Mistress Agnes Ch. 16

The next day dawned bright and early, and Dennis felt pretty fantastic. Dick was married to the best woman he could ever have found, Agnes was as good as cured, and his own head was fine, his memories were all in good order and didn't intrude on his life anymore, he no longer suffered from dizzy spells or headaches, maybe he could pick up his exercises and his riding this week. There was that little thing of the two of them becoming parents, and of his having promised Agnes to get married, but neither of those was avoidable so he'd try to enjoy them. It would be good to stop living in sin and Agnes was the best woman for him, the only woman he could ever imagine getting married to, even if she came with a manor, a fortune, property, and responsibilities towards dozens, maybe hundreds, of other people.

Dennis had no clue how to deal with all that and no wish to do so, leading a small life was enough of a challenge for him, but Agnes and Guy had things well in hand, he'd only need to make friends with everyone and pretend to be a sensible person.

He picked up the book from his night table and prepared to read until Agnes woke up, eager for some loving, though he was also very curious how Dick and Maria were doing. But it wouldn't do to be too eager to associate with them, Maria was not used to their closeness as a group, she might want to have her husband to herself, at least for their first week, their honeymoon.

Soon, he was lost in his book, one of Agnes' earlier works, very tantalizing, she certainly knew how to write a good love scene. This one was especially hot, between a boy and a girl from rivalling families, taking place in a formal garden, in a little retreat between tall laurel hedges. As he reached the best part of the scene, a hand closed around his dick and he gasped in ardour.

'You like my writing, don't you, my love? Or at least your dick does.'

She had woken up and he had never even noticed. Maybe she had been reading along without hin noticing, in fact she probably had. But no scene, however well-written, could compete with Agnes, and he closed the book to kiss her ardently. Of course she returned his kiss, and Dennis started to stroke her with all the heat he felt, eager to take it one step further.

'Dennis? I want to make love with you, but somewhere else than here.'

'You want to go outside? No problem, my love, the weather is fine.'

'No Dennis, not outside. I want you to come with me to the attic.'

The attic? That damned hell-hole? Why? To mess with his head? It was finally back to a semblance of order after weeks of misery. Of course all his lust disappeared instantly, he felt sick at the very idea of ever going back there. In fact, he felt like rolling into a ball and crying. Why would his beloved want to do that to him? Arms guided his face to her bosom, he didn't protest, he was frozen up.

'Please Dennis, look at you, the very idea of going there has you on the brink of tears, can't you see how much power the past still has over you?'

That was easy for her to say, she hadn't been chained to the wall for months, in the dark, all alone.

'It cannot hurt you anymore, Dennis, I won't hurt you anymore. I love you, I want to see you whole, not damaged by the past.'

'I can't do it, Agnes, I cannot go there, the very thought makes me sick. Please don't make me go to that dreadful place.'

He couldn't look at her, her bosom was the best place to be at this moment, it was safe, and loving, and it didn't ask him to do things that were just impossible. She held him and stroked his head, and he was so thankful she was so good to him, and gave him so much love. As long as they were together, everything was fine.

'I'm sorry, Dennis, I didn't mean to frighten you so. You were in such a good mood when I woke and now its all gone, I can't seem to do right by you. I truly thought you needed to go back there to face your fear and your past, find some peace within yourself. But I suppose I was wrong, for now you're all stressed out.'

That must have been the moment Dennis realized he had not been fair, Agnes didn't have it easy at all and he knew it. She was trying to help him, he had gone all to pieces when he thought she was dangerously ill, and now she was fine again he just wanted to cling to her and keep her close. Frankly, he wanted to be hers altogether, give up his own identity to her, kneel to her, be her slave again, but by her side, not all by himself. That wasn't right.

'Dennis, what is wrong? You're not dizzy again, are you?'

She was right, something was wrong with him, he didn't seem to have a will left. When did that happen?

'No, you're right, I do need to go to the attic. I need to face the past for it is consuming me. I just caught myself thinking of throwing myself at your feet for no reason at all, just to feel sheltered. I want nothing more than to cling to you when I should be making a life for myself, or at least help you run the estate and know what is going on. I don't know when I lost my will, Agnes, but it's time to gain it back, and if the first step is to go to the attic again, I will. But it will be very hard, I will need you to support me, and I will seek comfort in humility. Please don't reject me for that, I still need it.'

'I will never reject you, Dennis. I'm as dependent on you as you are on me. But I do think you need to experience that the attic is just that, a room on top of the house. Will you let me guide you?'

He couldn't move, not yet, fear still had a hold on him. But with Agnes' support and a supreme effort he forced himself to don a dressing gown and follow his beloved through the hall to the door behind which he knew he'd find the stairs to the attic. He passed that door daily, it held no terrors for him, it was not part of his traumatic experience, and neither was the staircase behind it. So he climbed it willingly enough, step by step behind his beloved, until the smell of the attic hit him.

It was not exactly the same, for it was hot below the roof but without the smell of burning wood from a fire, yet it made him feel frightened all at once, and he froze in place.

'It's the smell, isn't it? It brings back my memories, too, but mine are not exactly bad. I was often very happy coming here, Dennis, I must have been pretty smitten with you already though I denied being in love. When I was writing I didn't miss you, but you crept into my stories, so in a way I had you with me part of the day.

But at other times I ached for you, and yet I denied those feelings, for one does not fall in love with one's slave. I did not allow myself to stay with you overnight for fear of making it worse. If only I had, even once, my love, I would have heard your nightmares, or I would have seen how hopeless your life was. I'm still so very sorry, Dennis.'

But Dennis was not feeling anger against Agnes, he was aware of how useful it was to be here with her, to face his shuddering fear of this place in the arms of the woman who had made it hell for him, and heaven for an hour each day. To hear her side of the story was so revealing. With her help, he could move again, and they soon reached the top of the stairs. The smell was stronger still, and it put him in a weird mood, he wanted to fall at Agnes' feet and have her decide his life for him, forever. But now they had passed the single window and it was getting darker, there was no fire of course, and yet it was warm. Dennis clung to his love by now, dragging his feet.

'Can you sit down on the bed? Or will that make it worse?'

The bed.

If this room was hell, that bed had been the place where his own specific torture had taken place. It was beautiful and comfortable, and he had spent several months in it, it hadn't been as dark as this, and colder, but the feeling was the same.

But somehow, reaching the height of his fear, a spark of courage burst into life inside him. Still he couldn't speak, but he sat down on the bed and gave himself up to the memories.

Lying on the bed, reading by the light of a candle.

Waking up in it, screaming in fear from a nightmare, or paralysed with the memory of seeing a comrade die right before his eyes.

Taking the mistress forcefully, afraid to have gone too far this time and earning a beating for his trouble.

Being held by Patrick, first weak with hunger, then desperate with the emptiness of his life, and the worst moments of all, beyond despair, hurting with fresh whip cuts and the rejection of his beloved mistress.

And the mistress, no, Agnes, dear Agnes, holding him as she was now, showing her love for him in those rare moments she allowed her feelings for him to surface, putting some heart back into him for a few days.

Gasping for air.

The sound of his own wheezing brought Dennis back from his memories, he hadn't done that for months, well maybe just after being hit on the head when his memories were still shaken up. But this time it was different, for as soon as he was back to his own self it stopped, and he became aware of his beloved, who was holding him tightly.

She was lost in memories as much as Dennis was and they had hit her as hard. Her face was buried in his hair, and though he couldn't see her very well in the dark he could feel her shaking, she was trying to keep from making a noise but she was crying. His strong mistress brought to tears, of course this was hard on her, too, she must have climbed those stairs with as much reluctance as he had, her guilt over what she did to him must have paralysed her as much as his own feelings hindered him. And still she supported him, she was so strong, and so good to him. And now she needed Dennis more than anything.

The spark of courage inside him flared up, her need strengthened him this time, and he sat up and took her in his arms. Her face buried itself in his chest and she clung to him and cried openly, though still rather quietly.

Never in that room had Dennis comforted anyone, he had always been the one being held, the one needing help or comfort. Despite Agnes being in agony over what she had done to him he felt rather good. Strong, confident, he could actually comfort someone. What was this attic but another room?

By now his eyes were used to the dark and he started to see some detail in the space around him.

The hearth, where he had read his first book in years, by the light of the fire.

The sturdy table that had supported him when he was still too weak to walk by himself.

Seeing the iron collar right where Patrick had flung it after taking it off him caused Dennis to swallow hard, but it didn't sap his will or make him feel humble or wronged anymore. Sure it had been bad, but his time here had given him love and acceptance, too. Agnes was right, the very thought of this room had held power over him, but it was fading fast.

He had been a strong-willed natural leader; at an age where most men still depended on their parents he had led a gang of rough youths into dangerous situations, and back out again in one piece. His quick thinking and unconscious charisma had inspired them to follow him unquestioningly, and he had never let them down. Until the raid that delivered himself and a group of his most faithful followers into the hands of the police and after a very short trial into the loveless ranks of His Majesty's army. But that had not been foolishness or even youthful bravado, the coppers should not have known about their plans, Dennis had long suspected foul play, treason from within.

Couldn't he dredge up some of his former qualities and put them to work? Frankly, he already had, his charm had worked wonders with Agnes' London connections, even suffering from severe concussion he had them believing he was a gentleman. And the local farmers and tradesmen didn't even doubt his noble heritage. Was his charisma his first positive trait to be restored to him? Would his courage and his sense of responsibility return next? And his boldness, would he ever find that back?

Agnes would love that, as long as he kept his dominance toned down.

He used to be very dominant, one didn't become the leader of a street gang without the ability to overrule others, most of them older and stronger than himself, but army training had suppressed it, and active fighting had killed it off. Dennis was truly convinced there was no dominance left in him, no need for Agnes to fear his taking over once they were married.

The household was running just fine without his leadership, he supposed he had only assumed the role of leader to survive the streets. And maybe to help some others survive, but at that age? To have compassion with others, who were competing for the same food? After having been at the edge of starvation for years? No, helping others had just been a side effect of helping himself.

His beloved looked up at him, but she didn't speak. Of course not, she had wanted him to come here to start this very process, and it wouldn't do to disturb it with meaningless chatter.

Oh my God! Did he really use that term just now? Were Agnes' insights meaningless chatter to him all of a sudden? Was expressing her love for him and worrying over the effects of being here a nuisance? Better kiss her to make up for that thoughtless comment, even if he hadn't spoken it out loud.

'Are you in agony, my love? Are you speechless with pain?'

Of course kissing her broke his thoughts anyway, he had started out this morning feeling pretty heated, losing his heat instantly in shock, but it was fast returning, augmented somehow by a sense of triumph at finding back a part of himself he thought lost forever.

'No need to talk, love, I have my answer.'

His kiss was indeed rather passionate, his heat was very insistent, take her now, it said, in this very bed, to make up for all the humiliation you suffered here.

Unwittingly, Agnes answered that dangerous kiss with an ardour of her own, she had always liked it rough, that same part of him said, take her now, get your own back.

And Dennis decided consciously he would take her, but not to humiliate his beloved for what she had done to him. He would do it to thank her for taking him here, for freeing his mind of the dominion this place had exerted over him, day in, day out. It had always been there, in the back of his mind, looming over him, keeping him down.

And now he felt free, finally, he had his life before him and he was going to enjoy it to the full.

His dick had stopped trying to reduce Agnes to an object of lust, but changed tactics by urging him to please her by taking her as roughly as she always wanted, something he hadn't been able to really give her for lack of boldness, but now, he still loved her, but he didn't feel at all like falling at her feet, nor did he wish to have her at his, he just wanted to take her as hard as he could and make her squeal with exultation.

And though she did not squeal, not yet, when he held the back of her neck as he kissed her again, a solid kiss with more determination than he had ever put into one, and at the same time slipped his other hand into her dressing gown and fondled her breasts rather firmly, she did make a tiny noise.

She was surprised, very much so, but she didn't seem to mind, so he took her slight shape in his arms and flipped her to the bed, pinning her beneath his own body. It wouldn't do to fumble for the release of her dressing gown, he was all business now and he merely flipped it up, spread her legs and entered her firmly.

Yes, she felt the difference with those times he had merely been pretending to be in command, this was real, and it was much, much better. This time, she did squeal, and Dennis was glad to find himself enough in control of himself to check whether she was still enjoying this.

Though his beloved had surrendered to him and was rather overcome, she did offer herself to him, her state seemed due to ecstasy rather than fear or anger. And his fervent pumping did please her, she started to pant, and her hands gripped his arms rather firmly. Frankly, it seemed to please her more than himself, it felt as if something was lacking, was he turning into Dick, eager for a long taste of her pussy?

The room was totally forgotten, Dennis fucked Agnes with true force and determination until he felt a climax approaching. Then he kissed her again, not particularly gently but rather greedily, and pulled himself out and knelt between her legs. But this was not the small, humble Dennis, this was a strong man out to get what he lusted for, and he draped her legs over his shoulders to bring her pussy to his mouth rather than the reverse. The first bite was fabulous, her soft flesh to suck on, his tongue causing her to twitch and shudder. She was so heated by his firm fucking that a shuddering climax came over her before he was ready to let go of her pussy, so he merely continued what he was doing until she started to moan.

'Oh, my love, it is you, isn't it?'

Her attitude belied her words, she was not worried, merely pleasantly surprised, and to answer her question he freed one hand to insert a finger into her warm pussy, to rub her favourite spot inside, resulting in another shuddering high.

'Oh, Dennis, do it again, please! Take me like you did just now, it was so good, I want more, fuck me until I squeal, please.'

No problem, this was the right moment to fuck her again, the taste of her still on his tongue, her heat up as much as his. He plunged in as soon as he had released her to the bed, easy for she was offering herself eagerly. Oh, this was so good, with every thrust he felt her squeeze her muscles around his dick, and they were strong, she was so athletic.

By now his ability to think left him, lust took over, and he vaguely heard Agnes come again, but now his dick was in charge and urged him to go faster and faster, which he did, until he was nearly blinded as a towering climax washed over him. He was pulled down on top of his love, and as he lay heaving, she kissed his face and stroked his hair and back, still a bit heated, as ever.

Agnes was slight, and still weak from her ordeal the last week, so he rolled off her too soon to her liking, but after a slight cry of protest she settled in his arms easily enough. He couldn't help clutching her possessively, he loved her so much and now she carried his child, he would protect her against all harm, and love her with all his heart.

Suddenly he remembered where they were, he had totally forgotten, and he looked around. The memories were still there, but he didn't see only the pain and the humiliation in the all-too-familiar surroundings, he now saw the love, too, Agnes' and Patrick's, yes, and Dick's faithful love for him, they had become such good friends. Would that have happened if Dennis hadn't been in such a state, would he have found love and friendship?

He would never know, but he was certain his ordeal in this attic would find a place among his other bad memories, his mother's death, the day he had landed in the streets as a boy, the atrocities he had witnessed and committed in the war. They were all in the past, they had formed his character but they would not rule his life anymore. And for another half hour silence reigned in the attic, Agnes didn't say anything, and Dennis' feelings were still too strong to put them into words.

Finally, felt he had most of them sorted, and his stomach was starting to complain.

'Shall we dress and get some breakfast?'

A kiss was his reply.

He released his beloved, jumped out of the bed quickly and offered her his hand, to pull her upright. She took it, of course, and he pulled her in his arms for a last embrace, after which they made their way to the stairs. Once upon it, Agnes spoke for the first time in at least an hour, well, excepting a few cries in the heat of their lovemaking.