The Mask Ch. 02

Miranda looked over her shoulder as she followed her little sister down a well used alleyway, and through a garden gate. She recalled the last time she came this way, a little over two months ago. When she had followed her sister into a house they both thought was empty.

She paused as the memories of fear, pain and pleasure that she felt came flooding back.

"Are you coming, Randy?" Carrie-Anne asked as she stood in the middle of the garden. "Henry is expecting me."

"Yes," she said as she started to walk again.

Carrie-Anne ran up to a back door and knocked. A heavy set man with a grizzly beard opened the door and smiled down at the child.

"Hi Henry," Carrie-Anne said as she smiled up at the man. "My sister came this time."

Henry looked from the bright eyed girl, to the slip of a woman standing in the yard looking very pale. He watched as her hands played with her skirt. He then nodded to her, "my lady, welcome."

He moved to hold the door open. Remembering her manners, Miranda nodded back and followed her little sister into the kitchen.

Carrie Anne ran over to a oak table, that was filled with bowls, she picked up a wooden spoon, then turned to Henry, who was closing the door.

"What are we making today?" she asked.

"Short bread." Henry answered as he walked over to the table. "My secret recipe, so you must promise not to tell another living soul."

"I promise. So does Randy, right Randy?" Carrie-Anne turned to look at her sister. She didn't understand what was wrong with Miranda lately. She seemed sad all the time and would lock herself in her room until midday. Also she stopped telling her not to call her "Randy". Carrie-Anne knew she hated that nickname.

"Of course," Miranda answered. She was standing just off to the side, wondering how to approach the subject of the other man who lived in this house. Her hand went to her stomach and she took a deep breath. "But I'm not here to bake cookies," she whispered.

Henry turned and looked at her. He frowned. "Then what can we do for you, my lady?" he asked. She licked her lips slightly then looked around the room, acting very nervous.

"How much flour?" Carrie-Anne asked as she started to scoop some into the bowl.

"Just a couple more scoops, then add the sugar," Henry said, taking his eyes off the nervous woman, and looking back at the child. He smiled to himself. She reminded him of how his daughter was at that age, so full of life.

"I want to see the master of this house." Miranda said in one breath, almost afraid that the words would not escape her mouth.

Henry turned back to her. "Very well, my lady. If you would care to wait in the library, I will see if the Lord will see you." He nodded, then turned back to Carrie-Anne. "Keep stirring, Carrie-Anne. I will be back to help you shortly."

"Okay, Henry," the child said as she started to stir.

Henry moved to the kitchen door and held it open for Miranda to pass. He watched her hold her head up high and leave the kitchen. Henry grabbed a candle as he followed her. She was standing just outside the door, in the dark hallway.

"This way," Henry made a movement with his head and started to walk down the hall. Miranda followed closely, keeping within the light. This house seemed full of shadows. And dark shadows had always scared her as a child. You never knew what might be hiding in them.

Henry opened a thick wooden door.. "The library," he announced.

Miranda nodded and moved through the door. The room was dark and cold. She turned back as Henry handed her the candle. He then closed the door and she was alone in the room.

Miranda took a deep breath, and moved towards the windows. She placed the candle down on a table, then grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and opened them. She blinked as bright sunshine filled the gloomy room. She quickly made her way to the other three windows in the room, opening them up.

For the first time, she was really able to see the beauty of this room. She slowly walked around, running her hands over all the beautiful books. Wondering if the man would let her read them. She shook her head, once she told him what she had to tell him, he would probably kill her. She had seen the look in his eyes when she had pulled off his mask. She knew he was capable of it.

She slowly turned around towards the fireplace, and looked up at the painting. She gasped as she looked at the once beautiful portrait. It was cut up. Like someone had taken a sword to it. 
Why would anyone want to ruin such a beautiful face? She wondered as she stared at the ruined picture. She could still make out part of the man's face. The left side.

She looked around again, and this time noticed that sofa that she had lost so much on, was gone. She looked down at her hand, a thin scar covered her palm, where she had cut herself, and ruined the sofa, and his shirt.

What was she doing here? She wondered. She could have fixed her problem down by the docks, but no, she had to return here. To face him again. She still remembered the anger on his face, and passion in his eyes.

She moved back to one of the book cases. She ran her hands over a couple books, pausing on one of her favourites. King Lear. She slowly took the book and moved to a big arm chair right by one of the windows.

She sat down, tucking her legs under her, balancing the book on her knees and started to read.

*****************

The knock brought him out of his thoughts. Slowly he turned and looked at the door. It opened, and Henry popped his head in.

"There's someone here to see you."

"Edward's early," He said as he turned away from his desk, adjusting the mask he always wore.

"It's not the King," Henry stated. "It's a lady."

"Carrie-Anne for her cooking lesson?" He asked as he stood up. He enjoyed when Carrie-Anne came over, it was the only time Henry would bake.

"Yes, she is here. But that is not who is in the library waiting for you." Henry nodded slightly to him as he slipped out the door. "It's her sister."

The door closed with him just staring at it. Carrie-Anne's sister. He didn't even know her name, but he couldn't forget her. The way her body felt under his, the way her pussy had felt around his cock. He moaned as he felt himself harden.

Why was she back here? He wondered. For the past two months he had dreamt of her, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the way they parted when she gasped.

He turned sharply back to his desk. He braced his hands on it and closed his eyes. That girl was back. The only one to see his face besides Henry in years. And she was back. Why? he wondered again. Was it to ridicule him. Call him a freak?

He stood up and frowned. He had to see her again. Slowly he turned and walked over to the fireplace in the room. He touched the mantel, and a secret door opened. He moved slowly into the tight space and walked down the steep stairs that lead directly to the library.

He stood in front of the panel, his hand just over the lever that opened the door. He could have sworn he could smell her from here. He adjusted himself, then opened the panel.

He blinked at the bright light. He had lived in darkness so long, the sun was almost painful. He grunted and walked over to the open curtains, closing them harshly. He then turned and saw her.

She was sitting in one of the arm chairs, an open book in her lap, and her eyes closed. He moved closer to her, closing the curtains as he went, leaving one open just a bit so she could see.

He finally stood in front of her, just looking at her. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Her delicate skin, those lush pink lips, that just begged for him to kiss them. And he was not going to be denied.

Slowly he reached down and removed the book from her lap. He glanced at it, and raised an eye brow. He closed the Shakespearean play and placed it back on the shelf. He then moved back to her, leaned over and slowly ran his fingers over her soft cheek. 
Her eyes shot open as he touched her, she gasped, opening those sweet lips. He slowly smiled at her, then leaned down and kissed her hard. She moaned and tried to move away from him.

He lifted his head and frowned at her. His eyes questioning

"The mask hurts," she said as she rubbed her cheeks. The man ran his hand through his hair.

"Well, I'm not taking it off, and neither are you," he warned as he leaned foward and kissed her gently, trying not to rub the mask into her face.

She kissed him back, cherishing the feel of his lips. Even with the rough plaster rubbing against her cheeks, his kiss made her feel funny again. The feeling deep in the pit of her stomach was back. That tingly feeling between her legs.

He stopped kissing her and stood back. She just sat there panting, staring up at him. He wanted her. Probably more then the first time he had saw her. He didn't care why she was here, he just wanted to be in her.

He reached down, grabbed her arms and pulled her into his. He then looked down at her, slowly his hand moved to her back, undoing the buttons of her dress. 
"No," she gasped as she tried to get away. "That's not why I'm here."

"I don't care," he said as he slid the dress off her shoulders. "It's what I want. I want you." He moved his head and licked her neck. She gasped as her hands came up to rest on his arms. She wanted him too.

He smiled as his hand cupped her breast, toying with the nipple. He moved in to suck upon it, through the material of her under garments.

"No..." she said as she pushed away from him, and moved behind a sofa. He slowly raised his head and looked at her.

"Get back here." He ordered.

"No. I came here for reason," she said, as she pulled up her dress. He sighed and looked at her. He shook his head and remembered why he never bothered with 'ladies' when he was younger. The court whores never wanted anything but a couple of pounds.

"And what is that reason?" he asked in hope that it would shut her up so he could fuck her again. He adjusted himself, then walked around the sofa, to where she was standing.

She watched him walk towards her. The look in his eyes made her mouth go dry. It was a mix between hatred and desire. She knew no matter what, she wasn't going to leave this house without him having sex with her again. He would probably use her like he did before, then throw her out. Then she would have nothing.

She sniffed and bit back some tears. He stopped and frowned. They just stared at each other for a couple moments. He then moved, grabbing her by the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. He started harsh, then became gentle as he licked the outline of her lips.

"Don't start crying," he whispered as he took her earlobe into his mouth.

"I... I..." she lost all thought as the tingling started up again in her stomach. Slowly her hand moved in front of her to push him away, but stopped when she touched something.

The man chuckled and moved back to look in her eyes. "Yes, little one, move your hand a bit."

She licked her lips while she stared into his grey eyes. Her hand slowly started to move up and down the hard bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes, and sighed, loving the feel of her hand on him. But he wanted more.

"Do you know what that is, little one?" he asked. She just stared at him. "Let me show you," he said as he undid the ties of his pants, moving them aside he brought out his manhood. He then took her hand and wrapped it around him, then moved it up and down, showing her how to touch him.

Never once did he stop looking in her eyes. She started to breath heavily as her hand moved up and down him. He felt hard, yet soft and silky. So different from her. She looked down when something wet and sticky rubbed up against her hand. She saw him for the first time.

The last time she had seen a penis was when her brother was just a baby and she helped the nanny give him a bath. It seemed like nothing to her. Now, with this man, it was completely different. She was enthralled with it, with him.

Slowly she brought her other hand to touch him. He gasped and she smiled. She figured that touching him like this made him feel the same way she felt when he touched her.

She slowly went down on her knees, to get a better look at him. She ran her hand along the shaft, her fingers rubbing against the slit at the tip of his penis, that was leaking pre-cum.

He watched her lick her lips again, and he wanted those lips on his cock. He moved his hand to the back of her head and pushed it towards him. "Open your lips, little one," he whispered harshly. She did as he had asked, opening her mouth. He smiled and moved to place himself in. "Now suck. No teeth."

She did as he ordered. Letting her tongue touch the tip. She loved the feeling of him in her mouth. The pulsing of his penis against her tongue, the way his hand was in her hair moving her head back and forth. His breathing got harsh and he pulled her head against him, causing his penis to hit the back of her throat, choking her. 
She panicked and tried to push away. He let go of her as he started to cum. She fell back, causing his cum to splatter all over her face.

"Ew..." she said as she brought her hand up to her face, that was all sticky. "You peed on me."

"Not pee, little one. My seed." He smiled and pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to her.

His seed. She looked up at him as she started to wipe her face. She had been to eager to please him, to play with his penis, for her pleasure and his, that she had forgotten why she was here. It was because of his seed.

She slowly stood up, pushed her hair out of her face, and started at him. He put himself back in his pants and tied them up. Then he smiled at her.

"It will be awhile before I'm able to fuck you properly. Tell me the reason you came here today." He said as he moved over to a side board to pour himself a drink.

"I'm going to have a baby." she said

He was about to take a drink, but stopped when she spoke. Slowly he turned around, leaned back against the sideboard, and started swirling the liquid in his glass.

"And who's the lucky father?" He asked, keeping his anger under control. The little slut.

"You are."

"Am I?" he mocked her as he took a drink. "Prove it."

"What?" She gasped. This is what she was afraid of. She was going to sent away to convent, her baby taken away from her. She'd never find a husband. She would be forced to be a nun. She didn't want to be a nun.

"I said, prove it." He repeated.

"You took my innocence."

"So."

"You made me pregnant."

"I fucked you, true. You might have been a virgin, but who's to say you didn't go out the next day and spread your legs for another man?" He spat at her. "You were very eager to take my cock within your mouth just now. How many cocks have you sucked?"

She took a step back, stumbling and falling back into a sofa. She just stared at him. The hateful words were sweeping over her. She knew he had a dark side, had seen it. But she believed he was really a nice man. He wasn't nice. He was hateful.

He started at her. The shocked look on her face made him believe that she wasn't lying. That she was pregnant with his child. He couldn't be a father. What kid would want a monster as a father. The little bitch found out who he was, that's why she broke in her, that's why she allowed him to have his way with her. 
 He almost growled as he threw the glass he was holding into the fireplace. He had gone on a rampage after she had left her the last time. Ripping his portrait to shreds, all because she had seen his face. But now, he didn't know what to do.

"I never.." she said as big tears rolled down her cheeks. "You are the only one..."

His heart melted a little bit at her words. He was the only one. But he couldn't be the one. Surely her father would marry her off when he found out. Or send her to a convent. Those thoughts made him frown. He didn't want his child being raised by another man or by a pack of nuns. Which left only one option. That she wouldn't have his baby.

He started to move towards her, his hand in a fist. He was sure Henry could find someone to take care of the little problem, and if she didn't live through it, oh well. Although as much as he tried to tell himself he didn't care, he did. The thought of her dying made him sad.

Miranda started to cry harder as she saw the cold look in his eyes. She watched the internal fight in his eyes, then they went cold. She feared that look. Feared that he would just kill and throw her in an alley. She didn't want to die.

"My lord?" a voice filled the room. He turned sharply at the double doors, where Henry was standing. "The King is here."

"Hello Eric," A slightly balding man walked into the library, followed by two rather skinny tired looking men. A couple soldiers appeared at the door. Henry moved to the side to let them in.

"Edward," The masked man said as he turned away form Miranda. "How are you?"

"Fine, Fine," The King said as his eyes fell upon the crying girl. Now that was last thing he would expect to see in this house. He hadn't seen another human being with Eric in over 10 years.

Miranda sniffed and tired to stop crying, as she stared at the man who was identified as the King of England. She slowly stood up to curtsy, but her dress fell, exposing her thin material clade breasts.

"Oh," she gasped as she pulled the dress up, then made a really sloppy curtsy.

The King smiled at her, then looked back at his friend, his eye brows raised.

"Christ," Eric swore as he moved over to Miranda, turned her around roughly, and started to do up her dress. Then whispered in her head, "This is not over, little one."

She started to cry again.

"Bloody hell," he cursed as he turned her and pulled her to his chest. "Quit crying. The fuckin' King is here."

"Eric," the King warned. "Let the girl go."

Eric did as he was ordered, letting Miranda go and moved back over to the sideboard to get another drink. He hoped Edward would keep his visit short, although they spent most of their time together drinking and talking into the wee hours of morning.

The King went over and took Miranda's hand. "What is your name, my dear?" he asked gently.

"Miranda Montgomery," she whispered. "Your majesty."

"Well Miranda, why are you here?" the King glanced over at his friend. Who was drinking rather heavily.

"I... I.." she glanced over at Eric, who just shrugged. Eric. His name was Eric. She liked that name. The hand that held hers tightened, and she looked back at the King.

"Well?" he promoted.

"I'm pregnant." She said.

"Fuck." Eric swore. "You stupid whore!" He yelled at her. "You had to tell him."

"Eric," the King warned.

"He asked..." she sobbed.

"He asked.." Eric mocked as he slammed down his glass.

"Enough," the King ordered. He took the crying girl into his arms, rubbing her back slowly, and turned to Eric. "Is it true?"

"It's what she says."

"It is yours?"

"It's what she says."

"Do you doubt it?"

Eric paused. He had known Edward since he was 10 years old. He was the only other man beside Henry and his doctors who had seen his face. He trusted him, not just as his King, but as a friend.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I did take her virginity." He admitted.

The King nodded and looked at the girl. "Who is your father?" he asked her.

"Earl of Rochester," she whispered.

The King frowned. She was a lady, and Eric had deflowered her and got her pregnant. He only saw one solution. He patted the girl on her back and sat her down on the sofa, then turned to one of his men.

"Go fetch a priest and get a marriage contract ready." He ordered.

"No," Eric cried out. "Edward, you can't..."

"She is an Earl's daughter," he stated. "She is a high born lady. You ruined her. Whether this child is your or not, it is your duty as a titled gentleman. And no matter what, you are a gentleman."