The Young Governess (6 page)

She had thought the pain would last much longer and she had been afraid of it, but suddenly there was none, a slight discomfort, yes, but coupled with the strange sensations coursing through her body it all merged into one great mass of indescribable pleasure.

Sir Bradley flexed his cock inside her.

“Oooooooh, yessss, do it,” she whimpered softly up into his ear.

He did it again.

“Oh God, yessss! yessss!” she hissed, her hips suddenly and slowly beginning to rotate beneath him. The tight, wet walls of her cunt contracted possessively around the hardness of his cock as though it were frightened of losing it. He groaned as he felt the muscles deep inside her belly answering the pulsating throbs of his steel-hard shaft. He could hold himself back no longer and began a slow teasing grinding in and out between her wide spread thighs. He could feel the tightness of her clasping around him like soft warm India rubber, the walls of her cunt holding to him with an almost animal desperation as he withdrew slowly and then thrust forward again to sink his massive cock deep back down inside the young governess.

Her pelvis beneath him began a faster rotation now, her buttocks grinding and writhing down into the hardness of the ground with a sudden abandon that took him by surprise. Mewling sounds of passion and lust escaped her lips in waves of sound that he could not understand but that his body reacted to in the instinctive rhythm of intercourse that was as old as the hills. He levered up on his toes and dropped his hands down under them to cup the full quavering mounds of her buttocks so that he could fuck deeper down into her.

“Aaahhhhhg! Ooooooooh!” She groaned and twisted her body like a wild animal under him. Thrusting her loins up at him as he ground down into her to take the whole of his expanding cook far down inside the warm hot sheath of her vagina.

Kate rocked in a dream world of obscene and uncontrolled lust under his pounding body. She had never in all her life, not even with Alice, felt the way she did now with his huge male hardness buried to the hilt inside her. She could feel the soft slap of his balls against the tightly clenched cheeks of her buttocks and the strength of his hands as they kneaded and tore at her tender flesh as a baker’s hands roughly knead dough. She struggled to open her thighs wider, to take him deeper, but she could not. He was sunk as far into her as he could go but she wanted more.

“Fuck harder… oh, Sir Bradley, please fuck me harder,” she gasped as she felt him begin to thrust his massive hardness into her, now with longer and longer strokes. A strange dancing delight of fire was building far down in her quivering belly that drove her churning body on and on in it’s wild quest for the delicious sensation building and building in every pore of her sweating body.

And then it came!

Her muscles contracted tightly around his plunging cock and she cried out wildly thinking the end was here, but soon his strong rhythmic strokes set off another explosion of delight that she had never dreamed possible. Her buttocks rotated against the carpet like a helpless ship caught in the vicious waves of a driving storm. She arched her back taught, her head buffeting against the ground, her hair fanning out, her full quivering breasts pointing to the sky, trembling and swirling in jerking circles as she quickened her movements to meet the mounting urgency she could feel pulsating through the head of his throbbing rod sunk so deep inside her hungry vagina.

It was gentle at first, preceded by a soft, inhuman gurgle from deep within his chest. And then he let out a might roar as he withdrew and held his quivering cock over her defenceless, vulnerable torso. Hot white jets of his sperm erupted, splashing the skin of her belly and breasts with a warmth and sensation beyond all description. She could not resist snaking a hand between her legs and coaxing her battered sex, jerking her own legs uncontrollably out in the air on either side of his as a great flash of erotic fire leaped up inside her and exploded in the volcanic eruption of another orgasm for, after all, this was the fulfilment of such great expectations, and the memories of Joss and Rosie came flooding back; finally all was resolved – she knew now what the butcher’s daughter had experienced that day in the fields, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and now it all made perfect sense to her.

“Ahhh! Ahhh!” She moaned, her head turning from side to side, her hair beating the ground like a soft whip. The muscles of her hips and belly contracted in rolling waves of spasm, the pulsating walls of her hot, juice-filled fanny sucking at her delving fingers, until finally, weak and exhausted, she stopped and fell back limply.

They lay for some time, panting and gasping in the smell of her wet orgasm and the odour of the perspiration which coated their bodies in a light dewy film, while above them, the almost-forgotten Alice Fordham’s fingers strummed and flicked a wet, hungry sex in a desperate quest for her own releasing climax while the fingers of her other hand squeezed and pinched the inflamed, swollen nipples of her lewdly exposed breasts.

“Oh, oh yes, my dears… I am spending… I am spending…oh… now!” she shrieked ecstatically.

The next morning, Kate awoke with a splitting headache. As it was Saturday, she reasoned, there would be no lessons for Ellie, at least. She tried to review the events of the preceding evening but could only remember the main incidents with any clarity. Her disgraceful, drunken state… Sir Bradley deflowering her… taking her maidenhead… Alice looking on as if she approved of the whole shocking thing. She felt between her legs, where she was still sore. At least she was a woman now, she thought, ruefully. But this whole family seemed to be obsessed by… carnal knowledge! Sexual intercourse seemed to be their staple diet! Or had it been her fault again? Had she been too forward with Sir Bradley? Encouraged him? She was so unsure. Again, she thought of flight – of packing her things and leaving. But it was not as simple as it had been yesterday. Firstly, there was the contract she had signed – it lasted for a year. Then there was the whole sorry incident of the stolen miniature, even though she knew herself to be innocent, her innocence would be impossible to prove. And then there was the physical problem of her departure – she could hardly walk to Windsor as it was a very considerable distance on foot.

Kate smiled bravely to herself. She must make the very best of it. From now on she would simply avoid situations that might lead to… that sort of thing again.

Breakfast in the Fordham household was the least formal meal, for though Sir Bradley was to be found at the head of the dining room table, immersed in his newspaper with a young footman in attendance, Alice and Ellie put in no more than token appearances. Kate was grateful, in many ways, that Sir Bradley gave her no more than a curt nod when she appeared to take her place; when she enquired about the possibility of a church service, he became more animated.

“There are two possibilities,” he told her, “but only one that I would recommend to you: that of the Reverend Pike – his place of worship is but a stone’s throw from this house.”

Sir Bradley seemed disinclined to continue the conversation much further and Kate held her council accordingly. Later she found his wife in the kitchen garden gathering sweet peas in a flower basket.

“Aren’t they pretty, Kate? I always think that they are the most feminine of flowers…”

“Lady Fordham… Alice… I… I am so very sorry for what happened last…”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, very much, but…”

But Kate was cut short as Alice Fordham replied brusquely, “Nonsense, my dear girl. No ‘buts’, if you enjoyed it, then there’s no need for anyone to apologise. Think of it merely as a new and salutary experience.”

Kate smiled her brave smile, but inwardly she thought that it was all very well for Alice to make so little of the lewd behaviour of the previous night that had led so inexorably to her defloration, but she surely realised that this was a momentous event in her, Kate’s, life. Her emotions were running feverishly high and she was in great need of a sisterly shoulder to lean, if not cry, upon.

Alice must have felt some of Kate’s inner turmoil, since she spoke in a softer, more solicitous tone when she said, “Dearest Kate, when we attend the Hall of Worship this evening, you will no doubt have an audience with the good Reverend. He is a little eccentric, perhaps, but a visionary in his own, peculiar way. And then there is his special little welcoming ceremony – all new members of our small sect enjoy it immensely. Quite apart from the spiritual comfort that I sense you to be in need of, I am quite sure that you will see things more in proportion after your initiation. And you will also find life here at Walthrop far, far more agreeable once you feel yourself to be more a part of our local community.”

Kate received Alice’s little speech with mixed feelings. In part she was even more troubled that such a momentous rite of passage for her could be made so light of, in part she was mightily relieved that once more, such a major moral transgression seemed to have been commuted to a minor incident, a ‘salutory experience’ no less. Perhaps she was out of touch after years of rural exile. Perhaps it was time to adjust her simple moral code so that it was more in tune with that of these patently more sophisticated folk.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully for Kate. The service was to take place at six and therefore, after lunch, she spent a pleasant afternoon reading. Ellie took her for a walk in the grounds. A little way from the house she saw an imposing new pale brick building. Kate enquired what it was.

“Oh that is the Hall of Worship. You know, the Reverend Pike’s place. Well, actually his house is nearby, there – you can just see it; it’s called the Rectory, but I don’t think there was ever a pastor here before Papa built the Hall for the Reverend and Mrs Pike only a few years ago. It’s in the Gothic style, I think.”

Indeed, Kate recognised the popular ecclesiastical style, but there was no spire, no crosses, indeed there were no external signs of the Christian religion whatsoever. It must be a very low church, she concluded. Just behind this modern building was a fine Regency house with some sort of long, low farm building hard by, a byre or stables, she guessed.

Kate tried to ask Ellie about the Lord’s Handmaidens and the mysterious Reverend and Mrs Pike, but she was uncharacteristically evasive and would not be drawn,

“It’s a sort of wonderful surprise, Miss Spencer. But everyone loves it. I did, I know.”

* * * * *

As the weather was unreliable, Alice, Ellie and Kate were driven the short distance by coach. On the way, Alice Fordham had once more mentioned ‘the little acceptance ceremony’ in which all Handmaidens and Followers must participate. Kate tried to elicit more information, but the older woman merely gave her a serene smile and said, “My dear, it would spoil the surprise. You must wait and see!”

Ellie nodded vigorously and smiled.

“The Handmaidens will take care of you. They won’t let you do anything wrong. Just do what they say, Miss Spencer, and you will fare very well, I assure you,” explained the young girl earnestly.

Outside the Hall of Worship several more coaches were drawn up, and Kate recognised Mary Beveridge and one of the prettier housemaids from Walthrop; evidently they had walked. A line of attractive girls between the ages of fifteen and twenty and dressed in white, flowing cassocks greeted each new arrival and led them inside. These, Kate supposed, were the Handmaidens of the Lord.

They were apparently the last to arrive, for the heavy oak doors were shut and bolted behind them. Kate paused and surveyed the interior. It was unlike any church that she had ever visited: more like a meeting hall than a place of worship. There were several rows of pews, it was true, but these were ornately carved and luxuriously upholstered in burgundy velvet; instead of an altar there was only a semi-circular dais with a lectern. At the back of the hall, by the entrance door, no font or organ could be seen, only a rather curious arrangement of settees and chaises longues, also upholstered in dark red crushed velvet. To left and right there were doors leading to smaller rooms, and it was to one of these, which appeared to be a vestry, that two smiling Handmaidens now led her. As they parted, Alice Fordham gave Kate an encouraging kiss on the cheek and her arm a reassuring squeeze.

In the vestry two more Handmaidens greeted Kate with beatific smiles and now the oldest of the four whispered gently in her ear that they must help her to disrobe, so that they could dress her in the ‘Supplicant’s’ robes for the ceremony. Kate began to be rather amused by the whole performance, which she found a little ridiculous, and happily entered into the spirit of the game, allowing the four girls’ delicate hands to strip her naked. Then a simple calico apron or kilt was tied around her hips with a drawstring, only just covering her sex and her bottom. Over this a black velvet cassock was placed and she was led, barefoot, back to the dais in the main body of the Hall.

Here there stood a tall, forbidding man, also dressed in purple ecclesiastical robes. Tall, slightly stooping and grey-haired, the Reverend Edgar Horace Pike had a long, horsey face with craggy eyebrows and abundant side-whiskers. He certainly looks the part of a man of the cloth, thought Kate. Even so, she noticed that the clergyman’s solemn features had a sensual, somewhat dissolute cast to them.

The four Handmaidens brought her to a halt in front of an unusual piece of furniture that had replaced the lectern: a strange chair-like contraption similar to an elongated prie-dieu, made of carved oak and upholstered in red leather. As she turned to face the congregation she was surprised to see that it was composed solely of women, some young, some older. For the most part they looked like gentlewomen, well-dressed ladies of quality, perhaps a dozen or so. There was also a more humble contingent, servants such as Mrs Beveridge and the housemaid from Walthrop. To Kate’s left, in the front pew, was a thin, fierce-looking woman in an old-fashioned coalscuttle bonnet, dressed entirely in a forbidding black. Her gimlet eyes also shone black and they seemed to penetrate and devour poor Kate’s very soul as she stood there. Kate wondered, due to her placing in the Hall, whether she might not be the Reverend’s wife. On the other side of the short aisle in the very front pew sat Alice and Ellie who both smiled at her encouragingly.