Nancy's Place

During the course of these rambles Nancy noticed that the bolder of her young ladies sought to cling to Mr. Charles’ arms when opportunity presented. This was an alarming development for which she could not in all justice blame Mr. Charles. She did however, in Mr. Charles’ absence, admonish the girls that this was not an action attendant upon their virginal status, but this seemed to have little effect upon the male starved maidens.

To further alarm Nancy, the Misses Edith and Angel, together with other of her female holiday tutors, also took opportunity to join in the countryside saunters. Even Dove took, what Nancy thought of, as an “unhealthy interest” in Mr. Charles, despite her suspected nocturnal relationship with the chaplain.

One day while idly sitting in on a geography tutorial conducted by a middle aged lady, Nancy became aware that every eye was turned to the window. Glancing to see what the distraction was, she saw Mr. Charles making his way from the main building to his coach house abode. Every step of his way was tracked by the female eyes until he passed through the door and out of sight. A communal sigh arose in the room.

All this was dreadful enough in Nancy’s eyes, but another cause gave her even greater grounds for alarm.

They were only three weeks into the holiday period and Nancy was contemplating suggesting to Mr. Charles that he might seek employment elsewhere. As she lay in bed one night meditating on this, a mental picture of Mr. Charles hovering around in her brain, she felt something that had not occurred to her for a long time. In fact she had not felt this sensation since Gordon days.

The chaste Nancy tried to deny that she was experiencing a slight throbbing excitation in her nether region, or more specifically, her clitoris. To investigate this unwonted phenomenon she placed an exploratory finger on the nerve filled little nub. Nothing seemed amiss, except that the probing finger increased the sensation, and adding to her puzzlement was the fact that her vagina seemed exceptionally moist and she was sure her nipples were hardening.

She replaced the clitoris investigating finger with her thumb, thus allowing the finger to research the wetness of her vagina. Her free hand now cupped her breast, her fingers gently pressing a nipple.

After a few moments of this research the image of Mr. Charles seemed to intensify and this was accompanied by a rather pleasant if violent series of tremors to which she responded with cries of, “Oh my God….yes….yes…yes…”, as she visualised herself and Mr. Charles in a highly compromising situation.

After a considerable amount of heaving and convulsing Nancy managed to stop the throbbing in her clitoris, and she lay back on her virtuous mattress in a state of delightful relaxation. For the first time since Gordonian days she was enjoying her body, including the sweet fragrance that her sexual organ seemed to be emitting. To add to this pleasure she raised a soft little hand to her lips, and tasted the outpourings of her vagina. This combination of taste and odour set the clitoral alarm bells going again, and quickly Nancy was struggling to relieve the revived symptoms.

The battle, even more virulent than the first time, over, Nancy pondered in the fastness of the night. At the evil hour when the monsters rise from the deep and our problems and fears grow to engulf us, she made a decision.

“Before the sun sets upon this day, he must be gone.”

With that thought she finally settled to sleep in the midst her bedraggled sheet and blanket disarrayed bed. If she dreamed, then the content of those her dreams lay secretly ensconced in her beautiful bosom.

Now it was one of the signs of the egalitarian nature of Nancy relationship with her older charges, that she shared a shower room with them. Whilst each of the dozen showers had it own modest cubicle, there was coming and going and much exposure of delightful young female flesh.

Nancy, rising from her troubled night, her resolve to be rid of Mr. Charles before the sun set still firm, she made her way to the shower room. She entered to the sound of hissing showers and much female laugher and chatter.

In this environment Nancy had often contemplated the beauty of her charges, the slender figures and proud pink nippled breasts. “How lovely is young womanhood,” she would think to herself. But on this particular morning the tables were turned, so to speak.

There was among the young ladies one, Alicia; a delightful but rather outspoken young lady with the unfortunate habit of saying what was on her mind. On this showering occasion Alicia, her young body glowing from the warmth of her just completed shower, looked admiringly at Nancy who divesting herself of her dressing gown, was naked for all to see.

Now it must be said that Nancy had appeared thus before the young ladies on many occasions, it just came about that Alicia on this occasion chose to speak her thoughts.

“Nancy, dear, you really are beautiful.”

Nancy, taken aback by this declaration sought to protest.

“Don’t be silly, Alicia, I am not in the least beautiful.”

False modesty on Nancy’s part it may have been, but emboldened by Alicia’s pronouncement voices came from all around the steam filled room.

“You are lovely Nancy”; “I wish I had you’re figure”; “You always look absolutely super”, and so it went.

Of course, Gordon in the time he was with her had said many things if this sort about his beloved, but Nancy had locked all that away at the time she resolved to lead the life of sensual abstinence. Given her deeds and resolve of the previous night, rather than elevate her spirits, the positive reflections on her comeliness did but aggravate her troubled mind.

She understood full well that beauty in a woman did but bring about the attentions of the male gender as in the past she had experienced. Once resolved on the sexually unsullied life, and ensconced for the most part within the female environment of her establishment, she had no longer been disturbed by importune males seeking her hand, or any other part of her anatomy.

Now, the comments by Alicia, added to the presence of a very desirable male within the confines of her feminine fortress, plus the image of that same male during her self relieving for the first time since pre-Gordon days, deeply disturbed her.

This all pointed to a strange anomaly in Nancy’s personality. Whilst she had great insight into other people’s needs and desires, and compassion for them in their woes, she had little understanding of herself and no consideration for her own young female needs. She had lost herself in the running of her highly successful establishment and for five years had shut out large areas of her inner self. Yet like a boiler with its safety valve jammed, something had to give.

In the struggle to prevent the threatening explosion Nancy laid the blame at the door of Mr. Charles, and to be fair, as she saw it, her rash employment of him. With this in mind and her resolve of the night just past still firm, she finished her shower, dressed, and went in search of the wolf she had let loose among her flock.

She came upon him in the tutorial room and went to tackle him head on with her request for his immediate departure. The tackle about to take place, Charles looked up from a book he was contemplating and smiled.

“Good morning,” he said, his quiet baritone sending a little thrill racing through Nancy.

She opened her mouth to declare her sentence upon him, and in that moment looked into his gentle brown eyes. Her legs felt weak, hardly able to support her. She groped with her hand for a chair and plumped down into it. She attempted once more to pronounce his doom, and again she was undone before the words were out.

“Can I help you, Nancy?” he enquired. “You look a little pale.”

“N...n…no,” croaked Nancy. “I’ve just had a bit of a restless night.”

“Something bothering you?”

“Yes…no…must have been something I ate.”

She made yet another effort to speak her piece, but at that moment the injustice of her intended pronouncement struck her. He had done nothing by word or deed to warrant her dismissal; his behaviour with the girls and her self had been exemplary, even when the young ladies fawned all over him.

Unable say what she had intended Nancy managed to rise and flee room. At that moment the girls who were to attend the tutorial were coming down the corridor and she found herself swept back into the room.

Making a mighty effort to gather her strength and scattered wits Nancy sat down. It had been her habit to sit slightly in the background, but for some reason found herself seated beside Mr. Charles. The tutorial that morning was covering the reign of the Tudor monarchs and specifically the relationship between Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn.

The bold Alicia sat beside Nancy and whispered to her, “He make it seem so real, doesn’t he, just as if you were actually there.”

“Certainly,” Nancy thought, “He does make you feel the pulsating lust of Henry for Anne.”

Nancy felt that throbbing sensation in her clitoris and the vaginal wetness she had experienced the night before. She found herself seeking to touch Charles’ arm and even laid her soft little hand on his hand briefly.

During the afternoon ramble Nancy made sure she walked close to Charles. At one point she stumbled and took hold of his arm to steady her self, and then retained her hold. Normally quite capable of negotiating stiles and other obstacles, she suddenly found herself in need of Charles’ assistance.

Needless to say, in all this Charles behaved like the gentleman he was and did not seek to extend the physical contact beyond that apparently required by Nancy.

For Nancy this was only the beginning of woes. Let me not prevaricate and instead speak plainly. The throbbing clitoris, wet vagina and firm nipples now became part of her daily lot. She – forgive my unadorned language – masturbated ever more frequently. She lost her appetite and could not sleep at night; she lost her concentration, became forgetful and was given to bouts of weeping.

Pale and listless she took ever more frequently to her bed until one morning she failed to rise at her normal time of six thirty. She did not appear for the rest of the day and her staff and the girls, who had watched her decline with deep anxiety, prevailed upon the Misses Edith and Angel to enter Nancy’s bedroom to discover her condition.

A discreet tap on the door producing no response, the Misses cautiously opened the door and peered round it. The sight that met their eyes startled them. Nancy was lying upon her bed, her modest night gown pulled above her waist, hand touching her genitals, and seeming to stare up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

Alarmed the Misses sought to cover the exposed Nancy, all the time crying out their concern for their beloved employer, only to be told to leave because, “I want to die.”

Failing to get any further communication from Nancy the Misses retreated to call a conference of staff and guests, at which Dove announced that calves foot jelly and beef tea where the obvious cures for whatever ailed Nancy.

Dove’s curatives being applied, the fragile Nancy refused to ingest even these delicacies; further announcing her wish to depart this life. Further conferring ensued and it was finally agreed that two steps should be taken. First, they should call in the lady doctor who was the regular medical advisor to Nancy’s Place. Second, the chaplain should call the residents together and then pray for Nancy’s speedy recovery.

The lady doctor was brought in haste to Nancy’s bedside where with stethoscope, tapping things and questions like, “Does it hurt there,” she made a thorough examination of Nancy.

Now, it chanced that this lady doctor was sagacious beyond the average. She was herself still young and only recently married, and speedily saw what ailed Nancy.

“My dear, you are suffering from Cupid Deprivatio,” she pronounced.

Always the caring one Nancy’s first thought was for her charges.

“Oh,” she feebly wailed, “Is it catching?”

“I hope so,” thought the doctor, “or the human race is doomed to extinction.” Aloud she gave a more compassionate reply; “I don’t think you need worry on that score, my dear.”

“Is it terminal?” quavered Nancy.

“I have heard it said that it can bring about the sufferers demise, but this seems to be related to a death wish by the afflicted one.”

“Is there some medicament I can take, some purgative that will cure me?”

“There is indeed an antidote, my dear, but I shall need to take further consultation to see if such a remedy is readily available. Just try to relax and I will see what can be done.”

The doctor departed leaving the suffering Nancy to contemplate release from her earthly misery.

Once more, this time at the command of the doctor, the community gathered. Views were exchanged and a conclusion reached based upon what everybody except Nancy had known for some time.

I should point out that Charles had been excluded from these meetings because it was not deemed proper for a male, other than the chaplain, to be present at discussions involving women’s business. It was therefore a surprise when he was called upon by the Misses Edith and Angel to accompany them to the place of distress.

It is true that he had been allowed, when properly supervised, to put his head round the door and enquire after Nancy’s health. This, however, had been stopped when it was noticed that on the withdrawal of his head Nancy went into paroxysms of weeping.

Now the puzzled Charles was not only brought to the door of Nancy’s bedroom, but was escorted right into the room and up to the bed.

“Look whose come to see you,” chirruped Miss Edith. “He’s going to help you,” trilled Miss Angel.

With that the Misses departed, leaving a bewildered Charles standing beside the bed.

Nancy’s weary eyes turned upon Charles.

“How good of you to come and see me,” she said in a tremulous voice, “Won’t you sit down?”

Charles looked for a chair, but could see none. Nancy feebly patted the edge of the bed, indicating he should sit there.

Charles obediently sat, and in that moment a transformation took place in Nancy’s eyes. From the world weary unseeing gaze, they suddenly seemed to take fire. Perhaps this could be described as a moment of enlightenment, a “Eureka” experience.

The jammed valve boiler had reached its limits. Its seams were beginning to give way.

Some explanation is necessary at this point, since the reader might be alarmed at the sudden apparent change in Nancy’s normal mode of expression.

During the course of the alterations to the manor Nancy had often wandered round the place, seeing that all was being carried out according to her instructions. During these wanderings she often chanced to hear the building workers communicating with each other.

She became fascinated by the hitherto unknown to her vocabulary that these lusty men employed. She even went to the extent of researching some of the words they used and felt that they did add colour to the verbal exchanges taking place. Not that she employed them herself, always guarding her speech and using only ladylike expressions.

For good or ill, being in extremis, the boiler near to blowing, her guard came down.

She raised a fragile arm and pointed an accusing finger at Charles.

“You bloody shit you’ve done this to me.”

“I…I…me…what…” gasped the shocked Charles, unable to formulate a sentence.

“Yes, you, you evil bastard.”

“How…when?”

Nancy gathered all her remaining strength and flung back the bed clothes, then dragged up her night gown to expose her female parts.

“For God’s sake you beast, you rotten animal, fuck me and get it over with.”

It should be understood that Charles, surrounded as he had been for several weeks, by all the temptations of attractive female flesh, had only had secret eyes for Nancy. Fearful of being dismissed her service should he in any way declare his feelings for her; he had remained silent and, like Nancy, had done his own agonising in the night.

Now the sight of her sweet but fragile body had him undone in trice. He began to undo the buttons that would release his manhood from captivity, but Nancy intruded.

“Get your bloody clothes off and fuck me properly,” she commanded. With that she made a supreme effort and drew off her night gown completely.

Charles, naked, his towering manhood plain to see, wasted no further time. He dropped between Nancy’s legs and lunged into her. Within seconds the shuddering boiler that was Nancy finally exploded.

All apparent weakness gone she thrust with her hips as violent convulsions racked her lovely body. She cried out, “I hate you, you bastard, I love you…harder…harder…stop buggering around and get in deeper.”

Charles did his best to comply and as his testes began their task of releasing his seed, he yelled out, “I love you, you bitch.”

There was much thrashing around as Nancy’s little fists hammered against Charles in her wild orgasmic fury. Charles in turn bit her neck and squeezed her nipples.

The weeping sobbing Nancy and the gasping Charles descended from the heights pouring out oaths of love and fidelity to each other.

This was just as well because one among those myriad of spermatozoa that Charles had deposited into Nancy’s vagina, and unbeknown to the still united and love proclaiming couple, was bravely making its way through Nancy’s female mysteries, to begin the process of creation in her.

Flushed of face, all pallor gone, Nancy said, “I’m starving.”

The dutiful Charles disengaged his penis from Nancy’s vagina, and hastily covering his nakedness, raced to the kitchen. Upon making his request for victuals for Nancy, with a knowing grin and wicked wink Dove asked, “Feeling a lot better is she?”

Charles, covered in confusion said, “Oh…er…yes…a remarkable recovery.”

Provided by Dove with half a cold chicken, a potato salad and a bottle of Doves’ excellent red wine, Charles raced through a gauntlet of giggling females, all enquiring after Nancy’s well being, and re-entered his beloved’s room.

Nancy seized upon the food and devoured it like a hungry cat, while Charles kept up the flow of nourishing wine. Finishing the last crumb of food and wiping her mouth delicately on the bed sheet, Nancy lay back and indicating her female organ said to Charles in more ladylike tones than previously, “Do it to me again.”

“What?”

“For God’s sake Charles, f… be intimate with me.” Charles, ever the bishop’s son, and given the mores of the time asked, “Dear heart, do you think we should, we’re not married.”

“What’s the matter with you Charles, are you telling me you can’t manage it again?”

The answer would have been obvious to Nancy if she had taken the trouble to observe Charles extended manhood. None the less to placate his scruples she said, “Please Charles, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. The chaplain can marry us later. We’re just doing things a bit back to front.”

His moral principles satisfied Charles proceeded to the task of satisfying another aspect of his being, and of course, Nancy’s.

For two days Nancy and Charles remained ensconced as the latter sought to put Nancy ever more firmly on the road to recovery. The Misses Edith and Angel, very sensitive to the situation, insisted that all except Dove engage in prolonged rambles, thus enabling the couple to attend to showers and other necessities unobserved. Dove had to remain because Nancy, and increasingly Charles, was in need of regular sustenance.

In the early hours of the third morning Charles might have been seen making his way to the coach house. Nancy emerged some time later seemingly in rude health and ready for action.