Mistress Agnes Ch. 04

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Can I stay or shall I go?
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Part 4 of the 22 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 01/09/2016
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At the very moment she felt sorry for her new slave because he had had a bad youth, Agnes felt disgust for herself. How would she ever find satisfaction if she couldn't treat a man she never met before with the distant scorn one was supposed to feel for a slave?

He was nothing, she was everything.

She forced herself to sound cold towards him, and to deliver a veiled threat, totally unnecessary, for what man would want to walk around with a week old beard? She saw it hit home, he was hurt, and she left quickly to hide another one of those soft spells.

This was not going to work if she showed weakness, he'd walk right over her and take over her life, this man was not a dimwit or a country boy, nor a spoiled personal servant like Patrick and Guy, this man was a hardened soldier, he could probably subdue her without the least effort. Patrick would be hopeless to stop him, and Dick would seriously injure him, he had as good as told her he was jealous.

What a mess she had gotten herself into through her fantasies, maybe she'd better feed him up and have Guy take him to town with a few crowns to see him through the first months. He seemed so vulnerable and young, but she had already had vulnerable and young, and it didn't work out. There had to be an iron core in him, or he wouldn't have lasted such a long time on the moors, he was probably still exhausted and scared to be delivered to the army's tough justice.

Today she would be nice to him, bring him more food, see what her touch did to him, but tomorrow she'd tell him he was going to be locked up in that attic forever, and he'd get angry and try to attack her, offering her her first chance to tame him. The very thought made her horny, and her regrets were soon forgotten.

When Dennis woke again, he had no idea what time it was, and how many days had passed. The fire was still the only real light in the room, there was a tiny window on the other end but he guessed his chain wouldn't reach.

He did not resist his impulse to check its solidity, Patrick had told him the mistress wanted him angry and violent, and though he knew those feelings well, he could not call them forward now, but feeling the reality of his captivity might do the trick.

But even realizing there was no escape from this chain didn't do it for him. It made him sad to face the certainty of being destitute again in a few weeks, but it did not make him angry. He didn't even scorn himself that being treated like a slave seemed preferable to him to being cold, hungry and in danger.

There really was no will left in him, the war had damaged him forever, and his recent ordeal had finished him off. He could not call up any anger, not even to reach the status of well-fed sexual slave in a safe house. When the mistress appeared he would fawn on her, and she'd turn him out in disgust at his cowardice.

Trying to get up, he found himself reasonably stable on his legs, hungry of course, and actually a bit bored. There was a bookcase just within reach, and supporting himself on the sturdy table he reached the shelves. They were laden with real books, row upon row of them, and he chose one at random. It didn't seem beyond his capacity to read, he guessed he would still be able to read, though he hadn't often had the chance to exercise or hone his skill after his ninth year.

Still, it seemed he had plenty of time on his hands, so he took the book back to bed with him.

To find there wasn't nearly enough light to discern the letters, was this supposed to make him angry as well? Promising him diversion, then delivering disappointment?

It did not make him angry, but it made him determined, something the mistress would also like a lot. He made his slow, unsteady way towards the fire, book and blanket in his arms, as far as the chain would reach. Just before it choked him, he sat down with the blanket covering him, and tried again.

It worked, he could read now, and the book turned out to be really diverting, a short story on love and morals, witty, but also quite sharp. But reading was quite tiring for Dennis, it was not something he had been in the habit of doing, and his body was still exhausted, it was just the anxiety of his situation that had kept him awake.

Agnes found him right there, lying as close to the hearth as his chain would allow, on top of his blanket. She felt a stab of fear that he was dead, having wandered deliriously until the chain choked him, and she put the tray with food down where she stood, running to check on him.

When she came closer, it was clear he was merely fast asleep, rolled up on his blanket like a hound basking in the heat of the fire. Except her hounds weren't chained. And they didn't read.

She did not understand why he would choose to read in front of the fire, his chain pulling his neck uncomfortably, when he could lie on a quality bed with soft sheets and a fat pillow.

He couldn't have been cold, the room was warm and his blanket didn't even cover him.

The very sight of her new slave, wearing the sturdy collar, completely in her power, gave her a thrill of pleasure, but the way his innocent looking shaven face tugged at her heartstrings was not as enjoyable.

He was really very young, and without the rough beard he looked as attractive as her boys, less perfectly beautiful, but very manly and still, well, actually sweet.

She had determined she would wake him as soon as she came in, to show him who pulled the strings in this house, but something told her he already knew that. He was still so young, she might actually frighten him. He couldn't have much experience with women, having been in the army as a lowly private, and certainly not with strong women.

Maybe she should give him a little time to recover first, make him feel welcome. His attitude when he awoke would give her a clue. If she broke him now, she'd never get from him what she wanted, and she wanted this man very much.

Fetching the tray with food, and putting it on the table to not give any clue about her shock when she found him lying on the floor, she proceeded to kneel beside her slave, her hand automatically pulled towards the smooth cheek. It was incredibly soft, and she stroked it with relish.

Of course that woke him, and he reacted with unexpected violence, sitting up on his heels, not his knees, in a split second, the wrist of the hand that touched him in an iron grip, his other hand on its way towards her throat for a few heartbeats. Then at the very same instant, his eyes regained sense and his body gave out on him, and he crashed to the floor, chain snapping taut and wrenching his head around in the process.

He had released her arm as soon as he realized what he was doing, contributing to his fall, and he was now lying there, his whole body showing pain and shock, obviously very afraid of the consequences of his instinctive action.

But Agnes was thrilled, she knew now there had to be violence in him, but controlled, which was good, for it wouldn't do to get killed. And he didn't plead for mercy, or fall to his knees, he merely looked at her in acceptance, knowing he'd pay for his transgression. His dignity moved her, and she calmly held out her hand to him to help him up.

'I suppose I shouldn't startle an army man, eh?'

He took the hand hesitantly, his sudden move and the resulting choke of the collar had taken a toll and he had real trouble finding his feet, so Agnes supported his body with her own as she had supported Frederick's in his last months on this earth.

He found his voice, and it sounded surprisingly dry.

'And I lived on the streets before that, old habits die hard. I'm very sorry mistress, to have laid a hand on you, and I suppose I'll be even sorrier soon.'

Only his eyes showed his very real fear of being punished, Patrick said he had plenty of stripes on his back, he had probably known rigid discipline for years.

'Never mind, I'm not an army sergeant having to set an example for the other men. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose.'

She had helped him back into the bed by now, feeling rather heated by his deference, combined with such dignity.

'Here, let me get your blanket and your book. Did you like it?'

He was still on his guard, and he seemed to swallow a lot, so she moved in on him fearlessly and took hold of the collar, lifting it to check underneath.

'I'm afraid that will be a nasty bruise tomorrow. Why did you go to the hearth to read? Wouldn't it have been more comfortable to just stay in bed?'

She really had to control herself not to kiss his throat, where the collar had indeed made quite a gauge in the tender flesh. That would swell, better have Patrick look at it later.

A slight lowering of his head was the only sign of humility she could see in him, though she was sure he felt it.

'There was not enough light to read by, mistress, I'm not a very good reader, I need plenty of light to make out the letters. But I liked the book.'

Of course, a candle, that was what had been missing all this time!

'I forgot a candle, you'll have one next time someone comes up here.

But now, do you want to eat, or do you want to take some time to recover from your shock first?'

'Please mistress, the latter, I couldn't eat a thing right now, though my stomach begs to differ. I was so afraid you'd have me whipped, I'd certainly break down and cry like a baby. I know I deserve punishment for laying a hand on my mistress, and usually I can stand the pain, but I'm not just weak physically right now, I'd almost certainly fall on my knees and beg for mercy instead of taking it like a man should.'

Agnes' heat didn't recede any at the thought of this man lying at her feet, but that was not what she had in mind to get from him. A mere beating wouldn't bring the man she wanted to his knees, and he certainly wouldn't cry or beg. But that was just what he said he might do.

His actual reaction pleased her quite a bit, and she sat on the bed really close to him, and gave in to her desire just a tiny bit, stroking that smooth but manly cheek once more.

She did not ask him permission to touch him, he was her slave after all, and he didn't show displeasure or fear, he merely shuddered at her gentle caress. He really felt divinely soft, and she wanted to kiss him, so she just did.

That surprised him, but he didn't try to resist, or take over, he merely answered the kiss as it was offered, obviously enjoying the contact.

He kept stimulating her ardour, merely by not shying from her and not trying to take more from her, he just let her lead and followed where she went. His hands clutching the blanket, he let her stroke his hair and his face, again, it was so handsome and so tantalizingly soft.

And when she moved down, past the collar, and undid the buttons of his nightshirt, stroking and kissing his mostly hairless chest, his hands still did nothing, and he shuddered again. She sucked his nipples shortly, they were delicious, and he smelled very nice, manly but not too strong.

Moving down, she pulled back the blanket, so he grabbed the sheet instead, still keeping from touching her, still shivering, with fear or anticipation, she didn't know.

And told herself she didn't care, he was here for her enjoyment, not his, what he thought of it didn't matter. She had been aching to touch a man as Patrick and Guy touched her, and this man would not be allowed to dislike her touch.

But there seemed little fear of that, for when she had caressed his rather emaciated stomach, he must have had little reserves even before his flight, and moved further down to remove his underwear, he actually moaned. His dick was already standing for her, of course, and she did not feel her usual reticence to serve a man.

This man was totally at her mercy, so she could do with him whatever pleased her.

Of course he was not endowed as magnificently as Dick, but he was certainly not undersized either, and he was clean. She took the solid erection in her full hand, and moved it up and down a few times, seeing his hands clutch the sheet to refrain from touching his mistress again, and hearing him moan as if in pain.

She did look up to see if he wasn't actually in pain, but his face merely showed intense ardour, and she felt free to bend over him and take his dick in her mouth as far as it would go.

Ignoring further sounds from her slave, she did what she had imagined doing, sucking it to her heart's content, licking the head with relish, then making it disappear in her mouth in its entirety. One of her hands was still holding this delightful new plaything firmly, while the other explored his inner legs, his testicles, his butt-cheeks.

As she touched his testicles, she felt him cringe, either that hurt or he was afraid it would hurt, but they felt good, very nice and soft, so she ignored his reaction and continued stroking them gently.

The moans had stopped, but his hands still clutched the sheet, when her hand, the one holding the shaft of his dick, felt it contract a tiny bit, little shocks at the base of it, echoed in his entire body now, and suddenly her mouth was filled with a sticky substance, hot and salty, frankly a rather unpleasant taste.

She managed to control herself to not lose her dignity, but she released his dick quickly and grabbed for the bedpan, opening it and spitting the contents of her mouth into it. A cup of water quickly followed, gurgling and spitting, until the taste had more or less faded, though she could still feel a faint burn where it had stuck to her tongue and palate longest.

Only then did she see the effect of what she had done on her slave. He was in total confusion, still startled by what had happened just before, wrung out by the towering climax she had caused him, and anxious over her extreme reaction.

She did not like to see fear in him, but she supposed that would fade as he gained physical strength, and yes, the ability to predict her reactions, get faith in her fairness.

'That did not taste well, did you know?'

He conquered fear well, for his voice again sounded neutral as he replied.

'No-one ever did that to me before. I knew it was sticky, of course, but I never tasted it.'

He was fighting sleep, trying to be polite, that was actually very endearing. Agnes knew most men fell asleep soon after climaxing, she just hadn't thought of it. Dennis needed to eat, he couldn't go to sleep just yet.

'You behaved really well, you let me do what I liked, that pleases me. Didn't you want to touch me back?'

'I wanted to mistress, but it would have been unforgivable after what happened before. I have no right to touch you, you're a lady, and I'm the worst kind of rabble, not fit to polish your boots.'

That was way too humble, though in fact Agnes was starting to suspect that dignity and humility generally excluded each other, and she might have to choose what she wanted from this man, the slave she had wanted so badly. It would bear some thinking.

'I will expect you to please me, too, you'll have to touch me to do that. Will you be able to?'

'Only if you give me your permission, mistress. Forgive me, but I have very little experience with women, I'm afraid I'll displease you.'

He was so young, so very young, it would be such fun to break him in, but how would she get him to cover her violently if he was so bashful? She had to find the key to release his dominance, she could feel it in him, but it was so carefully controlled, years of repression in the army most likely robbed him of his self-confidence.

She couldn't help stroking him again, he was so handsome and so sweet. If only she could get him to let go, on her cue, then go back to this shy boy.

Her touch caused him to close his eyes, he'd be asleep in seconds, so she shook him a little.

'You forgot to eat, you need your sustenance. You can sleep later.'

He opened his eyes obediently, but he was already more than half-asleep, there was no use insisting, he'd choke on his food if he ate it now.

'Never mind, love, just eat it when you wake up next time. It's late afternoon, I'll come back in a few hours to help you.'

The eyes closed again, and as Agnes stroked those lovely cheeks she could see the anxiety leave his features, and the innocence return. That was the moment she stopped stroking him, if he woke now he'd be startled all over again, and even a soldier had his breaking point. She would do well to avoid that, if she were to have a chance of bringing out the man in this boy.

Leaving the tray, she walked down the stairs, straight to Patrick and Guy.

'If you have business with our new guest, be careful not to touch him in his sleep, for he has lightning reactions and might hurt you without even being aware of it.'

Patrick immediately took her hands and looked her over carefully.

'Did he hurt you, mistress? I never thought he would do that, he was so thankful to be warm and safe. Do you want us to punish him?'

'He didn't hurt me, Patrick, he woke up just in time to control his reaction, and he awaited my immediate retribution, with dignity I may add. But I decided to spare him, he obviously cannot be held accountable for the reflexes of his past live, let us hope they will fade as he settles in his captivity.

He did get hurt, though, he landed in his collar with his full weight. Will you check on him tonight, Patrick? See if his throat doesn't swell up dangerously? Oh, and I promised him a candle.'

'Isn't that dangerous, Mrs Beauchamp?'

'He is not the kind to set a fire to escape, Guy. He's more the type for direct action. But I think I'm making progress in winning him, I'm just afraid to win him too quickly and too thoroughly, he's still so young, and he has little experience with making love.

But I want him to have the candle, he's smart and needs to broaden his mind. He'll have little opportunity to do that in his attic besides by reading.'

Did that make Patrick look decidedly uncomfortable? What was ailing him, why would he care about keeping a deserter a slave? The man would be hanged if they didn't protect him.

Dennis awoke with a gasp from a nightmare of being throttled by a French dragoon, but the feeling of being choked didn't let up. Grabbing for his throat he felt the iron collar, uncomfortably tight over a painful swelling, frightening him into frenzied attempts to get it off. Still half asleep, he only succeeded in causing himself even more pain, and for a moment he lay on the bed, gasping for breath, panic waking him but at the same time clouding his thinking.

The bell, ring for Patrick!

He stuck out his hand and pulled the cord, then concentrated on staying calm and breathing until help came.

It didn't take long for soft footsteps to sound on the stairs, and like an angel, beautiful Patrick came to the rescue. He immediately saw what the problem was, and turned to fetch the mistress for the key, but Dennis panicked when he saw the person he trusted walk away, wheezing and gasping so badly that Patrick feared he'd choke to death if he left.

So he sat on the bed and pulled the cord once more, certain Guy would come running, then tried to calm the poor boy down by taking him in his arms.

'Lie still, Dennis, help is on its way. Don't fight, don't thrash, it will only make things worse. Trust me and let me comfort you, I'm sorry I didn't see to you earlier, the mistress had asked, but I expected you to sleep for at least four hours. You did so far, you know.

Here, hold my hand, you may squeeze it if you're in pain, share the pain with me to make it less, just keep breathing, Guy will be here any minute, and he will fetch the mistress, who will give you a bit more space to breathe. You will be all right, just stay calm and trust me.'

But Guy didn't come, the mistress herself did, and when she bent over her new man, more like a large boy in his state of distress, Patrick saw real concern in her, and he felt a sudden hope that all would still be well.

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