Out West Ch. 02: "Kate and Pixie"

I woke with a start. The light streaming through the window, combined with the sound of footsteps, roused me from a shallow sleep. I opened my eyes to see Mary Catherine bearing/baring a breakfast tray, her naked breasts and a big smile.

"Good late morning Miss, I thought you might like some early luncheon, or is it late breakfast?"

I smiled at her, feeling stiff, and aching in some strange places as I sat up. I could still smell her on me. I sighed deeply as she placed the tray before me.

"You don't regret it Miss?"

"Regret what, Mary Catherine, or should I call you Kate?"

"Only if I can call you Pixie, my little China Doll!" She smiled a broad smile of relief.

I smiled back, remembering earlier - and nodded eagerly:

"Oh yes, my darling Kate, I am your Pixie."

She sat next to me and stroked my hair. I leaned in to her, loving the warmth of her breasts.

That brought back memories of the early morning.

Then we had been lying in each others' arms, and I had been stroking her hair and murmuring her name over and over again.

"Oh Mary Catherine, Mary Catherine, my sweet Kate!"

"I like that Pixie. When we're like this can I be your Kate and you'll be my little Pixie?"

"Deal," I had said, before recommencing my sucking on those generous breasts as the prelude to another bout of love-making.

As she now stroked my hair, it was with relief that I heard her say,

"I loved it Pixie. You were so sweet to me. Do you really like me or were you just in the throes of it?"

That was what I loved about my Kate. Whether as Kate or Mary Catherine, she was direct and to the point.

"Yes, I really like you Kate, and I am glad you're coming out West with me."

She kissed the top of my head. I nuzzled her breasts.

"So how do we manage this Pixie?"

"Seems best to keep up Miss and Mary Catherine in public, and Pixie and Kate in private, don't you think?"

"Yes Miss, so it is, except, I might add, I liked it when you called me Miss Kate."

Now that made me blush. I'd no idea where it came from, but she was right. On our third bout of love-making I had indeed called her "Miss Kate." The thought of it made me damp.

She had just climaxed for the second time, and had enjoyed my tongue and fingers, whilst I was feeling so achy that I really needed her. I'd asked if she'd help me again, and she'd said she might, in a teasing sort of way. I'd responded:

"Oh please Miss Kate!"

She'd picked it up:

"Oh now, Miss Kate is it now little Pixie? Well there you go, and are you going to be a good girl for me?"

At that she had pulled me across her lap and spanked me. I had gasped, but feeling a thrill pulse through me had answered:

"Yes Miss Kate, of course, I promise to be your good little Pixie."

As her hand came down again and again on my increasingly aching bum, `I felt myself getting wetter between the legs. I felt myself pressing my mound against her knee. Noticing, she had asked if I wished to climax, and when I said yes, she'd told me to "diddle myself" and ask for permission when I could bear it no longer.

"Oh yes, yes, yes Miss Kate."

As her hand beat a steady tattoo on my sore bum, I heard a voice squealing:

"Oh please, please Miss Kate, need to climax, can I, please!"

It was mine. I was so lost in the pleasure the pain was giving me that I rubbed myself to a juddering climax as she spanked me.

Kate pulled me up, and kissed me.

"What's wrong with me, Kate? I, I liked you doing that to me."

"Is your cute little ass sore, Pixie?"

"Yes, yes, Miss Kate. But Kate, is it weird? What's wrong with me. Why did I so enjoy it?"

"Some women do, Pixie, especially posh ones like yourself. It's the letting the hired help have their wicked filthy way with ya that lights ya fire."

That, as it had turned out, was the cue for another bout of passionate lust.

Maybe it was Kate, maybe it was America, who knew or cared? But somehow I now felt a sense of liberation. They said it was the land of the free and the home of the brave, well I felt free, and hoped I'd have the bravery to stay that way. The idea of going back to London, already lacking in attraction, suddenly seemed like a prison sentence.

Kate and I spent the rest of that day shopping. Smithers had recommended a high end store near Fifth Avenue where, he said that innovative designers sold clothing to discerning women. It was expensive, but, he said, if I was going out West, it would be sensible to buy suitable clothing.

He explained that it was an exclusive establishment which he recommended to wealthy ladies who had what he called "needs out of the ordinary", a phrase which puzzled me at the time, but which I came to understand later. Its owner, Mrs Grace, was conversant with my situation and had been, he said, preparing "things" for our expedition. The cost would be met from the money the London lawyers had remitted. Mrs Grace would, he said, "brief" us on the risks of the journey.

Kate was intrigued.

"It's amazing what money can do, Kate", I told her, later.

We had a bite to eat at a small bistro, and, after a few wrong turns, found our way down a side street to a door which had a plaque saying:

"Private store. If you have an appointment ring. If not, don't."

Well, as we did, I rang the bell.

The door was answered by a tall woman dressed in black.

"You must be Lady Cynthia Sharply."

Having confirmed that was the case, and having introduced Kate as my "companion", she took us into a set of rooms with clothing in neat racks.

Mrs Grace offered us tea, and then sat us down for what she called a "briefing."

There was, she said, no use taking any of my fine dresses. "Practical" should be our watchword. The reason Smithers had recommended her, she explained, was partly that given my size, finding suitable clothing in a hurry would be difficult. He had, she said, taken the trouble to pass on my details, and she had taken the liberty to have some specially made items ready for my perusal.

Kate, who had pouted a bit when Mrs Grace used the word "practical", cheered up when she said that she had also had clothing made for her. But she re-emphasised that it was my size which caused the problem.

Kate, bless her, got very defensive on my behalf.

"Mrs Grace, she's very cute, and I think she's lovely."

I felt myself blush as Mrs Grace smiled and looked at Kate.

"I see," she said, with a knowing look. "You are right, she is. But, Lady Cynthia", she said, turning to me, "have you given thought to the practicalities?"

Feeling puzzled I looked at her:

"In what way, Mrs Grace?"

"Well, two women travelling alone together into areas so recently torn apart by the War, and then off into the lawless West?"

I suddenly felt very silly. Of course. But I was not to be deterred.

"I can give some account of myself, Mrs Grace. I am a good shot with a pistol and a rifle. I am assuming I can get these things here?"

She smiled broadly.

"That's more like it, Lady Cynthia. Yes, I have suitable equipment. I'd not recommend a rifle, but I have both a small pistol you can conceal about your person, and suitable hand guns - Mr Colt's best!"

"Thank you, add those to my bill. Now Mrs Grace, any other considerations?"

"I had a word with Mr Smithers, who provides me with much business, and pointed out you will need something to certify both your real age, and, in States where you are not of a majority - and there are some through which you will be travelling - documents giving Kate guardianship."

I must have looked as surprised as I felt. She went on by way of explanation:

"Lady C, it has to be faced, you look younger than your age, and despite our best efforts, some of the frocks we have for you are those that would be worn by one below the age of twenty. We need to make sure that you are safe. Smithers will have the documents for you tomorrow. Kate, is that okay with you?"

Kate looked quite pleased.

"Let me get this right Mrs Grace. Does that mean that in some States I will be Pixie's official guardian?"

Mrs Grace smiled again.

"If by 'Pixie', a name that so suits her by the way, you mean Lady Cynthia, that is precisely what I mean. Are you happy with that?"

Kate smiled, and I swear she licked her lips.

"Does that mean that if she needs keeping in order, I get to do it?"

I felt myself blushing.

"Yes, Kate, if 'Pixie' should misbehave, you will have the right to keep her in order. Are you amendable to that, 'Pixie'?"

That knowing smile was back on her face.

"Yes, Mrs Grace."

"Good girl," she smiled at Kate. "I think we are all on the same page here. I will have Smithers draw up documents in your new names. If you pose as a young lady and her Governess on a journey, you ought to be safe enough. Oh, and don't go first class, that will mark you out as a target for the petty thieves - and worse - who plague the railways. There is safety in numbers and the crowd. Now then, to the clothes. Kate, would you like to help?"

"Oh yes, Mrs Grace, love to."

So it was that for the second time in two days, I found myself being undressed by Kate. Maybe it was the memories, or just shyness, but I felt myself withdrawing into myself, and let Kate take over.

The gingham day dresses Mrs Grace had chosen were, Kate said, perfect. With different coloured sashes round my waist, they accentuated my slimness, whilst nice frilly but practical petticoats filled them out nicely. I decide to buy half a dozen.

She had a selection of skirts and jackets, and I let Kate choose. My one contribution was to fix on a lovely buckskin jacket with a fringe.

"Oh my Pixie, I am so lucky, you are adorable. Those gingham dresses make you even more so."

Kate was so good for me. No one had ever told me I was attractive, and her clear admiration made me so happy.

Mrs Grace then showed us some of the "new" clothing ranges. She had what looked like long skirts with a deep pleat, but which turned out to be a type of breeches. She also had some long black skirts. which came with a short bloomers which finished just above knee.

"These are designed to be practical, Pixie. The first would actually allow you to ride like a man if needful, the second allows freedom but protects your modesty."

I clapped my hands and bought half a dozen for each of us. We agreed they were just what we wanted. They were made of a hard wearing material called denim, which, Mrs Grace assured us would last.

"Try them on Pixie."

Had I not been so under her spell, I might have paused before trying my drawers off in front of two women, but I did so without thought. Kate pulled my new ones up. They felt very comfortable, so much so that I decided to keep them on.

"Though you have no need of corsetry, Pixie, might I suggest a set of mini-camisoles? They are from the same designer. There is also a set of mini-corsets designed just to hold the breasts in place, Kate might like to try them."

Any excuse to see those wonderful bouncy breasts was welcome, and it was Kate's turn to blush. The mini-corsets were very clever and practical. They consisted of two cups to hold the breasts, with a harness which fitted round the back and over the shoulders. They were a sort of sling to hold the breasts in place, with some padding and wiring to help shape and comfort them. Given the size of Kate's breasts, she needed their larger size, but once on, she pronounced them perfect.

"Oh Pixie, you've no idea how comfy these are."

There was a nice cleavage, but the bounce was limited, and Kate said they made her feel so much more comfortable. I bought her a dozen. I think at some point they will become more common. So much more practical than corsets. Admittedly, they fail to shape the waist, but I liked Kate's tummy and hips, so did not mind that.

As our things were being packaged, Mrs Grace came to us delighted with a new find. She announced with delight that she had found the perfect headgear, and produced the most beautiful hat, rather like a stetson, but black and with a wide brim. She put it on me.

Mrs Grace and Kate both pronounced themselves delighted.

"Oh Pixie, you look the very image of the cowgirl, ideal for the Wild West!"

Mrs Grace would have been very satisfied with her commission, but I added a large tip to thank her for her care and attention.

"It was a pleasure Pixie. I have added a valise of nightwear for you both, and we shall throw in a new sort of trunk which has wheels and a handle. There are compartments to hide whatever you wish to hide - and the handguns will be there too."

So delighted was I that I left the store clad in my "cowgirl" gear, hat and all. I was delighted to see some admiring glances. Kate, clad still in her new underwear, said that it made her life so much easier that she was delighted.

All in all it was a perfect day, and we dined out.

One of the many wonderful things about America was that no one batted an eyelid at the idea of my dining with my maid, and so we were able to settle into a much more companionable relationship. Back home, I suggested to Kate that she was welcome to share my bed.

"Thank you Pixie, I should so love that. Now then, before we go to bed, do you think we should try on our new clothes?

We had the most delightful time trying things on. I was intrigued by what Kate called the "tittie-sling", and we both giggled when she tried it on me. It just hung there and required two very large water melons to fill it out, which just made us laugh more. It was such a relief, being able to laugh at my lack of breasts. Kate's affection and amorousness just made the world of difference. She seemed to feel the same way, saying after we had dressed her in the sling and the short drawers (which I christened panties, as they were like short pants):

"You don't mind I'm a bit chubby then, Pixie."

I hugged her tight, burying my face in her cleavage before looking up and saying:

"Does it look like it? I love being able to cuddle you, you're the most cuddlesome person ever."

As that prompted me to undress her and begin licking her pussy again, I think she got the message.

I lapped at her as she lay back, parting her swollen pink lips and sliding the tip of my tongue slowly up until it was just below her bud, but then leaving off to suck her nipples for her titties tasted of her juices.

"Pixie, you're a bloody tease, and if ya don't make me climax right now, I'll spank that cute ass of yours."

"But I like having my ass spanked", I giggled.

That did not stop me doing as Kate wanted. She loved me to hum on her bud and then suck and flick it while my fingers delved deep, so that was what she got. On a sudden inspiration, noticing the way her copious, thickening goo was trickling down to her most private and tighter hole, I teased her there with my finger. She erupted into a huge spasm and climaxed hard and long. I put that one down for future exploration. I so wanted to please her. It was as though that, rather than my own climax was what mattered - until, that was, she worked me up as she did, and I climaxed with her rubbing me down there and calling me her little doll.

Smithers came over on the Thursday, bringing with him the tickets and the itinerary, as well as bundles of dollars and some gold which we carefully secreted.

I showed him my "cowgirl" outfit.

"Well your ladyship, I'd have to say you look mighty fine, I better draw up a marriage contract ready for when you return!"

"Oh Smithers, that's sweet of you!"

He smiled.

"Somehow Lady Cynthia, you seem happier than you were. I think America suits you. Do you want me to postpone selling the brownstone?"

"Oh would you, Smithers. Mrs Hudson and the butler can keep it ticking over."

"They can, Lady Cynthia, and they will be submitting the monthly accounts to me. I will make sure your allowance is remitted to the bank, and if necessary wire you money on the journey. I also brought you this."

"This" was the Notary's certificate that I was twenty years old and travelling in the West for my health with my companion, Mary Catherine (Kate) who was authorised, as an adult, to act on my behalf in States where I would be considered a minor (these did not include Kansas, California or Dakota). So, we were set.

"So, Pixie", Kate teased me at bedtime, "if I am the responsible adult, what does that make you?"

Kate's eyes shone with mischief.

I pretended to look puzzled and sucked my thumb.

"Your little China Dolly?"

"Good girl, come here and get your reward."

And I did. But as we had to depart on the nine o'clock from Grand Central Station, we did not go for one of our all night marathons.

Mrs Hudson, my housekeeper, had everything ready for our departure, and after breakfasting, we went, by carriage, to the station.

It was a busy, bustling place, but porters guided us to the train, and with the help of a nice tip, helped get our luggage on and then showed us to our seats.

We settled ourselves down.

As we heard the whistle blow, a tall, rather statuesque woman entered.

"Do you mind if I join you? I'm Martha Anderson and going as far as St Charles."

She had the loveliest face, but behind her grey eyes there seemed a world of pain. Instinctively I liked her.

"Sure", said Kate, "I'm Kate Murphy and this is my charge, Pixie Sharply, pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am."

"Likewise," Martha said, and, turning her face towards me she smiled, "and to meet you, too, little lady. She's so cute", she said to Kate, who, squeezing my hand said, "isn't she just? Say hello to the nice lady Pixie."

"Hello, Ma'am, nice to meet you too. We're going to Kansas."

"Well isn't that nice?" She smiled. "But we ain't in Kansas now, so let's relax and get to know each other."

And that was how we first met Martha Anderson, whose story would so intertwine with ours.