by Bryn Colvin
“Now you.”
Amelia stood while Frederica carefully parted her from her clothes. It was a relief to be free of fabric and confinement, to feel the air against her heated skin and Freddy’s hands on her body. For a little while, they remained still, watching each other.
“You are sure this is what you want?” Freddy asked.
“Of course. I want you.”
Freddy took her hand and led her to the bed, gesturing to her that she should lie down. They kissed, then, letting hands run over each other’s bodies, exploring curves and sensual possibilities. Freddy pushed Amelia back onto the coverlet and slipped her hand between the prone woman’s thighs, seeking out her moist opening with eager fingers.
“You must tell me,” she breathed, “if you mean to guard your hymen.”
“It is long gone,” Amelia answered. “Phoebe took it from me when I was a mere eighteen, and I did the same for her.”
“How did you do it?” Freddy asked, clearly fascinated.
“With our fingers, what other means could we have had? We were only girls.”
“Have you ever used anything larger than fingers?”
Amelia shook her head. Frederica smiled and ran her tongue over her lover’s ear. She reached across to a chest on her bedside table, and took from it a large item of polished wood. Amelia stared at it with wide eyes.
“Surely that would never fit?”
“Oh, but I think it will.”
Frederica removed a bottle of oil, and although Amelia was already dripping wet, she worked more lubricant into her, making her gasp and shiver with each probing of her finger. Then she began to adorn the long, broad object in much the same way, smearing it liberally until it glistened with moisture.
“Lie back, my love, draw your knees up, like that, yes, and open your thighs wide for me.”
“Freddy?”
Amelia’s voice sounded nervous, and she was indeed quite afraid of being penetrated in this manner.
“Trust me. I promise this will give you great pleasure.”
With practiced skill she slid the wooden phallus slowly into Amelia’s cunt. Freddy took her time, knowing that her less experienced partner would need time to relax and become accustomed to these sensations. She wanted their first sexual encounter to be truly memorable and to give Amelia a taste of the ecstatic delights that awaited her.
“There, it is all the way in, how does it feel?”
“I feel very full.”
“Good.”
Freddy began to move the phallus, working it in small circles, then turning it more fully as she felt Amelia relax and open herself. When finally Amelia began to push herself against the thing, Freddy pulled it out a little way and began to slowly fuck her with it.
The sensation of being entered, pried open, and gently pounded into was unlike anything Amelia had experienced before. It was a slower, deeper pleasure than having her clitoris stimulated, and one that was gradually inflaming her lusts. She gazed up at Freddy, delighting in the look of concentration on her playmate’s face.
“Some women can experience orgasm this way, others cannot. We will have to see if this proves enough for you, or if you require further assistance.”
Amelia moaned and continued to thrust her hips upwards, her body soon enchanted by the pounding of hard wood into her softest parts. Sweat dripped from her every pore as she pushed and strained, gasping each breath. She was awash with sensation, but none of the building tension she associated with approaching release.
“You need a little more, don’t you my sweet?”
“Please.”
Needing no further encouragement, Frederica bent down, her hair tumbling over Amelia’s thighs as she ran her tongue over the inflamed clitoris beneath her. With the first lick, she felt Amelia tremble, and as she continued using her tongue and lips with equal zest, her ears were filled with the rewarding sounds of Amelia’s shuddering moans and guttural cries. It was easy to tell from the way in which she clenched and pushed up for more when orgasm shook her.
Amelia was not some timid Miss to accept one taste of pleasure and then recoil from it; she came repeatedly and with obvious force, much to Frederica’s considerable delight. When, eventually, it was apparent that the young woman was utterly spent, Frederica shuffled up the bed until her legs were on either side of Amelia’s head and her own dripping sex poised above her waiting lips.
“Release me,” she purred.
Hot and exhausted though Amelia was, she could not resist the rich musk of Frederica’s body, nor the urgency in her demand. She plunged her tongue as deeply as she could into the offered cunt, alternating her attentions between this delicious opening and the tender sensitivity of her clitoris. Back and forth she worked, her fingers digging into Freddy’s hips, drawing her down to make access easier. She was utterly engrossed in returning the favour.
* * * *
Caroline sat in all innocence and ignorance, gazing out of the window at the stunning view, watching the parkland shimmer in the sunlight. Her thoughts drifted from Brendan, to Jasper, to Josiah and back again. The door opened and she looked up.
“Freddy has not left you to yourself, has she?” Charles asked.
“I believe she went to lie down for a while after lunch.”
“And no doubt taken Amelia with her?”
“I don’t know.”
Caroline flushed somewhat, realizing that she had no idea where Amelia had gone.
“And you have been left out? That is a poor show, and poor hospitality. I hope you can forgive us.”
Caroline had the distinct impression that she was missing something. Charles came in and sat opposite her, with Alfred in his wake; the young man seemed terribly shy and uncertain, and blushed whenever she caught him looking in her direction.
“Are you in need of distraction?” Charles asked.
“I would welcome your company,” she answered politely.
“Alfred and I were just talking about mesmerism. Have you heard of it at all?”
“I don’t believe I have.”
“It is a most remarkable thing, the discovery of some chap called Mesmer, it has amazing restorative powers as well as being quite entertaining.”
“What is it?”
“Let me show you. Here,” he pulled out his pocket watch, and held it up in front of Alfred. “All I do is swing this watch and instruct Alfred to follow it. Now, Alfred, you must concentrate on the watch and feel yourself becoming very calm and relaxed, just as though you were drifting off into a pleasant dream.”
When eventually Alfred closed his eyes, Charles said, “Alfred, how old are you?”
“Twenty six years and seven months.”
“Alfred, I want you to imagine that you are a chicken. When I click my fingers, you will be a chicken, you will sound like a chicken, you will peck like a chicken.”
As soon as the snap of Charles’ fingers echoed through the room, Alfred’s blond head began to dip up and down and he cackled sporadically like a farmyard fowl. Caroline was overwhelmed with laughter and had tears in her eyes when young Bellingham was returned to full awareness.
“Would you like to be mesmerized?” Charles asked. “I can assure you it is entirely safe.”
“I should be afraid you might make me do something indecorous.”
“Dear lady, I give you my word.”
“Then proceed by all means.”
While Alfred’s trance had been a feigned thing of no substance, Charles took his time with Caroline, using the dominating tones of his voice to full effect, directing her mind into ever more profound slumber until her gaze became glazed and her breathing like that of a deep sleeper. He clicked his fingers before her face once or twice but she neither moved nor blinked.
“You’ve done it,” Alfred said, clearly awed by the course the experiment was taking.
Charles took a pin from her workbasket and pricked the back of Caroline’s hand with it, but she remained unresponsive.
“What now?” Alfred ventured to ask.
“We shall see what she is truly made of.”
He took a breath, and changed his tone as he addressed his victim.
“Caroline Terington, when you are touched, you will surrender fully to pleasure and experience it as fully as you are able to.”
She remained passive as he arranged her in the chair, pushing her back and opening her legs. He lifted her skirts, exposing her white undergarments.
“Do you want to do the honours?”
“What should I do?” Alfred asked.
“Oh, just frig her thoroughly, that should suffice.”
Alfred knew well enough how to please a woman and soon had the drawstring undone and his hand moving freely in Caroline’s knickers. She responded quickly to his touch. After about five minutes, Charles stopped him.
“By Jove, I think she’ll do it, she comes like a steam engine, doesn’t she?”
Alfred nodded, carefully removing his hand and sniffing his fingers, before holding the digits to Charles’ nose for his approval.
“Caroline,” he ordered, “You will remain here as though deep in a sleep. When your heart has beat a hundred times, you will wake as though returning from a deep and refreshing sleep, you will remember what happened only as a dream.”
Having quickly rearranged her clothing, they departed the room in great haste.
A little over a minute later Caroline opened her eyes. She remembered dreaming that Charles and Alfred had come to her, using their fingers on her just as she had herself in recent days. Then half way through the dream they had melted away and, instead of their fingers, it had been Brendan’s cock that was stirring her and plunging into her depths. She crossed her legs tightly, aware of a moist, aching feeling in her groin.
The worst of the heat had passed but the household was still quiet. Rendered inexplicably restless by the experience she took for a dream, Caroline slipped from the house, having established from one of the maids that her footman was most likely in the stables. It was warm there and their air smelled of hay and animals. There were two boys flicking stones at a bottle but they fled at her arrival. Brendan was stretched out in the hayloft, she could see his boots.
“This is madness,” she thought, but she was driven by a powerful need that could no longer be refused. Hitching up her dress, she climbed the ladder carefully, clambering into the loft without disturbing the sleeping man. He had stripped off his shirt and lay bare-chested in the hay, his handsome face peaceful. Since the attempt on Sir Jasper’s life a few days previously, he had been in a state of agitation and she was glad to see him untroubled.
Caroline took the opportunity to look at him properly, taking in the lean, muscled glory of his bare body and the obvious strength in his arms and shoulders. She knelt and, with trembling hands, reached out to touch his leg lightly. He did not stir. Unable to resist, she let her fingers stray over his groin, feeling out the shape of his slumbering manhood. As soon as she touched there, it twitched beneath her fingers. She started, but when Brendan did not move, she touched him again.
The caress of gentle hands on his cock drew Brendan from sleep. He lay still for a while, picturing one of the comely kitchen maids with her hand on his trousers and enjoying the thought of it considerably. When he risked a peek through barely opened eyes, the sight he saw made him wonder if he was still dreaming. Caroline was squatted beside him, her hair falling out of its usually tidy arrangement and her face flushed. It was her hand that had stirred the beast at his loins.
Realization that it was his mistress touching him made him harder yet. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to draw her down to him and show her exactly what that thing in her hands was really for. He was afraid, however, that if he moved, spoke or gave other signs of wakefulness that she might flee from him in fear.
After a little while, she started to unbutton his fly, and he realized this was probably as good a time as any to feign wakefulness. He could not imagine what had got into her, and was starting to fear for her sanity.
“Caroline?”
He had never called her by name before. She jumped, blushed, looked guiltily down at her trespassing hand, then pulled it away from him. He sat up.
“No need to stop; that felt good.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
She buried her face in her hands. She clearly was out of sorts – the botched kidnapping had left its marks on her and Brendan guessed this latest incident with the shooting was making her worse.
“Come on, now, its all right.” He put a hand on her shoulder, and much to his surprise, she leaned against him.
“I just wanted…I’ve never…oh, hold me, O’Shea, hold me, I don’t want to have to think any more.”
He put his arms around her, breathing in her delicate perfume.
“I won’t tell a living soul, I promise you, this is just between you and me, and if you want me to pretend it never happened I’ll do that for you. I won’t forget, but I won’t mention it.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“The question is, do you want me to do that, or were you looking for something else entirely?”
She remained silent, and he could feel her fingers against his chest.
“What do you want, Caroline?”
“Kiss me?”
She tilted her head up, her mouth meeting his as she ran her fingers over his bare skin.
When they both came up for air, she said, “I want to make a confession to you Brendan. I’ve never had a man give me pleasure. Never, not in all that time I was married. This is terribly indiscreet of me, but I want you to understand. This isn’t about love or marriage or anything society would recognize,” she paused, realizing she was stalling, that there was something she needed to express to him. “When I look at you, I feel … I don’t even know how to say it. Aroused, perhaps, filled with lust and wantonness. I want you to look at me Brendan, I want you to touch me and I want to touch you, even though I know I shouldn’t.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” he asked gently.
“Because everything I’ve ever been taught says it’s wrong to feel like this, a sin to want this with a man who is not your lawful husband.”
“Let me tell you a secret. People do this all the time, men and women, who aren’t married to each other. It’s a sweet and natural thing.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. You’re not a bad person for wanting this.”
“Do you want me?” she asked, her voice almost plaintive.
In answer, Brendan took her hand and guided her down between his thighs to the erection she had inspired.
“Yes,” he said.
“Would you let me see it?”
He opened his fly, pulling free his cock so that she could look down at it. She stroked it cautiously.
“You’ve a light touch,” he told her.
He kissed her neck and undid a few of the buttons at the top of her dress so that he could pull it down. Wriggling her breasts free of her corsetry proved difficult, but he was rewarded with a handful of rounded, warm flesh tipped with a delectable pink nipple that seemed to be begging for his mouth. She sighed beautifully as he took her flesh between his lips and suckled her.
It seemed incredible to Caroline that this should be happening, that the man she had lusted after was touching her and taking delight in her body. She wanted to melt into him, to lie back in the hay and welcome him between her thighs. She already knew that it would be glorious, to lie beneath him and have him enter her. Never before in her life had she wanted anything so intensely. The stable door creaked open, and in a flash Brendan dragged her down out of sight, motioning to her that she should be quiet.
“Oy, Brendan, you still here?”
“I’m here,” he called down to the young lad.
“Her ladyship’s asking after Mrs. Terrington and a couple of the boys thought she came in here.”
“She did, I believe she wanted to be out of the sun for a few moments, w
e exchanged a couple of words and then she was on her way. Is there a message for her?”
“Not that I know of, old Fred was just worried something had happened to her I think.”
“Right you are, boy.”
When the lad had gone, he returned his attention to Caroline. Brendan saw that she was shaking, and he could not tell if it was laughter, tears or both.
“I should go if they are looking for me,” she said reluctantly.
He took her small hands, covering them with his larger ones.
“There’ll be other times, if you want–when we’re back home and free from prying eyes.”
“I’d like that,” she said softly.
“So would I.”
He helped her to dress and tidy herself until she looked fairly presentable and then he helped her down the ladder. She kissed his cheek before hurrying off.
Chapter Nineteen
An evening at the Opera did not constitute Sir Jasper’s idea of enjoyment. He would have preferred the gaiety girls, high kicking in the latest style from Paris. Duty called, however, and the company was influential: If he still had ambitions to become a Minister in the Gladstone Government such engagements would have to be endured. Sir Toby Glassmere talked to him during the interval about the possibility of a position at the Foreign Office, so he supposed it was not an utter waste of his time.
At the end of the evening Sir Jasper decided to stroll the short distance from the theatre to his rooms at the Albemarle Club in The Strand. He made his way down High Holborn and around the oval layout of The Aldwich. As he marched purposefully along The Strand he could see down to the Thames between the growing array of buildings now sprouting up everywhere between there and the River. With the middle classes moving out to new homes on what had once been the farmlands and lavender fields of Surrey and even into the marshier ground of Kent, the new Railway Station at Charing Cross now dominated the west end of The Strand, its tracks snaking into the suburbs of the Capital.