Mistress Agnes Ch. 05

She watched him eat, though he took his time, still careful not to bolt his food, it wouldn't make him sick anymore but if he made it last, he wouldn't be bored as quickly, and she'd stay with him a little longer.

He laid down for her again as she lifted the collar and checked his throat, which seemed to heat her more than a little, apparently keeping him constrained was a big turn-on for her. His body remembered what she did to him last time she held that collar, and fired up instantly.

But that was his body, his mind quailed, for he was planning to touch her unasked for next time she lavished attention on him, and he was still very afraid to be beaten. His mind had not recovered from his time in France and his ordeal on the moors, dreams often turned to nightmares, and loud noises made him want to find a small hole and crawl into it.

For now, his body won and his ardour rose, he could always not do what he planned, if he showed her some spirit once a week she'd probably accept it. He had not even been here one week, and he was still tired most of the time, and emaciated, though he had started to exercise his muscles as well as he could.

The strange thing was, he was trained in unarmed combat, even without muscles he had enough technique to floor any man, Dick included. But he seemed to lack the will, he had led a gang of icy youths, he had survived the French skirmishers, but he could no longer work up even the slightest anger or courage.

By now, the mistress had lost interest in the collar, she had removed his nightshirt and was kissing his chest. Suddenly she wanted him to show her his back, and he rolled over with the agility of a wrestler, startling her with his lightning reaction.

She recovered quickly, and kneaded his shoulders and back expertly until he was bonelessly relaxed, then traced all the scars from side to side, or up and down. There were many, and some had obviously not been caused by the lash.

A deep bayonet slash on his ribs, a bullet-hole on his buttocks, a series of knife-cuts from his childhood.

The memories assaulted him, and he wanted to beg her to just let him be, to leave him alone with his past, but his body betrayed him and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Her soft hands on his skin did feel very good, and she was very gentle, but what she wanted of him was just impossible.

He felt her hand enter the cleft between his butt-cheeks, and wondered whether she would find him clean enough to her liking. Dick had brought him water and told him the mistress liked her men very clean, but there was so much one could do with a cloth and a basin.

She went lower still, so he guessed he had done well enough, until she touched his testicles once more, stroking first, then holding the soft skin and its contents in her hand. He shivered, feeling vulnerable, but it was exciting as well.

Stroking his butt-cheeks a little more, her fingers raking his sensitive arse, he feared for one moment that she'd penetrate him with her finger, the ultimate dominant gesture in both army and on the streets. No-one had even thought of humiliating Dennis that way in his former lives, but he was weak now, it would have been the death-stroke to his efforts to seem spirited.

But she merely caressed it, and moved on, back to his testicles, his inner thighs, his lower legs. She massaged his feet, and he relaxed once more.

Then she turned him around, stroking his legs up until she reached his testicles and his dick, eager for her attention like a senseless puppy, totally blind to the power-play going on here.

She spread his legs and licked his balls, it was good, she hadn't hurt him so far, dared he trust her with his most sensitive parts?

'You're so sensitive, love, and so beautiful.'

Why call him love? She wanted to rule him, not love him, didn't she?

But his body just couldn't resist her, this was not how he remembered sex, it had been a lot of grunting and panting in a corner, half horny, half afraid to be caught at a vulnerable moment. Or a quick fix with a camp-follower, sad creatures barely recognizable as women, the release not worth the money and the risk of catching the French gout, or some other horrid disease.

He didn't have to do anything, yet, Patrick said to not touch her when she did this to him, she'd feel demeaned and flay him alive. So he let his balls be licked and kissed, shivering with ardour and still a bit of fear to be hurt, and he enjoyed the feeling of her warm, moist mouth and tongue on the head of his dick, and the rest of it.

She held it firmly with one hand, while her tongue caressed the ridge of the head, under it, and back in her mouth it went altogether. He thought he was going to go mad with lust, he wanted to grab her and take her, but this was not the time. She still enjoyed this too much, it was still new, and she felt vulnerable lying between his legs, in a subservient position.

Hands clutching the sheet once more, his head started spinning, and he felt a climax approaching. Not yet, this was too early, she wasn't done at all. And worse, he had to touch her now, for he could not let his seed foul her mouth again, she had hated the taste of it.

His obvious distress caused her to look up at him, and he managed to speak, voice husky even in his own ears, 'Please, mistress, have mercy, I'm close to my climax, I cannot control it.'

She was disappointed, he did have very little stamina, but he had never been served like this, and he had not had a woman in years, and never a lady like her.

'Never mind, love, you were dying on the moors only a few days ago. No wonder you're excitable. I'm on fire, too, do you know how to please a woman?'

He decided to be honest.

'I've never tried, mistress, never really had a woman to please. But I can try, if you tell me what to do...'

Of course it would have been better if he had been able to please her from experience.

Or would it? She had plenty of men eager to do so, and skilled, even Dick apparently knew how to do it.

Maybe teaching someone was much more fun, maybe breaking in a virtual virgin was much hotter.

He awaited her orders, not with humility, but with eagerness. For Dick seemed to really like doing this, and somehow Dennis felt he wanted to learn.

His reward was a smouldering kiss, her body, still completely dressed, on his, and her tongue almost in his throat. It was easy to answer it in the same spirit, and he dared himself to hold her as he kissed her, which she accepted.

When they were both out of breath, she did something under her skirts, then carefully moved up until they covered his face totally. She had moved the chain so she didn't sit on it, the very touch of it stirring her even further, and he found the inside of her skirts much less smothering than he had expected.

In fact, they were rather roomy, and very exciting, for she had removed her own underwear, and right in front of his face he found the little patch of curly hair he knew would be there.

But hers smelled really nice, she probably bathed a lot, or maybe gentle ladies smelled better than camp-followers or street girls.

Patrick had told him to lie between her legs and gently move aside the flesh that the hair covered, and Dennis supposed he could do the same here, even though it was op top of his face.

He stroked the little curls, and carefully explored the flesh beneath them, to find out which way it would go. He couldn't see a thing, so he had to feel his way around, and he soon found an opening like the one he had used to relieve his urges on in his former life.

Probing it a little with a finger, he felt the mistress shiver, and he hoped it was as much a sign of ardour in her as it had been in him. But this was only to re-acquaint himself with the better parts of a woman, for the bit that mattered should be higher up.

His hands wouldn't be of much use there, and his face couldn't quite reach, he didn't have the stomach muscles anymore to lift his torso this high, so he wriggled down a bit until he was straight under her, the pulled her down onto his face, hoping it wouldn't cost him.

But frankly, his heat was up, he didn't care very much anymore, this was so hot, the smell, the moistness, the softness of it, he probed it carefully with the tip of his tongue, and found he could easily find where it felt best for her by just touching a part and judging her reaction.

There was a little nob, protected by a fold of skin, and it gave the best reaction, so he licked it a few times, getting a shudder each time. The legs on both sides of his face relaxed and settled, apparently he was doing well, and the mistress was making herself comfortable to enjoy it.

A few licks later, he got so heated he just had to suck that little ball, take as much of it in his mouth as he could, then use his tongue again, he wanted to taste all of it, every fold, and every corner, and he did. The reactions varied, but each time he got the strongest one on the little ball, and when he lost his grip on the flesh with the curly hairs and took a firmer hold of it, she moaned. So that was good, too.

He was quite comfortable, hidden away safely in the dark beneath the mistress' skirts, her legs spread wide to allow him access, her most sensitive and vulnerable bit in his mouth.

It never bored him, he loved the feel of it, this was so much better than grunting and rutting, he held her open and sampled her soft flesh greedily, until she moaned once and little shocks racked her slender body.

It was a bit disconcerting, and he stopped to find out if she was all right, but she moved away from his face, and kissed him as ardently as before, tasting herself on his tongue. As they kissed, he could feel her rubbing herself against him, and he wondered if this was the moment.

Should he take her now? She expected it, wanted him to, but she was so afraid to lose her dominance.

Again, his body decided for him.

Still kissing, he grabbed her, roughly, on purpose, and he swung her around and covered her with his whole body, pinning her beneath him. Her skirts were lying open, enabling him to thrust himself inside her in one firm move.

He held her mouth with his, he held her arms, and he held her whole body with his weight, as his lust shut down his doubts and forced him to push himself into her again and again, mindlessly pumping until his stomach hurt with the effort.

The pain of it brought him out of his fervour, and he could see and hear again, every one of his thrusts forced a little sound out of her, and her face was wrung with, not with pain, but with ecstasy. His fear of punishment came back, but he couldn't stop now, he had to plunge in, and out, and again and again, until she arched and wanted to kiss him again.

He bent over to kiss her, arching his back to reach her mouth, and this seemed to get an even stronger reaction, apparently through the arch of his back his dick touched some part of her inside that felt very good indeed.

As soon as her mouth released their kiss, she squealed again with his every thrust, and something almost seemed to pain her, making him unsure, until she urged him on, 'Faster, love, harder, just a tiny bit more! It's so hot!'

He tried to give her what she asked for, she was his mistress after all, and his own lust drove him on relentlessly, but his muscles ached and he was badly out of breath, the chain of the collar had gotten stuck under her body, and it was putting an uncomfortable pressure on his bruised throat.

Still his urges needed to be satisfied, and his mistress had to be pleased, and he chased his climax with renewed energy, pumping as fast as he could and as hard as he could, and just as he felt he had no breath left in him, he felt her freeze beneath him, and was overcome by an almost painful high himself.

He crashed to the bed heaving for breath, fear for retribution forgotten in his fight for air, world shrinking to one breath after the other. Then nothing.

When he woke up in the mistress' arms, he didn't know how long he had been out. She didn't seem too worried, but she was as sweet as the day before yesterday, stroking his hair, kissing his face, holding him tightly.

He still felt the weight of the collar on his bruised throat, though.

'You're awake, thank God. I thought you were done for this time.'

So she had been worried.

She did not offer to remove the collar, sadly. But neither did she threaten to whip him for taking her.

'You did well, love, you gave your all. More than your all. Better take care to lead the chain next time, I don't think you can keep fainting like this, I suppose it must be very unhealthy.'

What could he do but enjoy her affection? He would never understand her reasons to keep him chained up.