Mistress Agnes Ch. 18

To think Dennis coolly warned them against messing with the collar and chain. As if either of them would even want to touch it!

Soon after those tantalizing kisses Dennis left them by themselves, and they made love heatedly on that lovely soft bed, Dick back to his usual tender self, Maria even more eager than usual, imagining Dennis part of their love-play, and him kissing heatedly with beautiful Patrick, who probably knew exactly what to do to please a man. Maybe Maria should ask him some day, and surprise her husband.

Walking down the stairs Dennis felt relief that Dick would be fine, he had mostly suffered from guilt over not having done anything to save Dennis from the mistress. Since there was nothing he could have done, and everything had turned out just fine, he would soon let go, Dennis was sure of that. Maria would convince him, now she knew everything.

A small part of Dennis doubted the wisdom of telling her about his desertion, but somehow his fear to be apprehended seemed a thing of the past, too. It was highly unlikely that anyone was still looking for him, he should have died on the moors and there were plenty more privates, maybe not as experienced while still so very young, but undoubtedly less damaged in body and spirit.

The memory of Maria's lush body against his kept distracting him, Dennis knew he was madly in love with Agnes and would always be hers, but Dick's offer of making love in the attic together certainly had tempted him. He had never made love to another woman before, well, in fact he had fucked a few times, but what one did with street rats and camp followers could not be called lovemaking in any way, and the image of stroking those luscious curves and those full breast was enough to make him feel very heated.

In that exact state he entered Agnes' study, where she seemed to have risen above guilt and pain to a state of happy inspiration. She did not look up when Dennis came in, and was writing as fast as she could, which was a lot faster than Dennis had ever managed, but rather slower than a professional writer was supposed to write. But as Agnes had told Maria, it was important to be able to read whatever her brain had come up with, since a state of inspiration was more than a little feverish, and Dennis could imagine very well that the next morning, or whenever she 'woke up' from this productive state, Agnes would have forgotten the details of what she had written down.

So she had taught herself to stay disciplined and write a perfect hand all the time, to never lose a brilliant idea or a tantalizing love-scene to messy handwriting. Agnes didn't care that took extra time, she knew she would be able to always read back what she had written, and that was what counted.

Dennis was not going to disturb his beloved in this state of mind, it would not make her grumpy but she would lose her grip on whatever was in her mind at the time, and it would take a lot of effort to make up for that, something he didn't want to be the cause of. His heat would last, maybe it was better if he didn't translate the excitement he felt over Maria's touch and Dick's proposition to Agnes.

He sat down in a lazy chair by the fireplace, empty in summer, of course, and picked up a newspaper from the table.

'Colonies restless, regiments mobilized!'

His poor fellows, those guys who stood up for him by masking his weaknesses, not just one or two but all of them, fifteen men including a sergeant covering for him, keeping quiet about his nightmares, failing to mention his sudden spells of immobility. During his time in the attic Dennis had felt as if he had betrayed them, but now he knew he had made their lives a tiny bit safer. For to trust Dennis to guard their backs in the heat of battle would have been madness, he had frozen in fear more than once during drill, doing that in a real battle would have killed not just himself, but some of his comrades as well. No, they were well-rid of him.

After a whole hour Agnes stopped writing and looked up. Dennis registered her movement subconsciously and stopped his reading. Their eyes met and Agnes dropped her pen, got up and sat on his lap, and they snuggled intensely. Then she got serious.

'Does Maria loathe me now? For abusing and torturing a helpless man?'

Kissing her gently, Dennis observed, 'You know, Maria may even be smarter than you. She was shocked to hear you kept me captive, and even more so that you whipped me. But she asked me why I hadn't just knocked you out and forced Guy and Patrick to release me.'

Agnes had not considered that possibility, but she was a quick thinker, too.

'They had a whip, Dennis, and there was Dick as well.'

'You still have no idea how dangerous I can be, Agnes, really. I could have killed all of you, even Dick. A whip is as powerful as its wielder, and not one of you can even come near an army sergeant. No, Agnes, I was not exactly helpless.'

But now his beloved looked stubborn.

'You were. You could not have hurt anyone consciously, your trauma incapacitated you totally. Even though you had the skills to beat me, your mind had no chance at all. And where would you have gone, back to the moors? Back to the streets? But let's not argue about this. I'll accept you must have gotten something from the situation initially. I'll learn to live with the memory, as you do with yours. Shall we send for some lunch? Writing is hungry work.'