Chapter Eight
Robert Harcourt read the cryptic note again. The housekeeper, Mrs Beveridge, had handed it to him on a salver the moment he had returned from his business in London.
It was in his sister’s hand and read simply: ‘We are at the Hall. Join us if you wish to discover your inamorata’s true nature.’ Just as he was about to leave, Mrs Beveridge coughed discreetly.
“If I may make so bold, Mr Robert, there is something I think you ought to see…”
She led him to the pantry and pointed silently to a bottle of laudanum and a half-empty wine bottle. Robert looked at her in mute enquiry.
“That poor girl. I can tell you nothing more, Sir. It is more than my job is worth…”
Robert cut the woman short with hasty muttered thanks and, with a face of thunder, turned on his heel and left.
* * * * *
For a long time after their mutual climax, Alice held Kate in her arms. Then she leant up on one elbow and looked down at the confused young girl with cold eyes.
“Listen to me you sweet little hussy… you belong to me. And you will never, ever, ensnare my brother with any of your cunning little wiles, your cheap, tawdry sentiments, or by playing the put-upon, innocent young miss; no, you may banish any ideas you may have entertained of being the next Mrs Harcourt. You are a common little trollop, good for nothing more than ridding your betters of their baser passions. My brother has had his fill of you, you would do well to forget him now, or it will be the worse for you.” She paused to squeeze one of Kate’s breasts painfully, as if to gain her attention, “Do you understand, you silly little wanton?”
Kate nodded dumbly, the tears stinging her eyes, not for the first time feeling utterly betrayed and alone. How could Robert have left her after all that had passed between them? The passion, the caresses, the tenderness, the protestations of love?
“Give me some more wine, will you please?” was all she could bring herself to say. Alice Harcourt smiled and beckoned to Ellie to refresh Kate’s glass from the little decanter that she had brought with them from Walthrop.
Kate gratefully gulped down the contents, rejoicing in the warm, comforting glow that it brought to her senses. She dashed her tears away with the back of her hand. She would show them all! She cared not for love or any such romantic foolishness! She needed sex! That was her basic requirement… that was all that she needed from anyone.
She looked around her. What she saw would make any Roman orgy look tame. All over the Hall’s interior men and women were indulging in every sexual congress that she had ever thought possible. The Handmaidens were busier than ever, but now Molly came over to them.
“Come, Kate, his Lordship has a fine stand – as hard as nails – and he is calling for you!”
Kate allowed herself to be led by the hand to a dark alcove where Lord Barchester was reclining on a sofa. Ruth was kneeling to one side of him and teasing his balls with her mouth; his erection was superb – quite perpendicular – and Kate’s mouth watered involuntarily. She wanted it! She needed it!
Molly and Ruth, their pale and dark complexions contrasting prettily, helped her astride the recumbent peer, Ruth’s agile fingers directing the head of his cock into the groove of Kate’s cunt, while Molly parted her pretty buttocks to reveal her neat arsehole. Kate could feel the slight yield of his spongy cockhead as it found the entrance to her vagina. She pushed down hard. Whimpering with pleasure she accepted the full length of his hard shaft into her tight quim.
Vincent Barchester gasped as he felt the hidden fingers of Kate’s cunt muscles massage his erection. He moaned in delight as she began to rise and fall upon his cock like a horsewoman astride a trotting horse.
Unfortunately for Kate, at that very moment, the tall, stooping figure of Edgar Pike hove into view. For a while he watched the little group. Then, striding over to them, he grabbed Molly by the scruff of her neck and forced her down onto his large but drooping penis. Molly went at her task like a trooper. She took the pastor’s phallus into her mouth and started to suck. Soon the Reverend Pike’s cock was hard again. As Molly did her best to continue to lick and fondle his cock and balls, he knelt behind Kate and clasped her hips, arresting her up and down motion. With a hand on each arsecheek, he drew them apart to reveal her little brown anal pucker.
“Come, Ruth,” he commanded, “prepare the way for me!”
The slight girl ducked under his arms and started to use a skilful tongue on Kate’s arsehole.
Kate bucked and writhed at the intimate contact, but tried to keep still, if only for the girl’s sake. She felt Ruth’s tongue flatten and cover the sensitive surface in a broad swipe, then dance delicately over its little striations, then stiffen and point, drilling the tight sphincter as if wanting to gain access to her very bowels. Lord Barchester looked over Kate’s shoulder and grinned approvingly at the activity behind her.
“Are you intending to take Miss Spencer in the manner of the Sodomites, Reverend?”
Pike gave him a horsey grin.
“Why yes, my Lord. I believe I am!”
“Then please, Sir, do not hold back on my account!”
Kate’s mind reeled with the implication. They were going to take her both at once! She was to be no more than the meat between two bits of bread! A sandwich! Her arsehole twitched nervously against Ruth’s industrious tongue. Please, no, dear God! Not that! She recalled the Reverend’s huge size, and her eyes watered at the memory. She looked behind her, straight into the implacable, lust-distorted features of the bogus parson.
“Nooooo!” she cried.
It was too much. Kate struggled to get up. But she had not reckoned with Lord Barchester’s strong arms that tightened around her waist like a vice, completely immobilising her. Molly bent down and stroked her neck as one might soothe a pet animal, trying to comfort her.
“There, Kate, don’t take on so… you will enjoy it, to be sure…”
The words were hardly reassuring as Pike’s enormous cock once more started to batter at the cringing little sphincter between Kate’s trembling arsecheeks.
“Please, Reverend, I beg you…” cried Kate craning her neck to appeal to the man.
But she could see that he was implacable, his face a mask of lust, and nothing would deter him from his goal. Indeed, to Pike it seemed that her buttocks were jutting towards him and obscenely, gently rotating as if in invitation. Her thighs tensed and rippled in lithe strength as she shifted on her feet, and then Lord Barchester reached around her back with his hands and tenderly pulled apart her buttocks with his fingers, disclosing, in an even more obscene gesture, that little dark hole for the parson’s pleasure.
Kate’s tiny revealed anus, which now appeared so raw and vulnerable, was as a bullseye in a target to Pike, and her bottom rotated as if on its own axis, taunting and teasing the man so intent on once more plundering the depths of her rectum, and who had begun to manipulate his rigid cock, pushing its spongy, yielding head until it lodged just inside her anal ring.
Kate moaned piteously as her double-impalement began to take effect. It was as though two great wooden stakes were running her through, so tight and full were the thrustings she now endured. “Aaaaaaggggghhhhh!” she groaned with each inch that she forced up into her tight, hot passage. Oh God, I’m being punished! I’m punishing myself! Yes, yes! Beautiful, painful, sweet agony! This is for Robert, for betraying him… Her confused mind screamed these muddled thoughts at her as she waggled her buttocks and skewered back upon the huge prick burrowing its relentless, never ending length right up into her wide-stretched rectum. There! It’s home! All the way! I can feel the pubic hair of his pelvis against my crotch. I’ve taken it all right into my arsehole and its magnificent head is in my bowels! Oh mercy! It is so horribly wonderful...!
And then, sensing through the thin wall of flesh separating them that Pike’s mighty truncheon was fully inserted into Kate’s backside, Barchester started to heave and thrust until, between them, they built up a sor
t of ghastly rhythm. Kate screamed in lust and pain… but the pain is receding, she thought… and the lust is advancing. Surely I am, as Alice Fordham says, nothing but a little whore…
And as this thought entered her head, Alice swam into her view. Now she was wearing the thick black Punisher around her loins, erect and menacing. She smiled at Kate.
“When Pike has finished with you, I will take his place,” she whispered hotly in Kate’s ear, “but he’ll be a while yet. He likes to take his pleasures slowly.”
As Alice wandered off to find another group, Kate reached between her legs and with difficulty placed her hand over the tight, sperm bloated scrotums of both men, caressing them, squeezing them to see if she could not hurry the process. For while she no longer found them painful, she derived no pleasure from their actions. Her delicate fingers were joined by Molly’s and Ruth’s. Soon the men were overwhelmed by the squeezings, ticklings and probings of the three girls’ fingers. Molly pulled the Reverend’s muscular buttocks apart until Ruth and she were greeted by the sight of his hair-encircled, brown anus; while she held them thus, Ruth ducked her head down and the pretty, slim girl trailed a saliva-moistened tongue along the cord-like ridge between his wide-spread hair-lined buttocks. Then she gave him the same treatment as she had to Kate, tauntingly circling the puckered brown hole, painting his inner ass-cheeks with her saliva, finally stiffening her tongue as its tip endeavoured to penetrate the crinkled sphincter of his rectum. This proved too much for the man and he gave a soft groan of pleasure and discharged the contents of his heavy balls into the depths of Kate’s battered rectal passage.
When Alice returned, there was no sign of the Reverend or Ruth and Molly. Kate, however, seemed to have gained a second wind, for she was riding Vincent Barchester with such energy and enthusiasm that even Alice was impressed by her stamina. She waited for her chance and when Kate flopped down onto the chest of her lover, she quickly thrust the bulbous end of the grooved rubber dildo into the reddened, sperm-leaking little hole between the girl’s bottom cheeks. It slipped in easily and Alice gave a little crow of satisfaction as she pushed in all the way until her bushy mound slapped against the out-thrust buttocks of her governess.
And then, she froze in a moment of horrible recognition.
For the face of Kate’s lover was now only inches from her own and she saw clearly in the dim light that it was not that of her old friend Vincent Barchester: her own brother’s features stared at her, his look menacing, one quizzical eyebrow slightly raised as if to ask, yes, Sister? What is it that you want of us?
Alice gave a great cry of shock and fell back… covered in confusion. Her own, darling brother… she could not believe how badly her whole mistimed ploy had backfired.
Later she learned that far from catching Kate writhing in passion between two debauched men, Robert had come across her weeping, being consoled by her two Handmaiden friends. She had flown into his arms; she had begged his forgiveness for doubting him, and for thinking that he might ever desert her… He had looked lovingly into her eyes, his anger rising as he saw how the opiate she had unwittingly consumed had reduced her pupils to pinpoints. Shedding his clothes, consumed by passion, he had possessed her once more, while she wept with joy and shuddered with the most intense pleasure, her arms encircling his neck as if she meant never to let him go again.
Envoi
Kate laced her arm through Robert’s. They looked out of the carriage window as the train drew out of Windsor Station. Her heart swelled – they were travelling to London to start a thrilling new life together – and at last she could look forward to some sort of sustainable contentment, if not happiness. She realised that some might regard their union as imperfect and lacking in any real substance – immoral, even; there was no talk of marriage, but then Kate did not wish there to be. In the last few weeks – no, in the last few days – she had become most pragmatic about affairs of the heart and flesh. Her matrimonial ambitions had, accordingly, faded somewhat. She and Robert had discussed their future together in this new, down-to-earth spirit. Marriage was something that might come with children, but there was no desire to procreate on either of their parts. She was to be his mistress, his ‘kept woman’, and she was more than content with that status, despite its limitations.
She watched the Berkshire countryside drift by and her mind was carried back to Walthrop, the Old Stables and the Hall of Worship. How unimportant all that seemed now! She had made an uncomfortable sort of peace with Alice: Robert had forced his sister to destroy the contracts that Kate had signed. The Fordhams had been contrite. They had promised to mend their ways and, at Kate’s insistence, had also given their word that they would treat the Handmaidens especially well, ensuring that they were well placed once they ‘retired’ from ‘active service’. And Ellie – sweet, dim little Ellie. How she had wept at Kate’s departure! And the Handmaidens, too: why, when she went to the Old Stables to take her leave, there had not been a dry eye in the place, except that was, for young, pretty, sloe-eyed Ruth. She had whispered in her ear, “Take me as your lady’s maid to London – you will need one and I am good with dresses, my dear parents trained me well!” Kate had thought for the briefest of moments, then she had asked Robert if he was agreeable. He was. And thus it was that, seated opposite them, Kate’s very first lady’s maid sat demurely, reading an improving book. And Kate, who could only guess how useful it might be to have a lady’s maid who was ‘good with dresses’, certainly knew how useful it was to have a Handmaiden who could lick fanny divinely.
To be continued...
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