Venus in the Country

Chapter fourteen

Riotous as the day outside had been, within the walls of the manor it had been little less adventurous, as Pamela was later to discover when all was wheedled out. Suffice to say that Sir Richard could not refrain from desiring to exercise his cock in Helen's receptive dell, and that on seeking her in the privacy of her room, he found to his delight that she appeared to have prepared for the event.

In truth, as she declared (though it was nothing of the sort), she had been but trying on a new corselette when her fond Papa entered. The rose-pink trifle, adorned with little frills of cream lace, was so brief by nature that it covered her but halfway to her breasts and made but to peek at her navel where the lace fringe hung. Thus below all lay revealed from her creamy thighs-artfully banded by the tops of patterned stockings-to the fair bush which laid its trim triangle between them.

Coy gasps issued from her at his entrance. Wearing neither drawers nor anything else save a fetching pair of boots whose shiny surfaces equally attracted his eyes, Helen made as if to cover her Venus mount, but her slim wrist was quickly swept aside.

“My love, let me feel again your bottom, your thighs, your adorable honeypot,” he breathed.

Seeming half to swoon, the nubile maiden pressed both belly and mount to the front of his breeches, thereby assuring herself that his prick was already at full stand.

“We d… d… durst not again!” stuttered Helen, while being swiftly borne back to her bed where she fell with a soft cry and readily parted thighs. Some frail form of defence was surely needed to give extra spice to the situation, as Helen well suspected. However, her defence was brief, for soon enough he was upon her, breeches down, and with the rubicund head of his cock seeking entrance between the pursed lips of her slit.

To this assault, Helen timourously assented-or so at least she made play of coyly doing-and with a fervent wriggle of her warm round bottom soon had his cock surely lodged within. Jolting the bed not a little, and having her over the edge of it in what he considered a prime position, Sir Richard pressed his balls in close to the underswell of her bottom and pecked at her ardent lips.

Sliding her pointed tongue within his mouth, Helen decided that pretence was no longer the order of the day. The sensations she was being accorded were too rapturous for dissimulation.

“Oh! is it not nice, Papa! Work it in and out, for you send me to heaven.”

“Exquisite, my pet. Draw your legs up about my waist. Ah, yes, tighten them so. Let me unlace you so that I may caress your breasts. How firmly your nipples stand!”

“You excite them so, naughty Papa. Oh! How deliciously you work it in and out. Your cock, is it not called? Do not come yet, for I want to feel every inch of it. Do you not love to fuck me now?” asked Helen, whose risen passion was loosening her tongue more and more.

“You are the t… tightest, sw… sweetest fuck I ever had, my pet,” declared her sire gallantly. Breathing heavily, he began to ram her in earnest while her bottom bounced upon his cupping hands and their lascivious tongues worked ever faster each around the other's. Thus, giving themselves up completely to the incestuous bout, neither gave thought to the fact that in his amourous haste the fond knight had quite forgotten to lock the door.

But at this point it is needful to return to Pamela, who but twenty minutes later tripped in all innocence up the wide, curving staircase. That Helen had been successfully injected she doubted not, though when that event might have occurred she was not positive and merely hoped, as has been explained, to protect that young lady from a first rude assault by the Captain.

First she hied herself to the room of Helen, who had barely recovered from two successive bouts and lay curled up on her bed somewhat drowsily with her stockings wrinkled. Sir Richard, having heard the clattering arrival of the horses in the courtyard below, had rapidly absented himself and was in course of repairing his own disorder. Helen did not stir as Pamela went quietly in. Quite in the land of dreams, she lay with her thighs apart, a pretty flush upon her face and her lovely curves roseate with health and satisfaction.

Tiptoeing to the bed so as not to awaken her, Pamela gazed with kindly pleasure upon what she saw. The erected peaks of Helen's nipples, the sultry look of satiation around her slightly parted lips, and glistening drops of the male essence adorning her pubic curls told all.

Not being minded to disturb her, Pamela retreated quietly and moved along the corridor to Miranda's room. There she hopefully expected to find that particular little treasure reading some instructive volume or lending her fingers perhaps to needlework. Instead, to her astonishment, Miranda lay clad only in a short chemise, her knees drawn up and her patently glowing bottom presented to her young governess's view.

Petulantly sobbing, she rolled over toward Pamela.

“Oh, and what is this?” demanded Pamela, who knew well enough the signs of the birch when she saw them, for Miranda's chubby cheeks were streaked by the burnishing of the soft twigs.

“B… b… b…” bubbled Miranda and cast herself into the comforting arms of Pamela, who came down beside her.

“And who has been naughty?” Pamela demanded gently. She was beginning to understand that the manor had not been one of total calm during her absence.

“Oh, P… P… Pamela, I w… went to Helen's r… room just to borrow something and oh!”

Pamela's heart beat a trifle faster, for she scarce needed to be told what Miranda had discovered. Coming upon the licentious scene as she had, Miranda had been accorded a brief but lively birching by her Papa for “peeping,” and since his cock was all a-waggle at the time, some rather merry scenes had ensued. Miranda, having her bottom well warmed, had been sufficiently aroused to have desired also to receive the fruits of Sir Richard's endeavours, but Helen-affecting jealousy-had packed her off to her room and bid her fiercely not to unveil their secrets.

“Indeed, that is so, Miranda,” Pamela assured her fervently and went on to explain that all such matters were secret and must not be divulged-save perhaps to herself, she added promptly. However, finding that her charge remained unmollified, Pamela took herself without further ado to Sir Richard's room and there lectured him quietly but sternly on his duties.

Sir Richard listened to all with bemusement, for he had now fully persuaded himself that it was Pamela alone who had put the whole house topsy-turvy and guided him into paths of unrighteousness. But this the dear girl had also anticipated and went on to speak in no uncertain manner of how things were to be regulated in the future. Her ladyship, Pamela remarked acidly, was minded solely for her own pleasures, though she was not so indiscreet as to describe them nor her own part in them. What mattered, she said, was that Sir Richard should better organise his affairs so that he reestablished himself as head of the household while she, Pamela, would advise him on his course of actions.

Rather to his own surprise, the good knight listened carefully to all. There was no doubt that Pamela was quite the most delightful girl he had ever met, and he found himself truly enchanted by what she considered the logic of her philosophy. That she intended to be his guiding light, while remaining discreetly in the background, he found not displeasing.

“Very well, my dear, I doubt not that you are right,” he concluded gravely when the maiden had finished her dissertation. She would obviously need a larger allowance-a proposal that Pamela accepted with the faintest of nods, not wishing to be seen to invite such an idea. Being quite businesslike in such matters and not ungenerous, Sir Richard offered a sum on which Pamela was persuaded to agree.

Sealing the bargain with kisses, the two stood embracing whilst Sir Richard fondled her warm bottom, this being the only caress that she accorded him. Mindful of her charges and without mentioning the name of the rascally Captain Dancer, Pamela spared not the fond knight's blushes by declaring that, Helen having been accorded Cupid's salute, Miranda must now receive the same, though thereafter they should be free to choose their own swains and to receive such injections as either freely needed.

All this being said in an equally businesslike way put a fair polish on the situation, which caused Sir Richard to take the view that his life had been considerably expanded by the intrusion of this delightful if unusual young lady whom he was minded to make his official mistress.

“That may be so or not so,” replied Pamela, who being at all times of careful disposition, was ever careful not to finally commit herself to anything. Such apparent coyness naturally increased her employer's desire for her, as she well anticipated that it might, and hence she distanced herself from his searching hands, reminding him that he must conserve himself for the hunt ball.

“Shall you be present? Oh, indeed you must,” Sir Richard averred.

Turning away from him and gazing down upon the verdant green of the countryside that surrounded them, Pamela uttered a little sigh of pleasure and quite decided that she would spend a few more months there before moving on to new pastures.

“Yes, and it shall be a masked ball-I have decided,” she said. “No doubt, Sir Richard, you will announce that early on and send word about to the guests.”

“Ah, yes-yes indeed,” responded the knight, who had always left such arrangements to his wife. How she might respond to it he knew not, and he expressed such hesitation to Pamela, who listened coolly.

“You will take the birch to her, Sir Richard, if need be. She is in her room now. I suggest you attend to that forthwith. Upon satisfying myself that you have dealt with that situation, I may accord you a few favours tonight. But now I have other things to do. To your wife's room, if you please, sir!”

“Ah, yes-yes, of course-forthwith,” replied Sir Richard, who otherwise saw the gates of heaven closing upon him. Casting his eyes about, he looked for the birch, but saw it not.

“You left it in Helen's room after you had attended to Miranda. I will fetch it. I do not wish her to be again disturbed at the moment, and I wish to have a little talk with her. Wait, please!”

Quite haplessly, Sir Richard nodded. He was trapped, it seemed, in many directions, though not undesirably so when the hunter was as inviting and comely as Pamela. He therefore waited until she fetched it, and under her watching eye, proceeded to the boudoir of his spouse.

What happened therein need not be a matter for detailed examination. Neither of the pair being blameless in matters of indiscretion-and each knowing much of the other's sins-a battle of wills at first ensued which might have seen no immediate end had not an outraged Belinda had her bottom infinitely more attended to by the swishing birch than ever Miranda had had that day. Quite overwhelmed, however, by her husband's unexpected masterfulness, Belinda finally implored the solace of his cock, this being the mode whereby she hoped to enchant him anew.

Of this, however, Pamela had forewarned him, and thus the sobbing dame was left clutching her hot bottom whilst Sir Richard roundly declared that she would be confined to her room for the rest of the day. Descending in high spirits at his victory, he thereupon rousted out their guests in a firm but polite manner, whilst advising them of the new arrangements for the ball. This, it should be explained, was always held on the night following the hunt in order that all might recoup their amourous powers.

Meanwhile, Pamela saw to it that Helen bathed and dressed, for a girl must at all times appear of attractive aspect. Not revealing what she knew, but dropping many a hint upon the way, she expanded upon her philosophy to the pretty maiden, who listened all agog and duly absorbed all she was told.

The little matter of Miranda was ever uppermost in her mind, however, and this she timourously tried to introduce into the conversation without betraying the actual circumstances.

“Yes, yes-Miranda is going to be seen to, my pet,” Pamela said quietly and felt that she needed to add no other explanation as she finally kissed the girl's sultry lips. That Helen might endeavour to discover for herself how that was to be effected she had no doubt, and hence decided to spend the night in that young lady's room so that Miranda might proceed undisturbed in her discoveries of the pleasures of Priapus.

Diverting the conversation to the hunt ball, Pamela brought a happy glow to Helen's cheeks by advising her that she might attend.

“Not only shall we be masked, my sweet, but I have decided we shall wear each other's dresses. Will that not be jolly fun?” enquired Pamela.

Helen's eyes were all a-sparkle at the idea and she assented eagerly. It needed not to be said between them that each could then receive the appropriate salutes of one and all whilst concealing their identities.

“But what will dear Mama say?” Helen wished to know.

“Your Mama is also being attended to-although not in the same manner as Miranda,” Pamela replied a trifle indiscreetly, though Helen was so excited at the prospect of attending the ball at last that she took very little notice of the rejoinder, being assured-as her Papa was-that Pamela had all things well in hand.

Seeing all things so far to her satisfaction, Pamela retired to see how the rest of the household was proceeding. In the lobby leading to the morning room, she discovered Captain Dancer loitering, he having discreetly absented himself during Sir Richard's brief address to the guests.

“Why, dear Captain, you are just the person I wished to see-before you leave, that is,” Pamela said with a winning smile.

Casting his eyes about him and satisfying himself that they were alone, the randy Captain moved closer to her, for he now saw himself in a fair way to conclude the day's merriments in some privacy with her.

Deftly avoiding his embrace, Pamela slipped past him into the morning room where they could be clearly seen by two of the gardeners.

“I wished only to say, dear Captain, that you will not fuck me tomorrow night,” Pamela said sweetly.

The Captain's mouth gaped, for he had not in truth expected her to use such a term nor to address him in such a way.

“I say!” he began with some attempt at bluster, whilst an angry flush appeared upon his cheeks. Dammit, the girl was but a servant, however well placed, and could be mounted at will as the day's events had shown.

“If you do, or if you attempt so to do-no matter what the jollities-I shall squeeze your balls so hard that you will shout the roof off,” Pamela declared briskly and in a manner that quite surprised herself.

“Look here-I say!” responded the ever more astonished gentleman. He had never known such a turnabout and knew not for the moment how to handle such a contretemps.

“Please do not say or you may shock the gardeners. I bid you good day, sir,” Pamela said whilst opening the door that led out onto the lawns.

“My goodness, by Jove, I have never heard the like of this!” spluttered the Captain.

“You may hear it yet again, sir, and more loudly if you do not hurry,” said Pamela who, having clearly got the upper hand by means of sheer surprise, was quite enjoying herself. That she had spoken in an unladylike manner was perhaps regrettable, but she saw no other course for it. Moreover, the unexpectedly prim and stern expression on her face was quite out of character with all her previous demeanours and quite chilled poor Dancer's heart.

“I shall carry a hatpin,” Pamela hissed for final effect whilst the bewildered Captain stumbled without.

“I say!” he said again, finding no other words to speak. Indeed, to his mind, the fair creature-wanton and luscious as she had proven up to now-had gone all of a dilly and was clearly not to be trusted. As well perhaps that he did not attend the ball at all, he told himself in some confusion and hied to the stable to fetch his horse.

For Pamela, the prospect now looked much more pleasing, for since Helen would be in disguise tomorrow night, she was now well protected from the rascal's lust.