LORD BRAMBLE'S REHABILITATION (6 page)

But the ship, poorly managed, had fallen onto rocks and was broken up. Miss Harvey had landed, exhausted and half naked, on a deserted beach fringing dense jungle. Dark skinned locals had found her. Women had cared for her and she had thought herself save, but their care had been to ensure she was fit enough to become the King's whore, a thing he could use when his wires were disinclined to mate with him.

Once again poor Miss Harvey had found herself pressed down upon a soft bed, her legs pulled asunder and a man thing inserted powerfully between her thighs.

Isabel read with her lower lip imprisoned between her teeth and her heart pounding. She had read the book before, often. Although it was an English piece, it rivalled the French for licentiousness, written with skill and the knowledge of a woman.

The king's wives didn't like the amount of time the king was spending with the fair haired, skinned young woman and sold her to a white slaver, a tall and powerful man whose eyes make her fear for herself. Yet he didn't take her, and scorned her company too. Her attempts at conversation were ignored. They ate and walked in silence, the shackled slaves stumbling along in a line behind them, most of them with just scraps of cloth to cover their dark skinned nakedness.

Miss Harvey was unable to escape the sight of over a dozen half naked men and women who were chained in a line during the day, and chained to stakes in the ground at night. In the evenings they were made sport of, pushed, hit and lashed until they performed sex acts in front of the fire, in sight of everyone. The wardens, as dark skinned as the slaves, watched, laughed, and placed bets on how long the man would last before spending.

Isabel felt her heart flutter when she came upon the moment when Miss Harvey began to attempt to woe the insolent slave master, letting him glimpse her legs, bathing while the tent flap was loose, hoping he will glance in at her, become captivated by her beauty and take her, right there on the floor while she was still wet from her bath. She began to wear less and less claiming the jungle heat was too much for her. She left buttons undone, she left the flap of her tent undone while she undressed. She even turned to face the flap, totally naked, unsure if he was there in the darkness watching her or not, and yet hoping he was, dreaming of him ravaging her.

A movement caught Isabel's eye and she reluctantly put the book aside to look with growing curiosity at the distant movement. As it approached she made out the bright green of Rolland Saxby's VDP Bentley. With a delighted cry and a bright grin she jumped from the seat and slid into slippers to rush downstairs and greet the young man on the drive, not caring who might have been watching as she gave him a long and passionate kiss on the lips.

"How lovely to see you, Rolland!" she cried, her hands on his arms, feeling the firm muscle developed from his love of golf and tennis. The feel of the cords has her thinking of the slaves in the book and the description of them performing at night beside the fire, the flickering light playing on the men's sturdy buttocks, their rhythmic movements and the sway of the women's tight breasts as they were urged to fuck one another. She felt herself moisten and grinned up at the tall young man, taking his arm to steer him towards the gardens. "What brings you down here?" she asked.

"I heard you pranged your motor, so thought I'd take a drive down here and see that you're alright," he beamed.

"Oh, that's so nice of you!" she cried, thankful to still have friends while surrounded by enemies. "There's absolutely nothing to do in this old pile!" she scorned, her face falling as she saw her hopes for parties and gatherings fading into mist.

"Lovely place like this?" he asked, looking about him. "You could make yourself a golf course over there," he suggested, pointing off to the east onto land sculptured by Capability Brown many years before. "And that flat bit there could easily be converted into a tennis court," he told her, pointing it out.

"That's not my idea of fun," she told him, smiling up at him while her hands took a hold of one of his to begin tracing his thumb and forefinger, her eyes twinkling with devilish merriment as she teased him into being more forward with her.

She had done it once before with him, she recalled, at a party - she couldn't remember which one. They had both been drunk and the weather outside had been so warm, the garden so alluring. All she really remembered was that it was over before it had really begun, for her anyway. A bit of a disappointment she was sure had been caused by the drink. Otherwise Rolland was a good catch; tall and handsome, fit and energetic, well liked by their group and most importantly, stinking rich.

"It's that boring, eh?" he grinned, a new look in his eyes as they surveyed her glowing face, then moved down to assess her dress and calculate how best to loosen or lift it, wondering what underwear she wore and how easy it would be to get her out of it. He made a grab for her bottom, the look of it suggesting it would be nice and tight, boyishly smooth and round, the thought of it swelling him in his breeches.

"Not here," she panted. "Follow me!" she urged, her heart quickening as she recalled that part of the book where the mutinous captain had pinned her arms over her head with just one strong arm, and used his other hand to worm it under her dress and fondle her breasts, grinning down at her as he'd roughly pinched her nipples to have the pain surge in her chest, and meet in her crotch, a new sensation to the virgin who had only known her own soft caressing hand.

The old stable block was just round the corner of the manor house, part of it converted into a garage for the car, the rest left as it was, dust gathering in the old horse stalls, old leather harnesses hanging from the walls growing brittle now they were no longer needed.

She pulled him along, her grin promising him plenty of fun, and he helped pull the large doors open enough for them to squeeze within.

"Here," she told him, pressing herself to his tall and athletic body, melting within with the thought of being taken by such a strong man. He would take her away and look after her, keep her in the style she was accustomed to. Her father could go to hell!

He looked down at her, grinning and panting, kissing her a multitude of times on her cheeks and lips while his hands slide down her back and onto her bottom.

"Rolland!" she gasped in shock as his firm hands not only captured the tight buns of her bottom, but pulled upon them, the sensation making her clench her anus even as more darts of excitement swept into her groin.

"You beauty, you!" he panted ardently, his hands lifting the back of her lose dress in his urgent need to feel her bottom.

Isabel tossed it from side to side in an effort to pretend to be evading his prying fingers, gasping delightedly when she felt his solid erection up against her belly. "My, Rolland; so big!" she gasped, and grinned up at him as she slid her hand between them to have it press against it and feel it throb in reply. "You'll be gentle, wont you?" she begged, hoping the reverse would be true and his need of her would drive him insane and, heedless of her cries, he'd place her over a neglected straw bale and fuck her senseless, just like Miss Harvey had so often found herself taken, in the end learning to love it, crave it even.

Rolland mashed his mouth upon her own while drawing his body slightly back from hers to give her room to pull his jumper and shirt free of his trousers, then hastily open them for him. Soon as he could, he was back to pressing his now naked erection against her front, ignoring her complaints that it might stain her dress in his need to feel the friction against his organ. His hands worked feverish on her silk clad bottom, pulling her kickers urgently downwards to have him groan with delight as he finally clasped her naked bottom and felt his hands all but dwarf the tight little cheeks.

"Rolland," she begged in a breathless whimper, turning slightly to one side in an open invitation for him to slip his hand through her neatly trimmed pubis and down into her sex.

He ignored her, turning her still further so he could look down and view her tight and pale little bottom too, groaning at the sight of it, at the such short seam and the boyishly round cheeks.

"Here," he panted, pulling her fully round and forward, draping her over the wheel arch of the car before his hands roughly dragged her knickers right off. She gasped with the suddenness of it all but was ignored.

"Oh yes!" he sighed, hands caressing the back of her thighs and the twin crests of her buttocks.

Isabel drew her legs apart and whimpered, urgently wanting him to cares her moist pussy, to do anything he wanted with it, be it a gentle caress to a rude insertion of a finger or two, but anything to ease the throbbing emanating from her ignored cunny.

So lovely!" he gasped, shuffling up behind her, letting his cock join with his hands in caressing her lithe bottom, decorating it with lines of moisture before, drawing her buttocks apart with his thumbs, he let the head of his cock slip between them and place a wet kiss upon her little anal rosette.

"No, not there!" she gasped, and lifted herself onto her toes, transferring the bloated head of his cock from her anal portal to her cunny, gasping delightedly as it sped into her, his large hands gripping her flanks, holding her imprisoned as his manhood filled her.

Rolland sobbed and pressed against her, his thumbs still holding her lean buttocks apart, his eyes glued to her little anal ring as it flexed on feeling his organ move within her clinging purse.

"Yes!" she hissed, bending further for him, willing him to fuck her as harshly as he wanted.

Rolland pressed one more time and cried out with his delight. He was pushing firmly against her, striving to get the last hundredths of an inch of his cock into her as he spent, clinging to her as his legs weakened, his eyes still hungrily devouring her little knot hole, his memory comparing it to those of the pretty young men who so liked to dress as women before allowing him to take them into his bedroom.

Isabel stared at the floor, frustrated and dirty, hating herself and wanting to cry. And Rolland sighed with great satisfaction and pulled out of her, patting her rump before turning away to repair his clothing. Isabel's little rump had put him in the mind for the real thing, and he wondered how quickly he could get away to find the real thing.

Penny glanced at her watch and turned to smile teasingly at the old man in his wheelchair. "Time we started your treatment," she told him. rising from the bench to bend and remove the brake from the wheel to the chair.

They were in the rose garden, enjoying the morning breeze, bird song and the scent of the flowers in their early bloom. Lord Richard growled in his throat and waved his arm, perhaps with a little bit more control than previously; it was hard to tell.

Penny talked to him as she pushed him back to the house. How she liked his home, the formal gardens in particular. How surprised she was at the amount of staff he had. She could talk like this for hours, never needing the other to respond.

The newly installed lift took them to the upstairs landing and she finished pushing him into his room before sighing with relief and rolling him to the side of the bed.

"Have to get you ready before we can begin the treatment," she told him, smiling down at him as she moved in front of him and, with arms under his, levered him from the chair and onto his bed.

She'd been a nurse for a couple of years, more than long enough to learn how to move and lift people heavier than herself. Nor were his clothes any bother, even if she did have to bat his hands and arms aside as he tried doing it himself, his face showing his frustration as he had to allow her to do such a personal act.

"Think of me as your lover, rather than your nurse," she urged, and grinned when that did the trick and he lay back to let her draw off his clothes.

"Oh, you like the idea of a lover undressing you, do you?" she giggled, seeing his member already half erect when she pulled his trousers off from their cuffs.

He made mumbling noises, watching her from behind alert eyes as she grinned and eased the last of his clothes gently off his re-awakening organ to leave him naked upon the bed.

"We have to stimulate your muscles so your brain can re-learn how to control them," she told him, reaching for the buttons that undid her own uniform, standing where he would see her. "So Doctor O'Connor believes, and it works well on soldiers back from the Great War," she confided, wriggling to help draw her clothes off while smiling teasingly into his attentive stare.

His cock gave a jerk into the air and Penny giggled, brazenly standing in front of him to let him have a long look at her long and slender trunk, cone-line breasts perched with youthful vigour atop her chest while neatly groomed pubic hair did more to highlight the smooth lips to her sex than to obscure it.

"Now then," she told him, climbing onto the bed to place herself atop him, his hard and throbbing cock sandwiched between their bellies, her nipples pressed flatly to his rotund chest. She placed his hands about her waist and grinned into his astute eyes as she moved upon him, teasing him with the feel of her warm and smooth body sliding against his own, nipples grazing his chest, her sliding belly making his cock constantly jerk.

"That's it. Hold me, guide me," she urged, feeling his hands jerk against her back.

She moved gently back and forth and from side to side. She lowered herself along his body to giggle as she let her breasts caress his leaking cock, then rose to offer her suspended teats to his mouth, forcing him to have to lift his head before his lips could capture a teat and lovingly suck or lick upon it.