The Gentleman's Accomplice Ch. 08

Chapter Eight

Chelsea awakes a very different woman.

Chelsea woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She was back in her room at Sir Douglas's house and she had been woken by the memory of what had happened the night before. She felt quite sore on her bottom and thighs, many of those attending the party had been quite rough in the handling of her tender flesh.

She had been dreaming of the man who had been flogged before her eyes the night before. There had been a look on his face, as if he was in some kind of an ecstatic trance while he had been both flogged and orally pleasured. She realised that none of the men present had been allowed to whip him, although several had asked the stern faced matron who had been overseeing the event and been turned away to some of the other people on display' She assumed that it was probably something that was unique to his particular desire, but was fascinated by what she had seen.

This dream had been extremely erotic, in it she had both whipped the gentleman until blood was running down his back, and then she had climbed on top of him, impaling herself on his rock hard cock. The feel of his cock inside her had felt so real she could almost still feel it now that she was awake.

She was so wet, so twitchy with sexual frustration that she knew that she would have to bring herself to orgasm right there.

She moaned as she rolled over onto her front, reaching between her legs to stoke her slippery and silky smooth flesh. The feel of her own wetness between her thighs always made her feel feverish and hot. She always thought of herself at moments like these like a cat, twining itself around it's owners legs, rubbing and purring, begging for affection.

She slid her fingers inside herself and her orgasm exploded over her like a wave. She screamed aloud, gasping at the feel of her innermost muscles squeezing against her fingers as they moved inside of her. Her body writhed under her own touch and she felt all of this sexual energy that had accumulated within her arc across her brain in a multicoloured burst of orgasmic energy.

As she came, she could feel the muscles in her abdomen and thighs clench and shake and the feel of it of was so intense that afterwards she could only lie there, wide eyed, feeling like all of the hair on her body was standing on end.

This left her shaking and feeling very light headed. She lay there for a while, feeling totally at peace and empty. No thoughts, no emotions, just at peace. She felt like a stained glass window from a church, with sunlight shining through it.

She didn't know how long she lay there, but she started to come back into focus with the world around her coming back into view. Her stomach rumbled in a very loud way which made her laugh. For some reason, the image of her finishing school governess, a very stern woman by the name of Ms. Fotheringham who had taken a very direct interest in her upbringing as a proper young lady popped into her mind.. She had taught her the importance of suppressing such bodily rumblings, and the image of her lecturing her about her behaviour the previous evening, when she was stripped and exposed to the crowd made her laugh.

She got herself dressed in the clothes that Onna had arranged for her. She found the kimono garments that Onna provided to be very comfortable, unlike many of the corseted and binding clothes that she had worn previously. She felt very free, free of worry and concern and strangely proud.

The pride was something that she was not expecting. Her upbringing which had been a strictly Anglican rural upbringing had been quite disciplined with an emphasis on civilised pursuits. This had been tempered by the common sense about the natural world that living on her fathers extensive estates had brought. One could not ignore the realities of life in such an environment, from seeing the pigs slaughtered for the Christmas hams to seeing her favourite mare mounted by her fathers prized stallion, the reality of mother nature was everywhere to be seen.

She remembered that the sight of the stallions penis had her in a fit for a week! It had looked so huge that she had to be reassured by one of her older female friends that a man's organ was not the same size or dimension as the one she had seen in the mounting yards.

The first time she had held a mans cock in her hand had been a very different situation and she had felt a great deal more enthusiasm for the task. She had learnt the arts of being a woman from the many women around her fathers house and as her mother had died in childbirth, she had been raised mostly by these women and had learned as much from her governess on the social arts of conversation as she had from the hurried whispered conversations about sex and men with the scullery maids in the kitchen.

One night shortly after her eighteenth birthday, she had done the unthinkable and had crept away from her bedroom in the dead of night and had taken her horse down to the village inn, where she met up with several of the women from the kitchen.

By the time she had gotten there the men had been well and truly into their cups, so she was seen as just another one of the women there that night. In cold and sober daylight, they would have taken their hats of their heads and said their hello's, but that night she was able to be just a young woman amongst several in the inn that evening. It had been wonderful, to drink and to dance and to flirt with those strong strapping young lads from the farms. The alcohol had done its work and she had been very happy, laughing and care free without any of her usual shyness.

Before riding home, she had a fleeting tryst with the drunken son of one of her fathers tenant farmers. He had been a large strapping lad with broad shoulders and a gentleness to him which had allowed her to approach him for a dance. She had taken him outside into the laneway and they had kissed, clumsily but forcefully with the rough stubble of his face grazing her cheeks. She had felt his large hands on her breasts and she had traced the outline of what she later realised was actually quite a large sized cock through the harsh fabric of his work pants. Her heart had been pounding so hard it felt like it would leap from her chest, but the alcohol and the feeling that she had to do something different with her life pushed her past her usual boundaries and she had grabbed hold of his hard cock, eliciting a moan from him that made her feel powerful, in control and wanted.

She had to stand back as he undid the buttons of his fly and withdrew his large, erect cock for her to hold in her hands. The skin of it was so soft, like the skin of her inner thighs and breast, but it was so hard and hot in her hand. She felt like her knees would buckle and her mouth felt so dry that she had to lick her lips. She could see it's length in the light, the pale flesh of it gleaming in the lamplight in the alleyway and as she ran her hands over it, the sounds he made as she caressed the hard length of it were very intense. He was muttering "oh god" over and over, a very heartfelt prayer of lust that felt like a pagan benediction, empowering her every move.

When his cock started pulsing in her hand and jet after jet of steaming come burst across her wrist and forearm onto her skirts, she didn't know what to say! But the answering pulse between her legs that pushed her over the edge to her first ever orgasm within the arms of another man, even though it had not gone far enough to actually for him to be within her, was more than enough to make her want such experiences again.

This had been a moment that defined her next few years while she still living with her father. She would find herself at the country balls and fairs that were fully chaperoned with Aunts and Uncles escorting those unmarried men and women, but assignations were often made there to be followed through at later times. She had also become quite the flirt with the young men in the neighbouring villages, even to the point of becoming known for the twinkle in her eye and the shape of her figure through her skirts.

What she had not known was that her activities had begun to attract unwelcome attention from those in the community who did not join in the drunken revelry at the local inn on a Saturday evening. Those who did not enjoy the whiskey and conversation at the country balls and who essentially seemed to spend their time watching their neighbours and gossiping about things that they knew nothing about.

This came to a head when one of the farm boys that she was dallying with was foolish enough to consider what they were doing was based on love, as opposed to the look of him working behind a plough. He was also stupid enough to go cap in hand to her father and as for her hand in marriage.

Her father had confronted her when she had returned from her riding which was part of her exercise regimen during the afternoons. This was when she discovered that her normally mild father had chased the unfortunate paramour from his farm and had discharged several loads of buckshot into his rather lovely backside.

This created a singular ruckus in the village and the local constabulary became involved, creating a scandal which would remain the talk of the village for a very long time. As a result of this, she found herself packed away to London in the care of one of her fathers sisters, who as it turned out was a closet alcoholic and provided a suitably blind eye as she became enmeshed into the social whirl of London set.

She still loved her father very much but had not forgiven him for sending her away to London. While she loved the socialising, the parties and the balls, she missed her family home and her horses and while the men here in London were generally more cavalier and charming, they lacked a certain strength to them that the men on the land had shown her. She had felt appreciated while having the literal roll in the hay with a farming lad, but the so called "gentlemen" of the city considered her just another one of many women and she found them in turn rather boring.

She had considered herself rather worldly and interesting amongst the shallow minds of those that she had consorted with, but it wasn't until she had met the Duchess, the one who had sent her to Sir Douglas for what some serious training that she had encountered anyone that she considered an equal for her intellect. Then to meet Sir Douglas and Onna! It was as if she had been wearing a lace veil all of these years and these two had torn it from her vision. She had never experienced anything like this and while she knew that they were in their own way quite ordinary, their was an intensity to the way that they lived their lives that she had never seen before.

In addition to this, she was becoming aware of what was happening to her. Having been a horse rider for many years, she had realised this morning that what was happening to her was very similar to the processes that she went through in teaching a new horse to take a difficult jump over a hedgerow. She was being trained and trained hard.

This was a very sobering thought, but one which strangely made her heart pound just that little bit faster while she considered it. It was one thing to be involved in a sexual encounter that took you that significant step further than you had ever been before, but to know that there was a mind, an intelligence focused on you with a plan, indeed even a schedule of steps to take you through with a particular goal in sight. Why, it was enough to make you feel slightly faint.

Chelsea knew that ever since she had that very first cock in her hand and experienced the power that woman can hold over a man, she had become something of a sexual predator. She had been with enough married men purely on the basis of a whim to know that many other women looked at her in the same way as if they had seen a lioness sunning itself at the base of Nelson's column. She was not the only one in the uppermost circles of London's social set with similar attitudes. Despite the external morality play that was always displayed for the masses, there was enough sucking and fucking going on to make even a sailor blush! People were people after all. While the façade had changed under Queen Victoria, it was the façade only and the men and women of London where as amoral and sexually dynamic as they had always been.

It was inevitable that she would realise that she was being trained in this way. Despite her gauche country girl exterior, she was no fool and the question here was, did she stay? Her experiences of the previous evening had been extreme, beyond anything that she had ever dreamed of, but it had also had been frightening as well.

Was her lust for excitement and sexual pleasure broad enough to encompass this situation? She knew that Sir Douglas was a man of his word and that if she wished, she could walk out of his house with impunity. If she did, it was also clear that a door which had been opened for her here would be closed, probably forever.

With further thought, Chelsea realised that after the experience of the evening before, locked in, strapped tight, open and wanting, was something that she just could not walk away from. She also realised that she while she had become quite jaded with the the ordinary men she had been meeting, it was clear that Sir Douglas had fanned the flames of lust within her. She had never felt so erotically aware, with the feel of the clothes across her body feeling like an exotic caress with every step that she took.

Chelsea also knew that she desired Sir Douglas in a way that was far beyond what she had previously experienced. When she had seen Onna wrapping her hands and mouth across his cock, she had gone weak at the knees. After last night, her lust had been fanned into a roaring flame. She knew that the deliberate refusal of cock, at a time when she so desperately wanted to be spread open and penetrated was the spur that was forcing her faster and faster into this experience.

She felt like a leaf caught up in a whirlpool but her rumbling stomach brought her back from her emotional deliberations. She thought that it would be good to have something to eat and maybe talk to someone about the way she was feeling. So she re-wrapped her kimono around her and tightened its belt and headed off to speak with Helene in the kitchen.

As she walked her way throughout the complex, she realised that in some respects that this home resembled its owner. Like Sir Douglas, the exterior resembled that of any other house in this upmarket part of London. Once you stepped inside, the first two layers of the house where very gentlemanly, reflecting the very best of contemporary design and with every feature of comfort.

Once you penetrated these initial layers of the house, which actually extended further into the properties both behind and to either side, the martial elements of Sir Douglas's personality became apparent. The internal doors were not made of wood, but of steel, with steel shutters that opened outwards, allowing the defenders of the house to fire towards an invading force.

Once you had penetrated these areas, the internal courtyard and the kitchen were areas of sanctuary for everyone. It was the kitchen that Chelsea walked towards in order to have some breakfast, but after looking at the time on the grandfather clock at the end of the hall, it was more like lunch! She wasn't aware of what time she had come home with Sir Douglas and Onna as she had either been asleep in an odd daze. She had picked up on the sense of urgency behind their departure from the event, but had no idea why or what it was all about. She clearly had gone to bed very late and woken at a correspondingly later time, so she felt a bit shy and embarrassed as she walked into the kitchen.

The kitchen was really lovely and warm and she was very, very hungry and Helene was there, looking rather the worse for wear and apparently quite tired herself. She was smiling through and it was clear that she had a wonderful time the night before.

Sitting down to a huge helping of English muffins and some Chinese tea, the food helped settle Chelsea's rumbling stomach and helped settle the emotions churning throughout her breast.

She was sipping at her tea when Helene came and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"How did you find last night mon cherie?" Helene asked. Helene was aware that this was a critical stage for Chelsea. There had been times when similar young women had left Sir Douglas's house, shaken by their experience and she wanted to ensure that Chelsea was all right. Helene felt that Chelsea was something special and from the way that Sir Douglas and Onna were treating her, she knew that they shared these thoughts.

Chelsea spent the next half an hour talking to Helene about her experience and the impact of the whole event. The feeling of delicious helplessness, the awareness of everyone looking at her and the amazing rush of it all. It was an incredible feeling of powerlessness and yet she felt so strengthened by it. It was as if she was finally aware of an element of her own self that she had not been aware of before.

Chelsea also spoke about her desire to participate as well as being the object of attention. The man across from her who was being beaten had fired her imagination in a very special way and she knew that she wanted to have had her turn at the whip.

In the middle of all of this discussion, Chelsea shocked herself by bursting into tears. It wasn't from any sorrow or fear, but the strength of her experiences had finally overwhelmed her.

Helene responded by giving her a big hug and cradling her while her tears flowed down over her cheeks. "It will be all right my darling, it took me the same way after my first soiree" she said. This happens to everyone and you must remember that you cannot climb a mountain of pleasure like this without having a corresponding valley the following day.

"Wait here for a moment my darling" and with that Helene went and made her a special herbal tea. It had valerian root and other items in it and it smelled quite medicinal as Helene steeped it in hot water in front of Chelsea. "This will make things much easier for you this morning" she said. "I've had some myself as I am a little bit sore and tired myself".

"What did you get up to last night Helene?" asked Chelsea as she sipped at the somewhat tart herbal tea.

"Well last night Jonathan and I enjoyed each other" Chelsea said with a smile. I had never been with an American man before and he was quite the savage!" she said. Unlacing her top, Helene showed her some bite marks on her breasts that Jonathan had left the previous evening and then laughed at the look on Chelsea's face. "Do not worry my darling, he has some of my teeth marks on his sensitive places as well and he will definitely be noticing them this morning!"

This made Chelsea laugh and Helene's company, the food and the herbal tea helped ease away her worries. Chelsea knew in her heart of hearts that this was the right thing for her and that whatever happen she would never regret this choice to stay.