Mistress Agnes Ch. 02

Of course that was against the law, but no-one would find out, they would take a comely wild youth from the back-streets of town, lock him up and tame him just enough to keep him interesting. Everything was in place in her attic, Cook didn't know, Dick wouldn't talk and wouldn't be believed anyway if he did, and Patrick and Guy were hers and hers alone.

She had spent half an hour of each day in that attic, sitting on the large, comfortable bed, stroking the heavy iron collar as if it already contained a humble victim, oppressed and obedient on the outside, but burning with fire within.

The room of course was clean and comfortable, Agnes was not going to visit her slave in a filthy dungeon, and naturally she wanted him to be well-cared for. His only problem would have to be lack of freedom, not discomfort.

Once she had her victim, she would feed him well and offer him books to relieve his boredom, and of course herself. A whip would guarantee her safety, and Patrick could guard her from behind a screen. Or if her slave was very large and very dangerous, Dick, though Dick might be even harder to control than her slave in an emergency.

But Guy and Patrick had promised her to solve that, they trusted themselves to find a suitable slave for the mistress, and had a contact in town scouring the streets already.

The very idea of the attic soon having its inhabitant, living his life just for her, to please her, gave her a pleasant shiver, and she braved the cold and the worsening rain without so much as a mutter to herself.

Her horse was eager for a run, and it was time to stop woolgathering anyway, so she cantered towards the nearest dry spot, and let it have its head.

A real hunter, it was very spirited, and soon reached top speed in a flying gallop. None of her men wanted to accompany her, neither of them had ever learned, because of their low birth or having spent their youths in the city. So Agnes went out on her own, her dogs her sole companions, and well-able to keep her safe from wild animals or poachers alike.

Frederick had been an avid hunter, but when he was alive she had never even contemplated riding astride on a fiery hunter or shooting a live animal. She had accompanied him on rides, but on a gentle palfrey, using a lady's saddle.

Getting back to the country with Patrick and Guy, and finding both her own horse and Frederick's hunter still well cared-for in the stables, she decided to sell her palfrey, but she couldn't bear to part with her beloved's horse. So she learned to ride it herself, feeling close to Frederick when she was out on the moors alone, with his pack of hounds, and his gun.

As hill after hill covered in heath flew by, she could feel the horse labouring for breath, and since her dogs were nowhere in sight she brought the horse to a walk and looked around her. Behind her, she could hear one of the hounds bay, the deep sound carrying even in the strong wind.

Turning her horse's head, it was time to return home anyway, she soon found them, gathered around some dead animal lying on the edge of a moor, a nasty, soggy place, with treacherous footing.

Her horse did not object to getting closer so it was probably safe to walk on, and Agnes wanted to see why the dogs hadn't snatched a few bites from the cadaver, as they usually did before she could call them off. They were trained not to attack live prey unless commanded to, so maybe there was still some life in this animal.

Coming close, the dogs made room for her horse, and she saw it wasn't an animal at all. Lying on the edge of a puddle, a mere two steps away from a watery grave in the spongy mosses of a moor, was a man.

Agnes slid off the saddle, and secured the reins to her belt. It wouldn't do to let her horse run off, with her all alone and no-one in the house in the possession of even the slightest sense of direction or knowledge of the heath and the moors.

No, she'd have to look out for herself.

The man was indeed alive, though very cold and not conscious. He was young, not even thirty she guessed, and he had been lost or on the run for quite some time, judging from his beard and the state of his clothing.

His coat was soaked and clearly military in origin. Could he be a deserter? The nearest military camp was at least three days ride away, and the weather had been atrocious. No wonder he was dying at last, it was a sign of incredible determination that he had made it this far.

He had no signs of rank on his coat, which meant he had either lost them, thrown them away, or never had them. A private then, and privates in the regular army were reputed to be rabble from town, only one step up from criminals, headstrong and violent.

Was this man the answer to her prayers?

Trying to evaluate how close he was to death, she counted his heartbeat and found it low. He was indeed cold, and his cheeks seemed hollow beneath a week's beard. He was too heavy to lift, and besides, her horse was very tall, she'd never be able to lift a grown man that high.

If she wanted to rescue him, she'd have to warm him and get enough life in him to get on the horse with just her help.

Decision made, she removed her cloak, and dragging him to a higher place with quite some effort, managed to wrap him in it. Too bad she didn't have a shot of liquor on her, as Frederick used to have when he went out. She sat down next to the man, trying to warm him a little with her own body-heat, never even considering he might be a danger to her, if he was indeed a deserter.

After twenty minutes, she guessed he should be a bit warmer, she was getting cold herself and needed to go home soon or risk her own life.

A bit of noise might help to revive him, so she slapped his face a little and shouted, 'Wake up, wake up, you lazy bugger!'

That was what she guessed he was used to wake up to.

And whether that was true or not, he did stir, and mumbled something, so she kept going.

'Come on, you, wake up, it's life or death now, there's a nice warm room waiting for you if you get up. And hot food, a bed, blankets.'

And it worked!

The eyes opened, delirious with hunger and fatigue, but they opened, a semblance of intelligence entering their depths.

'Where am I?' a broken voice asked.

'Never mind, man, get on my horse or I'll have to get help, which means half an hour or an hour longer in your soggy coat. If it pleases the hounds to find you again. Get up, come on!'

She didn't doubt him being a soldier anymore, he was very sensitive to commands, and tried to get up. With her support he managed to get to his legs, and she prayed fervently that he was strong enough to get in a saddle, and that her horse wouldn't shy from a stranger.

He was up, and seemed to have a last supply of courage to draw on, for he got one foot in the stirrup. One hand on the horse's flank, she pushed his butt up with the other, grabbing his belt to keep him from falling off on the other side.

But he didn't, he actually seemed able to ride. The stirrups didn't fit, of course, and he slumped in the saddle, and in a second Agnes decided to use the stirrup to climb on behind him. He was not very large, and it would be impossible to keep him on the horse from the ground, it was just too tall.

Releasing the rein quickly, and pulling it over the head of her horse, she climbed on and sat awkwardly on the back of the saddle. Feeling her hand on the rein, having had its run, the horse did what she asked and ignored the extra weight and the awkward balance of it.

When they reached the house after half an hour, Agnes was chilled to the bone, and deadly tired keeping herself in the saddle whilst trying to balance a heavier man as well as guide the horse. But being late also had its advantages, the stable-boy came running to take the rein, Patrick caught Agnes as she nearly fell off, and Guy caught the man as he really did fall off, unconscious once again.

Dick also came running, and Guy asked him to take the man into the house.

Looking helplessly at Agnes, she understood Dick would rather help her, but she could still stand.

'I can walk, Dick, thank you so much for your concern. But that poor man needs you more right now, please take him to the attic, Patrick will follow and tell you what to do. You can build a fire there.'

That pleased Dick, and he carefully lifted the still shape to his shoulders and walked towards the house.

Agnes left the horse and the dogs to the stable-boy, and was supported into the house herself by Guy and Patrick, until she felt life return to her legs as they warmed up.

'Patrick, will you see to Dick and our guest? I can manage to get to my room with Guy's help. I'll be with you as quickly as I can.'

And she did indeed reach her room, life returning to her hands and feet quickly as she walked through the warm house.

Once in her room, Guy advised her to take a hot bath, but she didn't want to take the time, so he merely rubbed her hands and legs warm, then helped her into dry clothes and towelled her hair dry.

Within half an hour she was in her attic, a cheery fire chasing away the cold and the dark, her soldier lying on the bed, still unconscious but cleaned up, dressed in a nightshirt, and tucked into the bed comfortably.

Patrick had everything well in hand, that was obvious, Dick was happy because he got to build the fire, and as Guy and the mistress came in, Patrick was just on his way out.

'I was going to fetch some broth and some smelling salts, I think he needs fluids, salts and a bit of nourishment more than anything. Know what you are about, mistress, his back was covered with stripes healed over. You asked for a bad boy, but this one may be more than we can handle.'

Agnes was not impressed, everyone knew that army sergeants liked to whip the privates under their command, and anyway, she wanted a violent man.

'Better get what you need, Patrick, if he turns out wrong, we can always set him on his way. He's a deserter, who will listen to his ramblings?'

Pretty soon, Patrick had their patient vaguely awake and sitting up, spooning some rich broth into his mouth, which the man eagerly swallowed, waking up a little more to fill his empty stomach.

When the young soldier became restless, Patrick stayed perfectly calm, talking soothingly.

'That's good, isn't it? There will be more later, but if you eat too much now, you'll be sick. Here, have some water as well. There is a pot under your bed if you need to go, if you are too weak, ring the bell and help will come. Calm now, you're safe here, just finish this broth, and rest and get warm.

You're not hurt or sick, are you?'

A thin voice said, 'Just tired, and still cold. Haven't had a bite in three days. A lady saved me, or was it a dream?'

Agnes sat on the other side of the bed, and took the man's hand.

'It was I who found you and put you on my horse. Please rest, you will be fed regularly.'

When the broth was finished, Patrick helped him back under the blankets where he fell asleep instantly.

That was a difficult moment, for it was clear Patrick was not going to take well to keeping someone who wasn't violent or raving mad restrained against his will.

'You need not watch this, Patrick, you did well. Guy, better take him downstairs and get some rest. This man will need a lot of care, we'll share the burden equally.'

As Guy took Patrick down the stairs, Agnes picked up the collar, and slowly, lovingly, shut it around the sleeping man's throat, putting the key in her pocket.

'I'll take great care of you, whoever you are.'

Then she resolutely turned her back on him, she was still heated and wanted her release.

'Come Dick, let's go to our room.'

Of course Dick followed readily, down the stairs, to the left, three doors to the right.

Closing the door behind them, she removed his shirt, then started on his trousers, as he carefully released her dress and helped her out of it. Their underwear followed, and this time, Dick tried to kiss her, and she let him.

As ever, she was surprised at the skills he had acquired despite his slowness, he really was a good kisser, and he even smelled nice, clean, but also rather exciting.

The sight of his manhood still caused her pussy to burn, and his legs were strong and well-shaped. He was actually quite a good specimen, if he had been normally gifted he would have had girls for the picking. But his mental capacity didn't matter to her, she had others to talk to, Dick was very useful to her, and his affection for her was touching.

Soon, they were stroking with heat, and he actually wanted to sit between her legs and lick her first. Where did he get that idea? She had never taught him to do that, Dick was good for firm coupling, not for tender loving, but he looked at her so pleadingly that she allowed him to.

And it was good, he was so eager to please, so greedy, he really wanted this, and now she was used to the idea of having him there she wanted it, too, he wasn't slow anymore, but positively active, he stuck a large finger inside her and found the exact right spot to get a surprised little cry out of her.

Soon, the world started spinning, and she could feel a release well up from deep inside her, shocking its way out with force. As she still lay savouring the ebbing feeling, he covered her with his entire body, and thrust himself in her with force, as usual.

But this time, it was different, every nerve in her body was set on fire by the high he had given her just before, and every thrust pushed one of those little squeals out of her. His stomach was rock-hard, he was not like so many other men of low intelligence, he did not overeat, and he worked hard so his body was firm with muscle.

He filled her up so totally that his solid belly touched her clitoris, which was already on fire and waiting for more. Leaning on his arms to open herself even more to him, every thrust brought her closer to some exquisite state of ecstasy, and it wasn't long before she cried out, a towering high washing over her.

He was grinning now, increasing his efforts, showing his own ardour, he looked different, almost like a normal man in the throes of passion. This time, the release came quickly and violently, and only a fraction after that he arched and crashed on top of her, something he had never dared do before either.

Of course he caught himself on his arms, or Agnes would have been crushed by his body, but still she thought it was rather daring of him. Ever since their first time he had been almost timid towards her, sometimes too much so. This was much better, but only if his attitude in real life didn't change. She would not accept such behaviour from him outside the bedroom.

He must have felt that, for he immediately rolled to the side and was back to his usual meek self. A cheeky smile did lighten up his plain face, though, and Agnes was relieved to find him still respectful of her, but also affected by his pride in his own prowess.

'That was really good, Dick,' she praised him, 'you really made me cry out this time.'

Of course he couldn't keep a secret, and he admitted, 'Patrick told me what to do. He said you liked that very much, he said I needed to get better with a new man coming.

How did he know, mistress?'

Poor Dick knew nothing of Agnes' plans, so this must have seemed like Patrick predicting her finding the soldier on the moors.

Agnes felt some true affection for this gentle giant, and she snuggled against him and stroked his flat stomach, and the inside of his legs. He was not ticklish at all, and he enjoyed her touch, unlike the boys, who involuntarily shied from her. For a moment, she doubted her decision, wondered why she didn't just try to school Dick further, he would never try to rule her, and apparently he could give a lot more than just rough coupling.

'Why don't you have a baby, mistress? You told me what we do is like cow and bull, and mare and stallion. Mum told me they make babies.'

It had to take all his courage to ask such a frank question of his mistress, he could have asked Patrick.

'I think I cannot have babies, Dick, I was married for ten years and never had one.'

'That is sad, I like babies.'

Agnes said cheerily, 'Well, you won't have any with me. If you want babies, you'll have to find yourself another woman. But I've heard they are a lot of work and worry.'

'My mum said I shouldn't have babies, they'd be like me. Will you send me away now you have another man?'

That was so sad!

'Of course I won't! Dick, you do important work here. You can stay as long as you do your job well, and Patrick is right, I liked what you did just now. This will still be our room, we will still make love here. You know I make love to Patrick and Guy as well, I'm not going to send them away either.'

She stroked him some more, and kissed him, he was a good kisser, and she couldn't imagine any other man combining such a large dick with such fervour and so little hassle.

'Let's get back to work, and don't worry about that man. He's not here to harm you.'