LORD BRAMBLE'S REHABILITATION

by Peters, Damon

"Rolland!" she gasped in shock as his firm hands not only captured the tight buns of her bottom, but pulled upon them, the sensation making her clench her anus even as more darts of excitement swept into her groin.

  "You beauty, you!" he panted ardently, his hands lifting the back of her lose dress in his urgent need to feel her bottom.

  Isabel tossed it from side to side in an effort to pretend to be evading his prying fingers, gasping delightedly when she felt his solid erection up against her belly. "My, Rolland; so big!" she gasped, and grinned up at him as she slid her hand between them to have it press against it and feel it throb in reply. "You'll be gentle, wont you?" she begged, hoping the reverse would be true and his need of her would drive him insane and, heedless of her cries, he'd place her over a neglected straw bale and fuck her senseless, just like Miss Harvey had so often found herself taken, in the end learning to love it, crave it even.

  Rolland mashed his mouth upon her own while drawing his body slightly back from hers to give her room to pull his jumper and shirt free of his trousers, then hastily open them for him. Soon as he could, he was back to pressing his now naked erection against her front, ignoring her complaints that it might stain her dress in his need to feel the friction against his organ. His hands worked feverish on her silk clad bottom, pulling her kickers urgently downwards to have him groan with delight as he finally clasped her naked bottom and felt his hands all but dwarf the tight little cheeks.

  "Rolland," she begged in a breathless whimper, turning slightly to one side in an open invitation for him to slip his hand through her neatly trimmed pubis and down into her sex.

  He ignored her, turning her still further so he could look down and view her tight and pale little bottom too, groaning at the sight of it, at the such short seam and the boyishly round cheeks.

  "Here," he panted, pulling her fully round and forward, draping her over the wheel arch of the car before his hands roughly dragged her knickers right off. She gasped with the suddenness of it all but was ignored.

  "Oh yes!" he sighed, hands caressing the back of her thighs and the twin crests of her buttocks.

  Isabel drew her legs apart and whimpered, urgently wanting him to cares her moist pussy, to do anything he wanted with it, be it a gentle caress to a rude insertion of a finger or two, but anything to ease the throbbing emanating from her ignored cunny.

  So lovely!" he gasped, shuffling up behind her, letting his cock join with his hands in caressing her lithe bottom, decorating it with lines of moisture before, drawing her buttocks apart with his thumbs, he let the head of his cock slip between them and place a wet kiss upon her little anal rosette.

  "No, not there!" she gasped, and lifted herself onto her toes, transferring the bloated head of his cock from her anal portal to her cunny, gasping delightedly as it sped into her, his large hands gripping her flanks, holding her imprisoned as his manhood filled her.

  Rolland sobbed and pressed against her, his thumbs still holding her lean buttocks apart, his eyes glued to her little anal ring as it flexed on feeling his organ move within her clinging purse.

  "Yes!" she hissed, bending further for him, willing him to fuck her as harshly as he wanted.

  Rolland pressed one more time and cried out with his delight. He was pushing firmly against her, striving to get the last hundredths of an inch of his cock into her as he spent, clinging to her as his legs weakened, his eyes still hungrily devouring her little knot hole, his memory comparing it to those of the pretty young men who so liked to dress as women before allowing him to take them into his bedroom.

  Isabel stared at the floor, frustrated and dirty, hating herself and wanting to cry. And Rolland sighed with great satisfaction and pulled out of her, patting her rump before turning away to repair his clothing. Isabel's little rump had put him in the mind for the real thing, and he wondered how quickly he could get away to find the real thing.

  CHAPTER SIX. Lord Richard's treatment.

  Penny glanced at her watch and turned to smile teasingly at the old man in his wheelchair. "Time we started your treatment," she told him. rising from the bench to bend and remove the brake from the wheel to the chair.

  They were in the rose garden, enjoying the morning breeze, bird song and the scent of the flowers in their early bloom. Lord Richard growled in his throat and waved his arm, perhaps with a little bit more control than previously; it was hard to tell.

  Penny talked to him as she pushed him back to the house. How she liked his home, the formal gardens in particular. How surprised she was at the amount of staff he had. She could talk like this for hours, never needing the other to respond.

  The newly installed lift took them to the upstairs landing and she finished pushing him into his room before sighing with relief and rolling him to the side of the bed.

  "Have to get you ready before we can begin the treatment," she told him, smiling down at him as she moved in front of him and, with arms under his, levered him from the chair and onto his bed.

  She'd been a nurse for a couple of years, more than long enough to learn how to move and lift people heavier than herself. Nor were his clothes any bother, even if she did have to bat his hands and arms aside as he tried doing it himself, his face showing his frustration as he had to allow her to do such a personal act.

  "Think of me as your lover, rather than your nurse," she urged, and grinned when that did the trick and he lay back to let her draw off his clothes.

  "Oh, you like the idea of a lover undressing you, do you?" she giggled, seeing his member already half erect when she pulled his trousers off from their cuffs.

  He made mumbling noises, watching her from behind alert eyes as she grinned and eased the last of his clothes gently off his re-awakening organ to leave him naked upon the bed.

  "We have to stimulate your muscles so your brain can re-learn how to control them," she told him, reaching for the buttons that undid her own uniform, standing where he would see her. "So Doctor O'Connor believes, and it works well on soldiers back from the Great War," she confided, wriggling to help draw her clothes off while smiling teasingly into his attentive stare.

  His cock gave a jerk into the air and Penny giggled, brazenly standing in front of him to let him have a long look at her long and slender trunk, cone-line breasts perched with youthful vigour atop her chest while neatly groomed pubic hair did more to highlight the smooth lips to her sex than to obscure it.

  "Now then," she told him, climbing onto the bed to place herself atop him, his hard and throbbing cock sandwiched between their bellies, her nipples pressed flatly to his rotund chest. She placed his hands about her waist and grinned into his astute eyes as she moved upon him, teasing him with the feel of her warm and smooth body sliding against his own, nipples grazing his chest, her sliding belly making his cock constantly jerk.

  "That's it. Hold me, guide me," she urged, feeling his hands jerk against her back.

  She moved gently back and forth and from side to side. She lowered herself along his body to giggle as she let her breasts caress his leaking cock, then rose to offer her suspended teats to his mouth, forcing him to have to lift his head before his lips could capture a teat and lovingly suck or lick upon it.

  "That's the way," she whispered, sliding still higher along his body, until her pubis slid to the end of his erection and her parted legs let it bound up and press against the seam of her vaginal cleft.

  "Go on, use your hands," she teased, refusing to slide down and have his cock break the seam and pres into her.

  Her sobbed, grunted and groaned, and his hands flew back and forth along her back and buttocks, fingers sometimes able to tighten on her back and pull on her, then losing the control to slip away.

  She grinned and rose slightly to have his cock fall away before she lowered herself once more, and began the process all over again; sliding her body against his own and purring at the pleasure his wiry chest hair produced in her breasts.

  "That's it; let's get those hands and arms to work," she
urged, grinning as she felt them try to pull her up, so his cock would once again slip between her legs. Instead, she pushed herself up to sit astride his prone body, the length and underside of his erection pressed to the length of her vaginal cleft, her weight causing her labia to part and her vulva press moisture and warmth into his organ.

  "Want me to move?" she teased. "Want to feel my pussy slide along that big fat cock of yours?" she asked. She drew his hands to her compact bottom and held them there, her smile growing as she felt his fingers extend to grip and squeeze the tight cheeks of her arse.

  "Go on; pull me along your cock!" she urged with a playful and teasing grin.

  The hands tensed, enough for her to help them and slide a little forward. His cock jumped with the sensation and an honest groan escaped the old man.

  "You'll have to push me back," she told him, squirming a little so the length of him would be better placed along the length of her open seam, marinating in her heat and wetness, its throbbing communicating directly with the swollen nub of her clitoris.

  Again she felt the first glimmer of a controlled press of his hands and she grinned and let her body slide back a couple of inches.

  "Good man!" she praised him. "Again, again. I want to feel it slide along my pussy groove!" she panted, mimicking growing excitement and groaning delightedly as his hands did enough to let herself be drawn forward again.

  "That's the way, you dirty old man!" she sobbed, biting her lip and moving slowly back and forth under the weak direction of his hands.

  "I want you in me!" she told him breathlessly, and lowered herself upon his chest once more, sliding upwards to have his cock bound up between her legs before sliding down again, purring as she deftly anticipated his cock's position and had it press smoothly into her.

  "God, I love your fat cock!" she gasped, arching her chest to best present him with her breasts while her hands drew his to her flanks and waited for him to once again drag her back and forth.

  "Fuck me!" she urged, panting hotly into his working face. "Let me feel your pelvis drive that cock deep into me!" she panted, spreading her legs to either side of him to leave her sex defenceless.

  His hands pushed her upon him, weakly to be true, but in a controlled move and she gladly followed its cue to take him another inch deeper into her fiery cunny, having the thick shaft lovingly stretch her.

  "Yes, yes!" she panted, not having to act too much to show how delighted she was at his progress. His hands relaxed to allow her to rise, then tightened to have her descend upon him once more, and his hips jerked, a first attempt to bury his member that much deeper into her cunny.

  "Yes; fuck me you dirty old man!" she panted, letting herself be moved by the rhythmic pressure of his hands, gasping when his pelvic thrusts succeeded in pushing his cock more firmly into her, often coinciding with a stiffening jerk of his cock to further excite her clinging cunny.

  "You're going to make me come!" she gasped, controlling herself so only the weak direction of his hands allowed her to move, while natural impulse would have her ride him like a favourite at the St Ledger. But it was enough for her to pretend.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming!" she squealed, tightening her passage and watching his own orgasm claim him, his limbs tightening and his facial expression changing, a short sharp cry escaping him as she felt his cock jerk with the first release of sperm.

  "Good man!" she sighed, coming to rest on his chest, lying there while his cock softened and slid out of her. Amazingly, she felt his arm slide around her, holding her in a querulous embrace while his eyes stared off into the distance.

  CHAPTER SEVEN. Sir Oswald arrives.

  Sir Oswald! This is a pleasant surprise!" John called, marching across the drive to shake the man's hand as he exited the car that had brought him up from the railway station.

  "What brings you down here?" John asked, leading the man into the house where the others were gathering, Lord Richard wheeled in from the drawing room, Isabel appearing from her room where she had once again closeted herself and marching down the stairs with an expectant look on her face.

  Lord Richard was able to lift a hand as well as nod a greeting while he tried muttering a hello and Sir Oswald walked across to shake the man's hand.

  "My, but he's made more progress in the few days you've been here than in all the time the last nurse looked after him!" he marvelled, quite obviously astonished by Lord Richard's progress..

  "His new nurse practices Doctor O'Connor's methods," John told him, leading him into the drawing room and offering him a whiskey after his long trip from London.

  "Well, they seem to be doing the old boy a world of good!" he offered, still looking at the old man and how he held himself, now also apparently able to turn his head and sit up better. His eyes slid to the pretty nurse standing behind the wheelchair, then to John's own nurse. "Mind you, if all the doctor's nurses are as pretty as these two, then I think I'd like to fall ill too," he chuckled.

  "Richard can communicate now, albeit just with nods or shakes of his head, but he'll regain his speech soon we think," John told him.

  "Well that's marvellous news. The men at the club were very worried, following the stroke. A number of us have joint holdings, you see," Sir Oswald explained.

  "And you'd heard adverse news, had you?" John asked softly, glancing between Sir Oswald and the young woman seated across from him. Isabel reacted by blushing brightly and refusing to look at him.

  "All I said was that the car wasn't to be fixed for over a week," she cried, now brightly blushing.

  "Didn't you tell him why it needed to be fixed in the first place?" John asked.

  "What use is a car if it's all broken!" Isabel cried angrily. "Uncle Oswald, you don't know what it's been like since these people arrived. Nothing's the same and I'm almost ignored!" she cried, lifting a little handkerchief to her eyes and loudly sniffing.

  "That's enough I think," John told her.

  "No! No! It's not fair. Daddy should be put in a home or something. I can look after the house," she cried.

  John nodded and looked towards the girl's father, gauging his mood from his expression before nodding once again. "Go to your room now Isabel," he ordered.

  "No. I won't! You can't make me!" she cried angrily.

  Her father's growl caught her attention and everyone turned towards the old man as an arm rose and a finger extended towards the door. "Go!" growled the old man.

  The word was deep and growling but surprisingly clear. Isabel gave a gasp, then turned to rush from the room, wailing off and up the stairs until the loud slam of her room silenced any further cries.

  "I'm sorry you had to come down because of that," John murmured, refilling Sir Oswald's glass and taking one for himself.

  "Oh, don't worry about me!" the man told him, waving the issue aside. "Tell me more of this treatment of O'Connor's," he asked. "It obviously has applications outside of traumatised soldiers," he said, looking between them for further answers.

  "We could give you an example of some of the treatment if you'd like," Penny told him, grinning brightly and seductively.

  John laughed at Sir Oswald's expression and shook his head. "Not these two," he told the wealthy man. "But we've found a maid who has the right disposition and has indicated her willingness to learn to become a nurse.

  "Certainly, I think I need something to relax me from the long journey from London," Sir Oswald agreed with an excited grin.

  "Debora, fetch Lilly and have her come to Sir Oswald's room. I'll see him settled," John said, leading Sir Oswald from the room.

  "What do you intend to do with Lord Richard's daughter?" Sir Oswald asked of John as he followed the Captain up the stairs to the first floor landing.

  "I'll discuss it with Lord Richard, but I suspect the girl will be given some form of punishment," John murmured, unwilling to have Isabel overhear any of their conversation.

  "The girl has caused me some embarrassment, not to say having to rearrange my diary. Be
ing witness to anything like that would be ample compensation," Sir Oswald murmured, shown into one of the guest rooms to find his bags had already been brought up.

  "I'll bear that in mind," John agreed, beginning to savour the idea of having the haughty young woman adequately turned over and bared, taking some while and effort to ensure her no doubt smooth and pale bottom was adequately decorated with cuts that would last some while.

  Lilly arrived at the door, already flushed and somewhat breathless, her eyes darting between the two men as she executed a neat little curtsy.

  "Nurse Penny said I was needed here Sirs," she told them, wondering which one wanted her and wondering what she would do if it was both of them, her breath quickening with the thought of it.

  "I shall leave you to settle. Any problems with this trainee nurse, just let me know and I'll see to it that she's properly chastised," John said, and with a smile at the maid, closed the door behind him.

  Sir Oswald sat in the easy chair beside the fireplace and looked at the girl, admiring her for a few moments before reaching for the decanter to pour himself a large measure of the fine single malt Lord Richard kept for his guests.

  "So, you wish to become one of Doctor O'Connor's nurses," Sir Oswald murmured, looking at her again and liking her fulsome figure. He didn't like the current crop of lithesome, small busted and long limbed creatures who had taken over the fashion. He liked breasts that moved in response to a woman's movements, just as he liked a bottom that was too large for his hand, something both plump and yielding, that hid, but parted easily with a little teasing.

  She stood before him, head bowed but glancing at him occasionally, the heat of knowledge in her cheeks. That on its own was exciting enough; to know the girl would be obedient to his commands, and probably enjoy every element of her submission. And at the back of his mind was what John and Lord Richard would agree upon as a suitable punishment for Isabel. He would have a quiet word with the old man over breakfast and make sure it would demand her dress be lifted and her knickers lowered. It didn't matter that she was fashionably slender and small busted, he would see her squirm and listen to her shriek.