Tori

England truly was a fascinating place, though Victoria had to admit that she was happy to get out of London and into the green fields, dotted here and there with copses of trees, and interspaced with exquisite country houses. It was no lie to say that London was a city among THE cities of the world, with its commercial streets catering to any need, and also inspiring in people the desire for things that they never knew they had wanted before. Fine Dutch porcelain, beautiful coloured silks from the east and glittering jewellery wrought in gold and Indian gems, these were certainly things that one might commonly want to get their hands on. But then there were any number of new age goods, the finest in industrial productions, products from the far flung outposts of Britain and all sorts of oddities like colored birds and glimmering oriental goldfish in bulbous glass bowls. There had been commercial cities before, but nothing like London, where one could get anything you could think of, and much that you couldn't.

Then there were the buildings, some of staggering size, the imperial houses of empire. She'd seen townhouses before, certainly, her family had one after all; and it wasn't like America didn't have large buildings of cut stone and colossal pillars. It was just that here in England you could feel the history all around, it practically spilled out of the joins in the stone. Still, the press of people had been uncomfortable and the fresh air of the countryside was an invigorating change. She was after all a child of nature, and she leant from the carriage that whipped her through the rolling grass fields, letting the wind blow her curling brown hair all about.

They were going to stay in a castle, and that was a truly thrilling prospect for Victoria who had never seen one before. Across from her sat General Williby Jones, an aging moustachioed General in his fine red coat who had kept up a lively conversation. She supposed that the man was starved of it, for his plump wife seemed to be ever on the verge of sleep, having woken herself on more than one occasion with a loud snort that had echoed about the carriage interior.

Beside her was Jane Doyle, a English girl a few years her junior. They were both on a socialite tour of the country, which would return to London when the 'season' began, the highlight of which would be meeting the old queen with whom she shared a name (Though she preferred to think of herself as just Tori). Victoria had needled her way into being allowed to visit the country, it was after all the ancient motherland, and still the greatest empire in the world. She had travelled with a lady's maid, the old woman was to watch over her and see that she got into no trouble. It was the way things were done, though her family had ensured that they provided the stiffest and most eagle eyed of the family's servants; Victoria did have a penchant for mischief.

Her maid was currently in a bed back in London, with an ailment that had laid her low. And the red headed girl beside her had taken the old lady's place as a companion, and ostensibly so that each of them could watch the other.

She was a terrible choice, for Jane had hardly looked at her from where she sat open-mouthed and breathless; and if Tori was known to occasionally dabble in trouble, Jane was hardly likely to keep her in check. If the girl wasn't constantly watched then she was liable to walk off with whatever man was loitering nearby, and it was a wonder that her parents had let her out at all. If she'd been Tori's daughter, the girl would've been married immediately, lest she create a scandal. A more wanton woman could not be found, and even now she could feel the girl's legs compulsively opening and closing beneath her long skirts, as her small chest rose and fell.

Jane was currently engaging the old general in conversation and not a little fluttering of her eyelashes; which had sent his white moustaches quivering. Victoria's eyes widened and rolled as she turned back to the window, the old man must've been seventy if he was a day. She had no doubt that should the carriage have broken down for an hour, young Jane Doyle would've pulled the general into the bushes to help 'tie her shoe', and she didn't think it was a battle that the old officer would walk away from.

At that moment the line of trees that had run alongside the road broke away, revealing a large open estate, in which on the shore of a lake, sat a gleaming castle. It wasn't quite what she had imagined, though she'd only ever seen one in a book, and likened it to a military fort, though fancier. It's large encircling wall and the four-sided keep that rose within were smooth and painted a brilliant white. It sat starkly against the shimmering lake and the green stand of trees which met the walls on one side.

'Are castles supposed to be white?' She turned to the general, who's similarly snowy moustache sat against a face which was beginning to turn red under Jane's attention.

'Uh..uh.., oh, well, not necessarily.' He said, his eyes turning to hers. 'Castles were typically plastered and painted, not like the ruins we have today. This one has been restored by our host, Lord Black. He's gone to some length and expense I hear.'

Tori had met him in London and had the pleasure of being whisked round the dance floor by the tall man in his richly adorned officer's uniform, his huge hands had nearly circled her waist when he'd taken her through the lifts, and had lingered past when it was appropriate, and longer still. She welcomed the cool air from the window on her face, which warmed as she remembered his auburn beard tickling her neck in the darkened courtyard, and how she'd pulled away as another couple had stepped out for air.

'Has his family always lived here?' She queried, wondering if earlier Lord Black's had stood upon those ramparts in its defence, red beards whisked by the wind.

'Uh, no.' The old man chuckled. 'He acquired it a few years ago with the intention of restoring it and claiming it as his family home, he's somewhat. . .eccentric.'

'And randier than a goat.' Jane whispered, leaning towards her and giggling in her ear. Victoria couldn't help but laugh at the comical statement, though she agreed it could very well be true.

'Seriously though.' The girl said, leaning closer still. 'There's all sorts of wicked stories about him.'

Tori leant back against the cushions as the carriage turned into the gravelled drive and she thanked fate for her maid's poor disposition. Sure, her visit had always been so that she could see this country, it's monuments and certainly a castle or two. But she had a sense that there was more fun to be had, and Lord Black might make an interesting partner. She was happy that by sitting back, her face was shadowed, for her cheeks grew warmer still as she imagined whispered words over dinner, and how his eyes might linger at her chest as she leant towards him. Would he be so bold as to touch her leg beneath the table? She was certain of it, for he was more than bold, and she could not stop her own hand from squeezing her thigh through the fabric of her dress as she imagined his own, folding her skirts back to get beneath them. Would she let him go further? She wondered that herself, and wondered at how intrepid a hunter he might be. Whatever his prowess, she vowed that she would not be easy prey, and he would be hard pressed to pin her down over the next few days.

When the carriage reached the base of the outer walls, she saw that a moat had been dug from, and was fed by the adjoining lake. She practically screamed at the driver to stop, and proceeded to get out and inspect it, as well as the heavy wooden drawbridge. You had to admit, she thought, that a moat and drawbridge was pretty impressive. She looked up at the ramparts along the wall and the towering keep with its tiled conical roof. She couldn't help but imagine herself as a princess, which was a pretty fancy; would her room be in a high tower with a gilded four-poster bed? The thought excited the childlike and playful part of her.

This excitement only grew as she returned to the carriage and was driven over the solid oak planks of the bridge and into a courtyard garden. The inner keep of a castle was obviously originally a defensive building, though she could see that it had been modernised, with windows full of shining panels of glass, no doubt added to bring light into what would otherwise be a dull interior. That interior was revealed, when the heavy wooden doors were pulled open and they were greeted by the house-staff.

Inside the floors had been relaid with gleaming wooden boards, you could smell the wax rubbed into them, mingling with fresh flowers in polished painted vases. A lightly spiced fragrance was also in the air and she was offered a bowl of lemon water from which she could draw a cloth to wipe her face and neck.

They were introduced to relevant staff and a young maid curtseyed and asked Tori to follow her, she did so, turning her head here and there to look into rooms that opened up before her. The centre of the castle had a circular rotunda that held a magnificent glass ceiling far ahead, allowing light to plunge deep inside, and a great cut stone staircase wound up towards it.

The corridors of the upper floors were darker, in that they circled the inner rotunda and were surrounded on the outsides by the guest rooms and family apartments. The windowed ceiling in the circular central tower did cast a goodly amount of light into the heart of the building, but as the corridors fed into the upper rooms they grew dark and Tori wondered what secrets were hidden in the shadowy recesses. As she was led to her room she was distracted at almost every step of the long passageways, and she felt the maid's footsteps linger for her, leaving her free to run her fingers along the polished wood of a cabinet, the heavy thread of a newly woven tapestry here, and the smooth face of a marble bust there. It was some time before they drew to a set of paneled doors, though in truth they had only come a short way. The maid threw open the doors so that a brilliant light spilled into the corridor. She bobbed her head at Tori and said that she had but to ring, should she require anything.

Tori entered the room and closed the doors, it was a beautiful space, lit on the far side by another set of larger glass doors that opened onto a balcony, flanked either side by windows. Opposite this opening was a four-poster bed of simple dark wood, it did not have curtains, and instead had an open canopy which meant the fresh white and gold threaded sheets shone in the light. This bright centrepiece offset the darkly polished floor and the rich emerald coloured marble panels that covered the lower half of the walls, above which they were painted cream.

She walked onto the carpet in the centre of the room, kicking the slippers from her feet and gripping the soft rug with her toes as she spun in a circle. She came to stop facing the windows and opened her eyes. The sun was dropping close to the trees on the far side of the estate and it was so bright that she had to blink and cast her gaze away.

It was then that the door to the adjoining bathroom opened, giving her a fright so that she clutched her chest and gasped in fear. The light had made her vision terribly blurry, though she expected it was just a housemaid cleaning the room. And was therefore alarmed further when a man's voice said 'Well this is rather shocking!'

As her sight cleared, the towering form of Lord Black came into view. He must have been out riding, for he wore white pants who's braces hung down near his tall riding boots. You could see his jacket hung casually over the enamelled tub in the room behind him, though her eyes were inevitably drawn to the hair on his chest which was visible through his partially open shirt.

'I must say that I consider myself an unparalleled host, and I like my guests to feel at home, but I must say madam, that I typically don't allow women to stroll into my personal chambers. This is rather shameless of you, and though I admit that I enjoyed your lips on mine before, I did not think you would be so bold as to walk into my room in broad daylight.'

She muttered something apologetically, though she could not say what, for her eyes had followed the opening of his shirt to the front of his pants. She looked away, back to the window, was blinded again by the light and turned further still until she was facing away from him.

'I. . .uh.' She said hopelessly as she tried to look for a door out of the room. Her face had flushed instantly, she felt slightly breathless and her muddled mind frantically retraced what had happened over the last few minutes. Had she been so distracted looking around the hallways that she had misheard the maid, she was sure that she was being led to the room in which she was meant to be staying. Perhaps the girl had said that this was her master's room, no, that couldn't be it, why would the maid have brought her here. By now she had come full circle and was facing towards him again.

The doors through which she had entered were the other side of him, and he stood between them, his huge frame filling the space. She would have to pass him but she felt rigid with shock, embarrassment, and perhaps a dozen other emotions.

Before she could make to leave, he was walking towards her, and as he moved his legs she felt her own mirror each step, merely in reverse. She swallowed heavily as her mind sluggishly tried to make calculations, and all the while he was herding her into an enclosed space. Tori found her body warming as her heart beat swiftly, and she bit her bottom lip in both anticipation and anxiety. Another step took her close to a dressing table, and another caused her leg to bump against its stool, forcing it to slide back. He followed, nearer now, his longer legs closing the gap. A final backwards motion brought her against the table itself and as he took one last step she found herself sitting down on the surface. There was one last moment in which she could move past him before being completely boxed in, and her body instinctively tensed as if to make for it. Only then did he raise a hand, in which he still grasped his riding crop, she was transfixed with it just long enough for the moment to be lost and then he was against her. She drew her legs up, a feeble attempt to maintain a bubble between them.

'Is this how you make your intentions known?' He asked, large hands tracing the length of her legs, moving up and under her dress, fingers slipping along her silk stockings. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, his lips meeting hers and his tongue darting between. It seemed there was no such thing as small talk in England, and she had heard that Englishmen were supposed to be eloquent. She found her body easing as he kissed her, a foolish move, for his hands had drawn up and over her knees, and it allowed him to open her legs and move himself between them. She drew her lips from his with a smack and squeezed her knees together, which did nothing more than pin his lower body in place. His hands however continued to move, and she wrapped her own smaller ones around them.

'Sir!' She said, the words sounding high and shrill. 'I must protest!'

'You must protest? Madam, surely I am the aggrieved one? These after all are my chambers, and you have walked in on me in a state of undress.'

Tori spluttered, all words about the maid cut off again as his lips met hers once more. He gripped her wrists and pressed them up against the wall behind her, and he moved his kisses to her neck which sent an excited jolt down between her legs. And though she pressed ever harder with her knees, she felt him push between them, and that jolt reverberated into her stomach, which gave a frightened lurch.

Corsets were falling from fashion, and women had taken to wearing looser clothing which befitted their more active role; still, she wore a lighter less rigid lace up which flowed down over her hips and to which her stockings were fastened. His hands were at those clasps now, having moved back to her thighs. Beneath these, she wore nothing, no underwear, no pantaloons, no soft silk briefs, nothing with which to shield her most intimate places from view. Even now, it was only her bell-shaped skirts which were piled in her lap, that had stopped him noticing.

She was given a momentary release when his hands went to his britches, unbuttoning the front and freeing his dick which fell heavy onto her thigh. She gripped it, not so much in that she wanted to hold it, but moved so as to keep it away. The motion strung a single strand of gossamer-like precum between them, which broke and left a sticky smear against her skin. She wanted no accidents today!

A shining bead of it adorned the head, and curiously she let him push the length of his shaft through her grip so that it spilled onto her and ran along the inside of her palm. She realised then that she probably wasn't helping the situation, and began to protest again.

He stepped back, allowing her to breathe, and took a moment to pull off his boots and drop them to the floor.

'Yes.' He said, turning from her and walking away. He stopped again, letting his trousers fall so that he could step out of them. 'Yes, I really should call someone to come take you to your room.' And she was watching his butt so intently as he made another few steps that it took her a second to comprehend his words. He stood near the bell-pull, one tug of which would summon a servant. She could not remember a time when she had moved faster in her life, stepping across the room in just a few strides and coming up short, a handful of feet from him.

'No!' Tori cried, only now coming to the full realisation of how it would look to be caught in his lordship's room with him in nothing but a shirt, beneath which his cock had swollen to stand proudly before them. It would be a scandal that would follow her across the country, and probably back across the Atlantic.

She fell to her knees, pathetically, and instead of pleading she simply swallowed and held her hands out to him.

His eyebrows lowered as a smirk split his face, no doubt amused at her abasing herself before him. He took a step to the side, turning the key in the door lock and removing it. Another step brought him to a high backed chair in which he sat, and with a motion of the hand he beckoned her. She didn't bother to stand, though she wished she had, for her alternative action meant that she was forced to crawl to him on all fours, which only made her blush again. She knew what was expected and made no bones about it; with one ear listening for footsteps in the hall she took his length in her hand and put the bulbous tip in her mouth, tasting the sticky precum that sheathed it. So fearful was she that someone might find them, she set about the task with such vigor that even he seemed surprised, forcing herself down on him so that his dick pressed against the back of her throat and her drool spilled down the shaft to pool in the neat curls of hair at its base. She only came up for air when he took hold of her brown locks and pulled her off, taking himself in a long fingeredhand and forcing her head down towards his balls. Having fully committed to the job, and realising that it was better to finish him quickly, she took them in her mouth and sucked on them as he pumped himself.

Perhaps realising that he would finish too swiftly, he pushed her back after a short time and motioned his head to the bed. 'Bend over it!' Was all he said, and she shook her head in response. She didn't even realise what had happened until after she felt the riding crop whip across her cheek, shocking her to the core.

'Never before. . .' She thought to herself as her jaw dropped open, but one look at his eyes made her close her mouth and swallow deeply. She wanted to feel offended, but she only felt turned on.