Teena Thyme

by Pope, Jennifer Jane

  'Good girl,' she crooned, touching my cheek lightly in that possessive gesture I was already coming to recognise. 'All nicely warmed up for your mistresses, eh? And what do you think of my outfit?' She stepped back and I blinked, trying to bring her into proper focus, my pulse racing as I saw the way she was attired, for, but for the colour of her hair, it could have been Meg standing before me in her black maid's uniform, long skirt and underskirts billowing, booted feet just visible beneath the multiple layers of hems.

  'I found this in the last trunk,' she said, seeing the shock in my face. 'I didn't say anything then, just slipped it into the car while you were in the loo. I wonder if this is the uniform. Probably not, but near enough? Sheesh, you look like you've seen a ghost, Teenie.'

  Not so much a ghost as a spectre, I thought, my head reeling, cold hands clutching up and down my spine. I felt the colour drain from my face, my cheeks taut from the shock, and I had to shake my head to fight back an inexplicable feeling of nausea, yet the only reply I could make was a stifled grunt, which could have been interpreted in any one of a number of ways.

  But my mental condition was quite low on Anne-Marie's list of priorities right then; the light in her eyes was burning fiercely again and I knew she really had but one thing on her mind. Crazy, crazy, crazy... but now there was nothing I could do to stop what was going to happen. Standing there, swaying groggily, heart thundering, helpless, gagged, that monstrous cock sticking out from my mouth in an open invitation - I had allowed myself to be put into this position and now I was to be the sacrifice to their lusts, willingly or otherwise.

  'Sweet little fuck face,' Anne-Marie said. She flicked at the end of the bobbing dildo with one finger, a gesture that was both possessive and contemptuous in its way and then she grasped the rubber shaft, pulling my face towards hers, until she was able to suck the first three inches into her mouth. Standing there, all but toe-to-toe, we gazed into each others eyes as she rolled her lips lewdly around the phallus, her eyes mocking, yet urgent.

  Slowly she began to back up towards the bed, her grip on the cock never relenting, so that I was forced to shuffle after her. Carefully, feeling her way with her free hand, so that she did not have to take her eyes off me, she settled down on the bed end, pulling me into a bent over posture, and then began to ease back up the bed, until only her feet projected over the footboard.

  'My dress please, Andrea,' she said, releasing her oral grip on the rubber. Immediately Andrea moved in, bending to lift the hem of the skirt and underskirts and move them back up and over Anne-Marie's stomach, exposing her from hips down, exposing the black stockings, the red and black tie garters and exposing her naked sex, already gaping, bright pink and deep red, glistening with anticipation.

  'I think you know what to do,' she whispered, this time addressing me. Yes, I thought, I knew what to do all right, but it was the how to do it that was the potential problem. However, both of them were only too well aware of my novice status and already Andrea had moved behind me, holding my waist to support me as I leaned further and further over in response to Anne-Marie's insistent guidance.

  'In you come, my little fuck face,' Anne-Marie groaned, drawing the tip of the dildo towards her waiting slit. Half laying, half bending, I had a full-on, close-up view as the black rubber pressed and pushed her labia apart, smelled her heat, her musk, as she took hold of my head harness and proceeded to pull me closer still, the dark shaft entering her without the slightest resistance until, eventually, my nose was pressed firmly against her shaven mound.

  'Andrea is going to spank you now, Teenie slave,' Anne-Marie announced. I could barely see over her mound, enough only to be able to tell that pillows now propped her up, staring down her body and over the ruched dress and underskirts at my complete subjugation. I felt Andrea's hand exploring my sex.

  'She's very wet, mistress,' I heard her say. Anne-Marie let out a low, throaty chuckle.

  'Then you'd better start getting yourself ready before you spank her pretty arse,' she replied. 'We don't want her coming too early, do we?' From behind me I heard the sound of material sliding against something and a shuffling from what could only have been Andrea's boots.

  'You'd better come around here and show her what's in store for her,' Anne-Marie instructed, and I heard and then saw Andrea move beside me and climb up to kneel on the bed alongside Anne-Marie's shoulder. I gasped, eyes opening wide in disbelief, for now there could be absolutely no doubting Andrea's true gender, regardless of how feminine and sexual her costume might be.

  Her panties were off and the cock she displayed was as large as anything I had ever imagined, let alone seen. My mind went back instantly to Erik, but what I saw was surely bigger even than his manhood, although the balls seemed comparatively small. Already, too, the flaccid organ was more than halfway awake, but Anne-Marie had yet one more refinement to add.

  'Hold still, Teenie slave,' she instructed, releasing her grip on my head harness. 'Must prepare this randy bitch properly for you.' Andrea shuffled even further forward and passed something to Anne-Marie and, a moment or so later, I saw what it was, although at that time I had never heard of, let alone seen, a cock and ball harness.

  Deftly, despite the awkwardness of her position, Anne-Marie began fitting the cunning device. First a narrow strap went about the stem of Andrea's penis, behind the scrotum, and a second strap attached to the top of this went similarly around her swelling stem in front of her ball sac. Then finally, a third strap was buckled about the sac itself, stretching the flesh until it seemed paper thin, the surface gleaming, a dark blue tracery of tiny veins clearly visible through it.

  'It's supposed to stop her coming too quickly,' Anne-Marie explained, smiling down at me. She gave the imprisoned scrotum a gentle tap with her fingers, signifying that she had finished with it. 'Mind you,' she continued, laying round squarely once more, 'I'm not sure it really does, though it does keep her hard for a while afterwards, which is useful.'

  'Very useful, Teenie,' Andrea added, sliding off the side of the bed and moving down until that cock, now almost fully erect within an outer skin that seemed to be stretching as grossly as that which contained her balls, was level with my sideways turned right eye. 'And today it's all for you.'

  Would I have cried out with my safe word had I been able to speak? Would I have stopped it there at least, even if I might not have done earlier? Who can possibly say, least of all me? Bent over, tied and gagged as I was, even though my back ached already and my feet threatened to slip backwards along the carpet until I was forced to dig the sharper heels in to gain some sort of traction, I don't think I could have stopped it at all; earlier maybe, but now, swept up and away by tides of lust and longing I wanted only one thing and I knew I was about to be given it.

  The sound of Andrea's gloved hand across my right buttock seemed to come from afar, dull and yet echoing, the sharp heat it roused only adding to my already raging fires, the pain totally insignificant and lost beneath the tidal waves of desire. My body only bucked in a semiautomatic reaction to this, but it was enough for Anne-Marie's purposes and, as Andrea's hand continued to rise and fall, I saw I was now fucking her rhythmically with my face cock, her juices leaking out to coat my chin.

  'Now, Andrea, my little pet.' I heard Anne-Marie's order as if it had come from within my head and tensed for what was to come, but it was an unmotivated, insincere final attempt to salve my inner guilt and I knew that I was simply lying to myself.

  I felt the heat between my legs, the pressure of Andrea's throbbing cock head between my lower lips and then she entered me, sliding easily in past defences that had retreated and surrendered long since. I was aware of her hands on my thighs, steadying me, captivating me, holding me frozen in the position for several seconds, as an eerie silence descended upon the room.

  'Now, Teenie slave,' Anne-Marie said, her hands once more on my head. 'Now is the time for you to fuck and be fucked. Nothing else is real, nothing else matters. This is our time and it is h
ere for us to enjoy.'

  I felt Andrea withdrawing from me, but not completely, the first few inches of her masculinity holding me impaled and open. She waited deliberately, allowing me to savour and anticipate and then she thrust in again, filling me once more as my own phallus thrust deeply into the eager tunnel in front of my face.

  And then I felt it beginning to happen. My head began to buzz, my heartbeat seemed to skitter and leap, bright lights began to dance and explode before my eyes and I felt myself becoming weightless, floating between worlds, staring down into an abyss of deep red, towards a central vortex of dark purple that was already beginning to rise up to claim me.

  I heard myself crying out, a senseless wailing moan, incoherent and meaningless through the gag and then even that sound began to merge with the roaring, hissing, screeching cacophony that accompanied my flailing plunge towards ultimate darkness and complete, if temporary silence and I knew, with a silent shriek of terror, just where it was I was going and who it was that would be waiting for me when I arrived there again.

  27.

  'Jeez, Teenie, you had us both really worried there for a couple of minutes!' Anne-Marie's voice penetrated the mists and I forced my eyes to open. I saw their two faces, Anne-Marie to my right, Andrea to my left, consternation in the face of the former, sheer fright in the face of the latter.

  'No, don't try to get up.' Anne-Marie pressed gently against my shoulder. 'Take it easy, there's a love. You passed out, in case you didn't guess already, and you look terrible.' She stroked my forehead and I realised that the gag and harness were gone, as was the ribbon that bound my wrists earlier, though my hands were still encased within the disabling gloves.

  'Here,' Andrea said, turning away. 'Here, try a sip of water.' Her hand hove back into my field of vision and I saw she was holding a glass. I shook my head, but Anne-Marie already had her arm beneath my shoulders, lifting me, steadying me. I sipped, indelicately, the cold liquid spilling out onto my chin, but I didn't care at all.

  'Better?' Andrea asked. I nodded, grateful when Anne-Marie let me fall back again, this time my head sinking into the softness of the pillow she had pulled across with her free hand.

  'A bit too much too soon, I think,' Anne-Marie said soberly. I looked up into her eyes and shook my head again.

  'No,' I managed, my voice half croak, half whisper. 'No, it was quite...' I tailed off. Mere words couldn't have gone even halfway down the road to describing what I'd felt, but it was more than that and something else I had to tell them.

  'It was good,' I managed lamely. 'Better than good, but...' Again I hesitated. 'How long was I out for this time?' And this time I saw Anne-Marie's expression changing, the understanding dawning in her eyes.

  'Oh my god!' she exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth. 'You mean you went back there again?' I heard a strangled gasp from Andrea, but my attention was now firmly fixed on Anne-Marie.

  'Yes,' I said. 'I went back there again. But how long have I been unconscious?' Anne-Marie's face puckered and she looked across at Andrea.

  'Five minutes,' she said. 'Maybe six, no longer than that.'

  'No,' Andrea agreed. 'Not long, though we were both really worried.'

  'Sorry,' I said stupidly. Now I did try to sit up and, aided by Anne-Marie, I managed it, holding my head in my near-useless hands and breathing in as deeply as the corset would permit. 'Five or six minutes, you say?' They both grunted further confirmation. 'And I definitely never left here at all during that time?'

  'Of course you didn't,' Anne-Marie replied. 'We lifted you onto the bed and untied everything and then I was slapping your face and splashing water on you, though nothing seemed to have any effect. I was on the point of calling an ambulance, but then suddenly you started to come to again, just like that.'

  'Good job I did, then.' I chuckled, despite everything, mental pictures of the faces of any ambulance man called to revive me in my present get-up. I sighed and lowered my hands.

  'It didn't feel like a dream,' I said quietly. Two pairs of eyes were fixed immovably on me. 'It felt dead real again. Too damned real, actually.' My hand went up to touch the locket that still hung around my neck and my fingers stroked the smooth metal of the casing. Idly, I noticed they'd removed the choker that had been round my neck earlier.

  'And it was far longer than five minutes, believe me,' I continued. 'More like five weeks, at a guess.' I drew in another deep as possible breath and shook my head. 'I need a stiff drink,' I announced. 'A bloody big stiff drink.'

  'But what about—' Anne-Marie began, but I smiled at her.

  'Drink first,' I said firmly. 'Drink first and then I'll tell you all about it, though believe me, you aren't going to believe me, if you know what I mean.'

  'Go get her a large brandy, Andrea,' Anne-Marie ordered.

  'Bring the bottle and three glasses,' I said, 'and a spare bottle if you've got it. This is some story and you're both gonna need a drink almost as much as I am!'

  Epilogue

  And there, dear reader, I'm afraid we must leave things for now, for, as I told my two friends, the tale I had to tell - the tale I shall surely tell you, too - was as long as it was astounding, sufficient to fill at least one more volume in itself and terrible enough that I think perhaps you might like to reflect before deciding whether you really want to hear it.

  If you decide not - and who could really blame you for such a decision? - let it be enough to tell you that yes, I did go back, back to eighteen thirty-nine again, back to Hacklebury and Meg, to Polly and to Erik and to yet more players in that game of subterfuge, terror, brutality and misogyny. Yes indeed, I went back, falling once again into the clutches of Meg and the evil web being spun by her master, my ancestor, Gregory Hacklebury. And I did survive, as you know - more or less unscathed, if somewhat chastened by the experience - to return to my own time, and to return with at least some of the knowledge and understanding I craved for my own peace of mind.

  There were still unanswered questions, even then, as there always must be in this life and in every other life I have since entered or touched upon; and there were and are still more tales to tell, if more tales you wish to hear. I leave the choice, then, with you, but beware - judging from my own experiences over the intervening and preceding years, that may be one of the few genuine choices you ever get to make...

  Author's Final Note

  Well, now you've met Teena and, as she says, the choice is yours. If you do want to follow her adventures further, the second book in her story is Thyme II Thyme. So, until the next time, I'd just like to say thank you and I hope you've enjoyed Teena's first adventure as much as I've enjoyed writing it. And don't forget - she'll be back!

  -oOo-

  Enjoy more of Teena's damsel in distress, time-travelling erotic adventures, also exclusively published by us...

  Thyme II Thyme

  I struggled into a sitting position, no mean feat without the use of my hands, which were still trapped inside those awful disabling gloves, my wrists locked to the broad corset belt that was part of the suit. Then, grunting into the foul tasting leather gag that was strapped between my achingly distended jaws, I managed to stand up using the rough stone wall as support. Just as before, my feet were encased in those ridiculously high heels and I had to pause for a moment to re-accustom myself and balance before finally tottering across to where the top half of the stable door stood open, the bottom half locked and bolted against any hope of escape.

  Eighteen year old Teena's apparent journey back through time into the body of her ancestor, Angelina, has left as many marks on her psyche as Sir Gregory Hacklebury's whip had left on her borrowed body 130 years earlier, and her encounter with the dominant lesbian Anne-Marie back in her own time in 1975 has asked even more dark questions and opened too many secret doors to the depths of her soul.

  Has the Hacklebury gene left a permanent scar through the decades, or is it the Thyme side of the family tree that causes Teena to seek thrills through pain and degrada
tion? Needing an answer more desperately with every passing day, Teena knows that she can probably only find it in the past, and once again must try to journey back into an era where women were merely corseted chattels and poor Angelina is still suffering an existence of bondage and suffering that her supposed husband and master would not inflict even upon his livestock.

  Teena - A House of Ill Repute

  I sucked on the gag and managed to swallow with some difficulty, breathing in through my nose as deeply as the stringent corset permitted.

  Inside my rubber costume I felt hot and clammy. Suddenly my fetish garb did not seem so exciting and I wanted to pull it all off and simply go and lie down for a while, but I knew there was no chance of that happening. Gagged as I was, there was no way I could convey my wishes to Anne-Marie and any physical show would only be interpreted wrongly.

  1839 - Having escaped from the clutches of the wicked Gregory Hacklebury and his insane 'maid' Megan Crowthorne, the youthful an supposedly innocent Angelina has been re-united with her own former maid, the beautiful Indira, but cast out into a world with only her jewellery and a few pounds.

  1975 - Teena Thyme, now back in her own body, knows that it is only a matter of time before she will find herself back as Angelina, for there is unfinished business which her ancestor will not be able to take care of herself.

  From a world of hot pants and kinky boots to one of corsets, garters and silken mysteries, Teena/Angelina becomes mistress of an early Victorian brothel for the well heeled - and none are as well heeled as Angelina and her girls!