by P. F. Kozak
Lucy clutched the quilt in her hand. At first Pamela thought her in pain. But when Lucy moaned again, Pamela realised the thrashing from Jack had caused another kind of pain, the exquisite pain Pamela knew from the night before.
“I don’t believe you. He had your cunt, didn’t he?” Jack’s hand came down again and Lucy moaned.
“No, I swear, he ain’t had me. He rubbed against my bum, is all. Miss Pamela makes him hard and he doesn’t want her to know. He even called me by her name when he creamed, he did!”
Pamela froze. Lucy’s words rang in her ears. She stared at Jack’s back and watched as he knelt behind Lucy. “Lift up your arse.” Lucy raised her bum into the air. He pushed her legs wider apart. “The guvner wants her all right. Let him pop her jewel, she wants him to. He sure as ’ell ain’t havin’ you!”
Jack lunged forward, burying himself inside Lucy. He pulled out and lunged again, smacking his groin against Lucy’s bum. “You won’t be wantin’ him when you can have this!”
Pamela heard Lucy’s muffled groan. Jack pounded her with a forcefulness that shocked Pamela and made her stomach feel queer. He had hold of Lucy’s hips, holding her still. “That’s it. Let your cunny grab me. I want to feel your fanny milk me dry.”
Jack continued to pound Lucy. Suddenly, Lucy moaned, “Jack, oh, Jack…”
“Oh, ya, doll, that’s right.” Jack slammed into Lucy one more time. Pamela saw him spend inside Lucy as he had in her own hand the night before.
Not wanting to be discovered, Pamela hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
Go to Chapter Five
Lucy pushed his hand away. “If you don’t want me to tell the mister, then you have to tell me what you did with Miss Pamela.”
“Nothing happened! She ain’t been broke yet.”
“Is that so! I suppose she told you that.”
“She did.”
“What else?” Lucy stood with her hands on her hips, her face flushed red. “Miss Pamela being in her nightdress and asking you to her room, somethin’ happened!”
“All right, have it your way. She sat on my lap and I put my fingers up her cunny. I know she ain’t broke. I felt it.”
Pamela stood in the shadows of the hall, nearly holding her breath for fear of discovery. Lucy had a peculiar look on her face as she came up to Jack. “Did you make her squirm for you?” Lucy put her arms around Jack’s neck.
Jack pulled Lucy up against him. “She did more than squirm, she did. Her cunny wanted it bad. She creamed against my fingers.”
Lucy slid her hand down Jack’s chest to his belt. “Did she, now?”
“She did.” Jack squeezed Lucy’s breasts. “Her bubbies are plump ones. They bounced real nice when I touched her up.”
Quite unconsciously, Pamela stroked her own breast. As Jack spoke about Pamela’s arousal the night before, Lucy changed. She pressed against Jack and rubbed against him. “Did she go off for you?”
“She wants cock in her real friggin’ bad. I made her go off till she nearly fainted.”
Lucy’s head lolled back as she muttered, “The mister will like that, he will.”
“What did you do with the guvner?”
“I’ve been very naughty. I let the mister rub off against me bum.”
“You promised me your cunt, only me. You didn’t give it to him, did you?”
“He didn’t want my cunt, he wants hers. She makes him hard, he told me so. He even called me by her name when he spent.”
Pamela’s heart beat so rapidly in her chest, she thought she might swoon. Lucy’s words pierced her. Unable to move, her body filled with heat as she watched Lucy raise her skirt.
“Jack, I should be punished for being so wicked. Don’t you want to warm my bum for letting the mister rub against it?”
Lucy raised her skirt and stepped out of her drawers. She bent over the bed. Pamela had full view of her privy parts for a moment, before Jack came up behind her. When his hand connected with Lucy’s bum, Lucy moaned and grabbed the quilt. Jack slapped her bum with the flat of his hand over and over. Each time, Lucy moaned and writhed against the bed.
Pamela caressed her own breast, mesmerised by the sight of Lucy’s abandonment to the thrashing. Jack suddenly stopped and opened his trousers. “Lift your sweet arse, Lucy.”
Lucy spread her legs wide and lifted herself up, her opening visible to Pamela. Jack pulled his pud several times, staring at Lucy’s cunt. “Lucy, you’ve got the sweetest cunny I’ve ever seen.” He positioned himself behind her and in one stroke, entered her. “I’m not stopping until you milk me dry.”
Pamela could feel each thrust in her own privy parts as Jack slammed into Lucy. Suddenly Lucy made a ragged sound as though she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, God, Jack…”
“That’s it, doll, go off for me, squeeze my prick.” He slammed his pelvis against Lucy several more times before he went rigid. As he had the night before into Pamela’s hand, he spent inside of Lucy. Dragging himself out of her, he slammed again. “Oh, ya, milk me, pet.”
Not wanting to be discovered, Pamela hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
Chapter Five
Before going into the kitchen, Pamela stopped to compose herself. So many images flashed in her mind, too many thoughts. She took a deep breath as dizziness threatened to overtake her. Tea, she needed a cup of tea.
Pamela opened the door to the kitchen. May stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. “May, could I have a cup of tea and a biscuit, please?” Her voice trembled a bit.
May turned around. “Good Lord, child, what is wrong with you?”
“I am feeling a bit peaked. Having a cup of tea will bring me around.”
May led her to a chair. “Sit down before you faint. You must be ill. You didn’t touch your dinner last night.”
“I’m not ill, May, just terribly excited to be home. I will be fine once I have some tea.”
“You know I always have a kettle on the stove.” May poured a cup of tea and prepared a plate of biscuits. “Here, child, sip this. I will make you an egg.”
Pamela gratefully took the cup. “May, I don’t want an egg.”
“Nonsense! You must have some nourishment.”
Pamela picked up a biscuit and nibbled at it. More than food, she wanted the comfort of the warm tea. It calmed her, as she knew it would.
A few minutes after May had set a plate with a fried egg in front of her, Jack came into the kitchen. He kicked the door open with his foot, hands in his pockets, whistling a merry tune. He stopped short when he saw Pamela.
“Miss Pamela! What are you doing here?” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Lucy went upstairs to tell you I’m back and ready to take you for your furniture.”
Pamela gripped her teacup tightly to still her trembling hands. When she spoke, her voice sounded calm and natural. “I felt a bit peckish. Before making the trip, I needed some tea and biscuits.”
“Of course, miss. I’ll wait at the carriage.” He turned to go out the back door, then remembered Peter’s message. “May, Master Rennard says to tell you he would be taking dinner with Miss Pamela tonight in the library. You should set the small table in front of the fireplace.” Glancing at Pamela, he added, “He wants some privacy.” Saying nothing else, he went to the carriage.
Gathering herself, Pamela finished her tea and took a small bite of the egg, which her stomach promptly rejected. May stood across from her, with her arms crossed over her ample bosom. “Pamela, I have known you for many years. When I worked for Sir George, you would visit me in the kitchen, just as you are now. You would tell me your troubles. Do you want to tell me what is bothering you or should I guess?”
“May, it is not something I am free to discuss.”
“Then, let me tell you something. Since Christmas last, Master Rennard has had a sour temper. After you left, he dined with no less than five different ladies in as many weeks, none of which took his fancy for more than a few days.
Miss Constance has sent him messages, which he has not returned. They sit on his desk, unopened.”
May came over and put her arm around her. “Pamela, your father might not have seen it, but I did. You had stars in your eyes for that man long before you knew why they were there. Now you understand.”
The emotion inside Pamela boiled over. She hugged May around the waist and cried, tears flowing for all the years she had waited. “There, there, child, it will be all right.”
May took the tea towel she had tucked under her belt and handed it to Pamela. “Dry your tears. He will come around. He just doesn’t want to face up to how he really feels.”
“How does he really feel, May? Sometimes I think he hates me and blames me for his never marrying.”
“Pamela, dear, perhaps you are the reason he never married, but it isn’t because he hates you.”
“I’m not so sure.”
May stroked her hair. “I am.”
Pamela gave May an affectionate squeeze, “What would I have ever done without you? I never knew my mum, and Papa preferred the law to raising a daughter.”
May laughed. “Master Rennard ended up with both of us, dear. Sir George saw to that.”
“May, you and I both know that Papa hired a governess more for himself than for me. You are the only constant in my life.”
“Not the only one, my dear. Sir George saw to that as well.”
“You really do believe Peter doesn’t hate me?”
“Sweet girl, no man in his right mind could hate you! Perhaps you should stand in front of the looking glass and pay attention!” May helped Pamela to her feet. “Now, you find yourself a pretty dress to wear at dinner. I’ll make sure everything is ready in the library as the guvner asked. He will have his privacy with you.”
Pamela kissed May on her fleshy cheek. “You are the mum I never had.”
“Dearie, I don’t know that your real mum would be encouraging this romance.” May had a twinkle in her eye. “Master Rennard is older, and more experienced, than you.”
“But won’t catching up be a bit of fun!” Pamela grabbed a few more biscuits from the plate and stuffed them in the pocket of her dress.
Running back upstairs to grab her bonnet and bag, Pamela bumped into Lucy in the hall outside her new room. “Oh, Miss Pamela, there you are. I come to tell you Jack is back.”
“I know. He is waiting for me at the carriage. Could you bring me my bag and green bonnet, please?”
“Yes, miss.” Lucy disappeared into the room.
It seemed inconceivable to Pamela that Lucy could be so passionate. Never would Pamela have imagined this about her. Rather than that being a cause for concern, Pamela decided to approach it as her father would. He always maintained that any liability could be turned into an asset if intelligence prevailed.
Lucy brought out her things. “Lucy, will you help me with something?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Master Rennard left a message for May to set a table in the library for our dinner this evening, so we could have some privacy. I want to look pretty for him. While I’m out, could you please prepare the rose dinner dress I brought with me, the one with the lace bodice?”
“The one I unpacked this morning, miss, the party dress with the low front?”
“That’s the very one. When I return, I will need your help getting dressed and doing my hair.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Do you think Master Rennard will like that dress, Lucy?”
“I wouldn’t know, miss.”
“You know more about his likes and dislikes than you are telling me.”
“Miss, I won’t speak badly of Master Rennard!”
“Nor would I expect you to speak badly of him. May told me how unhappy he has been. You told me yourself he is hiding how he feels from me.” Pamela took Lucy’s hand and held it. “Lucy, I want to know how to please Master Rennard and make him happy. Help me with this. Tell me how you please him.”
Pamela continued to hold Lucy’s hand and waited. In a barely audible voice, Lucy whispered, “He likes to be rubbed, miss.”
Pamela squeezed Lucy’s hand tightly. “Say it again, Lucy, what does he like?”
“He likes to be rubbed. And he likes to look at and squeeze my bubbies.”
“What else, Lucy? Tell me everything.”
“Miss Pamela, he’s never had me, he hasn’t. I promised Jack.”
“Then tell me what he does instead. What did he do last night?”
“He rubbed against my bum, miss. I told you, he fancies rubbin’.”
“Does he fancy rubbing you, too?”
“Yes, miss. Sometimes, he’ll lift my skirt.”
“If I wear that dress, do you think he will want to lift my skirt?”
“If he don’t, miss, he ain’t normal!”
Pamela smiled for the first time that day. “Lucy, thank you.”
Much to Pamela’s delight, Lucy smiled back. “You’re welcome, Miss Pamela.”
Pamela tied her bonnet under her chin. “I have to go now, Lucy. The morning is getting on.”
“Yes, miss.”
Pamela lifted her skirt and practically ran down the stairs. She had learned more during the last day than she had the whole semester at University. The clock in the foyer read half past ten. This day had only just begun!
Jack helped her into the carriage, discreetly patting her bum as she climbed in. When she felt his hand on her again, some wonderful tingles moved through her privy parts.
Before he closed the door, he pointed to the sky. “Miss, there are some dark clouds moving in. Looks like we might be gettin’ some rain.”
Pamela looked out of the window. “You are quite right, and it was so sunny this morning. Do you think we will be able to hire a covered wagon? I don’t want the furniture to get wet.”
“I expect so, miss. Master Rennard gave me a crown to contract what we need.”
“How very kind of him.”
Jack smiled. “He also told me to stay close and make sure to keep you safe. I hope you won’t be minding that too much.”
“No, Jack, I won’t mind.”
The carriage rolled down Piccadilly toward Shaftesbury and Charing Cross Road, where they would round the corner to Old Compton Street. Pamela understood Peter’s concern. The storage building sat adjacent to several alehouses and pubs, places that attracted many men. It was not a street she should be on alone.
However, being in the company of Jack, she felt quite safe. She had no doubt he could handle himself in a brawl and would certainly make sure no one threatened her. He had never told her his age, but she guessed him to be somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years. That made him younger than Peter, but still older than herself.
The carriage hit a rut in the street and bounced, making her stomach roll. She took a biscuit out of her pocket and ate a few bites of it. Closing her eyes, she saw Peter sitting beside her in the carriage. Lucy had confirmed what she already knew from yesterday—he liked to be rubbed. It pleased her to know Peter allowed her to touch him. She had waited for him and now, it seemed, the wait might be nearing its end.
It seemed inconceivable to her that she had touched both Peter and Jack on the same day. She heated up all over again when she remembered how they each felt in her hand, how their manhood came alive with her ministrations. Having held each cock in her hand, she thought them to be similar in size, although Peter had a thickness to him that Jack did not.
She had only ever felt a man’s organ once before, through his trousers. A classmate’s brother, while visiting his sister, had escorted Pamela to a party. While dancing with her, he became quite amorous. They slipped out to the garden, where he quite boldly pressed his hardened organ against her leg. Her curiosity overcame her fear and she allowed the intimacy.
For several minutes, they stood silently in the shadows. He touched her breasts while he rubbed his organ against her. Only when other couples came into the garden did they stop
, for fear of being discovered. They had no other opportunity that evening to be alone. He returned to London the next day.
They corresponded briefly, but had not seen each other again. Pamela did not want to encourage his attentions, because she so wanted to be with Peter. Without question, her father would approve of this suitor. As the eldest son, Charles would inherit the title Earl of Essex from his father and his seat in the House of Lords. If they were to marry, she would be a countess.
She did not want Peter to know about Charles. If he thought she had a suitor with a peerage, she knew he would do everything in his power to have her marry into the line. It was what Sir George had wanted, to have his heirs titled. Pamela had no desire to fulfill her father’s ambition. For as long as she could remember, she had only wanted Peter.
Pamela drifted in a drowsy haze as the carriage rolled along. She had her hand on Peter again, while he kissed her neck and fondled her breasts. He whispered to her how he wanted to touch her and be touched by her, and how he wanted to spend inside of her. But Peter had Jack’s voice. Jack whispered to her, Jack touched her.
“Miss Pamela, miss, wake up. We’re here to get your furniture.”
“Furniture?” Pamela sat up, disoriented.
“Miss, are you awake?” Jack reached in and took her hand.
“Yes, of course, my furniture.” She allowed Jack to help her out of the carriage. “Where are we?” The street did not appear to be Old Compton Street.
“We are on Greek Street, miss, around the corner from the storage house.” He pointed across the street to an area where several freight wagons were parked. “That is where I will hire the wagon and over there,” he said, pointing to a large doorway, “is the dock where they will load your furniture.”
“How very good of you, Jack, to handle this for me.”
“It is my pleasure, Miss Pamela. Wait here and I will ask about a wagon.”
Jack ran across the street. Gesturing toward Pamela, he spoke briefly to a large man leaning against one of the wagons. The burly fellow nodded agreeably. Coming back to where Pamela stood, Jack told her, “That bloke will bring his wagon around to the dock and wait there for the furniture. We best be getting inside, miss. The rain is coming.”