In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  I think he hated it because I took control that night, because I’d aroused him without his conscious choice. He didn’t like not being in charge of his passions. I orgasmed quickly, with one long, rolling, lovely jolt that would settle me down and put me to sleep in seconds; though to my dismay, William was not about to let me sleep with him. It was far too dangerous.

  “You get the hell in the house before your uncle discovers you missing,” he told me, when we’d finished.

  “Ah, he’s dead to the world, William. I could stay here at least until five.”

  “No,” he said firmly, as he gave my bottom another rude swat.

  “You leave now, or I’ll take my belt and treat you like a child, not the woman you claim to be.”

  I laughed as I blew him a quick kiss; then I raced back to the house.

  Chapter Four

  I thought this fine affair would go on forever. There was nothing about this man that did not satisfy me deeply. I wondered often if it would be possible to have him for a husband, though in the world I was in, it seemed very far from likely.

  Early one evening, I slipped out after dinner, to see the loveliest evening shadows crisscrossing the huge estate lawn. I’d told my uncle I needed some air, and that I’d be back inside shortly; but since I knew he was going out for the evening, I really planned to spend some time with Will.

  When I arrived at the cabin, I was surprised to find that my lover had something rather unique planned for our night, a escapade in bondage, which seemed so very tantalizing. Often he would pin my arms above my head, order me to stand still while he fondled me. But on this night, he took another step to insure that he alone would please my body.

  Taking a length of leather, he fixed my hands together and drew them over my head, fastening them to the headboard. My nether juice was flowing madly, my body jerking, crawling with need; while he stood smugly above me, and tortured me by avoiding any contact at all. For the longest time, my nude, spread out and bound body writhed against the sheets with no relief, while Will took his time, tending to completely unsexual things. Just to make me more aroused. Just after my midnight excursion, I was sure this treatment was revenge for having taken control of him that night. But, what delicious revenge for both of us!

  “Please Will, please take me now!” I implored him.

  “You think you deserve it? Isabella.”

  “Maybe not, but you don’t want to see me suffer, do you?”

  He looked at me with lusty eyes and came to me with his hands fondling me everywhere, quick and fast. I was cumming, with stunning cries rising loudly into the air, and an orgasm that was so potent I truly thought someone was shooting darts in my groin.

  Will was laughing as he untied my bonds. I satisfied him with my mouth, since he shoved his erection in my face.

  But all our furious sex play was abruptly interrupted when there was a sudden sharp rapping at the cabin door.

  I jerked away, glad my hands were free; while Will, pulling a sheet over his naked loins, took just two determined steps to the door, and opened it a crack.

  “I beg your pardon for interrupting,” I heard my uncle’s voice.

  “You’ve come at a bad time,” Will confirmed. By then, I was hiding under a blanket so that even if the door were to widen so he could see inside, Uncle Andrew would not know I was the woman Will was entertaining.

  My uncle, being very shy about such things as sex, was most embarrassed. Quickly conversing with his caretaker, he was gone moments later.

  “We’ll have to be more careful,” Will said, when he turned back to me.

  “I’m careful enough, he did his business and left. He won’t be coming back again. He hates walking down here!” I was totally confident of my information.

  “I don’t want you coming here for three days,” he said.

  “Three days!” I exclaimed. “I’ll die if I have to wait that long to have you,” I said, leading him back to the bed, where I took his soft prick in my mouth to make it hard again. He gently pushed me off.

  “Not for three days,” he warned me sternly. “You promise me?”

  I flirted with my eyes, and returned to his poor sagging prick.

  “I want your word,” he insisted.

  “I promise, I do,” I said, just to get back to our pleasure.

  “And you’d better keep it,” he warned.

  “I will,” I said, as I returned to the delicious meal of his sumptuous cock.

  I could stand two days away from Will, but not three.

  Late on the afternoon of the second day, I crept quietly from the house, making certain that I wasn’t noticed, and made my way to his cabin.

  He wasn’t there when I arrived, but I slipped inside nonetheless. Taking off my clothes, I would be a surprise to him when he got back from wherever he’d been. I waited a good half hour, then heard the stomping of his boots at the doorway. Just to excite him all the more, I reclined on his bed, naked and seductive, my hand already at my wet sex, just prepared for him to sink himself inside that throbbing pink place.

  The door opened wide with a sudden jerk, and I saw Will standing in the opening, his impressive large frame looking as daunting as ever to me. To my horror however, behind him and just to the side was Uncle Andrew, seeing me as easily as Will did, posed like some common whore.

  “Isabella!” Uncle Andrew shouted.

  Will slammed the door, as I hurriedly gathered the sheets around me. It took me just seconds to dress. I heard my uncle’s sharp tongued voice as I put on my dress, but I didn’t hear what was said.

  Once fully clothed again, I opened the door, fearing there was nothing I could do but face the awful consequences of the appalling moment. The two men were there, my uncle and Will, both wearing stern, angry expressions on their faces, though I’m sure that the nature of their anger was quite different. Will’s frightened me most, I’d never seen him looking so furious.

  “You’ll go to your room,” my uncle ordered me, his voice was trembling from the fury.

  I stared at Will, only to gaze at his darkened face; disappointment, even hurt joined the fierce look of rage. He said nothing.

  I fled to the house, not stopping until after I’d slammed my bedroom door behind me.

  I remained in my room the remainder of the day, not wanting to leave. When a tray of food arrived just before the usual dinner hour, I suspected my uncle was punishing me. I ate little. It was my uncle’s food, and anything that was his was not to my liking. Not at that moment.

  I knew the whole rotten incident was my fault, and that was what made it worse. In a day or so I might be able to explain, but certainly not now. I only wished that I could at least talk to Will, soothe that anger I saw in his face. I feared that my uncle was likely as furious with him as he was with me.

  After dinner, there was a firm knock on my door.

  I was sure it was Uncle Andrew, and so it was.

  He cleared his throat a half dozen times before he began to speak. A genteel man, I knew this was probably difficult for him, and he must have rehearsed his speech. I waited patiently for him to begin.

  “It appears that your busy schedule was a clever ruse to keep me from knowing of your untoward behavior with Mr. Sage.” His voice was not cracking, but he was clearly nervous. He cleared his throat again. “I shall right away find suitable activities to keep you occupied, my dear, and have already posted a letter to your cousin Meg.”

  I hated cousin Meg. But I nodded as I bit my tongue.

  “You’ll be spending several weeks at her home, to let this incident pass. When you return, there will be plenty of young people of your age and station to associate with.”

  That was it. I was shocked, the admonishment was no admonishment at all. This was all his wrath could conjure?

  He was on his way to my door, the brief confrontation over. Apparently, he had no reason to stay for what could only be more embarrassing moments for us both.

  “William Sage?” I asked.r />
  “What of him?” my uncle said, turning back to me.

  “I thought you would forbid me to see him,” I said.

  “I don’t have to. He’s left the estate by my order, and will not be returning, ever!”

  He didn’t honor the shocked expression on my face, but left the room and my “God nooooooooooooo!” reverberated through the second story. This was his revenge and the worst possible!

  Where was he? I wailed to myself, as I cried myself to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  “Miss Isabella,” The Frenchman’s disarming grin tried to warm my sullen disposition, but I wasn’t about to be so easily swayed from my disagreeable mood. I had no reason to be. After all, I’d been robbed of my passion, estranged from my lover, and I was not going to give my uncle the satisfaction of seeing me happy, at least not for a long while. I resented every look that came my way from Uncle Andrew; he was clearly monitoring my behavior. He knew his furtive glances annoyed me, but he obviously didn’t trust me after having caught me naked in William’s cabin.

  I’m not sure what he thought I could do, now captive in my home and thrust constantly into the company of the terminally boring. He arranged all sorts of parties for me, and made certain I was invited to every social event in our county, as long as he had pre-approved the guest list.

  I often wondered where my lover, William, had gone. He vanished without a trace, a sure testament to my uncle’s power in our isolated community. I prayed to see his face again, for a last conversation, for one final tender caress of his hand against my naked skin, or tender goodbye as his lips touched my cheek.

  Looking at Monsieur Phillipe Gordot, I tried not finding the man attractive, though it was increasingly difficult. The term scoundrel came to mind whenever I saw him. But he was a handsome scoundrel.

  “I deduce in you, Miss Isabella, a woman of breeding with a passionate fire raging inside.” He whispered to me as I stood in my Uncle’s drawing room after dinner trying to ignore his hovering over me. He had strangely shifty eyes and a delicious smirk on his face.

  “You’re much too forward for English society, Monsieur Gordot,” I responded to his inappropriate remark.

  “And you have proved my point,” he replied, happily. “No flinching. I’m impressed. The rumors must be true.”

  “What rumors are those?” I asked.

  “A scandalous liaison?” His gaze was positively wicked.

  “You should never speculate about a lady’s past.”

  “But am I right?” he pressed.

  “It would be unwise for you to inquire more,” I told him bluntly, though I could not stop the naturally flirtatious smile that beamed across my face as I left his side.

  He was a diversion at best; but could hardly compensate for my loss of William. I didn’t particularly care about my reputation, but my uncle was adamant that nothing be said to anyone that might dim my chances of becoming some man’s wife.

  I’m sure that Uncle Andrew had no idea what a rogue this Frenchman was. I even detected a pleased expression on my uncle’s face when I talked to Phillipe. For my part, however, if I were to choose a man to love—and that was still not something I was ready to do, six months after William’s leaving—I’d consider a gentleman my age.

  Adrian Mannerly was that young man, and he was not half as boring as the other young men I’d been introduced to. He was quite a stylish dresser wearing soft draping pants, white starched shirts and suspenders with his informal coats. He often wore a fashionable straw hat, that I found amusing, perched atop his short clipped brown hair. He was a man of the times, with connections in London, and prospects for a career there. He was just the kind of man I wanted.

  The greatest trouble I had concerning Mr. Mannerly was wondering what he looked like naked. Such outrageous thoughts would pass through my mind as we spent time together talking or riding. He hadn’t even kissed me and I was wondering what it would be like to make love to him. I’m sure he’d be shocked by my experience, though I imagined he’d be delighted with my sexual prowess should we ever land together in bed.

  In any event, as the months wore on, I gradually found myself looking forward to the next house party that would put me in Adrian’s company. And when, eight months after my terrible trial, at the beginning of the summer season, I took off for a second stay at my cousin Meg’s, I was delighted to find that he would be there. Away from my uncle’s watchful eye, there might be all sorts of things a modern woman might consider doing, even in this stodgy realm of England. It was certainly something to fantasize about, to take my mind away from my loss. Time, the season, and my desires seemed to be thawing my chilly mood.

  The spring itself had brought a sudden surge of carnal appetite. I had been determined to make the trek to my private glade for a special moment with my body. But preparing for my trip, I didn’t have the time. Since William left, the excursions I made with my body to satisfy my lust were all within the confines of my bedroom, except for one …

  One afternoon in the dead of winter, the stark appearance of the season played on me with such stirring discontent, that I restlessly marched from the big house to find some contentment in a walk through the sparse half frozen garden. It was hardly a joyous hike, but it was far better than remaining in the gloomy interior of the old stone house. As I made my way toward the back of the property, I found myself drawn toward the caretaker’s cabin. I hadn’t been there since that awful day months before, though I could recall it as if it had happened only days ago.

  I was surprised to find the cabin unlocked. I would have thought my uncle would have boarded it up and locked it tight. But perhaps just having William Sage banished from the estate was enough for him.

  When I entered, I found it looking much like it did when William was living there. He’d lived a Spartan life, without much need for frills, vases of flowers, or decorations. Though when I glanced at the kitchen counter, there was a pot I remembered well for the many times I’d brought my lover wildflowers. It sat on the counter, empty, as if it was waiting for me to fill it again.

  The bed was still in corner of the one room cabin. And I was instantly drawn to it, recalling that lusty moment when I reclined on it naked as the day I was born, posing like a brothel whore. I smiled thinking of it. It was the first smile I’d had in a long time.

  I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes thinking of William’s face looking down on me. His impressive visage and hard muscled body were as clear to me as if he was actually standing in front of me, and my eyes were wide open and staring at his manly form. I pressed my hand to my crotch thinking of him descending on me with an erect cock ready to enter my womanly home. Falling back on the downy comfort of the bed, my hand reached up under my skirt and inside my drawers to that sumptuous place of mellow warmth and moist flesh.

  I thought of making love to William as I played with myself. I imagined it was his hands touching me, his hands in all their rude and gentle ways raising the sensations of lust to ungodly heights, only to bring me crashing, or softly floating down to a blissful well satisfied body peace.

  The orgasm that claimed me this time was brisk, and by the time I was finished, my heart was aching so that my tears were mixed with the spasms of pleasure.

  I fled the cabin, vowing never to return. I would not face that grief again.

  ***

  Arriving at my Cousin Meg’s, I was immediately disappointed to find that Adrian Mannerly would not arrive for another few days. Meg had planned a long house party with several gentlemen and young women there to enjoy the terrific equestrian pleasures of her family’s vast estate. Meg’s parents were so involved with their own pursuits that they left their daughter to her independence, doing little to supervise Meg or her guests. They were happy when she was happy, and that was all that mattered.

  Meg was so much a part of the upper crust of English society that many of her relatives dined with royalty and moved in those illustrious circles. Meg was a little more down to
earth than that, and I was promised that this house party would be more casual fun, than filled with long nights listening to tedious classical music played by aspiring pianists and sung by the irritating voices of some young singer.

  Despite Adrian’s absence, I decided to be more charming on this visit. After all, it was late spring and the days were absolutely heavenly with the fragrance of flowers and the sounds of happy birds. My first invitation to ride came from Monsieur Gordot, who I’d not seen since he’d been in my home many weeks before.

  “We should go riding in the morning. The day will be glorious, I can tell,” he said to me. His eyes sparkled with the same wicked light that I’d become accustomed to with the charming Frenchman.

  “Yes,” I agreed to his suggestion. I may not completely trust the man, but riding with him for a few morning hours certainly couldn’t hurt. In fact, it could be an enjoyable adventure.

  That next morning, we ventured out on two fine animals; mine was Cleo, a mare I’d ridden often when I was at Meg’s. I liked her nearly as much as I did my own horse at home. I was familiar with the countryside around Meg Stewart’s estate, and found that showing the Frenchman my favorite trails was almost pleasant, even if I was still determined not to be too pleasured in my life. A half hour away from the stables, we stopped by a stream to water the animals and to stretch our legs.

  “So, Miss Isabella, have you thought about our conversation the last time we talked?”

  “I’m not sure I remember what you’re speaking of,” I said. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I’d never admit it.

  “About that lusty fire inside you, my dear,” he reminded me.

  When he talked to me, even in this wide open air, he was always very close. Though we were alone and there was no one to hear us, his head was still bowed over my shoulder, his voice breathless, and his body seeming to pulse next to mine.