Mistress Agnes Ch. 07

And so Dennis rambled outside, a borrowed coat keeping him warm on this wet day, his hair dripping on the oiled fabric, his spirits lifting with the renewed realization he was free!

He actually ran for a while, finding it easier than he expected, and totally exhilarated he walked on, sticking to the path faithfully, hope for the future taking over from his feeling of loss.

When he reached the first village he crossed it to just see the sights, the tiny farms, the rough cattle, the village square with its gathering place around a large fire-pit.

Then he turned around and walked back, still keeping a good pace, ever wetter from the rain but not caring.

Almost in sight of the house he cut across a tall hill, planning to be childish and run down the long slope towards the house. Going up was a drag, but the path was climbing almost as much, though not as steeply.

And down was even more fun than he thought, faster than the wind, rain still drizzling, he breathed in deeply as he ran.

To be overtaken by three large hounds, they didn't threaten him but merely joined him in his fun, they rarely met a human who liked running as much as they did. At least, that is what Dennis thought when they passed him, then circled him and ran along with him, all the way down the hill.

Only when he reached the bottom and saw the house did he wonder whose dogs they were, and as they crowded around to have their ears and faces scratched, he heard hoof beats behind him. Of course he knew who it had to be, and he didn't want to turn around, so he scratched the dogs some more.

But when the hoof beats came to a standstill, the hounds ran to their mistress, and Dennis had to face his mistress as well.

She was as beautiful as ever, sitting that tall horse astride, and proudly so. She didn't look a bit less feminine in breeches, and though he knew he was staring, he couldn't help himself. Two large birds dangled from her saddle, dinner for all of them, she always shared her kills with her servants.

Without a visible cue from her, the horse strode towards him and nuzzled his borrowed coat. He stroked its nose, he didn't have a lot of experience with horses, but he wasn't afraid of them, he could ride a little, and he knew how to care for them, at least for the hardy army horses.

He still stared at his mistress, and she stared right back, and for an eternity, nothing happened.

Then the leg furthest from him swung over the front of the saddle elegantly, a feat he would not have believed possible if he hadn't seen it. And before he had processed that image, he saw her sliding down the saddle, straight towards him.

He could either step back and let her land on her feet, or stay put and catch her.

In a split second he had her in his arms, and she clung to him, crying.

He felt his throat slam shut, his wheeze back instantly, he couldn't speak or even cry, he was just frozen up completely.

'Oh Dennis, my love, please don't leave me!'

He still couldn't speak, no words came out, just wheezes.

She looked up at him, and he looked her straight in the eye, feeling only a slight inclination to kneel to her, easily suppressed.

'Oh my love, what have I done to you? Can you ever forgive me?'

He wanted to tell her it wasn't as bad as it looked, he had run down that hill after all, but still his voice didn't work, she was so beautiful, and he wanted her so much, had only wanted to please her, all this time.

But though he could not speak, he could show her his love by holding her, by nuzzling her throat eagerly, her scent faint but as delicious as ever.

That settled her, and still attributing his wheezes and his inability to speak to her abuse, she said through her tears, 'My name is Agnes, Dennis. When you find your breath back, will you call me by my name, please?'

'There is nothing wrong with my breath, Agnes,' he finally managed to whisper. 'The wheezes, they're just anxiety, nerves. I've never really recovered from the war, you see. I'm not just rabble, I'm damaged goods as well.'

'Aren't we all, Dennis? Will you stay with me for now, see if we can live with each other's rubble, maybe do some clearing up together?'

'I will, my love, I never wanted anything more than be with you all the time. I've been sick with love more than anything else the last few weeks.'

'Are you sure? I did some horrible things to you, they will take some forgiving. I shudder to think how I treated the man I knew I loved.'

'I've been through worse, Agnes, I'll forgive you readily if you are willing to share things with me.'

'Oh my love, you're too good for this world, I cannot forgive myself that easily.

Let's get you inside, you're wet and cold, I'll take much better care of you from now on.'

The horse had long since gone back to its stable, but the hounds were still waiting.

Dennis fearlessly took Agnes' face in both his hands, and kissed her intimately. She leaned into him and returned the kiss, her hands stroking his cheek as if nothing had ever come between them.

But that didn't get him out of the rain, and into a warm house.

Maybe he doesn't want to be warm and comfortable, part of Agnes' mind offered. Maybe he wants to be outside, get wet, roam the moor in the rain to celebrate his freedom.

'Do you even want to go inside, Dennis? I can imagine your being reluctant entering a place where you suffered so badly. If you want to stay outside I'll show you how to walk the moor in safety, so you can go wherever it pleases you.'

'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 heart-rending, 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 his breath back.

'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, not 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 a 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 seemed suddenly 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 beneath 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.'