Mistress Agnes Page 4

  'I used to be a valet, Dennis, I had to shave my master every day, and I was considered a very good servant. I still am, except I now work for the mistress, and fortunately for her she doesn't need shaving.'

  Patrick put so much love into his work, Dennis felt himself relax under his gentle touch, and when he had given himself up totally to those hands holding the keen-edged razor against his cheeks and even his throat, Patrick told him the harsh truth.

  'The mistress doesn't want you to fall at her feet and worship her, Dennis. She gets plenty of that from me, my partner Guy, and Dick. You'll get to meet him as well, he's slow, but kind of cute.

  What the mistress wants is a violent, dominant slave that she can rule. She wants him to try to overpower her, then subdue him. If you won't deliver, she'll turn you out as soon as she finds out. She probably won't turn you in, but you'll be destitute once more. Can't you pretend to be dominant and violent, go for her once in a while, take a whipping or two to have a comfortable home? She'll probably relent in a few months, add you to her harem, she's accepted Dick, though he didn't deliver what she hoped for. I taught him a few techniques to please her, but as I said, he's slow. You've probably got quite a few tricks up your sleeve already to please a lady.'

  By now, Dennis' face was shaven clean, and Patrick wiped it dry with a lovely thick towel, then massaged some fragrant ointment into his skin.

  Dennis had never been touched with such care, such gentleness, and his shock at Patrick's words combined with his loving touch totally overcame him.

  'I can't Patrick. I cannot be violent to a lady, and I cannot please her either.

  I've hardly ever been with a woman, I lived on the streets until I was sixteen, then took service in the army as the lowliest of the low. I never had a chance at pleasing a woman, I've never even really been touched by one, I only had girls from the streets and army whores, we merely rutted in a ragged tent or against a wall, quickly. I'm doomed. I thought I was saved, but I'll hang after all. But thank you for telling me the truth, Patrick, you've been the first person in a long time to be nice to me.'

  Suddenly, Patrick's face was really close to his, and the beautifully shaped lips touched his own. He smelled great, and those lips were so soft, Dennis had no choice but to kiss them back, he desperately needed some hope and Patrick seemed to offer it. And it was good, all soft and warm, and tasting so clean and pleasant.

  When Patrick broke that kiss Dennis felt cold, and lonely, and Patrick excused himself.

  'I'm sorry, Dennis, I don't know why I did that. It suddenly felt as if I needed

  to kiss you, I didn't mean to impose on you. You cannot even leave, I feel so bad being involved in this, I just hate it!

  I love my mistress and I'd give my life for her, but it is wrong to keep someone prisoner, you did nothing to her at all, and I don't know how to deal with it.

  Try not to think about it too much, she expects you to be weak for several days, yet, and you wouldn't become violent until you realized you were a prisoner here. That's at least two weeks to feed you up and come up with a plan to get you back to the city at the very least. Please don't give up hope, Dennis, Guy and I will try to give you a chance.'

  Now Patrick looked as if he needed a kiss to give him some hope, and Dennis gave it to him. This time, there was some passion involved, Dennis had never been intimate with anyone and he felt something stirring inside him.

  'You sure you have no experience at all? Try to stay positive, Dennis, you may still gain some spirit as your body recovers. I can teach you things as well, I know the mistress inside out. Just overdo the exhaustion and try not to be humble to her, keep your spine straight and show some dignity. Don't suppress anger if you feel it, you can be out of that collar in a week but it'll be back to the moors with you, if you want to stay let it make you angry instead.

  I know you can tolerate abuse, I've seen the stripes on your back. And if you decide to go for it, I'll sneak up and comfort you when you need it.'

  The very thought of being beaten again caused Dennis to sag against his pillows.

  'You're tired, you need to rest. Just get some sleep, next time I bring food I'll introduce you to Dick. Try to be kind to him, he's not important in this household but he's a good man and he deserves more.., well actually more of everything than he gets, has ever gotten, except maybe food.

  Sleep well, Dennis.'

  And Patrick left as softly as he came, taking the tray back with all the stuff he brought, plus the plate and the bowl. He was very good at his job, that much was clear.

  Dennis was left confused and disheartened, but he understood he needed to hide those feelings of hurt from his new mistress and try to encourage his anger towards her, show her his strength of will and a keen mind. Also, she would expect him to show lust towards her, and while he of course knew what lust felt like, he had suppressed it for years, and he was very sure he

  would not be able to overcome an experienced, older woman sexually.

  But wouldn't she be pleased to know him very inexperienced? She had been pleased to hear he was very young. And what if Patrick was not as friendly as he seemed, was in fact jealous? What if the mistress did want him to show humility and devotion, and he hoped to get Dennis to make himself seem unmanageable and dangerous?

  Well, that was easy enough to test. If the mistress returned he would show her some of his devastating hopelessness, and her reaction would tell him all.

  She had softened for a moment when she heard he'd been starved before, but after that she had turned very cold. Patrick seemed to be right, she didn't want to feel for him, because she wanted to fight him for dominance over her. As if Dennis could even think to compete with someone nearly ten years his senior who had been rich and independent all her life. The very idea almost made him laugh.

  He decided to just encourage his fatigue, make the most of it, eat everything he was offered to gain strength, then see where his spirits would yet be prepared to lead him.

  If Patrick was right.

  But since he desperately wanted to have a friend, someone on his side, he couldn't imagine the beautiful servant as being anything else, it was too heartbreaking to consider without clear proof.

  Chapter 4

  At the very moment she felt sorry for her new slave because he had had a bad youth, Agnes felt disgust for herself. How would she ever find satisfaction if she couldn't treat a man she never met before with the distant scorn one was supposed to feel for a slave?

  He was nothing, she was everything.

  She forced herself to sound cold towards him, and to deliver a veiled threat, totally unnecessary, for what man would want to walk around with a week-old beard? She saw it hit home, he was hurt, and she left quickly to hide another one of those soft spells.

  This was not going to work if she showed weakness, he'd walk right over her and take over her life, this man was not a dimwit or a country boy, nor a spoiled personal servant like Patrick and Guy, this man was a hardened soldier, he could probably subdue her without the least effort. Patrick would be hopeless to stop him, and Dick would seriously injure him, he had as good as told her he was jealous.

  What a mess she had gotten herself into through her fantasies, maybe she'd better feed him up and have Guy take him to town with a few crowns to see him through the first months. He seemed so vulnerable and young, but she'd already had vulnerable and young and it didn't work out. There had to be an iron core in him or he wouldn't have lasted such a long time on the moors, he was probably still exhausted and scared to be delivered to the army's tough justice.

  Today she would be nice to him, bring him more food, see what her touch did to him, but tomorrow she'd tell him he was going to be locked up in that attic forever, and he'd get angry and try to attack her, offering her her first chance to tame him. The very thought made her horny, and her regrets were soon forgotten.

  When Dennis woke again he had no idea what time it was and how many days had passed. The fire was still the
only real light in the room, there was a tiny window on the other end but he guessed his chain wouldn't reach. He did

  not resist his impulse to check its solidity, Patrick had told him the mistress wanted him angry and violent and though he knew those feelings well, he could not call them up now, but feeling the reality of his captivity might do the trick.

  But even realizing there was no escape from this chain didn't do it for him. It made him sad to face the certainty of being destitute again in a few weeks, but it did not make him angry. He didn't even scorn himself that being treated like a slave seemed preferable to him to being cold, hungry and in danger.

  There really was no will left in him, the war had damaged him forever, and his recent ordeal had finished him off. He could not call up any anger, not even to reach the status of well-fed sexual slave in a safe house. When the mistress appeared he would fawn on her, and she'd turn him out in disgust over his cowardice.

  Trying to get up he found himself reasonably stable on his legs, hungry of course, and actually a bit bored. There was a bookcase just within reach, and supporting himself on the sturdy table he reached the shelves. They were laden with real books, row upon row of them, and he chose one at random. It didn't seem beyond his capacity to read, he guessed he would still be able to read, though he hadn't often had the chance to exercise or hone his skill after his ninth year. Still, it seemed he had plenty of time on his hands, so he took the book back to bed with him. To find there wasn't nearly enough light to discern the letters, was this supposed to make him angry as well? Promising him diversion then delivering disappointment? It did not make him angry but it made him determined, something the mistress would also like a lot. He made his slow, unsteady way towards the fire, book and blanket in his arms, as far as the chain would reach. Just before it choked him, he sat down with the blanket covering him, and tried again.

  It worked, he could read now, and the book turned out to be really diverting, a short story on love and morals, witty, but also quite sharp. But reading was quite tiring for Dennis, it was not something he had been in the habit of doing and his body was still exhausted, it was just the anxiety of his situation that had kept him awake.

  Agnes found him right there, lying as close to the hearth as his chain would allow, on top of his blanket. She felt a stab of fear that he was dead, having wandered deliriously until the chain choked him, and she put the tray with food down where she stood, running to check on him. When she came closer it was clear he was merely fast asleep, rolled up on his blanket like a hound

  basking in the heat of the fire. Except her hounds weren't chained. And they didn't read.

  She did not understand why he would choose to read in front of the fire, his chain pulling his neck uncomfortably, when he could lie on a quality bed with soft sheets and a fat pillow. He couldn't have been cold, the room was warm and his blanket didn't even cover him. The very sight of her new slave, wearing the sturdy collar, completely in her power, gave her a thrill of pleasure, but the way his innocent looking shaven face tugged at her heartstrings was not as enjoyable. He was really very young, and without the rough beard he looked as attractive as her boys, less perfectly beautiful, but very manly and still, well, actually sweet.

  She had determined she would wake him as soon as she came in, to show him who pulled the strings in this house, but something told her he already knew that. He was still so young, she might actually frighten him. He couldn't have much experience with women, having been in the army as a lowly private, and certainly not with strong women.

  Maybe she should give him a little time to recover first, make him feel welcome. His attitude when he awoke would give her a clue. If she broke him now, she'd never get from him what she wanted, and she wanted this man very much. Fetching the tray with food, and putting it on the table to not give any clue about her shock when she found him lying on the floor, she proceeded to kneel beside her slave, her hand automatically pulled towards the smooth cheek. It was incredibly soft, and she stroked it with relish.

  Of course that woke him, and he reacted with unexpected violence, sitting up on his heels, not his knees, in a split second, the wrist of the hand that touched him in an iron grip, his other hand on its way towards her throat for a few heartbeats. Then at the very same instant his eyes regained sense and his body gave out on him, and he crashed to the floor, chain snapping taut and wrenching his head around in the process.

  He had released her arm as soon as he realized what he was doing, contributing to his fall, and he was now lying there, his whole body showing pain and shock, obviously very afraid of the consequences of his instinctive action.

  But Agnes was thrilled, she knew now there had to be violence in him, but controlled, which was good for it wouldn't do to get killed. And he didn't plead for mercy, or fall to his knees, he merely looked at her in acceptance, knowing he'd pay for his transgression. His dignity moved her, and she

  calmly held out her hand to him to help him up.

  'I suppose I shouldn't startle an army man, eh?'

  He took the hand hesitantly, his sudden move and the resulting choke of the collar had taken a toll and he had real trouble finding his feet, so Agnes supported his body with her own as she had so often supported Frederick's in his last months on this earth. He found his voice and it sounded surprisingly dry.

  'And I lived on the streets before that, old habits die hard. I'm very sorry mistress, to have laid a hand on you, and I suppose I'll be even sorrier soon.'

  Only his eyes showed his very real fear of being punished, Patrick said he had plenty of stripes on his back, he had probably known rigid discipline for years.

  'Never mind, I'm not an army sergeant having to set an example for the other men. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose.'

  She had helped him back into the bed by now, feeling rather heated by his deference, combined with such dignity.

  'Here, let me get your blanket and your book. Did you like it?'

  He was still on his guard and he seemed to swallow a lot, so she moved in on him fearlessly and took hold of the collar, lifting it to check underneath.

  'I'm afraid that will be a nasty bruise tomorrow. Why did you go to the hearth to read? Wouldn't it have been more comfortable to just stay in bed?'

  She really had to control herself not to kiss his throat, where the collar had indeed made quite a gauge in the tender flesh. That would swell, better have Patrick look at it later.

  A slight lowering of his head was the only sign of humility she could see in him, though she was sure he felt it.

  'There was not enough light to read by, mistress, I'm not a very good reader, I need plenty of light to make out the letters. But I liked the book.'

  Of course, a candle, that was what had been missing all this time!

  'I forgot a candle, you'll have one next time someone comes up here. But now, do you want to eat, or do you want to take some time to recover from your shock first?'

  'Please mistress, the latter, I couldn't eat a thing right now, though my stomach begs to differ. I was so afraid you'd have me whipped, I'd certainly break down and cry like a baby. I know I deserve punishment for laying a hand on my mistress, and usually I can stand the pain, but I'm not just weak physically right now, I'd almost certainly fall on my knees and beg for mercy

  instead of taking it like a man should.'

  Agnes' heat didn't recede any at the thought of this man lying at her feet, but that was not what she had in mind to get from him. A mere beating wouldn't bring the man she wanted to his knees, and he certainly wouldn't cry or beg.

  But that was only what he said he might do. His actual reaction pleased her quite a bit, and she sat on the bed really close to him and gave in to her desire just a tiny bit, stroking that smooth but manly cheek once more. She did not ask him permission to touch him, he was her slave after all, and he didn't show displeasure or fear, he merely shuddered under her gentle caress. He really felt divinely soft, and she wanted to kiss him, so she ju
st did.

  That surprised him, but he didn't try to resist or take over, he merely answered the kiss as it was offered, obviously enjoying the contact.

  He kept stimulating her ardour, merely by not shying from her and not trying to take more from her, he just let her lead and followed where she went.

  Hands clutching the blanket he let her stroke his hair and his face, again, it was so handsome and so tantalizingly soft.

  And when she moved down, past the collar, and undid the buttons of his nightshirt, stroking and kissing his mostly hairless chest, his hands still did nothing and he shuddered again. She sucked his nipples shortly, they were delicious, and he smelled very nice, manly but not too strong. Moving down, she pulled back the blanket, so he grabbed the sheet instead, still keeping from touching her, still shivering, with fear or anticipation, she didn't know.

  And told herself she didn't care, he was here for her enjoyment, not his, what he thought of it didn't matter. She had been aching to touch a man as Patrick and Guy touched her, and this man would not be allowed to dislike her touch.

  But there seemed little fear of that, for when she had caressed his rather emaciated stomach, he must have had little reserves even before his flight, and moved further down to remove his underwear, he actually moaned. His dick was already standing for her, of course, and she did not feel her usual reticence to serve a man. This man was totally at her mercy, so she could do with him whatever pleased her.

  Of course he was not endowed as magnificently as Dick, but he was certainly not undersized either, and he was clean. She took the solid erection in her full hand, and moved it up and down a few times, seeing his hands clutch the sheet to refrain from touching his mistress again, and hearing him moan as if in pain.

  She did look up to see if he wasn't actually in pain, but his face merely

  showed intense ardour, and she felt free to bend over him and take his dick in her mouth as far as it would go. Ignoring further sounds from her slave, she did what she had imagined doing, sucking it to her heart's content, licking the head with relish, then making it disappear in her mouth in its entirety. One of her hands was still holding this delightful new plaything firmly, while the other explored his inner legs, his testicles, his butt cheeks.