Marianne didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave Moorhead House in case she missed an opportunity to slip back into the past, but she managed a smile and accepted. Sandra finished her coffee and left, leaving Marianne alone in the house again.
After a quick lunch Marianne locked herself away in the study and began to work. It was two o’clock and she decided that at half-past three she’d stop, check her day’s work and then decide what direction the story should take. Normally she was a good judge of time but when she finally stopped typing she was astonished to see that it was half-past four.
‘I must have written pages,’ she exclaimed, and her aching fingers testified to the truth of this. The extraordinary thing was she couldn’t remember what she’d written. Leaving the computer to print the work off, she went to make a cup of tea.
When she returned she picked up the sheaf of papers with a feeling of excitement. Somehow she knew the work was good; it must have been to have flowed so easily, and she was anxious to read it. As her eyes travelled the pages she started to feel uneasy. What she was reading was an account of what had happened to her in the outhouse earlier, scarcely disguised at all, and she was shocked at the graphic way she’d described events. Her agent and publisher would be shocked when they read it too, but at the same time she was aroused by her own prose.
It was like nothing she’d written before. The highly charged eroticism she experienced every time she travelled back into the past was there in every word, and if it had the power to arouse her then she knew it would arouse other people. But this wasn’t what she had intended to write. It wasn’t the way the story had been meant to go, and the fact that she couldn’t remember writing it frightened and disturbed her. It seemed as though past and present were merging more and more, the edges becoming less sharply defined. She wondered how this was possible. Clearly Sir Edward Sharpe’s personality was very strong, but so too must Marianne Clifford’s have been if she was able to reach out from beyond the grave and catch her.
‘Perhaps it ended wrongly,’ mused Marianne. ‘Maybe they want to put things right, and they’re trying to use me.’ It seemed a distinct possibility but, if it were true, what would become of her, the Marianne of the present? She assumed that once Sir Edward got what he wanted she’d be released, free to live the rest of her life in peace. ‘But that won’t be enough for me,’ she said. ‘He’s given me a taste for submission, for dangerous pleasure, and I’m always going to need it.’
She began to look forward to Steve’s call that evening, hoping that by focusing on him she might be able to anchor herself in the present again. However, the moment he rang and she heard his voice, her desire to speak to him vanished. It was the wrong voice on the end of the phone, the wrong face she was picturing and the wrong words were being uttered. He wasn’t Sir Edward Sharpe, and it seemed that no one else could satisfy her.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ asked Steve.
Marianne gave herself a mental shake. ‘You’re going to be home Friday?’
‘That’s right. Marianne, is there something wrong?’
‘I’m exhausted,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve been working very hard on the book.’
‘At least that’s something. How about the house? Have you rung any kitchen people about having ours modernised?’
‘No,’ admitted Marianne. ‘I’m beginning to think I’d like it kept in the old style.’
‘But you always wanted a modern kitchen,’ said Steve, sounding a little exasperated.
‘I’ve been thinking about it, and I just don’t think it will suit the house. We can discuss it when you get home.’
‘Okay.’ Now Steve sounded fed up. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Sandra, either.’
‘As a matter of fact I have,’ she announced. ‘I’ve accepted an invitation for us to go over there Saturday night. I hope that pleases you.’
‘Yes, it does. But don’t make it sound as though I’m being unreasonable. You’re the one who’s being difficult at the moment.’
‘It’ll be all right once I’ve got this book cleared with Angela,’ said Marianne. ‘The whole thing’s getting me down.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have changed it in the first place.’
It was unlike him to lose his temper, and Marianne suddenly felt guilty. ‘Don’t be late back on Friday,’ she said, trying to change the subject and brighten up.
‘Am I going to get a better welcome this time?’
‘The best you’ve ever had.’
‘Good – then I won’t be late.’
In bed that night Marianne found it difficult to fall asleep. She was restless, constantly moving beneath the duvet. She wanted sex, needed to be aroused and satisfied. But not by Steve – by Sir Edward. For a moment she thought of trying to go back in time again, but quickly changed her mind. That way lay the danger of madness. Sandra’s story about Judith Wells had frightened her. She must be careful not to make the same mistake as that woman and end up in a mental hospital. Her journeys back into the past must stop being such an obsession. She must try and enjoy the moment more, take pleasure from everyday things and stop her stupid fixation. The problem was, she didn’t know how.
At some stage she must have fallen asleep, for she was woken by someone shaking her arm.
‘Marianne! Marianne, wake up!’ It was Judith Fullick.
Marianne rubbed at her eyes and looked up sleepily at Sir Edward’s sister. It had happened again, she thought with a surge of triumph. She was back in the past. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Don’t you remember? Edward’s gone to London. Tonight’s the night we’re going to test John.’
‘Test him?’
Judith looked angry. ‘You can’t have forgotten, Marianne? I told you what we’d do as soon as my brother had gone. John keeps protesting that he doesn’t desire Tabitha, but both you and I know that isn’t true. Tonight we’re going to prove it, remember?’
Marianne nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said, although she had no idea what the woman was talking about. She climbed out of bed and was astonished to find herself wearing a long cotton night-dress, buttoned high to the neck, with frilled cuffs at her wrists.
‘You’d better get dressed,’ said Judith. ‘It’s cold in the drawing room, the fire’s out. Come as quickly as you can. Tabitha’s already there and John’s waiting in the kitchen. Naturally he wonders what I want of him at this late hour.’ She laughed.
Hastily Marianne pulled on the familiar rust-coloured woollen dress and made her way to the drawing room. Tabitha, looking slightly more cheerful than usual, was standing in her maid’s uniform next to her mistress’ chair. She seemed surprised when Marianne entered the room.
‘Tabitha’s used to me pleasuring her from time to time,’ Judith said casually to Marianne. ‘Aren’t you, Tabitha?’ The girl nodded. ‘Naturally, she doesn’t know what’s happening this time.’
Tabitha’s eyes widened and for the first time she looked apprehensive.
‘Don’t worry,’ Judith continued soothingly. ‘You’ll still have a wonderful time. Fetch John from the kitchen, Marianne.’
In the kitchen the young gardener was waiting, standing awkwardly by the sink, his cap scrunched up in his hands. ‘Your mistress wants you in the drawing room,’ said Marianne. The boy followed her without a word, although he looked bewildered. Marianne was bewildered, too. She couldn’t imagine what was going to happen.
As they entered the drawing room Judith Fullick looked up and smiled. It was a smile totally without amusement or warmth, and Marianne shivered. She hadn’t realised before quite how cruel the woman’s face was.
‘John,’ said Judith, once Marianne had closed the door, ‘I was discussing you with my brother before he left for London, and he told me that, according to you, you have no interest whatsoever in Tabitha. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’
the gardener mumbled, still wringing his cap.
‘I’m afraid I don’t believe you,’ Judith continued. ‘Many’s the time Tabitha’s been punished for going off to meet with you.’
‘It’s all over now, ma’am,’ John assured her. ‘The master’s told me it must end, and it has. She means nothing to me. I’ve another young lady in the village.’
Marianne heard Tabitha give a tiny gasp of shock, a gasp that Judith Fullick couldn’t possibly have missed. ‘Indeed, and what’s this fortunate girl’s name?’
John hesitated. His brain was obviously not overly sharp. ‘Abigail, ma’am,’ he said at last.
‘Does she have another name?’ asked Judith, unable to conceal her amusement.
‘I forget it,’ confessed the boy.
‘Do you indeed? Never mind. If tonight you can satisfy me that you no longer desire Tabitha, then I shall let the matter rest. However, should you fail, then I shall punish you for lying to my brother. In addition, everyone in this household will continue to be extremely vigilant where you and Tabitha are concerned. After all, the girl is our responsibility.’
As she spoke, Judith stood up and very slowly started to undress the motionless servant girl. She removed Tabitha’s outer garments then unfastened the front of her bodice, but left her in her petticoats.
‘Remove your clothes, John,’ she ordered curtly.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’
‘You heard me,’ she snapped. ‘Remove your clothes. Fold them tidily and put them on that chair.’
John glanced hastily from Judith to Marianne, and back to his mistress. ‘It isn’t right, ma’am,’ he muttered.
‘How dare you question me?’ Judith hissed. ‘Do you wish my brother to be told that you refuse to obey me?’
John shook his head. ‘No, ma’am.’
‘Then do as I say.’
Once the young gardener was naked, Marianne again noticed how compact and muscular his body was. His tanned upper torso positively rippled when he moved and his buttocks and thighs were tight. She licked her suddenly dry lips and then, realising John had seen her looking, glanced away from him.
‘Now, Tabitha,’ said Judith, her voice dangerously warm. ‘Come and sit on my lap.’
Lightly, tenderly, she began to caress the girl’s breasts, slowly parting the bodice and easing it back until both the full globes were fully exposed. Then, with one sideways glance at John, she bent her head and, using the tip of her tongue, drew a teasing circle around the servant girl’s turgid nipple.
Marianne watched, fascinated, as the nipple leapt to life, growing immediately rigid while Tabitha squirmed with pleasure on her mistress’ lap. When Judith drew the whole nipple into her mouth and started to suck, Tabitha moaned deep in her throat, her head lolling back until the sinews of her neck were clearly visible.
After a minute or so Judith released Tabitha’s nipple and turned to look at John. ‘I thought she didn’t have an affect on you?’ she said coldly.
Marianne looked at John. When he’d first undressed his cock had been hanging limply between his thighs, but now it was standing up sharply, the swollen helmet a dark shade of purple, a drop of pre-issue glistening at the tip.
‘I suppose it’s understandable,’ Judith scoffed. ‘Any man would be excited by her, but I think you have to be interested in a girl in order to gain such an erection simply by looking at her. Wouldn’t you agree, Marianne?’
‘I – um – yes, ma’am,’ blurted Marianne, her head in a spin.
‘So now you understand the nature of this test,’ Judith went on. ‘You will watch while I pleasure the girl, and you will not allow your seed to spill. If it does, then in my opinion, you will have proved yourself a liar and I shall punish you this very evening.’
John said nothing, and Marianne realised she just didn’t want this bizarre tableaux to end. She wanted to see how the game proceeded, to witness Tabitha’s joy being coaxed from her and John’s ultimate failure.
‘Very well, Tabitha,’ said Judith, turning back to the servant girl once more. ‘I think it’s time for us to proceed a little further.’
Judith was clearly fascinated by Tabitha’s breasts. She played with them for several minutes more, her fingers squeezing and stroking them. Occasionally she would mould the two succulent globes together so her mouth could move easily from nipple to nipple, while the girl squirmed with restless delight against her thighs.
It was obvious to Marianne that whilst Tabitha was very aroused it would need more to bring her to orgasm, and she wondered how Judith intended to do that. John’s erection looked painfully rigid. His testicles were drawn up tightly against the base of the shaft and the muscles of his stomach stood out as he attempted to control his breathing. Eventually, presumably knowing he would be unable to watch and remain in control, he looked away. But Judith noticed.
‘I told you to watch, John,’ she said sharply. Then she sniggered. ‘So it seems Tabitha does hold some attraction for you, as we thought.’
The lad didn’t answer and Marianne felt desperately sorry for him. It would have been impossible for any man to remain unmoved by what he was being forced to witness, but she knew this was the whole point of the scene. Judith was simply being cruel. She knew very well that the two young people were in love with each other and was simply using this diabolical exercise to make her point. The proof wasn’t truly necessary, but she was clearly taking great pleasure from what she was doing.
Marianne knew she, too, was taking pleasure from the scene. She wondered how she could enjoy what was going on, why she didn’t feel sorry for the victims and repulsed by Judith’s actions, but the truth was that she was incredibly aroused. As usual, her journey back to the past was providing her with an incredible erotic charge.
Judith tired of Tabitha’s breasts and, spreading her thighs wider apart, moved the girl into a reclining position on her before pulling up her petticoat. Tabitha’s naked sex was revealed to both John and Marianne. Murmuring softly to the girl, Judith caressed Tabitha’s belly and thighs before cupping her sex mound in her hand. Then, in a series of steady movements, she pressed and released the sensitive flesh and Marianne immediately began to imagine what that must feel like. She knew the moments of pressure would cause sparks of desire to run through the shaking, slender body and then, when the pressure was released, there would come the despairing ache of thwarted need.
Judith continued in this way for several minutes, until Tabitha began whimpering softly, her lower body writhing restlessly at this irregular stimulation that was arousing without ever becoming fulfilling. ‘Wait a little longer,’ Judith said quietly. ‘Imagine how delicious it will be when I finally allow your pleasure to spill.’
Marianne glanced at John. His face was ruddy with excitement. His spearing stem was visibly pulsing, and she wondered how much longer it would be before he lost control.
‘Doesn’t she look beautiful?’ Judith purred, glancing up at the lad. As she spoke, she finally removed her hand from Tabitha’s vulva and spread the girl’s thighs wider apart. She was so open and ready that John instinctively took half a step forward, before suddenly realising his mistake and stopping abruptly.
‘You want her, don’t you?’ Judith goaded. ‘You want to thrust your manhood inside her, to fill her up and make her spend.’
John shook his head. ‘No, ma’am,’ he muttered, but his body was witness to the lie.
‘No? Then I’ll have to do it for you. Poor Tabitha’s quite desperate, aren’t you, my dear?’ And with the tip of one finger she lightly probed inside the wet pink sex lips.
‘Please, please,’ cried Tabitha, her body twisting and turning at the touch.
‘How prettily she begs,’ continued Judith, her eyes still on John. ‘I think she can wait a little longer, though. Don’t you, Marianne?’
Marianne doubted it, but she knew
she couldn’t say so. ‘You know best, ma’am,’ she replied demurely.
Judith smiled with satisfaction. ‘Indeed I do. Let’s tickle this for a moment; it’s such a pretty little thing.’ She moved her finger delicately around Tabitha’s protruding clitoris, causing the girl to gasp and moan even more. Tabitha was writhing all the time now, her breathing loud and uneven in the silent room. Her breasts seemed larger than normal, the nipples standing proud, the dark areolae a startling contrast to the surrounding alabaster flesh. As Judith tickled the mass of straining nerve-endings, Tabitha’s body suddenly ceased its constant movement and she became very still. Marianne remembered this had been the prelude to a previous orgasm she’d seen the girl have but, unfortunately for Tabitha, Judith knew this as well and immediately removed her finger.
When the stimulation ceased Tabitha gave a wail of desperation and once more started to squirm on her mistress’ lap, while Judith absentmindedly massaged the girl’s lower stomach.
Marianne felt as needy as Tabitha looked. Beneath her woollen dress she could feel her own sex, moist and open. Her lower belly was cramping with desire while her breasts throbbed and the coarse material of the dress stimulated her nipples. This was the only stimulation she was receiving, but it sent messages of pleasure through her entire body.
‘Marianne!’ Judith’s voice was sharp. ‘What are you doing?’
Marianne jumped guiltily. ‘Nothing, ma’am.’
‘You look very warm.’
‘The room’s warm, ma’am.’
‘I trust that is all it is,’ said Judith coldly.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Marianne hastily. If anything, the fright had only increased her desire.
When Judith’s hand moved again between Tabitha’s thighs the girl, clearly deciding to throw caution to the wind, pressed herself down hard against the invading palm. Marianne wondered if she would be punished for being so forward, but Judith simply laughed.
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