A Sissy Saga Ch. 15

In addition to constant physical stimulation Poppy offered his own eager urging. "Your chopper's like a log, Reg. I can tell it needs to unload something. Come on, don't be shy, you know you want to do it. Do it now. Do some nice spunkies for me." His voice was light, almost musical in tone, yet it carried the odd kind of huskiness that men found spine tingling.

A deep groan came from inside the cupboard. "Oooaar, hahhh!" and when it happened Reg's initial ejaculation was a spectacular projectile cum of championship magnitude. A thick rope of semen spurted halfway across the kitchen and hit the floor with an audible splat. Plenty more followed, but none of it matched the same velocity and it merely heaved out over Poppy's fingers in big wet glops of milky goo.

Poppy was impressed. "Oh, Reg, what a lovely creamy. You really let a girl know when she'd being appreciated. I bet you're making babies all over Yorkshire."

Jennifer slipped quietly away. No need to interrupt while the plumber was still working and Poppy was doing such a good job.

Later she went into the hall when Reg appeared and stood with him while he wrote out an invoice. "Everything okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah," the plumber said, still looking slightly red faced. "The gunge in that U-bend must have been building up for fifty years. I've told the girl in the kitchen to run the taps for a while to flush the pipes through."

"Good idea. My mother always reckons things work better when the tubes have been cleaned out."

Reg went out through the side door, a ruptured cavalier, his scrotum drained and aching. Jennifer went straight away to the kitchen where Poppy was busy with a bucket of soapy water and a mop. "Workmen always leave a mess when they call, don't they Jennifer?" he said innocently.

She looked at him and arched a single cynical eyebrow. "They do in this house."

***

By the time Miriam Hancock's car came up the drive the photographer's had departed and affairs at Fairyfield had settled back into their routine. Having had quite enough of trying to control Outsider's for one day Jennifer was rather glad to give responsibly for everything back over to her mother. Miriam was pleased to be back too, but a blight was quickly put on her return when Hardwick divulged something unwholesome that he had been concealing from her daughter since the previous day.

Miriam's face was grim as she observed his wretched figure slumped in the chair facing her. "Just what happened yesterday whilst I was away? Don't miss anything out. I need to know everything if you want me to help you."

The gym instructor, usually so jaunty and dapper sat limp and forlorn and intensely pale. A nervous tic jerked the angle of his jawbone, and the fingers of his clasped hands moved ceaselessly. He was distraught and almost sobbing. "Ooh, they'll put me in prison, and there are big men in prisons who bully people like me all the time. I won't be able to take it, I may have to kill myself."

"Don't become hysterical Mr Hardwick. At the moment all you've told me is that you could be arrested at any moment for gross indecency and sexual molestation, but when I telephoned the police station just now they told me it was the nasty kind of assault that is tantamount to rape."

"Rape? Oh, dear. Oh dear oh dear."

I fail to understand you. For the past year your behaviour as been exemplary, you've always been happy enough to amuse yourself with what we have in the school, and now all of a sudden we have this. Tell me what happened, and be precise about it."

The man made an attempt to gather his wits. "Yesterday afternoon I had a spare period, so I went to fix the front gate out by the road. It's starting to sag you see, so I..."

"Yes, yes. Do get to the part I need to know about."

"There was a young fellow outside on the road, circling round on a shiny red bike." His eyes widened. "I didn't say anything to him. I didn't know him and I remember the warnings you've given me in the past about getting involved with Outsiders. But he spoke to me. He was friendly."

"Then what happened?"

"He was beautiful. He was wearing tight cycling shorts and showing lovely bare legs. He kept riding in circles and smiling, and he kept talking. Such a chatterbox. He was unbelievably sweet. Then he went across to the other side of the road and said he was going to do something behind the hedge."

"And then?"

"I couldn't help myself. I crossed the gravel road and found him sitting on the stump of a tree, leaning back on his hands with his cock and his balls fully exposed.

Miriam uttered a sigh of resignation.

"I would never force my attention on anyone that was unwilling, you know me well enough to be aware of that," Hardwick continued morosely, "He didn't seem to mind me touching him. He seemed to enjoy being handled, and he did a tremendous dollop over my fingers."

"Hell!" Miriam exclaimed angrily.

"I'm sorry Miss Hancock, I know I've let you down." he snivelled with the uncontrolled gusto of a ten year old child. "But he was so endearing and seemed so eager and willing. He was impossible to resist and never gave a hint he would make a complaint about me. Oh, Miss Hancock, what am I to do?"

"Did you bugger him?"

"No, but I did persuade him to suck me off. That didn't take very long, I was quite excited. I don't think he liked it much, so maybe it was the first time he'd let a man go off in his mouth. Perhaps that's why he made a complaint."

Miriam stood up and turned to look out of the window, but her mind was in turmoil and she saw nothing of the view. "You've done me a great disservice Mr Hardwick. Image is everything, and this will be in the newspapers in no time. When people learn I employ a sexual molester at Fairyfield they'll avoid it like the plague, and no one of any importance will wish to be associated with me.

There'll be questions asked - investigations - social workers, police, bumptious officials of all kinds - all poking and prying into what we do here. They'll murder us. All my sponsors will crawl back into the woodwork where they came from. It will kill the school."

She was desperately trying not to hyperventilate. Nothing was going right, was it? First there was the National Trust challenging her over probate, and now suddenly this - the kind of scandal that promised ruination. She felt powerless, just like a bloody Nero plucking away on a bloody ukulele while things fizzed and popped around her.

She was upset. She had allowed things to upset her. She could feel the blood coursing into her cheeks and her heart begin an uneven dance. She stood still, thinking slowly, taking her time, breathing deeply, telling herself not to be a fool. She'd been in tight spots before and they'd never daunted her. Every problem had its solution, it just needed to be found. Self reliance, that was the key, the one thing that could pull her through whatever crisis fate chose to throw at her. To be one's self. Independent. Not witless. To be able to make decisions and plot the course of events, and change them if needs be. She'd always been good at that.

"You must help me Miss Hancock," Hardwick whined, "I must get away. Help me go abroad. I'll go to France. I have friends on the continent."

"You will not go anywhere," snapped Miriam, "You're no Bonny Prince Charlie and I'm no Flora MacDonald. You'll remain here with me until we've sorted out this - problem."

The man's shoulders sagged. "I'm so ashamed."

He was on the point of tears, but Miriam didn't notice, nor did his plaintive whimpering register in her mind. Her thoughts suddenly cleared as they often did when she concentrated hard. She suddenly felt calmer and she smiled to herself. Everything was so obvious, a child could have worked it out. "I tend to smell a rat about this business, Hardwick." she said eventually.

"A rat, headmistress?"

"Yes. Are you sure you didn't know the young man on the bike?"

"On my honour. I'd never seen him before in my life - 'cept, 'cept, now you mention it I recall he did have a resemblance to a young fellow I saw buying grass seed at Larkin's emporium in the village. He may work on one of the estates around here."

Miriam clapped her hands. "Ha, so I suspect he would know who you were. Now, who knew you were going to fix the gate yesterday afternoon?"

"No one - well, I told no one special. I may have mentioned it to some of the cleaning women earlier in the day."

"That would be enough to alert everyone in Yorkshire to your movements. Anyone with a motive to do you ill would know exactly where and when to find you."

The woman's mouth tightened. "I think you've been set-up, Mr Hardwick, vindictively and intentionally. And your downfall was meant as a means to destroy my school. Do you know the name of this young man."

"Yes, the police told me his name because he'd registered a complaint against me."

The mystery seemed solved and for the first time since her return home Miriam Hancock felt kindly. "Some evil person as frightened you half to death, but there is no need to worry any more. I believe I have the measure of things now. You've had a shock. Would you like a brandy?"

The man shook his head. "Something soft would be okay. A juice. A glass of water will do."

Miriam shrugged. "Don't you drink?"

"Not alcohol."

Extraordinary, thought the headmistress. Hardwick was a middle-aged teetotal gentleman, probably well bred and without any of the more common vices. He was so soft-centred he never struck the students himself but always sent them off to a prefect if punishment had been earned. Shame he was an incurable pervert.

Later, when discussing the subject with Jennifer, her daughter had given her a concerned look. "We should get out of this sissy school business while we still have a chance, mummy. There are too many pitfalls in running a place like this. We should sell-up and move somewhere else and settle for dealing in groceries."

Miriam replied wistfully. "In France this house would be termed a chateau and I would be a chatelaine. French names spoken in English sound so grand, and they so often generate a sense of romance and importance, don't they?"

For a moment her eyes smouldered, then she added gutturally, "I'm greedy. I want importance. I want more of everything, and the best way of getting it is to hang on here." Her face turned towards her daughter. "I want you to take a trip out this evening, Jennifer. I'll ask Emma to drive you. The two of you together will make a formidable combination."

She telephoned early the following morning. "Lady Chance-Barton? Miriam Hancock here."

"What is it Miss Hancock?"

"I'm so pleased I caught you in. You've probably heard of the trouble my Mr Hardwick as got himself into."

"Trouble - I've heard nothing, and it seems indelicate to inquire."

"It's a tiresome affair. Mr Hardwick as had some trouble with a young fellow called Rupert Ramsbottom. I think you may know who I mean."

"I've a gardener called Ramsbottom, it's probably his son. What's all this got to do with me?"

"Mr Hardwick desperately needs someone to intercede on his behalf."

"Intercede? Help him?" the reply dripped contempt. "He's beyond help I think. I understand the pervert was kicked out of his job in London for pursuing a series of indecencies, and frankly I'm horrified that you ever employed him in the first place. He should have been locked up years ago."

"I feel you are being unfair Lady Diana. His past I'm not qualified to comment about, but these recent allegations are too bizarre to be given credence. And even if they were true, he alone would not be to blame. From the circumstances as I understand them, I tend to think someone procured the young man for him, and if he is to be punished it would only be proper, don't you think, that such a despicable person should be punished also."

There was a pause, and then a reply echoed hollow through the wire. "Just what are you inferring, Miss Hancock?"

Miriam clutched the phone tighter and her heart pounded as she rounded on the woman. "What I'm TELLING your ladyship is that I know you bribed Rupert Ramsbottom. You gave him money, and you told him to seek out Hardwick and entrap him in a sexually gross act and then report the matter to the police. You did it to destroy him and to ruin my school, but in the process you've become guilty of abetting a rapist."

Another pause, and then a shaky reply. "I - er - that's simply imagination on stilts, and if you repeat it anywhere you'd better find yourself a good lawyer."

"I sent Jennifer to see the young man in question last night. Few people can withstand an interrogation by her, and Rupert couldn't help but let everything spill out. He's already withdrawn the accusations he made yesterday and Hardwick is in the clear. But I was interested in hearing your response. Now I wont feel so bad about circulating certain photographs I have in my possession."

"Wait - don't..." the voice on the other end of the line took on a desperate nuance. "You know very well those filthy photographs were obtained by unscrupulous underhand means and my role in them was an engineered fabrication."

"I guess you're going to have to rely on everybody believing your explanation. The press call August the silly season, you know. With parliament in recess and half the world on holiday, it tends to be a quite time for news. Newspapers are tempted to make major stories out of minor things at such times, and they like nothing better than a sex scandal involving a celebrity to headline their front pages."

"Look, Miss Hancock - Miriam, I'd like to talk over this matter with you. Would you come and see me?"

"No, m'lady, I will not. But you can come and see me. I'll put you on my schedule for eight tomorrow evening. I can't abide unpunctuality, so be prompt. And wear something fitting for the occasion. I'm an headmistress, so put on something schoolgirlish."

Replacing the handset abruptly, Miriam Hancock stood still for a moment, trying to comprehend the enormity of the triumph she'd just achieved. She could feel the smile on her face as if someone had set it there. The hoity-toity Diana Chance-Barton was at her beckoning.

The elation passed eventually, but the contentment remained with her for the rest of the day.