Dirt on His Hands Pt. 01

Finally, Tom took mercy on her. He released his grip on her hair, and she emerged from the water bucket gasping. She trembled and murmured and coughed. Tom took the bucket and poured its contents over her, soaking her already damaged dress. He looked down at her, triumphant. She was covered all over in water, dirt, and mud. The muck caked her dress and her gloves. Her hair was matted, and her makeup had run down her face and mixed with the mud. "Take off your dress," he ordered. She breathed erratically in and out. The words took a few seconds to register. He took hold of her chin and made her look at him. "Well?"

"Y-yes...yes sir," she stammered. Her trembling fingers began to undo the buttons of her dress. Tom watched as she removed her dress, her shoes, her gloves, and her underclothes. He picked them up from the ground and tossed them aside with deliberate carelessness. Where is her power now, he thought to himself? Where is her wealth? Helpless, naked, in the dirt--that was what she was.

He took the second bucket and spilled its contents onto her body. The ground beneath them was now thoroughly muddy. He knelt down, picked up a fistful of mud from the ground, and smeared it over her torso, covering her breasts and her stomach. He took another fistful of mud and rubbed it over her left leg, then her right, digging his fingernails into the smooth skin of her thighs. He made her sit up, sat down behind her, and spread her legs. "You've been so good," he murmured.

"Thank you, sir."

He ran his muddy hand over her genitals, noting as he did so that they were already moist with arousal. He began to rub his fingers up and around her clitoris in a familiar motion that he knew from experience would elicit gasps and moans of pleasure. Sure enough, no sooner had he started to rub when she let out a deep, gratified moan. He felt her whole body relax in his arms, then tense with pleasure. "That's right," he whispered, "I make you feel good when you're good for me."

"Thank you!" She gasped. Tom continued to rub steadily, up, down, and around her nether regions. She trembled and sighed beneath his capable hands. He ran his other hand over her body, grasping her breasts, her stomach, her neck, squeezing and pinching. "Thank you," she murmured again. "Thank you, sir." She felt an orgasm begin to build within her, and she sighed and moaned as she neared the climax.

"Do you want my fingers inside of you?"

"Yes, sir, please, sir!" Charlotte declared.

"Tell me you're a dirty girl."

"I...I'm a dirty girl," she repeated dutifully. "I want your dirty hands in me."

He slapped her genitals, making her squeal. "What was that?"

"I...I want your dirty hands in me, sir," she corrected. Tom grunted in approval. He took his left hand and thrust two fingers deep inside her. With his right hand, he continued to stimulate her clitoris. He began to move his fingers in and out of her rapidly. She moaned and gasped and shook in his arms. An orgasm was upon her. She felt it radiate through her body from her core to her fingertips. It sent tremors coursing through her limbs. Tom felt it too, as she sat in his arms, overcome by the deluge of sensations. He fingered her all the more intensely, moving his hand in and out of her at an accelerating pace. "Yes," she murmured, "Yes, yes, yes!" With a great tensing and release of her muscles, Charlotte let the orgasm overtake her. She twitched and gasped and cried out. She clutched Tom's legs for support. "Thank you," she murmured once more.

He removed his hands. He kissed her neck. She sighed and relaxed her muscles.

"That was beautiful," Tom commented.

She laughed. "I don't feel beautiful," she admitted. "I'm filthy."

Tom tilted her head toward him by her chin and looked her in the eyes. "You look just how I want you to look," he told her. He embraced her for several long seconds, and she let her head rest on his shoulder.

Tom stood up and offered Charlotte his hand to help her stand. He led her to the bench underneath the vines where he had waited for her, and she took a seat gratefully. He took from out of his pocket two short lengths of twine. He wrapped one around her left hand and one around her right hand, then he tied both of them together behind her back around one of the metal rungs of the bench. "Are you comfortable?" He asked.

She adjusted her arms within the confinement. "I can manage."

"You'll rest here until I come back for you," he told her. "We have a long day ahead of us."

**To be continued**