The Highlands Hunt Club

It was mid-day and Clare Baines decided to remain at her desk and work. There was all too much to do before the upcoming season and Mr. Charles expected her to have everything ready in advance of their annual trip to the property.

Clare had taken the job on a whim. A conservative and prim, slightly naive single woman in her late forties, she needed something to keep her engaged, although she did not need the money. The job described in the advertisement sounded easy and the interview made it sound even better. She was instantly taken by Mr. Charles' charisma and she could hardly turn him down when he offered her the position. That was two years ago, almost to the day.

Her employer was the Highlands Hunt Club- an organization that ran a private hunting facility for its members. Only the socially well heeled were admitted. Mr. Charles was its founder and ran it out of his downtown financial advisory company. Clare and Mr. Charles met twice a week to discuss various issues but in general she was trusted to run the organization herself.

A few days after she started her employment she was organizing her desk and found a sealed envelope hidden in the back of a drawer under a clutter of items. In it was a ten page letter from Jeanette, her predecessor, addressed to her unknown successor.

The letter detailed a lurid relationship with Mr. Charles. It seemed to be as a warning to anyone who took her place but may have been a fantasy. Clare could not really tell. regardless, the content made her blush so hard she prayed Mr. Charles would not see her in such a condition. In fact, she blushed all that day that she had to keep her door closed. Yes, it was lurid, more so than anything she had ever read. No, it was not just an erotic piece about two individuals. It dealt with much more, taboo subjects which she thought were the subject of lore or fringe elements of society, cast-offs who lived among the less fortunate.

To Clare's amazement, Jeanette described a controlling man and a submissive devoted woman who did as she was asked, disciplined when disobedient, and summarily cast off without reason after years of dutiful service. Jeanette had written about the coming end, how she knew Mr. Charles had rejected her a month or two before but she did not know why, how he did not acknowledge her existence and she was left waiting in the balance for the final moment when he would dismiss her, forever casting her away, how she was stashing the letter in anticipatory precaution of the day it all ended and she might not be able to tell the entire story, and then it ended without conclusion, an unsolved mystery.

Clare read it, at first in shocked disbelief, then a second time with skepticism. She could not believe the tales and thought the Mr. Charles described in the letter did not fit the employer who had just hired her. being the lone employee, there was nobody to question regarding the circumstances of Jeanette's departure. During the interview, Mr. Charles had told her Jeanette had moved on to a new job for a change of pace, something more lucrative and challenging and that he was sorry she had left but the club's budget precluded matching her salary. Regardless of Jeanette's motives, Clare often found herself thinking about the contents, frequently re-reading it, absorbing the details with jaded fascination, and came to value it as the lone lurid snippet of sensational erotica in her life...

It was the beginning of October and the annual trip to the club's hunting grounds was upon them. As appointed, Clare met Mr. Charles at seven in the morning, bags packed and he drove them in his Jaguar into the mountains to the club's property. The ride lasted two hours. Even though they had worked together for two years, he never revealed much about himself, even when asked. All Clare knew was that Mr. Charles was well to do, had many social, political and business contacts, was very philanthropic, self assured and an honest businessman. She knew nothing about his home life, if he had family, his interests aside from hunting and work, and, when asked he deftly demurred response and moved onto another topic. It gnawed at Clare that the man she worked with was a virtual stranger to her. He treated her very well. She was enamored by his charisma, humble self confidence, understanding, patience and integrity. Then there were his looks- broad shoulders, muscular build, full black hair with touches of gray, dark hazel eyes and tall stature. But, she was irked by his slightly cold nature, and, Jeanette's letter, lurking in the back of her mind, beckoning her to wonder, "What if it is true???"

The ride, like the last two, was uneventful. All business talk, some idle chatter and nothing more. Once more they drove up the long winding private road to the chateau in the fields. This time of the year was the best time to visit. Yes, hunting season was around the corner and their trip a necessity, but it could not have been timed better. As they stepped out of the car, the morning frost was turning to sparkling dew drops balanced on the tips of the tall untamed meadow grasses waving in the gentle breeze. Hues of green, brown, orange red and chartreuse and shadows cast long in the low rising sun. The air was crisp and the day new, signaling there was work to be done.

Clare turned and marveled at the facility, the stone chateau and stables in the midst of hundreds of acres of fallow fields and woods, a marvelous marker of elegant intrusion unto the wild. It was only used during hunting season and the rest of the year it went unkempt. Now she and Mr. Charles had the task of inspecting for needed repairs and facility upgrades. And so their day began.....

After setting their bags in their respective rooms, the two worked hard to complete their tasks within two days time. Clare dutifully followed Mr. Charles, pad and pen in hand, taking notes as he spoke, memorializing what needed to be done, who to contact for the repairs, how much the club could afford to pay, who to employ and when they should start. When in use, the facility was staffed by locals who served as cooks, bartenders, maids and the like. Members were waited on hand and foot. No expense was spared- it was first class operation.

Formality for Mr. Charles was the standard. Despite being out of the office, the physically fit mid-fifty year old Mr. Charles dressed for the event as if it was a regular working day- shirt and jacket- and he expected nothing less from Clare. Fulfilling her employer's standard, she dressed herself appropriately- knee length blue business skirt and matching leather high heels, cream colored blouse and hose. To Clare, it seemed silly that they were dressed so formally with nobody else around. But, that was her boss and his way.

By five o'clock, they had inspected most of the property and had made their way into the lounge area. It was the main social area for members to relax after a long day on the hunt. A grand room it was- high vaulted ceilings with hand cut wood beams supporting the frame, a large open hearth fireplace on a stone wall, three wood paneled walls, and an assortment of leather chairs, couches and pictures of fox hunts on the walls. The chateau, and this room in particular, represented the bastion of capitalism and decadence, comfort and relaxation, and, Clare was soaking it all in as she took a seat on the brown leather ottoman positioned before the fireplace as Mr. Charles walked along the stone wall, pensively inspecting the various antique hunting and equestrian items members had donated over the years. Among them, Alex Boyd's old English rifle from the 1700's leaned in one corner, in the other corner stood Willie Jones' riding boots, a memorial to a long gone fallen friend, Jack Carrington's favorite riding crop dangled on a hook, and, the bit and bridle of Adrian Smith's favorite steed nearby.

"Sir," Clare started noting the prolonged silence, "are you ok?"

Mr. Charles did not answer for half a minute and the silence was deafening. Then he started, his back to Clare as he asked, "Do you believe all that was said in that letter?"

Clare's heart fell through her stomach and panic set in. She had no idea that he knew about Jeanette's writing and just assumed it would never be the topic of conversation. She stammered at first, stunned he though she had read it, "I... I.. have my doubts about it. You seem so otherwise...." she said cornered and embarrassed by the conversation.

"Do you read it often?" he asked.

"No, not really...."

"But you do read it from time to time?" he pressed on.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Well, just so you know, it is all true," he confessed. Unexpected moisture formed along the edges of her pussy as he turned and stood before her. Mr. Charles unabashedly looked down at her exposed stocking clad knees, and peering into her open shirt, observing her cleavage and imaging her hidden heaving bosoms. His gaze slowly crossed her body and sent shivers through her as she waited in silence for his next words.

"Clare, get on your knees," he directed. After two prior trips to the club alone with Mr. Charles and no hint that Jeanette's tale was true, she never thought this would happen. She hesitated for a moment conflicted by the fear of Jeanette's fate and her affinity for Mr. Charles.

"Clare?" he said. She cautiously complied, head down, wondering what he was going through his mind. Mr. Charles released his pants and removed his cock from his boxers. It hung before her eyes. He was well endowed and his excitement told her what he wanted. She took to it with her typical efficiency, eager to please him.

Mr. Charles looked down at Clare as she suckled his sex. He had long been taken by her beauty- her short jet black hair, her almond shaped eyes, fire engine red painted lips, pearl earrings and necklace, buxom build, the skirt which hugged her round buttock and the silk blouse that caressed her heaving breasts. All that day he had craved to hold them in his hands and suckle the large nipples he suspected she harbored.

His masculine hands caressed the back of her head as her mouth slowly suckled his large phallus, deliberately teasing him and holding him on the edge of release. A drop of precum anointed her tongue and the taste sent shivers through her pussy. He gasped trying to hold off the on rushing release until he commanded, "Stand up and drop your skirt." Clare complied revealing her thigh high laced stockings, garters and belt. Mr. Charles was more than pleased with his catch.

"Lay down on the ottoman," he told her. As she did, in a deft movement he hoisted her legs by the ankles, swiftly reached down, grabbed the waistband of her panties and pulled them off her person, exposing her dark dewy bush. He looked down at her exposed untamed sex and his lust welled and heaved within his chest. Within a second he had her legs spread and pinned back by the crux of his elbows, his hard cock poking at the hairy entrance to he cunt. "Oh yes," she quietly quipped and he pushed into her, passing through her soft wet petals, spreading and filling her as he entered.

His hands reached for her blouse and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere as her breasts were exposed for his pleasure. Her hands reached up to hold him and her arms pushed her globes together. Her nipples aligned before him and pointed upward, the large crowns begging for his attention. He leaned down and sucked the erect nubs as he rutted on her. Instantly she was soaking wet and her pussy pulsated. He too was close and lifted his head, replacing it with a hand and he pinched her nipple. "Oh yes," she gasped and he pinched harder.

Their bodies intertwined like a three dimensional jig saw puzzle, she locked down as his quarry. He began the hard steady thrusts toward release. "Yes, Mr. Charles, yes,... yes, finish inside me," she gasped as he pinched her nipple harder. Her body began to shudder and he noticed the heat in her cunt. He pinched even harder and she screamed in pain; pinned down, he forced himself into her, violently thrusting as the pleasure washed over her. She arched her neck and cried out. His seed shot into her, steadily streaming as she whimpered. He shuddered and bucked, finally taking her as his, asserting his dominance.

When it was over he stood and pulled on his pants. She sat up and exhaled hard as she tried to cover herself with the ruined blouse not sure what to say, if anything.

"I've anticipated this moment for a long time. I was never sure you would oblige me. I hope you found it as wonderful as I did. There is much for me to teach you and our time here is so short..." he said giving her a hand to help her up, "Meet me her at 8:00 tonight. The outfit I want you to wear hangs in your closet."