Mistress Agnes Read online

  'I'd like to learn that, Agnes, but I'm not in a hurry, we can go in now, I'm tired anyway with the walk I had. I didn't get much sleep. And I never saw any part of the house, I really want a tour.'

  She took his hand and kissed it, eyes downcast as they walked towards the house.

  'Don't let guilt change you, Agnes, I like you in charge. And seriously, if you share your life with me from now on, everything that happened is forgiven. I will never think less of you because of it, nor will I reproach you with any of it when we fight. For fight we will. If I don't agree with you on something, I'll tell you, and you're not used to that at all. But please don't be humble, it doesn't make things better. Be firm, tell me what to do. If we argue about it, that's fine.'

  'I keep seeing your face in despair, Dennis. It's so heartrending, I can't forget it.'

  He bent over her, his face glad, his hair plastered to his face and dripping.

  'Look at me, Agnes, I'm happy! I don't expect you to forget what you did, but the sting of your memories will fade. Give it time.'

  'I'll try. Do you want a tour of the house now?'

  'I'd love to, but I think I need to sleep a little first. I had a bad night, again.

  Nightmares, of choking, fighting, killing. I get little rest at night, Agnes.'

  'I'm sorry to hear that, Dennis. And I'm especially sorry I didn't listen to you

  before today. Will you join me in my bed, Dennis? Or do you want to keep a room of your own?'

  'I want nothing more than to be with you, my love.'

  'Then let's go to my room, I'll join you if I may, I didn't sleep much either.'

  It was like heaven to lie in his arms, she had dried his hair and then they had each taken off their own clothes, he had really looked at her in breeches for a few moments, stroking her rounded buttocks gently, and with quite a bit of heat.

  But they were both yawning in the sudden heat of the house, and before long they had snuggled together under the blankets, not stroking or caressing at all, just lying still and relishing their closeness. It wasn't long before Dennis'

  breathing slowed, a slight wheeze still audible in the silence of the country afternoon. Were they really caused by nerves? She was sure the collar had started it, before he bruised himself on it he had not suffered from shortness of breath. Afterwards, it had become steadily worse. How had she allowed that to happen? Why hadn't she released him straight away? He didn't even want to get away.

  It would be devastating to hear him fight for breath, knowing she had caused it. If indeed anxiety caused it there was still hope he'd get over it eventually, and at least her crimes wouldn't kill him before his time.

  Reminding herself that he had forgiven her she let herself off the hook for just a moment. To pick up their lives she also had to put his suffering behind her, though she couldn't just forget, she'd have to talk about it once in awhile or her guilt would consume her. Maybe Guy would listen to her from time to time, he had shown an admirable stability and clear-headedness throughout all this, without trying to take over.

  But for now she'd go to sleep in the arms of the man she loved, and when they woke up she'd show him the house, and her life. Undoubtedly, she would learn more of his life, too, it would be hard to hear but he needed to process his past to lose his anxiety.

  Still entangled, he woke up, dazed for a moment. He felt his throat and it was unburdened, the painful bruise still there to remind him, but like the memories it would fade in time. Smelling the delicious feminine scent of his mistress, no, she was no longer his mistress, was she?

  She was awake, watching him with softness all over her face, and he asked,

  'Do you still want to be my mistress?'

  She kissed his face, and the dark bruise on his throat, gently so it didn't hurt at all.

  'No, Dennis, I just want to be yours.'

  'I liked your firmness, I just couldn't stand being constrained and idle anymore. Had you put me to work like you did Dick, I'd have been at your feet forever, happily.'

  'I was afraid you'd become like Dick, without spirit, without free will. I wanted a dominant, violent man, to take me. But only in bed.'

  'I didn't have much will left even before I came here, the war took it from me.

  My dominance and spirit were all faked, I pretended to be whom you wanted me to be, to be allowed to stay.'

  'You never lost it? You were insubordinate on purpose? To be with me?

  Chained up?'

  'I was. I used to be like that, pushy, violent, but life beat me, Agnes. I'm afraid you'll not be able to love me once you meet the real Dennis.'

  She could actually hear his distress, his breathing became audible instantly, but only for a second, apparently he trusted her more than he thought. And rightly so.

  'I suppose I knew it wasn't real, Dennis, I never felt threatened and I know I would have if you had really overwhelmed me. I guess I must have fallen in love with the real Dennis in the first place. Do you think you'll turn violent ever again? Or bossy?'

  'No, not really. But if I feel the need to subject you to my whims you'll be the first to know.'

  'Of course I will, you big ninny! I'm the one you'll be imposing your will on!'

  'If I do, you may whip me again, and I'll bow to you and kiss your feet. And other bits, a little higher up.'

  That thought turned him on instantly and he snuggled even closer to his beloved, inhaled her lovely scent with relish, and moved one hand slowly towards her inner thighs, stroking them softly. It had been quite some time since he had made love, his dick pushed him to hurry up and just take her, but he didn't want to rush, he was lying beside a totally different woman and he wanted to explore her feelings at his leisure. Was he taking control already?

  It didn't matter, for Agnes felt much the same about things, she didn't go straight for his dick but first stroked his hair and his face, close to tears once more, he was going to have to get used to that, it was easier to have suffered than to have abused someone, forgiving was so much easier than allowing

  oneself to be forgiven. To distract her, he bent over her and sucked her nipples, that would heat her up and make her forget her guilt.

  But it didn't, for now she saw the half-healed whip marks on his back and shoulders, the ones she had given him to force him to love her back. Her eyes started to look watery, her face in agony, then tears began leaking. She never made a sound and her hands kept caressing his face, and his chest, his butt, his legs. Every touch seemed to cause her pain, and Dennis wanted to scream at her to just let it go.

  But he couldn't have either, this had to be faced, she had to accept responsibility for every hurt she had caused him, and forgive herself for it.

  Meanwhile, his lust was up rather forcibly, and his touch on her became ever more insistent, until she couldn't be self-involved anymore because he had several fingers inside her and was sucking on her clitoris blissfully. He was so happy to taste her again, to have her legs on his shoulders and feel her shuddering under his loving attention.

  She pulled her warm, moist opening tight around his fingers with her solid riding muscles, it felt as if she was holding him there, and his dick urged Dennis to drop everything he was doing to let it have a go as well. But he ignored it, it was so good to make her mad with lust, to have her hold herself open for him so he could reach her most sensitive parts even better, to push the tip of his tongue under every fold and in every crease of her, and feel her shoving herself into his face in the heat of the moment.

  Soon, she started to moan a little, and follow the movement of his fingers, impaling herself on them with quite a bit of force, her firm inside muscles kneading his fingers as they tensed and relaxed alternately. The moans changed into gasps, and soon she froze for a second, then shuddered in release.

  Eager hands pulled him over her, bit him lightly in the neck, fortunately not where the painful bruise was, and she presented herself to him, trying to guide his dick inside her. To please her, well yes, and
it, he thrust it in forcefully, and she squealed with delight, urging him to give it to her. Which he already was, and pretty hard and fast, and she expressed her satisfaction loud and clear, 'Oh yes, that is good, I've missed you so much!'

  He rode her in triumph, no gasping, no wheezing, he was doing just fine, impaling his woman on his solid dick, making her squeal, his own ardour rising ever more, so good, so fast. His climax hit him like a brick, it nearly stunned him with its intensity, and he barely heard her cry of protest as he

  slowed down, his blood was rushing in his ears.

  But she deserved her release, too, a few more pushes were enough to make her cry out as well, and he slowed down and lowered himself on top of her.

  Nuzzling him heatedly, trying to kiss him until she saw he was out of breath despite his lack of wheezes, biting his neck again instead, but softly, he supposed she wasn't as sated as he felt.

  'You still seem rather excited, love,' he observed once he found back his breath.

  'I am, I always am. I don't wind down as quickly as a man does, and frankly I'd go on cheerfully if you weren't done. But it will fade eventually. I'll just rub my pussy against your leg a little until it accepts reality.'

  That was better, no guilt, no tears, just heat and coarse language.

  He rolled to the side and took her in his arms, very satisfied with life, and very much in love.

  'Do you mind my biting you?'

  Actually, he thought it was hot for some reason, and to feel his throat bare and bite-able, it was such bliss!

  'You may bite me anywhere, Agnes. Will you show me the house, as soon as we are dressed?'

  'I will. May I look at those cuts, see if they're healing well?'

  'Patrick has taken excellent care of me, love, but if you need to see for yourself, be my guest. I may turn around to kiss you, though.'

  The relief Agnes felt could not be described with ordinary English words.

  Her life suddenly seemed so bright, after having looked so dismal for weeks.

  Dear Dennis seemed to hardly remember his ordeal at her hands, he said he had forgiven her and he clearly had. No-one would forget such mistreatment, ever, but he had held her so tightly just now, and made love to her so ardently, he must truly love her.

  She still couldn't believe how fast it all had gone, riding back with her kills, seeing a strange man frisking like a child or a young animal, her dogs taking to him instantly, then realizing it was Dennis in a borrowed coat. To see him so happy to walk in the rain, to run down a hill, to scratch a dog, to see her.

  No, he hadn't been happy to see her, not at first. As she had been apprehensive to see him. He had so many reasons to hate her, but still he had clearly shown his yearning for her, she couldn't believe it at first. But she had to try, had to make a move, he couldn't, she could not expect him to express his love for the woman who had demeaned him, unmanned him, abused him.

  The sound of his wheezing breath had been torture, she had done that to him, Guy thought it would cost him his life within a few years, and he had made it clear who he thought was to blame.

  The relief to find Dennis not only returning her love, but more forgiving than was humanly possible, and most importantly, in relatively good health, she'd thank the good Lord on her knees for sparing her the torture of watching a man she loved die by inches again, and this time through her fault.

  He was waiting patiently for her to examine his back, his habits of obedience were still so ingrained in him. But not just by her, she allowed herself that little bit of lenience, he had been primed to obey at the threat of violence since before he was fully grown. No wonder he suffered from nightmares and nervous spells, his life had never been his own to live. Well, that would change. Agnes could not refuse him anything, he had asked her to share her life with him, she'd do better. She'd give up her name for him, and she'd give him her fortune, and she'd obey him as she'd obeyed Frederick. He would never ask her to marry him, he rated himself too low to ever dare look above himself that way, but Agnes was determined that she'd convince him to get married, and then he'd lawfully own her, a fitting conclusion to an outlandish tale, she was sure he'd take better care of her than she had done for him.

  And if he were ever to return to the street scum he said he had been, violent and overruling, she'd suffer for him as he had suffered for her. The very thought made her quail, but she would see it through. Though it was impossible to imagine sweet, forgiving Dennis as a unconscionable sociopath.

  She was lost in thought, and of course he wondered why she had asked to see his back, then didn't look at it. His face turned towards her, and he kissed her mouth tenderly.

  'You're not beating yourself up over this again, are you? If you cry, I'll have to fuck you again to make you forget. You know I'm from the streets, I have no sense of propriety at all.'

  She had never heard him joke before, he was so cute, so sweet, and so hot.

  'Could you? So soon after?'

  He kissed her again, with heat this time.

  'Yes, but this time, I'd take you from behind, like a stallion breeding his mare.'

  Heat flared up between her legs, he'd never done that to her before, no-one

  had ever done that before, not even Frederick, but the very thought caused her pelvic muscles to contract, as if to feel his dick slide into her.

  He laughed out loud, she'd never heard him do that before, either!

  'You actually want me to! I did catch you out, and now you're going to suffer the consequences.'

  And he was behind her in one agile jump, lifting her butt so her arms had to support her upper body or let her face eat bedding, then stroked her pussy from behind with appreciation.

  'That looks very appealing, let me feel around a little to find the entrance. I've actually never done this before, privates and thieves do not rate anything classier than a three-penny-upright, you know, a quickie against the wall or a much-abused tree.'

  Kneeling in front of him, shivering with anticipation, feeling his fingers probe the lie of her opening between her pubic hair, she relished his mood, he seemed a different man, he had humour, deprecating, but nonetheless true and very diverting. To think he was afraid he wouldn't measure up to her ideals, he had more true spirit than he'd ever had, just one day after his release from captivity and humiliation.

  When he found it, he probed it a little more, making approving noises as he rubbed her clitoris, sending flashes of heat to all her nerves. Then he carefully guided himself in, and when he knew he was on the right track he actually plunged in all the way, forcing a cry of alarm out of her. He ignored it and rode her for real now, hand on her hip, the other massaging her from the front, rather roughly, sending wave after wave of delight through her.

  She spread her legs a little more, lowering herself even more to make his member touch even better parts inside her, and he bent over her and bit her neck from behind, taking hold of one breast but leaving the other hand busy stimulating her pussy from the outside.

  The waves did not come faster, for he was not pumping with speed, but rather very deep and relaxed, but their intensity did rise quickly, until she gasped in a climax and felt her lust build up again immediately. Could she never be totally sated?

  He lasted longer this time, of course he was taking it easy on himself, and her, but just when she felt another climax nearing he sat back up, held her hips with both hands and went for it, chasing his own high with energy and firmness. This was not going to last, so Agnes applied her own hand where it mattered, building up her heat quickly, and causing her to climax at exactly

  the same moment that he shuddered in release once more, his hands now both holding a soft and warm breast.

  He nibbled her neck, and her ears, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, 'I hope you didn't find that humiliating, for it was really, really hot.'

  Disconnecting himself, he fell back to the bed and contemplated.

  'You know, as soon as the weather turns warm, and th
e hills dry out, I want to make love with you outside, among the heath, and in the old haystack beyond the barn, and yes, against a tree as well. I'll chase you up that long hill until I catch you, and then I'll throw you over my shoulder and I'll carry you to a little abandoned dell, where I'll ravage you at my leisure, this time against a young oak, the next under a prickly bramble.'

  'We don't have those here,' she said, laughing merrily at his exuberance, 'will a birch do? And a patch of moss? And we'd better warn Dick, or he'll try to rescue me and lose it.'

  'Then he can have a go, too, he seems slow, but I bet he can speed up a little when the mood strikes him.'

  By now he was looking at her cheekily, expecting her to be shocked no doubt, but frankly she found the idea enticing, though she expected Dennis would refuse to share her and she accepted that. He satisfied her more than anyone had ever done before, he had such humour, and such a lively imagination.

  Deciding to give as good as she got from him, she observed coarsely, 'You are right, of course, and he's hung like a stallion.'

  Did he really have her talking like that?

  'I must see that for myself, but I'd rather not feel it on, or rather in, my person. I didn't even fancy doing such things with Patrick, though he's stunningly handsome and undoubtedly very skilled. Can we invite Dick to join us some time, or are you done with him?'

  The very idea made her drool, literally, to be fucked all out, then have it done to her again, why didn't she ever think of that before?

  Well, for one, Dick didn't take to changes in his routine easily, and there was always the danger of him losing it. And for another, was it fair towards Dick to use him that way? She actually didn't feel a need for being with him anymore.

  'I'd love to, if you think it's not promising him things I cannot deliver. I used to take him to our little room at least twice a week, and sometimes every day,

  but lately I have been so caught up in you that I have neglected him. He might feel used, and that could make him dangerous.'