by AnonYMous
I took to her straight away. You couldn't help liking Virginia; she was so sweet natured and eager to help Betty when she was applying the gold paint to my body.
After my appearance on the podium they worked together removing most of the gold paint with a solvent especially prepared by the doctor. And then, with me lying in a warm soapy bath, they would gently pick away at any remnants of the paint still adhering to my skin.
Virginia was about my height with the same colouring in hair but her under-developed body needed to be filled out if Mrs. Murdock intended to fool the clientele that they were looking at the same female who had appeared before them since the beginning. Every day the poor girl was stuffed with fattening foods and the best cuts of meat in an effort to get her to put on more flesh. I knew my days as the Golden Virgin were numbered and estimated that it would take at least a month before she came up to my proportions.
One evening near the end of July, I had just finished my bath and was about to dress when the doctor marched into my room, ordering Betty and Virginia to go downstairs, and sat in a chair with an annoyed expression on his face waiting for me to finish dressing.
After a while, he coughed nervously and asked, 'Do you remember, Dara, when we first met I spoke to you of Sir Charles Cheyney, the gentleman who saw you at the Queen's Theatre and recommended you as the girl to be the Golden Virgin?'
'Yes,' I answered, wondering what was coming next.
'He has become quite obsessed with the idea of seeing you in the nude, without the gold paint, and has been pestering me for some weeks now with his requests. It has been very difficult for me because it was his idea in the first place to present you painted in gold and also he happens to be a friend of long standing.'
'If that is all he wants,' I said, 'and you want to oblige him, I have no objections.'
'Believe me, Dara, I've done my best to put him off but now he is threatening to tell everyone where we found you if I don't give way.'
'Is he here now?' I asked.
'Yes. He's waiting downstairs for your answer.'
'See to it that Betty and Virginia are kept busy elsewhere,' I said, 'then bring him up here. The sooner we get this business over with the better.'
I was trying to tidy up my room when the doctor returned to introduce me to Sir Charles Cheyney. Bowing from the waist, he then took my hand in a refined, delicate manner and brought it to his lips. 'I am most charmed and very grateful that you have granted me this favour.'
This gentlemanly approach was in keeping with his dress and deportment. His savoir-faire and courtesy were far from what I had expected. I had assumed a man who wanted a private view of a girl in the nude would be an old reprobate, physically gross and mentally repellant. With such a man I would have had no qualms about displaying myself naked provided he didn't touch me, but Sir Charles didn't fit into this picture by any means.
He was about my age, tall and slender, with very handsome features. I liked the sound of his voice, too, which was low and melodious. Because he was so attractive I was overcome with modesty and embarrassment. The thought of being just a nude object to him filled me with self disgust. Under different circumstances I would have set out to gain his admiration and respect.
He must have sensed the confusion of my feelings for, as soon as Dr Kersley left us alone together, he said, 'Dara, I know so little about you that my principal aim in seeking this assignation was in the hope that we may become better acquainted. There is no need for you to undress. I have seen your beautiful body many times in the lecture hall for I am one of your most devoted admirers. Please be seated so that we can converse in comfort.'
Relaxed in a chair, I now examined him more closely. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful man I had ever seen, with short dark hair, tightly curled, greyish-blue eyes beneath thick masculine eyebrows which gazed at me quizzically. There were small lines of humour around his mouth and eyes which softened the effect of his strong cleft chin and brought a warm expression of geniality to what would otherwise have been a stern face. is Dara your real name?' he asked diffidently with an amused expression on his face.
'Yes. I am Dara Kennet from the Isle of Man but recently returned from a visit to America.'
'Kennet,' he repeated. 'An uncommon name, if I may say so. I know of only one Kennet, a man of my own age with whom I was well acquainted when we were at Heaton together; a rather effeminate boy who shared a school desk with me for a number of years.'
He mused on the matter for a moment, then exclaimed, 'Why, that is quite extraordinary! James Kennet was also in America last year. Maybe you met him?'
'Yes, maybe,' I answered in some confusion. 'Where is he now… I would very much like to meet him?'
He gave me a long searching look. 'You know this man, don't you. Is it possible you are a relation of his?'
Getting no answer to his questions he asked, 'Have I stumbled on to some secret in your past? Why the reticence? Surely you can trust me; I wish you no harm.'
He was right, of course. There was no need to hide the truth from him. It was possible that the man who had been his schoolboy friend was the same James Kennet to whom I was wed. The only way to find out if this was so would be to trust him.
'Sir Charles,' I said, but got no further for he interrupted me to exclaim with a smile, 'Forget the title; just address me as Charles. There is no need for formalities between friends.'
“Very well,' I replied. 'The truth of the matter, Charles, is that the James Kennet you speak of could be the man I married in New York and who deserted me shortly after we arrived back in England. But I cannot be sure. Where and how can I meet him? Is he in London?'
'Yes, to be sure. But from what I know of him he is hardly likely to be the type of man YOU would choose for a husband. I saw him but only yesterday, strolling down the Strand with his lover, Nicholas Dawney. No, not your man, I'm sure.'
While he was speaking I remembered something that would be a means of identifying this James Kennet as my husband: a birthmark on his neck that looked like a small red ladybird.
'Tell me, Charles, has your James got a birthmark?'
'Why, yes,' he answered quickly. 'I saw it often enough when we sat beside each other at school. It was like a little red beetle just under his left ear. I know it was on the left side of his neck because he always sat to the right of me.'
That clinched it. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that he was speaking of my James. In my agitation I stood up and declared that I would go to him at once.
'Not before you satisfy my curiosity on one or two questions that puzzle me,' Charles replied calmly. 'In my opinion James is incapable of husbanding any woman, however attractive she may be. How did you come to marry him?'
I told him the truth of how we met, our first night together in bed and the celibate months of marriage that followed the wedding.
When I had finished, he said, 'How dreadful it must have been for you, my dear, and yet how fortunate for, as it turns out, you are married to one of the wealthiest men in England. A man who owns thousands upon thousands of acres of land, an elegant town house, a huge mansion in Berkshire and an equally large house in Kent. His father died about two months ago. He was out hunting and his horse threw him head first into a tree. James, being his only child, succeeded to the title and inherited a great fortune.'
'What shall I do, Charles? Please advise me.' it is much too late for you to go calling on James tonight. Besides, think of the embarrassment for all parties concerned if we found him in bed with his lover? Will you put yourself in my hands and allow me to protect and support you in what could be a very tricky confrontation with your husband? It will have to be in the morning for later in the day I board a ship bound for Australia where I am to be secretary and aide to my uncle who is taking up a very responsible position out there.'
'What will I say to Dr Kersley?' I asked, anxious as to what I should do next and very much disturbed by this news of titles, great wealth and male lovers.
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'Dr Kersley? Ah, I can see trouble there. It would be better for your future position in society if he knew nothing about this. Will it take long for you to pack your belongings? We could make our escape now, before he returns to your room.'
I threw some clothing into my leather bag and followed Charles down some back stairs to an exit at the rear of the building. Once out in the open we ran helter-skelter across the grassy lawns to his waiting carriage. 'Hurry, Baldwin,' he shouted to the coachman. 'Make all haste to Cheyney House.' In the plush, dark interior of the carriage I lay back to recover my breath.
Charles put a protective arm around me and I snuggled up close to him feeling warm and secure in his embrace. He kissed me warmly on the lips and I responded with all the affection of my nature. Cool fingers loosened the buttons of my blouse and delicately caressed the nipples of my breasts. To my hot delight he made free with my body. His hands were everywhere. When his fingers began to gently probe between the tender lips of my giny I arched my back in an intensity of feeling.
My clothing was in great disarray when the coachman brought the horses to a halt outside Charles' home in Catherine Place. All was quiet in this by-street sheltering near Buckingham Palace. Luckily there was nobody about to see me descend from the coach and enter the house. Taking up the small lighted candle placed in a china bowl on the hallway side table, Charles led me upstairs to his bedroom.
Clothing was scattered all over the room when our bared bodies came together in a breathtaking embrace. His cock filled out and pressed against my burning flesh. It was so sturdy and thick when I grasped it in my hand. Getting down on my knees, I held the throbbing cock firmly as I delicately licked its swollen head with the tip of my tongue. I nearly choked when, in a spasm of quickened lust, his hips thrust forward and it penetrated the top of my throat.
Throwing me on the bed he came on me like a raging bull, churning my innards with savage lust. Strong hands gripped the cheeks of my bottom and pulled me into him as he strove with rapist thrusts to get deep inside me. I brought my knees up high and submitted willingly to this ravishment. Swirling in a storm of passion that shook my innermost senses, my feelings rose and clashed in an explosive climax as his hands pulled my buttocks up to him for my giny to receive the gushing sap from his dilated, pulsating member. We lay, released from all earthly desires, our senses dissolved in a blissful nirvana of extinction that the French speak of as 'the little death'.
Bright sunlight was filtering through the window curtains when I awakened from a night of Elysian dreams. The polished oak of the wall panelling and the wide floorboards shone in the morning light making a perfect setting for the satinwood cabinets and gilt chairs. Stretching out, I looked up at the canopy of the ornate four-poster bed and sighed in the luxury of happy contentment. Charles chose that moment to come out of his sleep and pull me close to him.
'Good morning, Lady Pulrose,' he murmured in my ear.
'Is that really my name?' I asked.
He nodded. 'Yes. Your James is now the seventh Lord Pulrose.'
'Is it all true, what you told me last night?'
'What in particular?' he replied with a smile.
'About James being very wealthy and his lover, Nicholas Dawney.'
'Of course it's true, every word of it.'
'I'm not looking forward to meeting them. What shall I do? And, oh, Charles, where shall I go afterwards? It'll be impossible for me to live in the same house with them. I just couldn't do it.'
'You can live here. I shall be in Australia for at least two years. In my absence the family solicitor will be paying the servants and other household expenses. But the house needs a trusted occupant to keep an eye on the servants who tend to get lazy and negligent if there isn't anyone to give them their orders daily. Will you do that for me while I'm away?'
'Charles, you are a most kind and generous man but I haven't the means to keep this place in the style your servants would expect.'
'Nonsense,' he retorted. 'You are forgetting that your husband is very wealthy. We will see him this morning and demand an annual financial allotment that will enable you to live in accordance with your social standing as a member of the nobility.'
Wasting no further time on words, Charles threw back the bedclothes, got between my legs and showered kisses on my breasts. Flushed with excitement, he rolled onto his back and brought me above him to suck at the nipples of my breasts. When he came up to give me a kiss on the lips I got into a kneeling position and guided him into my moist giny. Moving with a gentle rhythm up and down on him as you would with a cantering horse, aroused my sensual desires to a fever pitch. With a desperate, urgent need to reach the heights of my passion I flung myself down on him and, with my hands gripping his shoulders, I ravished him as fiercely as he had possessed me the previous night.
Crying out in the intensity of my ecstasy, I gave myself up to him when he got a firm hold on the cheeks of my buttocks and forced me hard up against his loins each time he thrust into me. I lay limp across him, all passion spent as he had his way with me, rotating my hips with strong hands until he could hold back his seething lust no longer. My belly, pushed up tight against his, convulsed as he emptied his spurting, manly essence into me.
When Charles recovered his breath he patted me on the bottom and asked me to move over as he was going to ring for breakfast. After giving two strong pulls on the bell rope he got back into bed. Shortly after that his butler arrived holding a large wooden tray of cooked food-kippers, sausages, bacon, eggs-and chunks of bread. Placing the tray on a side table he asked his master if he would prefer tea or coffee. On receiving the answer that it would be a coffee morning he gave a slight bow and departed to go downstairs. I was watching him closely the whole time he was in the room and not once did he glance in my direction. Indeed he didn't look at Charles either and yet he returned with another plate and cutlery within less than a minute.
While we were eating I commented on Billings, the butler, not looking at either of us as we lay in bed.
'A well-trained butler should never look at you when he is speaking or when you are addressing him,' he answered. 'This applies to all the servants. If any of them should have the impertinence to do so in my absence, dismiss them immediately. I will not tolerate servants who do not know their place. Just remember, Dara, that they are employed to do your bidding at any time of the day or night. Believe me, you will lose their respect if you do anything for yourself. Don't even brush your own hair. There is a personal maid to do that and if, by chance, you wish the fire to be stirred to life with a poker, then you must ring for a servant to perform this service for you.'
'Won't they talk about you and me being in bed together?'
'Only amongst themselves. Never to anyone else,' he answered. 'Our conduct in or out of bed is none of their business. Don't concern yourself with what they think or talk about. They are our inferiors, in every respect, little better than dumb animals and to be treated as such.'
When the front door was opened to us at Astral House, Charles instructed the butler to inform Lord Pulrose that Sir Charles Cheyney awaited him.
Taking me by the arm Charles pushed the butler to one side just as he was about to knock on a door and entered the room unannounced. James and his friend were lounging in armchairs near a large marble fireplace. Hearing the butler's outraged protests at our rudeness, James looked round and went pale when he caught sight of me.
Quickly recovering from the shock of my sudden appearance in his morning room, he got to his feet and stood before me. 'Dara! Is it really you?' he said in a voice just above a whisper, then flung his arms around me.
I thought he would never stop hugging me. When he did, I saw that he was wet-eyed and overcome with this unexpected reunion. While James was wiping the tears from his eyes I took a quick glance at his friend, Nicholas Dawney. There was a sardonic expression on his face and, in his eyes, a look of derisive contempt for James and me as we struggled to contain our emotions.
> 'It is such a relief to see you, Dara, standing there, alive and well,' exclaimed James as he stood back and viewed me fondly. 'I got back to the hotel only hours after you had left and have been on the lookout for you ever since. Where did you get to? Nothing ever came of my enquiries as to your whereabouts.'
T don't want to talk about it James.'
He embraced me again. 'I understand, Dara. It can wait. Oh, it's so good to see you again. I'll get the servants to prepare a room for you. This is your home from now on.'
'No, James, I cannot stay here,' I said quietly, looking meaningfully at Nicholas Dawney, who was staring at me with a supercilious grin.
James had momentarily forgotten Nicholas Dawney's presence in the room and had the decency to blush in embarrassment when he got the meaning of my words.
'There are other houses where you can stay,' he said hesitantly. 'You can have Kennet Towers in Berkshire and we have another great house in Kent. I will make out an allotment so that you will have sufficient money for all your needs. After all, Dara, you are my wife and I want to look after you and make amends for… Please let me try to make up for all that you have suffered in the past.'
I felt ashamed at the vile thoughts I had harboured about him since we had parted at 'The Eight Bells' hotel. Although obviously infatuated with Nicholas Dawney, he was still very fond of me and concerned for my welfare. His desire to make amends was very touching but I was determined to be free and uninvolved in his liaison with Nicholas.
'Charles is sailing for Australia on the first tide tomorrow and has kindly offered me the hospitality of his home in Catherine Place while he is abroad,' I said.
Getting on to his feet, Charles decided this was the moment to discuss the question of my allotment.