh air,’ returned Katie.

  It was an outright lie. Her sex was hot beneath Gareth’s fingers and its repercussions were running throughout her body.

  Gareth, his fingers still mobile between her legs, kept on chewing.

  He too, she thought, was lying. It might be food that was in his mouth, but it was her breasts and body that were in his mind.

  The minute the door to the sparsely furnished and low-ceilinged bedroom was closed, he was upon her, his hands ripping at her shirt and the buttons of her trousers.

  ‘No! No!’

  She managed to push him away.

  Anger creased his features as he raised his arm and pointed his finger at her.

  ‘You owe me, girl.’

  Remember the suffragettes, she thought as she tossed her head. ‘I prefer you to call me squib. You know what I am but I don’t want anyone else to know.’ With braced legs, she folded her arms and tilted her chin. Now her eyes were blazing and her mouth was as firm as her jaw.

  Obviously taken aback, Gareth blinked. His fists opened and closed as though his palms were itching too much for his fingers to stay there.

  ‘Sit there.’ She pointed to her own bed.

  Surprised, Gareth obeyed. The bedsprings creaked as he sat down on it.

  Katie pulled off the half soaked pullover and tossed it to the floor.

  ‘Now,’ she began as she pulled her sopping shirt away from the damp cling of her breasts. ‘I shall begin at the beginning.’

  The shirt flopped on top of the pullover. Bare to the waist, her eyes focused somewhere above Gareth’s head. His gaze clamped to her breasts as she began to explain.

  ‘This is the new century and women expect new things. Not clothes, mind you - nor shoes or hats and things. Those are things they’ve always had. They want a new order of things. They want equal rights, they want all women to have the vote - not just some. It was hard fought for and a long time in coming. Do you understand that?’

  Gareth nodded, his face colouring and his tongue tracing his bottom lip, then his top.

  Katie, having already removed her boots, and undone her flies, was now pushing her trousers down over her hips. Slowly, the soft curve of her hips was revealed. So too was the cluster of curly black hair that escaped from over the top of her trousers like a crop of raw silk.

  ‘You see,’ Katie went on, choosing her words carefully, ‘your employer is a man who uses women as no more than an accessory to the satisfaction of his own whims. He entices, then masters them. They give him all the pleasure he could possibly desire and he gives them nothing in return. It seems that as far as he is concerned, they deserve nothing. Or perhaps he considers that women are not supposed to enjoy sexuality but merely endure it. He is thoroughly immersed in his own masculinity, his own superiority. I intend to open his eyes to the fact that women are equal to men in their sexuality - as in a large number of things. In short, your master has a lesson to learn, and I intend teaching it!’

  Gareth was transfixed, totally hypnotised - if not by her words, then by her body.

  She stood naked. Her breasts were high, and her nipples pouted. Her waist was narrow, and her hips curved in a harmonious sweep to the top of her long legs.

  Experience had taught Katie exactly what affect her body had on men. She was seeing it now, glorifying in the immobility and staring eyes of the man before her.

  I have you, Gareth Rawlings, she thought to herself, and eventually, I will also have your master.

  Quick snatches of breath hissed between Gareth’s teeth as he surveyed her naked body. He swallowed and, although he still did not look at her eyes, she knew he had heard everything she had said.

  Calmly, she stood before him so that the curls of her quim were no more than a foot or so from his mouth and eyes.

  She stretched out her arms to the level of her shoulders.

  ‘It is all yours.’ She said it slowly, each word purring from her throat, long, low and eminently tantalising.

  ‘All what?’

  Almost croaking, Gareth’s voice was carried on his breath.

  She knew that in reality he understood what she was saying. It was just that disbelief stood between saying and doing. His hands might not in reality be touching her, but in his head they were. In his head, he was ravishing her, his hands squeezing her breasts, his penis dividing those juicy lips
that nestled between her thighs.

  For a moment, she let him dream, let it sink in exactly what he was getting in return for his silence. Then, as she looked down into his eyes, she held out her arms to either side of her.

  ‘All this.’ Licking her parted lips, she brought her hands to cup her breasts; to hold them a little higher than they actually were. Round and softly pink, the button-like prominence of her fleshy nubs pointed at him as though demanding an answer.

  ‘And this,’ she went on. His eyes followed the course of her hands as they left her breasts and flowed down over her ribcage to the narrowness of her waist. One hand covered her belly, the other caressed her hip. Slowly, very slowly, she opened her legs. Long fingers burrowed into the thickness of her pubic hair. As the index finger of her right hand pressed onwards to tap solicitously at her most precious gem, a low moan escaped from Gareth’s throat.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Let me touch you.’

  He sank to his knees. His hands reached for her thighs. She did not move away.

  Slightly rough, like the bark of a young sapling, his palms caressed the satin softness of her skin. As they clasped her thighs, she tilted her hips so that her mons thrust closer to him. His nose was lost in the thickness of her hair. His tongue was not far behind it, darting into the densest part of her thicket and tentatively dividing the beginning of her hidden cleft.

  In purposeful imitation of what he had done to her the night before, she clamped her hands to his head. His nose was hard against her clitoris. His tongue was wet and quick as it delved in among her slickest folds.

  She groaned with pleasure and half closed her eyes.

  But all the time she looked down on him and held him very tightly. Last night she had submitted to him. Tonight, whether he knew it or not, he was submitting to her.

  His hands clamped tightly over her behind. This man had no objection to giving her pleasure. This man, she realised, would do anything she wanted as long as he got what he wanted in return.

  She smiled, released his head, and touched his shoulders.

  ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

  Mouth and nose glistening, his face came level with hers. His lips tasted of her; of salt, of sex, of everything a woman was or can be.

  ‘Undress, then lay down,’ she said softly. ‘And you will enjoy pleasures you have never tasted before.’ Like a man in a dream, he removed his clothes. Once they were off, he layout on his own bed, his eyes never leaving her face or her body.

  Strong and well-made as he was, he looked vulnerable lying there like that. Everything about him was taut and hard. Only his scrotum lay soft as crushed velvet between his legs. Above it, his penis rose hard and gently moving.

  ‘How beautiful,’ she murmured, and lightly touched the tip of his throbbing organ with one fingertip. It jumped as if she had stung its glistening crown, or pierced it with a fine and very sharp needle. ‘And how responsive,’ she added, her voice husky with intent.

  ‘It always is.’ He sounded proud. My, she thought, we can’t have pride now can we.

  She bent her head and kissed his lips.

  ‘I’m going to tie you up, Gareth my darling.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘And then I am going to do many delicious things to you. Now what do you think of that?’

  She smiled.

  Gareth, his eyes ablaze, swallowed hard and his penis jerked wildly in his groin. His mouth opened and his teeth flashed white and straight against the brown of his skin.

  ‘I think I might well enjoy such a thing. I’ve never done it before, mark you. Never.’

  Was it shame that he had never tried it or shame that he should want to try it that made his voice waver that way? To Katie it did not matter. All that was important was that this was the way she wanted it to be regardless of how he felt about it.

  She kissed the palms of his hands as she tied his wrists to the cast-iron uprights of the head of his bed. Once she had tightened the leather belts she was using, her lips travelled to his chest and his chin. As her fingernails followed her kiss and scratched at his flesh, she clamped her mouth to his lest he protest too seriously and too strongly. She needed to do this and, like it or not, he needed it done to him.

  She sat up, then slid down his body and turned so that her bottom was facing him.

  As she tied his ankles to the foot of the bed, she, tilted her bottom so that he might see she was most, definitely not a boy and that her sex was moist and framed with a luxuriant fringe of dark, silky hair.

  Oh, yes. He could see it alright, furry-fringed, and’, slashed with pink. Even now, before her very eyes, his member jerked as though it were trying to escape his body and go to that place which his eyes were so; enjoying.

  She smiled to herself as she imagined what he was thinking, what he was doing. His imagination would be working overtime, his tongue would be soothing the dryness of his lips as he took in the soft flesh of the treasure that nestled so secretively between her thighs. Even now she could hear him making sounds mewing sounds, whimpering sounds. She was there above him, available, but out of reach. How very satisfying that was.

  Eyes shining and lips moist, she turned round to face him, then slid off the bed.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  He sounded vaguely anxious - but only vaguely. She guessed that not knowing what was going to happen next was as exciting to him as it was to her.

  Now, she said to herself, what little curb can I arrange to seal our little secret?

  She hunted around and ignored his question about what she was looking for.

  In his drawer, she found a garter, obviously one left behind by some house or scullery maid who had parted her legs for his pleasure.

  Like before, she straddled him, only this time just above his knees.

  With a firm grip, she took hold of his shaft in one hand. With the other, she entwined the garter around the softness of his scrotum so that his balls were pushed forward, gathered around his stem. In time with his shaft, his very breath seemed to pulsate.

  With the eye of someone who has practised an art for a long time, and what’s more practised it well, she eyed her handiwork. The garter had a ruffle of stiff butterflies at one point. How very useful, she said to herself, and wound the garter around for a second time.

  Gareth groaned. His scrotum was now restricted to one glossy mass. In response, or perhaps in gratefulness, his penis acquired more colour and became even stiffer than it had been. The butterflies, so delicate, yet so stiffly starched, nestled against the channel that brought his semen into his stem.

  She was pleased with her handiwork, and pleased that Gareth’s chest was rising and falling faster and faster, his breath quickening, his stem pulsating like a well-timed metronome.

  Easing herself upwards, she brought her honey-lined portal over the tip of his penis. Gently, and so very, very slowly, she lowered herself onto him.

  At first, only the very crown of his sex touched the satin smooth folds of her sex. Like a cobweb in a breeze she swayed above it, relishing its head and its moist wetness. Inch by inch, she lowered herself, and inch by inch that moist wetness infiltrated her body.

  Unable to touch her, Gareth could only watch as she fingered her own nipples and squeezed her own breasts. Like him, she was moaning, her eyes half-closed and her head tilted back. She lowered herself onto his erection until she was full. And then she rode him.

  At first, her movements were slow as though she were trying him out for size and effect. Gradually, as her own desire increased, she rode him faster, the hot lips of her sex slamming down against the hardness of his pubic mound, sucking him in, using his shaft just as the night before he had used her mouth.

  He wanted to touch her. She could see it in his eyes.

  ‘No. Oh, no.’ She kind of s
aid it and kind of laughed it. He was in her and his body was hers to do with as she pleased.

  She pounded him and held him like a finger in a glove. Faster and faster, more and more firmly her sex and her bottom beat down upon his stem. All the time, she could hear him groaning and, with him, she could feel the stiffness of the organdie butterflies tantalising her sex and scratching against his stem.

  Each time she beat down on him, her round buttocks met the imprisoned cushion that was his scrotum, now hot and engorged on account of the elastic digging into his flesh.

  When she came, her climax and her juices flooded over him.

  She did not cry out in loud exclamation. Rather, she sighed her delight - long and hushed like surf meeting sand.

  Then, even though Gareth was tensing beneath her as his own climax ascended his flesh, she dismounted.

  The expression that had been absorbed in his own pleasure now looked almost terrified. ‘What about me?’ he cried in a voice that sounded as though he were being strangled.

  She smiled sweetly at him and walked to the hanging chain that would turn down the gas light.

  ‘Sorry, Gareth darling. That was for me. I will give it some thought though. Perhaps I will let you have more pleasure later - when I want it. Be ready for me. If you are ready for me, then you will make sure you come when I come - not before and not after.’

  ‘But...’

  She put one finger on his lips.

  ‘Now, now, Gareth darling. Don’t get upset about it. Now you know how I felt last night when you left me without release.’

  Her finger circled his lips. She was smiling at him in the darkness. Moonlight fell over his face and his body. She could see he was not smiling back. His eyes were blazing, his breathing was still rushed and his shaft was still upright.

  ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ she said, and kissed his forehead.

  ‘I don’t believe this!’ he spluttered.