Repercussions Pt. 01

He opened the rustic oak door, ducking his head to pass through the low doorway. She followed, shutting the door behind her. He stood aside as she stepped into the small cottage-like space. Slowly she walked, trying to simulate composure as she glanced about, noting the stone fireplace, the lace curtains at the window, the shelves of kettles and irons, and in the center, the tall oak table wrapped in padded cotton that was used for ironing. Here she stopped and turned, setting down the sketchbook and serenely resting her arm upon the high tabletop...as if she were posing for a portrait...was her inane thought. She regarded Grady, her face without expression.

He was watching her --- red-faced and anxious looking --- holding his hat by the brim in front of his lower body. In the small room she became keenly aware of just how large he was and began to question her judgement in placing herself here, far from help, alone with this strapping young man who had already demonstrated his randy inclinations --- an image of his prick flashed in her mind. She raised her chin, fighting her own blush.

Grady cleared his throat. "My lady...I do most humbly beg your pardon for the...reprehensible act I committed...for the gross indecency visited upon your...garment." So, he did know it was hers! The fluttering in her belly grew stronger. "I-I lost my wits when confronted with such...beauty. I meant no disrespect. Please, my lady, I beg you...please don't tell Lord Trimingham of this. I will lose my place for certain."

As he spoke --- ironically the greatest number of words spoken between them in years --- Chloe could not help noting his wide mouth and strong, full lips...so different from those of his boyhood. He was looking down at her, his blue eyes pleading, his fingers twisting the hat brim.

She made no response for several seconds, looking quite calm indeed --- whilst hidden in the folds of her skirts her fingers clutched the fabric. Speak or run away...speak or run away...?

At last she spoke: "Mr. Woodbyrne, you have my full and free forgiveness...upon one condition."

His fingers went still. He took a half step towards her. "Anything, my lady. I am gratefully yours to command."

Her heart was beating fast. "Kneel down, Mr. Woodbyrne."

His confusion was immediately apparent, but to his credit he obeyed, kneeling upon the floor several feet from her, still holding the hat.

Removing her arm from the ironing table she stood squarely at its end, her feet together. She pointed at the wood plank floor in front of her. He looked at the spot indicated, then shuffled forward upon his knees until he was less than an arm's length from her. She paused, taking a deep breath. "I want you to kiss me," she pronounced.

His eyes flew up to hers, clearly surprised. "M-my lady, I should be only so happy to oblige, but..." He looked pointedly down at his position, then up at her lips above him.

She shook her head. With her shaking fingers concealed in the flounces of her skirt, she raised her hem a few inches. His gaze dropped to the toes of her black kid leather slippers that now showed --- his shoulders slumped slightly at the penance he thought she was demanding. He set down his hat and bent forward to place his palms upon the floor. Then he froze as the gown went higher.

With a rustle of fabric, she slowly raised her skirts, revealing her embroidered white stockings, then the lace trimmed hem of her pantalettes --- unshortened --- at mid-calf. He sat back up, his eyes growing wide as she continued: over her knees, over her thighs...eventually exposing the pantalettes to her waist. She saw his throat moving as he swallowed hard.

Her heart was pounding now. "I want you to kiss me here," she said. She looked down at him --- the top of his head was level with her chest, but his unwavering gaze was lower...upon her exposed pantalettes. The soft pleats of the fine fabric over her belly glowed white in the beam of sunlight slanting through the small window.

"Yes, my lady," Grady murmured. He adjusted his position to bend lower...his head came closer, joining her in the shaft of sunlight, the gold in his hair shining...she held her breath...closer yet...then his lips touched the fabric and pressed briefly against her lower belly, above her mound. He straightened, his head slightly bowed, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Does that suit your purposes, my lady?" he croaked.

"No." She shook her head in frustration --- her air of the offended lady vanished. "I saw Mr. Calhoun kiss Lucy so, and it seemed to give her such pleasure." As she spoke, she shifted position to hold the bunched fabric with her forearms. Her pantalettes, in accordance with the present fashion, had an open center seam to facilitate tending to the necessaries. Her hands now reached down and pulled the slit in the garment open.

Grady went rigid, his mouth dropping open. He was staring directly at her now bared mound with its patch of curls. Her face was afire...then came the sweet aching throb between her legs at the sight of him gaping at her naked cunny. He raised his eyes to hers. Her lips parted, uncertain now what to do.

He settled the matter by quickly scooting closer to her, his eyes fixed upon her mound. Sliding his knees outside of her feet, he sat back upon his heels to bring his head lower. For several moments he simply gazed at her naked flesh; she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the motion of his nostrils with his breathing. Then he raised his hands --- why, they were trembling! --- to take the fabric edges from her. As their hands brushed, she saw how large and powerful his were --- the flutter of alarm rose again...what folly had she wrought? He could, if he desired, take her by force.

His fingers fumbled with the delicate cotton as he spread the opening even wider. She felt as she were shaking from the force of her heartbeat. And then he leant closer. Her hands tightened upon her skirts. All at once there came the warmth of his breath upon her skin...making her shiver. Next his lips grazed ever so lightly across her hair...no accident for he did it again, brushing back and forth just upon the surface of the puff. Now he was nuzzling it, stirring in the curls with his nose and lips...by and by stopping to press forward with a lingering kiss upon her mound, plumb center.

There followed a barrage of kisses all over her mound --- slow and gentle initially but growing increasingly fervid until she had to brace herself against the pushing of his mouth. She realized that her own mouth had opened with an audible intake of breath. He tilted his head sideways and delved lower at the start of the split...oh what a tingling sensation! His lips were rooting at that spot...oh...what was he doing? The most exquisite...oh...the most voluptuous, wet tickling! She watched intently, trying to make out what...sweet Heaven! He was licking her! He was licking her cunny! "Oh!!!" she whispered.

Tickle, tickle, tickle...the delicious aching had become a continuous throbbing between her legs. His head was moving about, but try as she might, she could not make out what he was doing to her with his tongue, for his lips were glued to the top of her nick. Presently it mattered not, for she was fast losing command of her body --- which was abandoning itself to the tumult of sensations brought by this novel delight. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Her breaths came short and uneven...her eyes closed...her hands gripped her upraised skirts...her thighs strained --- fighting her feet which held fast to their position side by side. Every thought fled her mind save the expanding heat at the front of her cunny where Grady's lips and tongue were ravishing her.

Slow soft strokes of his warm tongue...faster, fluttery, tickly licks. She sighed aloud and pushed her mound against his mouth. His hands were now tugging at the waistband of her pantalettes, searching for the fastening. "N-no," she whispered, panting. Back to the fabric slit his fingers went. He shifted position slightly, pulling at the opening in the garment. His mouth pushed harder against her...pushing her back against the table...then she felt his muscular tongue snaking back even further in her split. Her knees buckled. His big hands were all at once upon her bottom cheeks over the fabric, pressing her forcefully to his invading tongue. She writhed. "Don't...oh...don't put your hands so," she gasped. Ohhh...she felt a rushing of pressure in her belly. Oh pray! Something was happening! She was going to piddle! Or swoon! Or burst!

In a panic she thrust her skirts down atop Grady's head, shoving at him with her palms, until he tumbled back upon the floor. She snatched her gown free of his body, and he scrambled to his feet.

Breathing hard, she stared at him in astonishment. She saw his disheveled hair, his bewildered expression, his lips shiny with spittle...and the blatantly tented fabric of his trouser front.

"M-my lady?" he said in a strangled voice.

She scurried past him, pressing her gown to her thighs. Throwing open the door she ran...out of the chamber and out of the courtyard.