Dirty Lady Katherine

by Alexis Shore

  As he fished it out with his hand, it flopped and rolled a little bit, slightly tumescent. Katherine still couldn’t see what the fuss was about; it was barely more than a handful. Fairly thick though, she admitted to herself.

  She looked at the camera, and saw it was squarely aimed at her. Tom was clearly trying to document some kind of shocked reaction. It amused her a little that he was so insecure. When she looked back at Neil, it had grown. He was gripping it in his fist at the base, and flopping it from side to side, as if to wake it up. It was doing the trick, but it was still nothing to write to Mummy about.

  There was odd expression to pop in to her mind.

  It began to stiffen and rise up now, supporting its own weight. And his balls began to swell inside his sack. Neil looked almost bored as he began to pump his fist up and down the burgeoning shaft.

  It just kept growing.

  And growing.

  Katherine felt her tongue lick at her lips secretly, and hoped Tom had not seen it. She shifted round slightly, turning her shoulder on the camera, trying to mask her face without making it obvious.

  She felt her eyelids getting heavy, a sure sign, and she cupped her chin in her hand as she pushed her elbow into her thigh. She hoped the pain of it would calm her down. She looked idly at one of his monitors and tried to sound as bored as he looked, “How many hits have we had today?”

  She didn’t hear his answer, as she kept flicking her eyes from the monitor to his prick. He was still pumping it, and still talking as she heard her mouth betray her, “Can I touch it?”

  He shrugged, but his apathy didn’t stop her from shifting closer and kneeling between his legs. She just watched it as he continued to pump himself, amazed that it was still growing. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she could fit it in her dainty hand anymore.

  She nearly turned to the camera to swear at Tom, but she was more interested in something else now. She could see the slightly translucent skin as it moved over the solid flesh beneath, and the thick vein that gave softly under his touch. Her arm rested across his thighs, but she stopped herself from going further, even though her finger flicked at it with a yearning twitch.

  Neil was reaching for his mouse, and soon she was aware that the video of her and Sally was playing on the middle monitor. It was flattering to see that this made him pump it harder. She looked up to see him watching the screen. Maybe he was shy; that thought made her feel less ignored.

  Again her body betrayed her, as she felt herself pressing her breasts into his legs and sighing softly; but at least it made him click the video off and look down at her. She smiled a little at him, and he watched as she moved her hand closer to it, stretching her little finger towards it.

  The heat burnt into her as it lightly pressed into the vein at the base, which made her recoil from it somewhat. She swallowed and focussed on the prick fully now. He released it, and it remained standing, firm and proud. And huge.

  With a little swallow, she snaked her hand up the underside of it, feeling its heat and stiffness against her palm, the skin tugging underneath her touch. When she reached the tip, her fingers furled around and enveloped it.

  Barely.

  And she felt her hand stretching open as she stroked slowly back down its length.

  Shifting a little on her knees, she bought her other hand up and let it curl around the shaft. She held, one hand resting above the other, and noted how much of it still remained visible. Measurements done, she bought the upper hand to the helmet and pressed into it with her palm, as she held the base firmly in the lower one. She circled and massaged at his glands, and slowly pumped at the bottom, watching his balls jiggle gently.

  They were pretty huge too.

  She squeezed her grip tighter, attempting to gauge how stiff he really was. The flesh gave way ever so slightly, but it took some actual effort. It pleased her that he was enjoying this. Still holding him low down on his length, she removed her top hand and was a little surprised when she bought it to her breast.

  Darting her eyes, she made sure that she hadn’t been caught doing this on camera, and as she began to work him up and down, she surreptitiously teased at her nipple through the silk.

  Neil sighed.

  Lovely.

  She worked her fist a bit faster, and watched as his balls began to bounce a little. As she licked her lips again, it occurred to her, perhaps for the first time, that she’d never actually had one of these in her mouth.

  Could that be right? Surely not?

  There had been a few handjobs certainly, she realised, as she began to pump more vigorously now. She wasn’t overly experienced – a few stolen fumbles really - but of the three or four guys she’d been with, well, they’d all been more eager to push it inside something else. Overly eager in fact.

  The Lady Katherine began to wonder if she could even fit this thing in her mouth.

  She knelt up a little higher, and rehearsed pushing her mouth over it in her mind.

  Possibly.

  Just then, Neil shifted in the chair, sliding down slightly, bringing his groin closer to her. The balls swelled and rolled on the leather, and she decided to start there.

  Bending her wrist round, she continued to pump the shaft, before leaning down and planting a tiny kiss right at the root of it. Hearing the gentle hiss from his nostrils, she took encouragement, and throwing caution to the wind, she sucked one of his balls deep into her mouth.

  His chest tightened, and the bally thing nearly filled her up. She rolled and sucked at it, and felt him sigh above her. It fell free, and she hungrily gobbled up the other one. It felt yummy inside her mouth, and she had to fight the urge to bite down on it, knowing it wasn’t a juicy plum and he wouldn’t react well.

  The thought actually made her snort a giggle. That made him shiver slightly, so she moaned gently around it, liking the way he reacted.

  After squeezing it out past her lips slowly, she pressed her tongue into the underside of the shaft, and with a fat wet lick, traced all the way up its length. Swirling around the top she opened her mouth wide and let herself down on to it.

  Slowly.

  Her lips stretched wide to accommodate him, and the heat of it in her mouth made her moan again. She barely had the helmet in her, and she wasn’t sure she could take much more. Easing down a little more, she felt her jaw reach its limit, and had to suck back up slightly.

  In fact, she had to completely let it out with a juicy slurp.

  She looked up at him by way of apology, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I don’t want to come in front of him,” Neil said, flicking his head at Tom.

  “Fair enough,” Tom said.

  “In fact, do you mind if we don’t put this one up on the site?”

  Lady Katherine slowly worked his cock in her fist, and shook her head, a little lamentably. She would have loved to have seen it jerking and spitting its mess everywhere, but she completely understood.

  She couldn’t let it go, and found herself working up a rhythm again.

  “What if he leaves?” she heard herself suggest.

  “Okay.”

  *

  Katherine bounded up the stairs, wiping her hand with a tissue. She hadn’t even attempted to get it in her mouth again, but once Tom had left, Neil had relaxed and happily shown her the results of her handiwork.

  She tossed the crumpled tissue at the stupid suit of armour that stood at the top of the stairs, and hurried along to her bedroom. It had been nice, but hardly delicious or new.

  The mattress undulated under her as she landed on it with a bounce. Pawing at her laptop, she was keen to check her email. Her heart skipped as she saw the reply waiting for her.

  “Sounds yummy. How about Saturday? x”

  Having tapped out a quick response, she rolled on to her back and reached inside her baby blue pyjama bottoms.

  Chapter Five

  Lady Katherine feels a bit daft.

  By the middle of the week, Katherine had grown
restless. Saturday was still too far in the distance to let herself think about it. But the little itch it stirred up meant she constantly needed to distract herself. And Sally was on her off week.

  Maybe that was why she’d agreed to such a silly idea.

  She looked at herself in the mirror in the cavernous main hall, and made a face.

  “Is this really what she wears?” she turned to Tom, who was fussing with a case of equipment.

  “Yes,” he almost snapped as he fought with something.

  “Sorry,” she sounded like a teenager.

  “It’s this damn arm, it won’t –“ then it obviously did what he wanted, and he never finished.

  She examined the outfit. The brown cotton top clung to her skin, plunging in a deep V between the valley of her little breasts, and sitting above her belly button pleasingly. It tied back behind her neck, beneath the elaborately plaited pony tail she’s spent an hour assembling. The tight tan shorts looked pretty good too, and she actually turned to admire how they hugged her botty.

  Tom looked up as she gave herself a stinging slap through the khaki.

  She wasn’t sure about the boots and socks, though she had to admit her legs looked stunning.

  But it was the belt and gun holsters strapped to her thighs that irked her.

  “So, she’s a Lady, who’s an archaeologist?” she asked again.

  “Yes,” he sighed in annoyance.

  “But she has guns?”

  He shook his head as he pulled a vest over his shoulders and began tugging at the Velcro straps. He seemed more excited by his new toy than her outfit.

  Boys will be boys.

  She reached for the two silver pistols that sat on the giant mahogany table beneath the sweeping curve of the stately stairs. The rattle echoed around the empty cavern, and she nearly dropped them again when she felt their weight.

  “Christ,” she chirped, “Have you felt these things?”

  He didn’t answer, and continued to busy himself with straps and buckles.

  “They won’t go off will they?”

  “Yes, I bought you loaded guns so I could film you blowing your thighs off.”

  She decided to ignore his temper.

  Of all the requests posted on her site, this one was apparently by far the most popular. Apparently, she was dressed to resemble a character in a computer game. Neil and Tom knew who she was, and thought it was a splendid idea.

  “And she just runs around her house dressed up like this?”

  “Sometimes. Depends on the game.”

  The only thing that was going to make it fun for Lady Katherine was the fact they were filming it in the main house. Daddy was off on safari again, and the place was in shutdown.

  Tom had hired something called a Steadicam, so he could jog along behind her without the shot bouncing up and down. Apparently, that’s how the game looked.

  The guns slipped into the holsters, and she was surprised how light they felt.

  Good strapping, she thought.

  He giggled behind her, and she turned to see why. A mechanical arm extended from his hip, counter-balanced with springs, holding a pole that held the camera. No matter how Tom moved, the camera stayed perfectly still.

  Child.

  He never got that excited filming her.

  “You didn’t wear underwear did you?” he asked for the third time.

  “Nope,” she neglected to mention that she rarely, if ever, wore any.

  “Good, those shorts are so tight, it’d be obvious.”

  “I’m aware of how tight they are.”

  “Well,” he said, rolling his hips and smiling at the balanced camera again, “I’m ready when you are.”

  “So, I just start running do I?”

  “No your Ladyship,” he said, “It’s more of a light jog.”

  He only ever used that term when he was losing his patience with her.

  She sprinted off down a corridor at full pace, hoping that he was struggling to keep up. As she nearly slipped around a corner, she ducked in to an alcove, and waited for him to trot past looking confused.

  He came to a halt right beside her hiding place and looked at her, utterly unimpressed.

  She giggled.

  “Don’t do that again,” he admonished.

  She stepped out and poked her tongue at him. “Why? What are you going to do? Spank me?”

  “If need be,” he said as he adjusted a knob on his mechanical arm.

  “Oh really?” she scoffed, turning her hip and pouting her ass at him.

  The sharp sting of his hand smacking hard into her buttock nearly made her yelp. She was so annoyed; she nearly kicked him hard in the shin with her heavy boots.

  “Just be a good girl for once, will you,” he said brusquely.

  The Lady Katherine felt the warmth spreading in her loins.

  The anger faded, but she tried not to let it show, even as the tingling pain in her bum began to prickle most deliciously.

  “Just a light jog?” she asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  She obliged him, feeling a bit daft as she trotted along the hallway, but he cooed his support from behind. Space soon ran out, and she came to a halt at a large oak panelled door.

  “Have I been a good girl?” she asked, surprised at the tingle the supposedly sarcastic question sent through her.

  “We need some more coverage,” he said, utterly oblivious.

  “There’s the long corridor in the east wing that leads to the atrium,” she suggested.

  “Might work.”

  They made their way through the house, and she listened politely to his delighted chatter about the new toy, but her mind kept flicking to her buttock. Had he left a mark? It was a fairly vicious swipe.

  “This is perfect,” he said, his voice echoing down the long hallway.

  She jogged down its length, the floating camera in pursuit, and emerged into the wide expanse of the atrium.

  The afternoon sun burned in through the glass roof ferociously, and her heavy footfalls echoed through the vast triple story chamber. She inadvertently came to a halt, and spun around, looking up at the sky. She always forgot how magnificent this place could look, and she basked in the rays of light that bathed her barely covered skin.

  “That. Was. Fantastic.” Tom gushed.

  It ruined the moment, and she turned to him with a cool look. Again, he was oblivious, as he explained why it would look so good on a big screen.

  She sighed and wandered across the atrium, automatically heading for one of the antechambers. It was like her feet were guiding her of their own accord. A muscle memory of times past.