Her Soldier

In that dark of summer's eve, Su had just tucked the children in for the night. For many months now, the townsfolk were out, fighting the war. Their children safe in her midst at the old manor as she spent her days with them as teacher and the evenings after as nanny. They loved her for her gentle grace, affectionately calling her the very same, "nanny."

Su had just begun to step downstairs, candlestick in hand. Closing up the barn and the heavy double doors were the last thing on her agenda for the day before retiring to bed herself. Her olive skin in mild glow as she passed each of the lanterns in the hall downstairs, the folds of her red and white day gown gently bobbing upon her. She shuts the front doors in, putting the heavy oak across it. Walking back toward the kitchen, as she thinks about the children and their lessons for the next day. Little Elizabeth is especially gifted in her spellings, but her arithmetic needs some work, while Ralph is strong and fast, able to run the quickest in all his class. 14 children, all between 5 and 7 years old, desperately in need for someone to care for them in this perilous time. She prays a silent hum under her breath, opening the heavy iron back door from the pantry toward the barn.

The door opened to a narrow passageway that led underground via a spiralling staircase. Su's grandfather had built it during the last war to help them escape, should there be an attack. Her family had since always kept this part of the manor well stocked with food, clothing and other necessities, should the need arise. Furthermore, the passage led outside, to the barn, some 100 feet away, opening inside it under a wooden hatch, concealed below some loose straw. It is good that she takes her baths at home after this nightly ritual, for she always gets a few blades of straw in her lush dark hair after opening the hatch.

Su now began the walk upwards, the yellow light of her candle burning dimly yet surely. Up and up and up a steep stair, until she finally gets to the platform. She puts the candle in the little cubby on the wall beside, and with full force, pushed up the wooden hatch swinging it open, till it turns and falls to the other side. Picking up her skirt, and the candle, she steps out. Walking toward the door, she can see nothing in the far dark distance of the prairie. The night sky is dark and starless, and there are no wolves howling. Pulling the barn door close, and locking it in place, she turns around, accidentally dropping the candlestick onto the cold hard granite floor. She is pushed to the side immediately, like a gust of wind, against the stack of hay. He has menacing eyes, and a rough grip like a beast, he cups her mouth with his free hand, preventing her from letting out but a gasp. In the faint light she sees his large visage. Heavily built, with blood on his face and a gaping wound in the side of his torso, the man is clearly injured. He is also, wearing a dark brown uniform.

He is, the the enemy. And he is in her home.

Chapter 2

"Don't make a sound," he says, in a grumble. Half groggily from what she could guess was from the loss of blood, and half from exhaustion.

"Medicine, bandages... take me to where you keep them," he took her by the arm, gently leading her away from the door.

She takes a step forward, her eyes looking on in disbelief and fear. This man, this savage, this... enemy soldier, was in her home, without the slightest remorse.

"Medicine and bandages. I need them. Now."

He points to his wound, takes his hand off her mouth and steps aside with arms raised.

Su nods, he nods back. He bends low to pick up the fallen candlestick, only to keel over and fall to the ground. She makes a run for it, hearing him groaning in agony as the small pool of blood on the ground from his wound, puts out the candlelight. Su remembers where the hatch is, jumping inside, and closing it shut behind her. Inside, she puts the crowbar on the wall beside her into the shackle bolt for good measure, and proceeds to sprint back to the manor, before the man got a chance to recover. She must warn the authorities, no matter the time of night. She must call for help.

Coming up the stairs and out the pantry, Su goes up to the childrens' room to see if they are safe. All of them, sound asleep, without a peep. She knew relief that none did in these times, and in that moment wondered, if she should create such an alarm at this ungodly hour. Surely the barn is well locked down from the inside, and the hatch and the heavy iron pantry door is locked as well. The manor was built like a fortress and it is far too much for any one man to try and get inside, let alone one so grievously injured as him.

His dark bearded face haunted her as she went to her bed chambers. She lit another candle as she began to strip in front of her mirror, the blood on her cheek from the soldier's grip, and on her waist from when he pushed her. She could no sooner to be done with it, and clean herself. Walking into the bath, she set a match under the tub, letting it heat while she sat on the wooden bench inside. She looked at herself in the mirror, pensively contemplating the events of the night. Her deep brown eyes like amber in the flickering yellow light, cheeks still drained of some colour from her fright, and yet, she found herself able to regain some peace, stroking the side of her hair, tucking it neatly behind her ear. She felt calmer somehow, the sound of bubbling heat behind her. Su turned out the fire, and gently slipped into her hot bath. The water entering her every pore, awakening it, the texture of the dense metal in the tub, slightly rough and warm to the touch, just like him... hmm...

What? No... That brute, he nearly killed her, she thought. Those dark black eyes, animalistic form and intent, she chided just thinking about how absurd it was. She stroked the inside of her nape, grains of hardened blood, washing off in her soapy water now. It is his blood, she thought. It was pure and simple luck how she managed to get away from him. For him to keel over and fall like that, dear god...

She sighed a moment of relief, taking a swab of soap to her skin... But why?

The moment after he got there, he was there to get, medicines and bandages? Where did he come from? The nearest battlegrounds is 100s of miles away. She pondered, thinking of him, bleeding in the barn. With any luck, he would be dead by morning...

She shuddered a little at the thought, the sight of him lying there, groaning in agony, as the blood pooling from his wound put out the candle, which he had bent down to pick up. Over and over this played in her mind, until finally she could not stand it anymore. She finished her washing up, got out of the tub, and got dressed. She took with her, a basket from her dresser, and went down to the kitchen. She collected her things, and pulled a candle out, briefly considering what she was about to do. It was still, very early in the night, but she had to hurry. She goes back to the pantry, across the door, down the stairs, through the corridor and up the barn stairs. The crowbar still firmly wedged in the shackle bolt, she pulls it out, placing it in the folds of her robe for good measure and pushed up the hatch, entering the barn once again.

She shuts the hatch, let the consequence of her one bad decision effect any other. She would die before something happens to the children. Taking a large bale of hay, she puts it on top of the hatch and nodes resolute. She slowly makes her way to the barn doors, the last she saw of him. He was still there, breathing, but barely. She stood over him watching him, the candlestick still weakly held in his bloody hand. Her memory was not foggy. She bent low and gripped the man by his shoulders, pulling him backward. Alas, he was too heavy, so she managed to simply turn him to his side, onto a pile of straw.

She made quick work of his bloodied uniform with some shears and a switch blade knife, working swiftly to make up for lost time. There was a deep shrapnel wound to his side torso, and the blood had not yet begun to harden. Taking out the spirit and a pair of tongs, she got to work. In the hour that followed, the soldier stirred quite a bit, the agonizing pain of having metal pulled from flesh. Thrashing occasionally, she tried to soothe him, calming him in her reassuring voice, that it will be okay. Half unconscious, the soldier buckled in, the pain searing through his very soul as he struggled to stay alive. She could not, she would not let this man die.

She finally finished, after what could only be described as 2 hours of hell, Su, washes his wound with spirit and then water. Stitching up the flesh around it, applying the tincture and wrapping it firmly under pad and bandage. The dressing applied, she snipped away the rest of his clothes, cleaned and dressed the rest of his cuts and bruises, lest he get an infection from something else. She pulled out an old flannel shirt and pantaloons from her basket, shielding him for the cold. A blanket too, as she drapes it upon him. The man now sleeping with some peace, as she gently tilts his head on her lap, pouring a tonic into his mouth. The taste is bitter, and he tries to spit up... she hushes him, stroking his dark smooth black hair, telling him it's okay, that it will help him get stronger. The soldier stirs, if only a little, but swallows. Gently nodding back into oblivion.

The light has only just begun to crack over the horizon. She leaves her basket there beside him for the night. Standing up, she looks at him once more. Perhaps he will live yet...

Chapter 3

Morning came and it was back to normalcy once more. The children woke to sounds of the maid at work. Nanny Su had just told the sleepyheads to bob out of beds and into their baths, chop chop. One after the other, the tots went in for their baths, tucked into their breakfast and made it to the front door for their lessons.

"Good Morning children!"

"Good Morning nanny Su!"

They glimmered, some mumbling, some shouting.

"Children, today we will be having our lessons outside, under the large oak tree over yonder..." Nanny Su, pointing to the east.

This seemed to excite the children, who were always used to having their lessons in the barn.

"Yay!" they cried

Nanny Su led them out the door, one by one, taking a headcount. Nodding to the day maid and cook as she left.

"Goodbye Mrs. Miggins, Goodbye Mrs. Bayne. We will see you at supper..."

"Aye, you too Miss. Su"

She sat them down at under the tree, where the groundskeeper, Mr. Gordon, had laid out a nice big canvas for the children to sit on and a chair for Miss Su. Nanny Su pulled her chair up to the base of the tree, and sat down, starting with roll call.

The day went on, the fresh air of the lush green countryside and the warm sun in the cool breeze.

Afternoon came and classes were concluded, as the children ran back to the manor, for tea and biscuits. As evening came, Su thought about their uninvited guest in the barn. Soon it would be dark, and she could maybe get some answers.

Night fell again, and she said goodnight to the maid, cook and groundskeeper, shutting the heavy front door behind them. She put the children to bed, and went to the kitchen with another basket. Stepping into the barn, she looks around seeing him exactly where she left him. He was tossing and turning, she rushed toward him, his skin burning hot, running a terrible fever... She was afraid of this, and in the light of the yellow flame, Su took out the hypodermic needle from her basket, measuring out just the right amount of antibiotic, administering it into the soldier's right arm. The fever would yet need time to break, and as he thrashed, the helplessness with which he did, she sat down taking his head in her lap, propping his head up against a pillow. She stroked his hair as he fought on, desperately making his body take the fever and use it against his infection. He had begun to become delirious now, muttering in a foreign tongue... on and on as she struggle to decipher... only one word caught her attention,

"mama... mama..."

In his desperate struggle, this soldier of war, yearned for his mother. His head shook from side to side, as nails scratched the smooth granite of the floor awash with flickering yellow glow. Su could and she did. She gently pulled him closer to her bosom, the warmth from his fevered head as she felt its waves wash over her. Her free hand, undoing her blouse, button by button, until finally her full and heavy breast was within his mouth's reach. She took his head, gently, and made his lips brush gently against her teat... her nipples reacted, almost instinctively, as did his lips. She saw his face, bearded and strong as it pushed into her soft titflesh, wrapping his lips around it, his tongue circling her areole, suckling...

She felt the sudden rush of blood to her sensitive tips, a sudden jolt, pulling out of her something so... carnal. He stopped thrashing, coming more to peace as his hand came up, gently squeezing her breast as he nourished from it.

Su felt a strange and satisfying state of arousal, as even as he suckled, firmly deeply, his breath of hot air, washing over as the sounds he made quiet pitches in the dancing candlelight. He squeezed her tit, caressing it as he sucked deep and firm, as if to draw milk from her. Her hand running through his hair, as he pushed him into her, as if to want to nourish him, the sin of her desperate pleasure washing over her... She pulls her other breast out, the firelight shimmering o'er it... She shifts his hand to the other and makes him pinch and pull on it, he does so, twisting and stroking its tip.. The mouth on her tit was pushing her farther and farther away from sanity as well, as tongue lashes flicked against her poor dark nubbin while mouth sucked air and more from her... the pull stronger and making flesh more delicate. She could feel it thicken, and harden as he ravished the tips of her motherhood, knawing it... her own breaths quickening, as both breasts get pleasured to heaven and back. The sounds of suckling as they intensify, her pantaloons now feeling traces of certain wetness. Her mind cannot pause to contemplate, only pausing to slightly part her legs and reach down to undo the threads that hold it in place. Her hands find the smooth silken source of her sin between her thighs. The source of her corruption firmly and freely suckling away from her full ripe breasts... She wanted this, to be used, to lose herself in the pleasure of another, and in her own. To become carnate and something rotten, as she dips her finger in between her moistness. The wetness flowing free almost vulgarly as she looks down upon her own bared flesh, as he sucks and mauls her breasts, as she defiles her own sex, stroking her latent desire with a fervour of depravity and lust. She seeks no forgiveness nor redemption, just release.

Pure, and uncut.

Her fingers stroke the edge of her little oyster, flicking it rubbing it back and forth... definitively pushing her, making her inch closer and closer toward it, as the sounds of her loins giving heed fill the barn. Breasts in heavenly rapture as you feel him being sustained and the knowledge in knowing it is you. You want him to feed from you, comfort him you will in your bosom, for as long as he wants, that is your purpose. The fingers dancing against your slit agree, as the wetness it gave seems to glimmer in the dim candlelight. He moans now with a mouthful of your love... he is saying it, again, and again, that person that he wanted most and which you so happily obliged. Mama...

You are, and you love it.

Rapidly, suckling from you, faster and harder, until you are at the very edge of your own release, as the mouth, pulls into vacuum, holds, ticking it firmly with tongue as it does rub it side to side, and letting go with a hard POP.

In synchronicity as you feel that shudder go through you, all the way down, connecting the tip of my tongue to that of your clit as you come over. Again, and again and again... The sense of fulfilment washing over you. In contentment.

*Fin*