The Young Governess (4 page)

Freeing one hand, Kate slid it between them, squeezed it between the resilient flesh of her breasts and Lady Fordham’s to fondle the other woman’s spongy mammary glands. At the same time, Kate slid her other hand down the sleek, smooth graceful curve of the older woman’s back and cupped one of the woman’s lush, yielding buttocks, then hauled her employer’s pelvis tight against her own.

The two women formed an erotic tangle of smooth, female bodies on the small four-poster. Kate’s slender, slimmer frame pressed and twined tightly with her employer’s fuller and more womanly body.

Alice Fordham broke the kiss at last, flicking her tongue out to lap at Kate’s cheek, the side of her throat, her delicate, sensitive ear. With a soft, excited sigh, Kate rolled onto her back, maintaining contact with her bedfellow with one hand, brushing her heavy, swaying breasts, first one and then the other.

Her seducer licked daintily at the side of Kate’s throat, and Kate turned her head to give the older woman better access to her. Kate’s face was a mask of pure lust as she submitted to the other woman’s caresses.

Tongue working delicately, Alice Fordham eased her way downward, lapping now on Kate’s upper chest, tracing long wet strokes with her tongue. The clean, innocent scent of soap still clung to Kate’s skin, inflaming the older woman’s desire even further. The delicate, shy touch of Kate’s inexperienced fingers on her breasts sent delicious, electrical jolts through Lady Fordham.

Brushing a lock of her own hair aside, Lady Fordham touched her tongue to one of Kate’s nipples, flicking her rubbery nubbin excitingly.

Kate sucked in her breath as the jolt of that oral caress blazed through her. Her hand cupped and lifted one of the other woman’s full breasts, feeling the hard nipple press into her hand. Kate’s hips were beginning to roll and twist impatiently.

Her soft black hair brushing Kate’s heaving chest, Lady Fordham shifted her mouth to Kate’s other breast, sucking on the turgid, begging nipple, scraping it with her tongue. Then she pulled away and looked down on Kate tenderly.

“Please,” Kate pleaded softly, looking into Lady Fordham’s face longingly. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Open your legs wide, girl – show me your pretty little sex.”

Kate did as she was told, lying back on the bed and spreading her thighs wide. With one hand she pulled back the hood of her clitoris so that the inflamed pink pearl of flesh was revealed to Alice Fordham who lost no time in starting to lick and suck it, then letting a stiff, enquiring tongue wander all over her young protégée’s engorged labia.

“Mmmm… so juicy, so sweet… just like a bunch of warm, crushed grapes!”

Lady Fordham looked up briefly and Kate could see in the golden light of the oil lamp that her mouth and chin were shiny with juice. She could smell her lust – and that of her companion, and far from being repelled by such a vulgar bodily odour, she revelled in its musky, sweet earthiness. Lady Fordham’s tongue was as slippery as an eel, delving far into Kate’s vagina, sliding into every fleshy crevice, even titillating her sensitive anus.

The girl closed her eyes and revelled in the voluptuous sensations. This was very different to what she had experienced with Ellie, whose fumblings now seemed almost childish by comparison. Alice Fordham was playing her as a fisherman plays a fish, varying the intensity of her attack; at times she could only feel the merest glide of her tongue, the merest brush of her full lips. Then she would feel the full power of the older woman’s lesbian skills, a tongue that stabbed repeatedly, fingers that tickled and delved, lips that sucked her labia and blew a stream of warm breath over her clitoral bud. And from far away, Kate felt that a sensation more wonderful than she had ever experienced was imminent.

For her part, though she was nearly overcome by her own mounting lust, Alice Fordham was surreptitiously feeling for Kate’s maidenhead under the guise of stimulating her with her fingers.

She smiled exultantly: she could feel the girl’s hymen!

When suddenly it all ceased, Kate almost cried out aloud. She was brought down to earth from her clouds of rising passion with a bump. She raised herself on her elbows and watched as Lady Fordham pushed down her own nightgown to reveal a pale, luscious body. Her bush was black: thick, curling, and mysterious, nestled between strong, graceful, alabaster thighs.

“You’ll do to me what I do to you?” Lady Fordham asked softly, not wanting a passive partner in their coupling.

“Yes,” Kate choked out. “Yes, anything, only please, please, don’t stop now.”

Lady Fordham turned and her head swept down toward Kate’s crotch. Kate let her thighs fall open again, hungry for the probing she knew would return, and committing herself to placing her mouth upon the other woman’s dripping labia.

Lady Fordham lifted one leg over Kate’s head as she once again pressed her face into the soft, brown bush between Kate’s trim, sleek thighs. She was smothered in the exciting smell of the girl’s aroused cunt. She pressed her tongue into the metallic-salty flesh between the labia, probing deep into the honey’d hole of Kate’s dripping vagina. While Lady Fordham chewed ecstatically on Kate’s dripping folds of flesh she lowered her own crotch onto Kate’s face.

Kate was blazing with lust, wave after fiery wave of overpowering sexual pleasure. Her hips were jerking and twisting as she thrilled to having her fanny devoured. She almost laughed aloud at the extraordinary pleasure of her first sexual experience. No… her second, she smiled to herself. She saw Lady Fordham’s thickly-bushed crotch descending on her face, and closed her eyes and wetted her lips nervously. Now, in the lamp’s soft light, she could observe at impossibly close quarters the split of the woman’s hairy outer labia and the oozing, swollen red inner lips that formed the impressive, fleshy curtains to her vaginal passage. A single drop of syrupy female juice dripped down onto her nose and trickled slowly down onto her upper lip. Just before Alice Fordham’s cunt descended further, Kate caught sight of her puckered brown anus, and saw that, unlike her own, this opening was quite darkly pigmented and hirsute, surrounded by a wreath of curling black hairs.

Then her nose was pressing into thick wiry curls and her mouth on the soft, juice-slick lips of Lady Fordham’s cunt; she was smothered in the thick musky scent of the older woman’s feminine secretions. Hesitantly at first, then with a driving, vulgar need, Kate drilled her tongue into Lady Fordham’s oozing, dripping sex, probing as deeply as she could into her slimy vagina, working her jaw against the pulpy folds of flesh. Lady Fordham’s hips began to twist and heave, mashing Kate’s head back into the pillows. Kate fought back by trying to bore more deeply into the smothering cunt engulfing her face. Her mouth filled with fluid and she had to swallow repeatedly. As she increased Lady Fordham’s searing lust, Kate was rewarded by increased efforts on the part of her employer. The voluptuous woman’s mouth was sliding, seeking. Suddenly lips closed around Kate’s clitoris, and Kate’s whole body exploded into glittering fragments. The moment had arrived and she twitched and moaned spastically as Alice Fordham mercilessly continued to suck and finger her cunt.

“Spend, young Kate, that’s right, spend!”

Half out of her mind from her very first real orgasm, Kate instinctively sought the large, fleshy bean of Lady Fordham’s clitoris with her own lips. She sucked juicy, quivering, oozing folds of flesh between her lips, found the pearl of Lady Fordham’s nerve-laden button, and lashed it wildly with her tongue.

Lady Fordham’s hips suddenly cut loose in a titanic heave and Kate lost her target. Frantically, Kate wrapped her arms around Lady Fordham’s hips and clutched at her large and beautiful bottom to restrain her convulsive heaving and keep contact with her clitoris. At the same time, Kate’s own hips were heaving, slamming her pubis into Lady Fordham’s working, sucking, stimulating, hungry mouth.

The Sapphic coupling degenerated into a quivering, twitching tangle as the two orgasms went on and on and on. Faces were mashed against crotches, squeezed between clutching thighs. Juicy, wet, slurping eating sounds filled the room for a long time. Eventually, sexual and muscular exhaustion released the women from their torment. Then they simply lay limp, Lady Fordham still on top of Kate.

Finally, she rolled off. Gloriously, shamelessly nude, Lady Fordham went to the washstand and poured a little water onto a dry flannel. She returned with the damp cloth. Sitting on the side of the bed, she tenderly washed the saliva and vaginal oozings from Kate’s face. Then she carefully bathed the young governess’s battered sex and the insides of her thighs.

Kate didn’t move. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, her mind reeled from the uninhibited lesbian experience. She felt tempted to burst into tears.

“Kate Spencer, you are a young tigress, who would have guessed there beat a passionate heart within that apparently chaste breast?” Lady Fordham commented, breaking the silence at last.

Kate stared at the woman miserably.

“Why so sad?” Lady Fordham said, comfortingly. “Will you seek a young man, a consort, with any less enthusiasm now?”

“No-o,” Kate acknowledged hesitantly after a moment’s thought.

“Exactly. Men and women just have different things to offer. I like cock just as much as I like cunt, and I’ll suck cock as eagerly as I’ll eat cunt.”

Kate was shocked. The forbidden words seemed to trip so easily off the woman’s aristocratic lips. From her well-spoken mouth the words sounded doubly obscene. Kate shook her head, still utterly bewildered. “Lady Fordham… Has the world gone mad? I… I don’t really understand what has happened to me.”

“Neither would I were I in your shoes, you sweet girl, it’s always like that the very first time,” Lady Fordham reassured her. “But no, the world has not gone mad, although in matters of love sometimes it will seem very topsy-turvy – just like Alice in Wonderland! Which reminds me,” and the beautiful, dark-haired woman gave a conspiratorial little laugh, “when we are alone together, you must always call me Alice. Now will you give me a kiss before I go?”

Kate put her heart and her soul into the kiss she gave the older woman. Their lips parted, their tongues intertwined, danced and duelled. They met, woman to girl, mistress to employee, but still equals in this long, honest embrace.

Alice Fordham woke the next morning in the best of moods. But it did not last long. The housekeeper, Mrs Beveridge, knocked on her bedroom door and was now interrupting her ladyship’s breakfast to tell her that Miss Spencer, the new governess, had packed her bags, if you please, and was waiting in the morning room for Lady Fordham and Sir Bradley to come down, as she wanted to give her notice.

Her mistress steepled her fingers under her chin and thought.

“Stupid girl,” she said finally, to no one in particular. “Get me my writing case, will you please, Mary?”

Mrs Beveridge, a hatchet-faced woman in her early fifties, gave a superior little smile and brought the shagreen and rosewood case over to her mistress’s bed. Alice wrote rapidly in pencil on a sheet of notepaper, folded it twice and handed it to the housekeeper.

“Give that to Jenks. He’ll know what to do. And Mary…”

“Yes, M’lady?”

“No one must know of this.”

“Very good, M’lady.”

Of course, once outside her mistress’s room, Mary Beveridge read the note that Lady Fordham had written. After all, if she had not sealed it, it was fair game, she reasoned to herself. The housekeeper’s eyebrows rose a little and she tut-tutted quietly to herself. Wearing a thin little smile, she placed the note in her reticule and hurried off to find the butler.

* * * * *

Alice, pale, tearful and trembling slightly, knew that she was doing the right thing. How could she possibly continue in the position of a governess if she had had carnal knowledge of both her employer and her pupil? The only choice open to her was that of handing in her notice. Surely Alice… Lady Fordham… would persuade her husband to give her a good reference? After all that had happened she had to understand.

As Alice and her husband entered the room, a pale and wan Kate rose shakily to her feet. They appeared more concerned than angry, she thought, slightly relieved. She hoped that the interview would be brief. She would stay in a hotel in Windsor until she could ascertain whether the kind, neighbourly Belfonts would have her back until she could find another post. She felt sure that they would…

“Oh Kate, I’m so sorry that you feel you cannot stay with us.”

Alice Fordham contrived to look aggrieved, concerned and sad at the same time. Her husband leant his arm on the mantelpiece and, one foot on fender, fixed her with a sympathetic look and tugged at his moustache.

“Dashed shame, Miss Spencer. Hoped you might stay with us a bit longer, what?”

There was a pregnant pause while they waited for Kate to respond. She could think of nothing appropriate to say. Merely by glancing at Alice, her head immediately filled with images of the last night’s unnatural lesbian couplings she had enjoyed with her and her daughter. Sir Bradley smiled at her encouragingly as if urging her to speak, perhaps to reconsider. What a kindly man! A new pang of guilt shot through her very core. And this was how she chose to repay his kindness – by such filthy, lewd, disgusting behaviour – the behaviour of a common street prostitute.

Just as she was about to deliver her agonised and passionately sincere response, Jenks came in with only the most peremptory of knocks, went straight up to his Mistress and whispered urgently in her ear.

“I see. Kate, Jenks tells me that a valuable family treasure has gone missing

– the Fordham Miniature. It was seen in its usual place, my husband’s study, first thing in the morning. Now it is no longer there. None have entered or left the house. I hope you will not take this amiss, but we must search your luggage before you depart – if depart you really must.”

“Of… of course, Lady Fordham. I would not object in the least,” Kate said, rather primly.

Kate was dismayed. The Fordham Miniature was the most valuable of this noble old family’s heirlooms. Painted by Nicholas Hilliard in Elizabethan times, it was worth a small fortune. And now she was suspected of being a thief? Perhaps she deserved no better, for if she had acted as if she were a wanton whore, why should they not assume she had the morals of a thief, also?