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Keeping John sufficiently engaged with the direction of several time consuming tasks of little import, I went in search of the head gardener. Mulligan was ensconced within his tin fortress set at the ever shaded side of the house. He was most surprised to see me open the door to his ramshackle shed and peer inside.
“Mister Mulligan?” I spoke to the dusty darkness.
“Lady Dashwood!” he said with notable astonishment, and immediately rose to his feet and began towards me. Had he remained silent I think I may very well have missed his presence entirely, for he was quite hidden amongst the rustic clutter of his rusting realm. “How nice of you to stop by,” he said with a grin lacking in a full set of teeth. I remained in the doorway, feeling a sudden discomfort I had not expected as awful visions of ill intent alarmed my mind.
He stood before me with hand outstretched as though he expected me to place there my own and allow it to be kissed. I looked from his thick and grubby fingers up to his dark and craggy eyes and raised my brows until the rough fellow withdrew his arm again.
“I was saying to your father just the other week how little we see of you in here,” he said, widening his castellated smile as his eyes looked not at mine but rather pressed their salacious gaze about my form in a most impertinent manner.
“Do not be facetious with me, Mister Mulligan,” I cautioned him, and wished now I had dressed rather more conservatively as his age-lined eyes roved shamelessly about my bust and cleavage. He looked to my eyes again as the smell of gin became ever more pungent.
“Begging your pardon, Lady,” he said with hints of both bow and sarcasm. Try as I may I could not keep my mind from picturing how easy it would be for this tall and strongly built fellow to pull me into his den and have his way with me over one of his mowers. He had none of the obsequious deference the house staff showed me. He was un-courteous and uncouth, and whilst he had the greatest respect for my Father I feel his long standing resentment towards me stemmed from the unchangeable fact that I was a girl. Had I been born a boy I am sure from a very young age he would have regaled me with tales of drunken fights and conquests of loose women.
“Come in,” he said, sweeping his arm to gesture his squalid province as he turned sideways. “I’m sure I can find somewhere pleasurable to put you.”
“I did not come here to be put or pleasured,” I said with what I hoped was a sufficiently indignant glare. I rather think it failed because the gardener tipped back his head and laughed uproariously.
“No, I’m sure you didn’t, little Lady,” he said, still chuckling. “Will there be music again tonight, Lady Dashwood?” he added with a knowing smile. I had a frown for him I hoped would tighten his tongue, but instead he winked and made a little click sound with his mouth.
“How I choose to adopt my time is of no consequence to you, Mister Mulligan. Your business is gardening and I suggest you direct your focus exclusively to that task from now on.” I considered walking away, as I knew Mulligan was a breed so stuck in his ways no manner of verbal chastisement would deter him from his insolence, but I would by no means shy from his classless intimidations. Still he pressed his gaze about my body, enjoying curves and undulations he would have to take by force should his lust ever overcome his logic.
I had never felt especially comfortable around him, yet here in the doorway to his dark and dingy domain I felt a chill that the golden bright of summer had no hope of warming. His laboured breath, weighted with cheap gin, sounded deep and heavy in the silence of the shack and I desired to stay no longer than was entirely necessary.
“What have you come here for then?” he said, and pulled a grotty kerchief from inside his tattered tweed waistcoat, then proceeded to rudely snort into the shabby cloth before opening it before him as though expecting diamonds and pearls to have fallen from his nose. He grinned down at me as he shoved the filthy square of material back into his pocket.
“I understand you have a new employee,” I said, ignoring his attempts to revolt me.
“The blue eyed Wellsleigh boy?” he interrupted.
“Wellsleigh?” I said, my surprise unchecked. Mulligan laughed, and I felt sure he thought himself particularly significant just then as he revelled in his esoteric position of knowledge.
“You didn’t know?” he said, barely concealing the laugh in his voice and the glee in his eyes.
“Clearly I did not,” I told him with increasing irritation. I waited a moment for him to explain, but it soon became apparent that he preferred to savour what he no doubt considered to be some form of victory. “Perhaps you might avail yourself of my appreciation by explaining the circumstances of his appointment?” I said in a calm attempt to draw him down from his lofty perch.
“And just how ‘appreciative’ are you going to be, Lady?” he said with the canlı bahis şirketleri rudest of grins.
“Either you tell me or I’ll have your awful little hovel burnt to the ground while you find yourself cast into the gutter,” I said with a frown.
“Steady on, little Lady,” he said with lifted hands and the sort of laugh one might employ to placate an obstreperous child. I looked from his thick and oil smudged fingers to his spirited eyes, narrowing my own as I fixed them upon him.
“No need to get upset,” he chuckled. I was on the verge of storming off after a final threat and putting into practise all I deemed him to deserve, but perhaps he sensed the limits of my toleration for he dropped his joviality and began to explain.
“The pretty blonde angel, Brendan, isn’t it?” he said questioningly. I folded my arms across my breasts and tipped my weight onto one leg. “He used to work for Lord Wellsleigh. He’s here now on Lord Dashwood’s say so.” He paused to await my reaction. I didn’t give him the satisfaction and instead stood passively. “Have to treat him like he’s made of china, too,” he added derisively.
I had many questions about this development but, even though he would have assumptions and hypotheses to impart, Mulligan would be ignorant of the facts. “From what I hear you’ve treated him with far less care than one should exercise when handling bone china.”
“Oh? And where’d you hear that?”
“That’s none of your concern. Just be sure to remember when handing out the gardeners’ tasks that Brendan has not only my fondness by also the consideration of two Lords.” I turned to leave, but paused and looked back at him as I half turned. His eyes were upon my bottom, and only slowly raised up my side as I addressed him again.
“The gazebo needs treating. Have him stain the wood tomorrow, late morning. I expect I can trust you to manage that simple task to my liking?”
“Little Lady,” he said with a sly grin and a slight bow, “I would do everything to your liking.”
“I doubt that very much,” I said and looked up at the ivy that clung to the stones of the northeast wall as I left.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
By evening Kitty had returned from her errands and I allowed her to dine with me at the table. John served us as though she were every bit the Lady I was, and I could sense in his demeanour an itching desire to ask a flood of questions. I denied him the opportunity, dismissing him with flirtatious smiles once trays were placed and glasses filled.
Kitty viewed him with widened eyes and restless hips, squirming under his gaze as he served her, and no doubt had statements and questions of her own. Each time I saw her about to speak I commented on aspects of dinner and the day. My pets fought their urges to talk of things other than the subjects their Mistress deemed suitable, and I in turn fought my own urge to giggle at them.
As I replenished my strength with a light meal Kitty prodded her fork at the foie gras and wrinkled her nose at the quail’s eggs, nudging them about her plate and attempting to hide them beneath salad leaves as she tilted her head this way or that. I said she ought to at least try everything and, with her eyes so tightly closed it made her little upturned nose wrinkle, she popped a quail egg into her mouth and quickly chewed, opening her eyes again a moment later to announce, “It tastes a lot like a normal egg!”
“Try the pâté too,” I suggested, and she lifted a forkful to her mouth and slipped it inside, only to poke out her tongue and screw up her face as she swallowed. Although unable to describe quite how it tasted, other than it being horrible, I suspect her pallet found it too rich. I chuckled as she squirmed, and giggled as she drank her Château d’Arche as quickly as if it were fruit juice then proceeded to cough and splutter and almost drop her glass.
“Kitty, you’re so sweet!” I laughed. “But do remind me not to take you to the opening of the Savoy in August.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was several days before I was due to visit my dear friend Charlotte Wellsleigh and questions would have to wait, besides, Papa would be returning the next evening and I would have my answers from him. I had initially felt indignation upon discovering myself to be a pawn in their games, however as I gave it further thought I became endeared to their choice of gift.
Charlotte had such vivid and bright blue eyes, the most radiant of sapphires that no kingdom’s crown could justly match. Her hair flowed like soft spun gold and shimmered like a field of corn in sun and breeze. She displayed skin of blemishless porcelain, and her beauty stole the breath of onlookers as their fervid eyes followed the curves and contours of her perfection. She was my closest and dearest friend and I had loved her like a sister all my life.
How sweet of her to send me a handsome boy with pretty blue eyes and hair almost as golden as her own. As I rested canlı kaçak iddaa my bottom upon the parapet of my balcony and looked out across the garden I wondered if she herself had tamed him from youthful male clumsiness and trained him into the attentive and talented lover he had been for me that morning.
I remembered his kiss, as I compared it to Charlotte’s I recognised her technique and desired to discover if she too had taught him the skills he demonstrated with his tongue. I remembered also the holding of my neck within his teeth and would gauge by her blushes whether he had practised that prowess upon her. Eager though I was to see her, and indeed her siblings and parents, I knew preparations were being made within the Wellsleigh household that precluded me until complete, and I had a depth of patience unshared by she who looked to me now from the door to my chambers.
“Miss Laura?” she said with a voice as soft as the evening breeze. I turned to her and smiled.
“Are you going to let John come in tonight?”
“No,” I said and stood. Kitty looked crestfallen, which was not my intent just then. I walked to her and took her hands in mine. “Not tonight. Very soon, but not tonight,” I assured her. She looked up from her feet with eyes less sad and a smile more bright. “Instead I’m going to teach you how to talk and how to dress,” I said and let her lift my hands as she raised her own to her mouth. We kissed one another’s fingers and our eyes glittered with the glints of stars.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kitty had always admired all aspects of my deportment and seemed as bewitched herself as the men who eyed my natural elegance and provocative poise. She had often stated, by direct pouting or less than subtle asides, her desire to dress and speak as I did, and I had on occasion wondered whether during my time in France she had indeed worn any of my dresses.
I found her to be a surprisingly adept study and by the turning of the eleventh hour I had instilled within her some of the elementary standards of class. Kitty was a delight, all to her was a game to be enjoyed and giggled at and she had not a care in the world.
“Kitty, you’re awfully excitable tonight,” I chuckled as she skipped along the little corridor that led from my bathing room. Her plump little bottom jiggled most alluringly with her quickened steps.
“Is it awful?” she asked, stopping only once she had reached the bed. The lightness of my laugh infected her with giggles of her own as she again lifted the delicate, white silk gown I had gifted her and held it to her curves.
“No, dear, it’s lovely. Only lovely,” I said, and sat for my hair to be brushed. Kitty bounced on to my bed and crawled behind me, brush in hand. She sang a sweet lullaby as she carefully stroked and brushed my long black locks with hand and brush. I closed my eyes and listened with delight to her sweet songs as the warmth of her soft skin comforted my own.
A sigh escaped my lips as I felt the press of her lips to the back of my neck, and remembered again the king of beasts who had held me with his teeth that very morning. “Bite my neck,” I whispered.
“Only with softness,” said I. Kitty clutched my shoulders, holding aside my hair as she put her teeth to my skin. “Turn your head,” I instructed, and purred in all deliciousness as Kitty did exactly as Brendan had. The action invoked memories in not just mind but in body too as the sanctum of my sex remembered the sliding of his prick, opening and stretching me around its majesty.
“Oh, again!” I sighed and laid back onto her as I thought of my lion. Kitty must have assumed I meant her because she tried once more to bite the back my neck, and unable to reach she instead bit to the side. I brought up my arm and ran my fingers into her hair.
“Miss, may I sleep with you tonight?” she whispered into my ear. I opened my eyes as I smiled. How perspicacious she was to choose such a perfect moment when all barriers were down and defences successfully rendered ineffective.
“Yes,” I said and glanced at the clock above the piano as Kitty draped her form upon the bed and softly stroked my thigh. “The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. Lovers to bed, ’tis almost fairy time,” I said to the clock hands, then looked over my shoulder at her. My smile was received by a frown which lived only in the fleeting second it took the timepiece to herald the ending of one day and the beginning of the next. Kitty pounced to hands and knees, all smiles again as she crawled to the pillows and drew back the white satin sheet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As day follows night, the morning followed the evening, and all its play and pleasures were repeated upon the rising of the sun. As pretty birds sang pleasing songs and new air carried scents of flowers to my senses I awoke from sensual dreams to the carnal caress of reality. A stroking hand about my hip, the light press canlı kaçak bahis of soft lips upon my belly, and the slow slide of a warm and wet tongue across my skin. I awoke with a purr, and opened my eyes with a sigh, as the tickle of her hair danced over my skin like the tingles one gets whilst lightning strikes the ground close by.
I lowered my arm from the pillow and breathed her name as I drew my fingers through her beautiful midnight-black hair. I was wished good morning, and so far I deemed it to be as perfect as the mornings God had envisioned when he created the world.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
“Where?” she asked.
“Here,” said I, tapping a finger to the alter of Aphrodite. Her lips became a pout as she pressed a peach-soft kiss with passion fruit sensuality. She held to me. I felt the slightest of pressure as she sucked her lips to my silken skin. Life had treasures and pleasures, and to awake beneath her lips was a joy without rival. Her kiss slowed and her lips lessened their touch. I felt them as acutely as if they had been my own. The warmth of her breath heated me. The sound was as Divine as any chorus of angels.
“Kiss me more,” I whispered and began to draw up my knees. She lifted her supple form from my leg and settled once more between my slowly spreading thighs. Her hands touched to my knees and slid upwards as I arched my back. My skin began to tingle in the moments of waiting, as though a thousand tiny feathers swirled over my body.
Her soft lips, wetted by the lick of her tongue, played upon my pussy. I shivered as I gripped the satin of my bed sheet. She peppered little kisses between my legs, her hands to my inner thighs. I sighed as she teased. My breasts swelled upon my chest. My strawberry nipples firmed as they extended.
“More,” I sighed. Her tongue slid up the curve of my sex, opening my lips. I moistened with arousal as she licked the wetness of her tongue up and down my fizzy slit. It swirled against my tingling button. Her lips kissed and sucked. I sighed my shortening breaths to the canopy of my bed as farm-boy and milkmaid paused in their eternal chase to tilt their eyes down at me. The tip of her quickly flickering tongue rendered me insensible as it danced about my clit. I arched my back and brought my hands to my breasts, squeezing as I trapped my aroused nipples between my fingers.
“Yes,” I breathed as she darted her tongue inside me, sucking my heated pussy with her widely opened mouth. The sensual sounds of her murmurs magnified my excitement as they were heard in the air and felt through the skin. Her agitation increased, boosted perhaps by my own. She pushed her hands on the backs of my thighs to further spread my legs, forcing my knees higher and my legs wider as she twisted her head this way and that and sucked with lips as she licked with tongue my trembling, honeyed sex.
“Oh, Kitty!” I gasped. “Kitty, make me come!” Her wondrous tongue loved with licks my clit and opening and the sensitive curvature between. I squeezed with all tightness my breasts, and punished with twisting pinches my ever tingling nipples as I arched my back and sang her praises to the heavens. Delirium came as I did, breaking upon my body like the fiercest of winter waves crashes upon a windswept beach. Beneath the forceful press of her hands my legs twitched as prickles of pleasure lost their way to my pussy and instead danced within my muscles.
I panted breathlessly. My inner temple rippled with squeezes and gushed nectarine treacle upon her tongue as she sucked and slurped and rubbed her little nose as hard as she could against my starburst clit. Quivers and tremors rendered me insensible. My thighs squeezed together, commanded by an influence other than my own conscious thought, and I had to push poor Kitty away with both hands and squeeze them between my legs as I rolled over.
“Gosh, Kitty!” I gasped, rolling over again with a redness of cheek I knew enhanced the giggles she already had for me. “Gosh!” I repeated, somewhat lost for words. She knelt, sleek and feline, on all paws, smiling like the Cheshire Cat as her face glistened with the syrup of sex, then padded to me on hands and knees as I held out my arms.
There was such wetness! Thighs and bottom, and even my tummy, were both slippery and sticky and the scent which pervaded the air was the perfume of sin. Kitty brought me her lips as the satin soaked up the spill. Upon them I tasted the sweetness she had drank, the reward of her licentious labours that flowed so freely from the altar at which she worshipped with her tongue.
I held her pretty face and kissed her with softness. I breathed her and drew my tongue across her lips. “That was lovely, Kitty,” I purred, kissing her as I licked my flavour from her cheeks and chin. She blushed as I did, and in the mirror of her features, as her jet black hair cascaded over her shoulder and tickled my own I thought of how I might look, my dark eyes glittering so as my reddened cheeks glistened with feminine pleasure.
Kitty was all giggles and sighs. I loved her so. As if in response to the unuttered thoughts which swirled in my dizzied mind she looked down at me with such warmth as she softly said, “I love you, Miss Laura.”
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