Mistress Agnes Read online

  Besides, it was as hot as she remembered, being handled by a man, she felt herself drawn to him inexorably, but that wouldn't do, that would be humiliating. She would decide when they made love, and today he would be without. Let him amuse himself, build up his resentment, build up his ardour.

  She summoned Dick instead, he had to bathe first and she decided to join

  him, he was such a good fellow and he deserved a little more than just a quick release of both their urges.

  Joining him in the room where they kept a bath for exactly this purpose, getting Dick cleaned up after his menial and sometimes grubby tasks, she saw his surprise with pleasure. He was already in the bath, covered in lather, ready to scrub himself clean for her enjoyment, and Agnes quickly undressed under his stunned looks, then stepped into the bath daintily.

  Of course Dick froze, he had no clue how to deal with unknown situations, but Agnes had her plans. She picked up his soft brush, he really did scrub himself before touching the mistress, and proceeded to clean his back for him first, progressing to his chest, arms and hands, then discarding the brush to a ledge where it belonged.

  Dick was so cute, he relished the attention and never tried to touch her in return, she always had to start him in a new situation. But she didn't now, she wanted the feeling of her slave touching her to linger, she wanted to be in control towards this other man, who was actually more her slave because he couldn't disobey her.

  She had felt his erection against her thigh the whole time she scrubbed his front, and now she ordered him to make it available for her to clean up. He raised his midsection, his top half lowered into the bath, and very carefully, but also very thoroughly, Agnes soaped his large member, and his testicles, and his butt, especially the cleft between both cheeks.

  Though not used to this attention he certainly enjoyed it, he was not as sensitive as her slave, and that was for the best, she was not going to suck that large dick for him, that just didn't feel right. Better he never knew it was possible to enjoy making love that subtly.

  Her own heat was rising fast, thinking of what she was going to do to her new toy excited her more than anything before, his behaviour this morning really gave her hope he'd dare take her soon.

  Dick was panting now, and she supposed he was clean enough, his hair was wet and his feet were all wrinkled with being immersed for some time.

  She got out of the bath and dried herself, then led him out and dried him. He was totally overcome having his mistress serve him as if he were the master, too much so to be pleased with the attention. But he'd settle once they were in their familiar room, and when she playfully slapped his bottom he did manage a smile.

  'You're teasing me, mistress,' he observed, but seemed pleased rather than put

  out.

  'I am, Dick. Come, let's go to our special room.'

  She led him by his large hand, and tried to push him over on the bed, but he was just too large. He got the idea, though, and when she next pushed him he dropped to the bed, landing in the soft mattress with a smile.

  With a jump, Agnes was on top of him, going straight for the satisfaction of feeling his erection touch her inside. It was as good as always, at this moment she always loved her slow servant a little, he was so well-endowed, and his skills in bed were still growing.

  She suspected Patrick of educating him, bit by bit, to enhance his mistress'

  pleasure, and to keep her interested in her big bear. For when she tired of him, Dick wouldn't understand he couldn't rut with the mistress anymore, and combined with his rising ardour that would make him potentially dangerous, and not in the way Agnes wanted her dangerous man. He'd almost certainly get hurt as a result and he'd have to move, no longer safe to be around women because he had discovered the joys of having sex, and too strong for them to stop him from just taking what he wanted. She'd have to talk to Patrick about that, too, have him teach Dick the basics of gentle behaviour, of leaving women and girls alone. Though she wasn't tired of his attentions by far, he had such an energetic thrust, and was so obedient, any woman would want to tumble him once a week.

  Sitting on his lovely dick, feeling it reach every sensitive part inside her, she moved up and down slowly, relishing every second of this phase of their love-play. Soon he would start to get really heated and he would want to go on top, and since that was the best bit she usually let him do it. But not now, not yet.

  Disconnecting herself from him, she ordered, 'Sit on the ground, Dick, I want you to lick my pussy again. You did that really well. Did you like to do that?'

  He probably did for he was already kneeling before her, receiving her slim legs on his huge shoulders, his large hands very gently holding her labia, spreading them to access the tender parts beneath.

  'You are very gentle, Dick, that is good. But if you want to, you may pull the hairy parts a little bit, yes, like that, oh that is good!'

  Before he dug in he looked straight at her, and smiled.

  'I like this a lot, it's good. I liked taking a bath and getting scrubbed, too.

  Thank you, mistress.'

  He did not expect an answer for he started to lick and suck her soft flesh with a relish, and soon she was shivering and shuddering in bliss, finally getting a release from the ardour she had worked up fantasizing about her slave, and letting him kiss her with a measure of dominance.

  After her first high, Dick didn't stop to ask permission to take her, he inserted a large rough finger and just continued. He was so tireless and devoted, he obviously loved doing this, and Agnes lay back and let him bring her to another towering climax.

  Then she offered herself to him and let him cover her, his soapy scent all around her, his flesh everywhere but without the burden of his weight, he knew exactly how much to support himself. The bliss of her last climax was still with her, and the fervour of his pumping built on it, higher and higher, until she lost her mind in ecstasy, urging him on and on, a high washing over her with the next already waiting.

  He had incredible stamina as well as superb force, keeping her in a state of bliss for minutes before arching in release himself and curling up next to her, watching her to see whether he had pleased the mistress once again.

  'You did well, Dick.'

  Agnes stroked his short hair and his slightly fleshy cheeks, his neck was just a little bit bigger than another man's, but his shoulders were so broad it hardly showed. She caressed them all, and even kissed him, he was sweet and needed some love. Who didn't? Dick couldn't help being unable to care for a wife and family, for being unappealing for someone to share their life with.

  Agnes was certain there were worse men about, and she would happily keep him around for quite some time yet, as long as he was clean and tractable.

  'You may stroke me back, Dick, that was so good, you've learned so much. I bet you're really proud of yourself.'

  A large, callous hand carefully stroked her shoulders, her hair, innocuous places. Dick knew how far he could go and he was satisfied with what he got.

  If only she could be the same, but Agnes always wanted more, or different things.

  Well, for now she was sated, Patrick and Guy paid her their respects almost every morning, and Dick usually gave her what they couldn't in the afternoons. Maybe she'd soon have her slave ready to really go all out on her in the evenings, that would be just the thing.

  She really felt her sated body trying to work up some more heat, and it nearly succeeded.

  No, Dick needn't be afraid to be replaced, Agnes had plenty of love for all her men.

  'I am proud, mistress. Thank you.'

  'Thank you, Dick, and now it's back to work for both of us.'

  They went back to the bathroom to dress and then they parted ways, Dick back to the scullery, and Agnes to her study, where she was writing a tantalizing story about a cheeky travelling musician who not only entertained a new party of revellers nearly every night, but also most of the ladies in it, a bit more privately.

  He was hea
ding for Rome next, and she was currently reading up on the landscape, building styles, weather, clothing, everything on the capital city of Italy, to make her story credible to her faithful readers, ladies of standing who had enough money to buy limited-edition naughty books. Some of them undoubtedly had known Agnes Beauchamp before, when she was still a regular visitor to town with her handsome and devoted husband. Soon she was lost in her reading, ideas for a new romance taking shape in her mind.

  To Dennis, the rest of the day was less lonely than the mistress intended.

  Patrick sat with him for at least an hour after bringing him his lunch, trying to give his new friend insight into the mistress' mind so he could please her without crossing her too often. Dennis confessed it had been hard to be forward towards her, but rather hot as well.

  'I hope I do get punished for being someone I'm not. What if I like being violent and domineering, what if she doesn't whip me for trying to take her, and I start to enjoy it? I don't want to become the man I'm pretending to be.'

  'You could never be violent, Dennis. Just trust yourself, I do, and I have known you for less than a week.'

  After that he described some particularly sensitive spots of the female body and how to stimulate them to please a woman, and what not to do when making love to the mistress.

  'She will spend a lot of time on pleasuring you, it's what she aches for. Just accept it, it's not demeaning to her since she has you in chains, but be careful of showing dominance when she does it. That is sure to get you a hiding you'll never forget.'

  Armed with this knowledge Dennis felt a little more secure, but he mostly felt less alone, and liked, even loved, with Patrick going against the mistress'

  wishes by spending time with her slave.

  And strangely enough, Dick was also great fun to be with.

  He had been in the attic before with Patrick to meet the new man, but he also took care of the bedpan and the fire. Guy let him care for the fire in the attic by himself since Dennis could ring for help if something went wrong, but Dick did very well, the fire burned perfectly, and Dennis complimented him on his skills as one servant to the other.

  If Dick had any hard feelings against Dennis he hid them well, and from what Dennis had heard he was not the type to be subtle or two-faced. No, Dick was a good man, and Dennis planned to try and make friends with him. As they talked a little, Dick found out Dennis had been in the army and wanted to know how that had been. Telling the large man about the iron discipline, and the constant training, Dennis found Dick staring at the iron collar. Though more than a little embarrassed, he asked the large man why he looked at it so steadily.

  'Does it hurt very much, Dennis? When I fetched the bedpan yesterday night the collar wasn't there, and there was a huge bruise.'

  Touched by his concern and impressed with his observation, Dennis said soothingly, 'It did hurt yesterday, Dick, but not so much now. Don't worry, I'll be fine.'

  'You're not a dog, Dennis, why have a collar?'

  That was very awkward. How could he explain when he didn't understand himself? Would he defend the woman who put it on him?

  'I don't know, Dick. The mistress ordered it, so I cannot but wear it.'

  Dick did not give up, somehow he had a strong feeling for wrong and right, like Patrick, and this was wrong.

  'My father whipped me when I lost it, but the mistress didn't. Did she whip you, Dennis?'

  Apparently, to Dick, collars and whips went hand in hand, and Dennis was glad he wasn't Dick's father's dog.

  'She did not, Dick, not yet.'

  'She won't, Dennis, if you're good she won't. She let me lick her pussy again, it was good.'

  'I'm glad for you, Dick, and I'm sure you'll never get whipped here, you are such a good man.'

  Dennis didn't exactly know what to think of the mistress with this large slow man, but mostly he didn't want Dick to get into trouble over lingering with him, he hoped to have a chat with him regularly, but if the mistress were to

  forbid Dick to talk to him the faithful servant would obey, and that would hurt Dennis. So he urged Dick gently to go back to work, and crept under the blankets himself, ready to sleep some more.

  The next day she came back, carrying his breakfast on a tray.

  Being called a slave was disconcerting and strange, for Dennis didn't feel like one at all. For one, he didn't do any work at all, he was waited on hand and foot, even by the mistress. It was uncomfortable and boring to be restrained, but in fact he hadn't had much more freedom in the army, and a lot more hardship and danger. Frankly, Dennis didn't think it was possible to make a man a slave without keeping him in bad conditions and working him hard, to break him. And it seemed as if the mistress was taking Patrick's advice to build him up, his breakfast incredibly good fare, her tone friendly and concerned.

  She watched him eat though he took his time, still careful not to bolt his food, it wouldn't make him sick anymore but if he made it last he wouldn't be bored as quickly, and she'd stay with him a little longer.

  He lay down for her again as she lifted the collar and checked his throat, which seemed to heat her more than a little, apparently keeping him constrained was a big turn-on for her. His body remembered what she did to him last time she held that collar and fired up instantly. But that was his body, his mind quailed, for he was planning to touch her uninvited next time she lavished attention on him and he was still very afraid to be beaten. His mind had not recovered from his time in France and his ordeal on the moors, dreams often turned to nightmares, and loud noises made him want to find a small hole and crawl into it.

  For now, his body won and his ardour rose, he could always refrain from doing what he planned, if he showed her some spirit once a week she'd probably accept it. He had not even been here one week and he was still tired most of the time, and emaciated, though he had started to exercise his muscles as well as he could.

  The strange thing was, he had been trained in unarmed combat, even without muscles he had enough technique to floor any man, Dick included. But he seemed to lack the will, he had led a gang of merciless youths, he had survived the French skirmishers, but he could no longer work up even the slightest anger or courage.

  By now, the mistress had lost interest in the collar, she had removed his

  nightshirt and was kissing his chest. Suddenly she wanted him to show her his back, and he rolled over with the agility of a wrestler, startling her with his lightning reaction. She recovered quickly and kneaded his shoulders and back expertly until he was bonelessly relaxed, then traced all the scars from side to side, or up and down. There were many, and some had obviously not been caused by the lash.

  A deep bayonet slash on his ribs, a bullet-hole on his buttocks, a series of knife cuts from his childhood.

  The memories assaulted him and he wanted to beg her to just let him be, to leave him alone with his past, but his body betrayed him and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Her soft hands on his skin did feel very good and she was very gentle, but what she wanted of him was just impossible. He felt her hand enter the cleft between his butt cheeks, and wondered whether she would find him clean enough to her liking. Dick had brought him water and told him the mistress liked her men very clean, but there was so much one could do with a cloth and a basin.

  She went lower still, so he guessed he had done well enough, until she touched his testicles once more, stroking first, then holding the soft skin and its contents in her hand. He shivered, feeling vulnerable, but it was exciting as well. Stroking his butt cheeks a little more, her fingers raking his sensitive arse, he feared for one moment that she'd penetrate him with her finger, the ultimate dominant gesture in both army and on the streets. No-one had even thought of humiliating Dennis that way in his former lives, but he was weak now, it would have been the deathblow to his efforts to seem spirited. But she merely caressed it and moved on, back to his testicles, his inner thighs, his lower legs. She massaged his feet and he relaxed once more.

  Then
she turned him around, stroking his legs up until she reached his testicles and his dick, eager for her attention like a senseless puppy, totally blind to the power-play going on here. She spread his legs and licked his balls, it was good, she hadn't hurt him so far, dared he trust her with his most sensitive parts?

  'You're so sensitive, love, and so beautiful.'

  Why call him love? She wanted to rule him, not love him, didn't she?

  But his body just couldn't resist her, this was not how he remembered sex, it had been a lot of grunting and panting in a corner, half horny, half afraid to be caught at a vulnerable moment. Or a quick fix with a camp follower, sad creatures barely recognizable as women, the release not worth the money and

  the risk of catching the French gout, or some other horrid disease.

  He didn't have to do anything, yet, Patrick said to not touch her when she did this to him, she'd feel demeaned and flay him alive. So he let his balls be licked and kissed, shivering with ardour and still a bit of fear to be hurt, and he enjoyed the feeling of her warm, moist mouth and tongue on the head of his dick, and the rest of it. She held it firmly with one hand while her tongue caressed the ridge of the head, under it, and back in her mouth it went altogether. He thought he was going to go mad with lust, he wanted to grab her and take her, but this was not the time. She still enjoyed this too much, it was still new, and she felt vulnerable lying between his legs in a subservient position.

  Hands clutching the sheet once more, his head started spinning and he felt a climax approaching. Not yet, this was too early, she wasn't done at all. And worse, he had to touch her now, for he could not let his seed foul her mouth again, she had hated the taste of it.

  His obvious distress caused her to look up at him, and he managed to speak, voice husky even in his own ears, 'Please, mistress, have mercy, I'm close to my climax, I cannot control it.'

  She was disappointed, he did have very little stamina, but he had never been served like this, and he had not had a woman in years, and never a lady like her.