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Lady Annabelle & Kate
Lady Annabelle & Kate
Two stories from 3 centuries, about one English mansion.
By Blacksheep. Listen to the
Podcast at Steamy
Stories.
An aristocrat has an exciting encounter with a highwayman
It is the Year of Our Lord 1760, and the roads leading to
and from London be the most perilous for any traveler. Hounslow Heath being a
favorite haunt of the highwayman and footpad. Folly indeed, for the unwary to
wander alone. And London be a very wicked place, so it hath been told, with
whores, beggars and cutpurses on every street corner,
The journey of Lady Emily Arundel and her daughter Annabelle
had been an uneventful one so far.
"And when we arrive at Mablethorpe Hall, be sure to
show your appreciation to Lord Barrington-Smythe. His son, William, wishes to
seek your hand in marriage," Lady Emily began.
"Yes Mother," her daughter replied, with a
distinct lack of enthusiasm.
"His estate comprises over a hundred acres of
land,"
"Well, hark at that!"
"owns several horses related to Whistlejacket,"
Annabelle struggled to contain a sigh.
"properties in the colonies,"
"How glorious, Mother."
"knows a clutch of fashionable London society in
beautiful silk suits and powdered wigs attended by almost equally well
appointed valets! Whom are accompanied by gorgeous ladies in even more
elaborate wigs and dresses in the latest Paris fashions,"
The corpulent gentleman sat opposite them in the coach was
Lord Bracewell, an old and dear friend of Lady Emily. He grinned at Annabelle,
sensing her discomfort.
"Your Ladyship, it may please you to know, that we are
but a mile from our journey's end." And thank heaven for that, Bracewell
thought to himself, now feeling the great need of a chamber pot after drinking
an excess of ale. He adjusted his periwig.
"Erm, perhaps an opportunity at this gathering for a,
f, er, you know, eh?" He gestured something and Lady Emily quickly tapped
his leg with her foot.
"Shush. Manners, Cuthbert! Later, perhaps,"
At that moment the coach lurched as it hit a particularly
large pothole. This stretch of road was notoriously bad.
Suddenly, the coach shuddered to an uncomfortable halt and
the horses squealed. Other hooves could be heard alongside.
"Stand and deliver!"
"Oh dear God!" Lord Bracewell exclaimed, crossing
himself. "I fear we are about to be robbed!"
The masked stranger yelled at the coachman. "Throw down
your weapons my bonny boy, or I'll spill your guts on the road!"
There was the sound of muskets hitting the ground.
Inside the coach, Lady Emily trembled and uttered a prayer.
A robber might take more from a lady than her silver.
Annabelle should've been as terrified as her mother, but her
wildly-beating heart was more out of excitement.
"Perhaps this man may be more merciful than we give him
credit for?"
"Hush, my dearest daughter. These bandits are without
scruples! Pray to the Lord!"
A bay-colored horse's head and then its rider appeared
outside the window. The figure who leaned down to peer into the window appeared
tall, wearing a cape, a three-cornered hat and a black handkerchief across his
mouth. Dark brown eyes.
"Well now, what fabulous treasure do I find?" The
highwayman pointed a flintlock pistol inches from Annabelle's face. He leaned
forward and with a move of his wrist he flicked back her hood with the muzzle
of the pistol.
"Ah. A true English Rose."
"Sir, I beg of you, do not harm my daughter," Lady
Emily intervened. "She is but eighteen, an innocent child, she has no
silver!"
"Her fortune awaits at Mablethorpe Hall no doubt. But
it is she I am taking, not her money. Come." And he beckoned, the hand
still held out to help Annabelle down.
"Why, what foul swine would take a young lady's honor?
I forbid you to lay one finger on her!" Lady Emily yelled. "Take me in
her place."
"No Mother, I shall do as he asks," Annabelle
interrupted, taking his hand.
"My child, no!"
"It shall be alright Mother," Annabelle replied.
"Your daughter knows her own mind, Madam," the
highwayman said. "So now, I must ask you to keep thine own counsel. It
would give me no pleasure to shoot your coachman and your gentleman
companion."
Lady Emily could do nothing but remain in the coach as the
mysterious stranger led Annabelle away and into the trees at the side of the
road.
"Sir. If I may be so bold, may I request a merciful
death?" The damsel inquired.
This rather caught the highwayman off guard. This young lady
intrigued him far more than the other wealthy folks he'd ambushed in the past.
How the ladies had screamed like banshees and pleaded for their lives. The
simpering, periwigged dandy who'd pissed his breeches when a gun was pointed at
his head. Aristocrats. The damned preening lot of them! How he loathed these
ruling peacocks. Oh, he hadn't always been a highwayman. Back in his old life
he'd fought for king and country. Until good fortune and those he looked up to
had betrayed him,
He had planned to kidnap the girl and hold her to ransom.
Lord Arundel's daughter would command a high price.
"You are indeed bold. And, I have no wish to kill you.
Your beauty and grace are extremely attractive to young men and it is bound to
rouse their passions."
Annabelle thought for a moment. "Since I am without
silver or jewels, perhaps I could offer you a gift of a different kind? If I
were to sufficiently please you, would you let my mother, Lord Bracewell, the
coachman and myself go free? I'll do anything, to please you."
He blinked. "Even the most unladylike of things? Do you
realize what you are saying?"
"Sir, I am shortly to be married. It would be most
helpful if I were sufficiently skilled in how to pleasure my husband on our
wedding night. I have no experience whatsoever in meddling with a man, perhaps
if I could, practice somehow." Those less-than-polite urges that had been
assaulting her body recently, had now found the perfect outlet.
"Will you service my prick like a common whore?"
"Yes sir," Annabelle replied, kneeling before him.
"Let's see you try then." He kept his pistol in
his right hand. "No teeth."
Annabelle unbuttoned the highwayman's breeches slowly, her
careful motions at odds with the look in her blue eyes and pulled out the large
and swollen member. She couldn't help but stare at his impressive length,
simultaneously afraid and eager. A man's weapon in all its hardened glory. A thing
she'd previously glimpsed from afar, now in her hands.
He expected her to hesitate, but to his surprise, she leant
forward and ran her tongue up the shaft. With all haste, she opened her mouth,
allowing him to move it inside. He began to thrust his cock inside her mouth,
holding her head steady. Shocked at herself, Annabelle couldn't deny that as
she heard him pant and moan, she felt somehow strangely empowered. She began to
suck, working her tongue around his member. The highwayman cursed and blasphemed
holding her head firmer as he began to thrust faster.
Eventually, he grasped her blonde hair tightly as he
groaned, pushing his entire length down her throat and shot his seed into her.
She swallowed every drop of it, rather liking the taste.
"Impressive," he panted. He'd enjoyed that a lot
more than he was willing to admit, but wasn't done with this little rich girl
just yet.
"Have you had enough yet, Marchioness Whore?"
Panting she replied, "I think not. Please."
"Please?" He ran his hand under her dress and up
her thigh. "Please what?"
"Please sir."
He fingered her tantalizing wet womanhood. "Louder, if
you please."
"Ah, Please sir!"
He chuckled, and withdrew. She was ready to beg him, but before
she could he had her up against a tree, hands tied then the rope wrapped hight
around the thick trunk. With swift action he pulled up her skirting and down
went her petticoat. Pulling her ass out to meet him, had entered her virgin
cunt from behind, feeling the satisfying tightness of a deflowering. She winced
and made a squeal similar to those a fox makes when mating. It hurt, but at the
same time it felt so good. The highwayman withdrew until just his cockhead was
still engaged, leaving Annabelle feeling a little disappointed. But then he
pushed back in, all the way and in one go.
His animal instinct had kicked in and he had one overriding
desire; to plant his seed in this nubile young lady. He picked up speed,
plunging deeply each time.
Annabelle's own arousal was equally uncontrolled. She knew
what was about to happen after her recent voyeurism of Lord Bracewell fucking
her mother across a grand piano one afternoon. A more amusing rather an
arousing spectacle that brought to mind an overfed pug mounting a chair leg.
This time the explosion was even more powerful - and it was accompanied by the
highwayman's roar as she felt him fill her passage with his issue. It seemed to
go on forever and she felt it leaking out around his shaft and down her legs.
"God," he gasped as he finally withdrew from
Annabelle. He untied her and helped her stand.
"Did I, please you sir?" Annabelle inquired in her
refined & well-bred cadence.
The highwayman finally removed his face covering. Annabelle
was surprised to see a weathered but good-looking man, with cheeks bearing
scars. Under his cape, she had glimpsed a torn and darkened coat, that had
been, long ago a Redcoat officer's uniform. This man was no stranger to battle,
and had a long history that he wasn't prepared to reveal.
"You and the others have earned your freedom Your
Ladyship." He said with a bow, removing his 3-point hat in the process.
Her charms prevailing to ransom her entourage.
His siring became her own treasure, preparing her for yet
more charming accomplishment in the upcoming matrimonial bedchamber.
A Night at Mablethorpe Hall
Two millennials Ravished by the ghost of a Redcoat on
Halloween.
"Don't you just love a Halloween-themed tour and a meal
at an English country house?" Kate said to her friend as the minibus they
were in pulled into the grounds of Mablethorpe Hall.
"Yeah, these old places have a real atmosphere!"
Chloe replied.
"I've wanted to do something like this for like,
forever. Stay overnight in some old place, pretend I'm lady of the manor. I'm
so glad I booked this trip."
"Kate you are such a history nerd. Lucy Worsley has a
rival."
"My heart is in the 18th century. Seriously. I just
love anything from that time."
Kate had often been described as an atypical millennial.
They got off the bus and collected their luggage.
"Come on, the tour is about to start. Let's dump our
luggage. Apparently this place is haunted."
Kate smiled. "All good English manors should have at
least one ghost! Three hours in a minibus. I'm stiff from sitting so
long."
They collected their room keys. The Hall had not yet
upgraded to the modern electronic key cards. Kate liked that. A traditional
brass key was more in keeping with the decor. The receptionist looked worried.
"Are you ok with having Room 13?" she asked.
"Sure. I'm not superstitious. Don't tell me it's
haunted?"
"Well, some guests have reported that really strange
things happen in that room. And the wi-fi doesn't work in there."
Kate just assumed the woman was joking. "In that case,
it sounds like my kind of room! Think I can last a few hours without
wi-fi."
The room was large and splendid. "Seriously? I get a
king-size four poster bed?" Kate exclaimed as she gazed in awe. "This
is so fantastic! I feel like Queen Anne."
The bed looked so inviting, Kate couldn't resist just
flopping back on it and spreading out.
"Bliss!" she sighed. So much better than the
single bed back at her cramped one-bed flat. She closed her eyes,
Abruptly, Kate was overcome by a bizarre horniness, and masturbated
more than she'd done in a long time. She was getting so wet, so hot and in a
rush to give herself the release she so desperately needed. She hitched up her
dress and pushed her panties down just a bit, then shoved her right hand down
to her cunt. She used her left hand to push up her nightshirt and play with her
breasts, pinching her nipples hard, making her moan with pleasure. Kate's right
hand was busy with her cunt, alternately slipping down between her cunt lips
and inside her hot, wet core, fucking herself with fingers, then pulling out to
rub her clit. Back and forth, over and over. She was moaning, fantasizing about
being pounded, pounded by an unknown uniformed man. Begging him to fuck her
harder and send her climaxing in ecstasy,
Kate was screaming. Suddenly her orgasm peaked and hit full
force. She stopped all movement with her hands momentarily then began again, at
first very fast and hard, then slowing as her orgasm began to subside.
She lay there as her breathing slowly returned to normal.
"Jesus," she muttered, when she could finally
catch her breath again. "What the hell just happened?"
The tour had already begun when Kate arrived to join the
others.
"What took you so long?" Chloe asked.
"Thought you'd got lost."
"Oh I just, er, oh wow, check out that tour
guide!"
"Mablethorpe Hall, one of Berkshire's finest country
estates back in the day," the tour guide began. He was dressed in early
18th century period costume, with a long wig, frilled cuffs and breeches.
"He looks just like John Hurt did in Rob Roy. I love
the costumes in that movie." Kate whispered to Chloe, who rolled her eyes.
Kate listened intently as every detail of the building's
history was described.
"But the most fascinating story of Mablethorpe,"
the guide continued, "is that it's said to be haunted by Major Robert
Wolfe, a British Army officer."
The was a chorus of "oh!" from the assembled
tourists.
"The Major is said to return to Mablethorpe every
Halloween night, in hope of seeing the woman he once loved."
"So the poor sod just wants to get laid?" a
middle-aged bloke at the front said, and everyone burst out laughing.
The tour guide evidently took this old legend extremely
seriously and did not see the funny side.
"As I was saying, the Major was in love with Lady Annabelle
Barrington-Smythe. That in itself was a scandal, for she was married to William
Barrington-Smythe. Rumor has it that the Major was actually a notorious
highwayman known as The Fox, "
Later, the guests were treated to a Halloween-themed meal in
the Hall's grand banqueting room. There were the usual things adorning the
tables - Jack o' lanterns, candles everywhere, fake cobwebs. In the background,
a string quartet dressed as witches played a medley of Bach and Handel.
"Not as spooky as I was expecting," Chloe said as
she sampled the pumpkin pie and spiced rum. "I was hoping the lights were
going to go out and there'd be a jump-scare or something. Like two years ago
when we went to that zombie-themed night at Castle Howard. That was creepy as
hell!"
"This is nice though. Lots of atmosphere. I like it
here. I'd like to, get married in a place like this. Have a historical-themed
wedding. That is, if, "
"When, Kate. When you meet that ideal guy. And you
will. He's out there. Plenty of fish. Steve was a complete areole, but he's
ancient history. A bit like this hall."
"True!"
After the meal concluded, there was more live music and
dancing.
"Think I'm going to call it a night," Kate said.
"Oh you lightweight," Chloe replied, already
tipsy. "Aren't you going to stay up for the midnight ghost walk in the
grounds? You might see a good-looking highwayman."
"No, I'm totally exhausted. Really. You can tell me all
about it in the morning."
"Fine, whatever. I know you're too afraid!"
Kate headed up to her room, surprised at being overcome by
such tiredness. She hadn't drunk that much, and it had hardly been an energetic
evening. The glorious king-size bed and it's luxurious blankets beckoned,
Sometime after midnight, Kate was in a deep slumber, but
also in the throes of a nightmare.
He's coming,
Kate did not dream often, and she was even less often
plagued by bad dreams. Several times she stirred, came half awake, and heard
herself gasping in panic. Once, drifting up from some threatening vision, she
heard her own voice crying out wordlessly in terror, and she realized she was
thrashing about in the bed.
Suddenly the air was oppressively heavy, hot, thick; as if
it were not air at all but a bitter and poisonous gas of some kind. She tried
to breathe, couldn't. There was an invisible, crushing weight on her chest. The
unmistakable smell of gunpowder. Hoofbeats, many horses. Some kind of battle?
A murderous barrage of lightning crashed like a volley of
mortar fire, seven or eight tremendous bolts; and woke her from sleep in an
instant.
"Holy shit." Kate gasped as the storm made her sit
upright in bed. She remembered what Chloe had said earlier, about the tour not
being scary. Evidently, nature had now delivered a jump, a scare of its own.
Already her memory of the nightmare had begun to dissolve;
only fragments of it remained with her, and each of those disassociated images
was evaporating as if it were a splinter of ice. All she could remember was
that she'd been in a battle of some kind, and there had been many men -
soldiers on horseback. They'd been pursuing her. Firing guns.
As the nightmare receded, Kate became uncomfortably aware of
how dark the bedroom was. Before going to sleep she had switched off both the
bedside lamps. The curtains were all closed, and only thin blades of moonlight
were visible between the gap she'd left. She had the irrational but unshakable
feeling that something had followed her up from the dream, there was another
presence in the room, oh God! She fumbled for the lamp switch, damn, where was
it? Groped around, switched it on. Relief as golden light flooded the room,
And then she saw him. Stood at the side of the bed. He was
dressed in a Redcoat uniform, just calmly standing there.
She gasped, but was so shocked, she couldn't utter a sound
for a moment. Then her initial shock turned to anger. Was this part of the
Halloween tour? Having re-enactors actually enter the guest bedrooms was
completely unacceptable.
"What the hell are you doing?" Kate yelled.
He seemed taken aback by her reaction. "Who are
you?" She demanded once she had caught her breath again.
"I beg your pardon, Miss," he began. He removed
his hat as he moved closer.
"Major Robert Wolfe of His Majesty's 58th Regiment of
Foot."
"What are you doing here?"
He smiled politely. "Where I come from, when a
gentleman introduces himself, a lady generally responds in kind."
Kate was about to respond with a sarcastic remark, but then
she noticed that he was surrounded by a faint, silver glow. Her heart began to
pound like crazy. Gathering all her courage, she decided to ask him directly.
"Are you, dead?"
The Major's face relaxed into a smile. "Oh indeed.
Quite, quite dead. As I have been since the last night of October, Seventeen
Sixty-five."
Kate thought she might faint. "You're a,"
"A spirit, why yes. An earthbound and restless one,
forever drawn to return to Mablethorpe every All Hallow's night. Isn't that
quite a tale? I most humbly apologies for subjecting you to my battle
experiences earlier, but t'was the only way I was able to wake you."
She looked him up and down. He did look a gentleman, to be
sure, and a handsome one at that. The signature red coat, crossed with white
belts, the brown hair tied back in a queue and neatly curled at the sides, the
breeches, knee-high leather boots. A brass gorget glinted round his neck.
The Major took one of her pale, slender hands. Kate was
surprised to feel solid flesh, rather than some kind of gaseous form, as
expected of a ghost. Was he more of a zombie? His hand was as cold as ice. Kate
suddenly felt her cheeks flush, under his intense gaze. If all those old
stereotypes about ghosts were true, then he could probably see right through
her nightie, as well as walk through walls,
"Um, why did you wake me?"
He was still holding her hand. "Well, I must beg your
forgiveness for the manner of this intrusion, my lady. I am honored to make
your acquaintance. I was drawn to you from the moment you arrived here. You
resemble so much, someone I lost, long ago. For the past 255 years I keep
returning here, hoping to find a lady who might be able to satisfy my most
urgent of needs,"
Kate bit her lip, as she recalled that earlier incident in
the bedroom when she'd pleasured herself. She'd never been a religious person.
But now she was considering sex with a ghost. Was she about to embark on
something that might damn her soul? On the other hand, she'd been single for a
while, had been craving the touch of a man,
"Major, I am willing to help you in any way I
can."
"You are lovely beyond belief. If I may so bold as to
show my appreciation?"
He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of her neck; his lips
leaving a hot trail from just below her ear to the center of her throat at the
neck of her nightie.
Kate closed her eyes and moaned.
"A little more, my lady?"
"Yes, oh yes,"
He kissed her and she parted her lips to let him in. The
heat of his mouth and his probing tongue sent shivers through her body and she
shifted closer to him to feel the heat of his body against hers. She breathed
in the faint masculine scent.
Major Wolfe pulled back the bedcovers. Then he pushed her
nightie up to bare her belly. Leaning her back, he took one hardened nipple
with his lips and she gasped.
He sucked, pulling with his lips. At Kate's soft moan, he
drew in a shuddering breath. "Touch me," he pleaded hoarsely,
bringing her hand to the waistband of his breeches, and then guiding it down to
cup the bulge in his groin. She explored eagerly, desperately, feeling his full
erection through his breeches and groping lower to feel his balls. Oh lord, she
was trembling so much with excitement. Unfastening the fall front flap, she
pulled out his engorged organ. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was
groping the cock of a dead man! And she was so wet.
Kate took his hot length in her hand, feeling it, and
stroked it up and down as she licked and sucked at the tip. The Major was
generously endowed, and she felt herself blush.
"Here," he said, moving her unoccupied hand to cup
his balls. "Don't be shy, my lady."
Gently squeezing his balls, she slowly took his throbbing
cock into her mouth. He moaned as she deep-throated him.
"Oh my lady," he groaned.
Then Major Wolfe clambered on the bed and put his head
between Kate's thighs. The tip of his tongue brushed her clitoris. She jumped
and willed him to move faster. At first his tongue explored her wet folds, but
he replaced his tongue with gentle fingers that probed and rubbed and finally
penetrated. Kate's wetness was dripping down her arse crack and he rubbed it
around with his fingers. The sensation made her squirm and she placed her feet
on his shoulders, and when he finally sucked on her clit, she lifted herself up
to meet his tongue. None of her previous partners had ever thrilled her as much
as this.
His face was flushed and damp and his expression was one of
pure longing.
"My lady, I want you so much. "He whispered and
pushed up into her.
"Ah!" Kate gasped, more from surprise than the
stretching sensation.
"Are you alright?" he said, wrapping one arm
around her and holding her close. She gave her answer by kissing him. He
insinuated his hand between their bodies and fingered her clit as he began to
move inside her. Holy shit, those fingers, he knew exactly how to pleasure a
woman for maximum effect! For a moment Kate thought of the fact he'd been
waiting over two and a half centuries for this! He stroked her again with wet,
slippery fingers and thrust steadily up into her. The combination awakened
something within that she'd never felt before.
Kate dug her hands into his back and tried to speak, but
couldn't form words. The Redcoat's large cock filled her completely, stretching
her walls to the limit. He was groaning and fucking her like a wild beast.
"Come for me, my lady," Major Wolfe whispered in
her ear, and she cried out. "Come for me, release for me. Let us spend
together," he pleaded, and she did, her head falling back, her whole body
shaking and clenching with the intensity of orgasm. He followed immediately; in
an instant their coupling reached its conclusion and she was filled to the brim
with his seed,
Kate didn't want to let him go. They lay joined for what
seemed like a long time. Eventually, Major Wolfe gently withdrew his softening
member from his mortal lover.
"Dawn approaches, my lady."
"No, Major, stay, please," she whispered,
tiredness overcoming her.
"Rest now, my love. I must go."
Kate tried to say something, but sleep was rapidly
overcoming her.
"We shall meet again. Soon, my love," was the last
she heard.
The sound of someone knocking on the door finally woke Kate.
She squinted at the curtains. Bright sunlight was streaming through the gap.
"Kate, are you awake?" Chloe's muffled voice could
be heard.
Fumbling for a dressing gown, Kate staggered out of bed and
opened the door.
"There you are! Were you in a coma or something? It's
11 o'clock! You've missed breakfast and the minibus will be here in half an
hour!"
"Oh God, sorry, I forgot to set my phone's alarm clock.
I, er, I'll be down as quick as I can."
"Are you ok? You look a bit peaky."
"Just crashed out. How was the midnight ghost
walk?"
"Midnight wash-out you mean. Did you see that storm
last night? It was unreal. So much lightning. Thought a freaking nuclear bomb
had gone off!"
"Oh. Guess I missed that."
"Jeez, you were in a coma. That thunder could've wakened
the dead!"
"Maybe it did," Kate wondered.
Alone in the room again, Kate returned to the bed. Her mind
was a tumult of emotions. "It wasn't all a dream, was it? The product of a
Halloween-crazed imagination? It couldn't have been, " Suddenly she spotted
something under the pillow. Eyes widening, she picked it up. The brass gorget.
"He was real!"
She clutched it to her chest. And hoped she wouldn't have to
wait until next Halloween before she saw Major Robert Wolfe again.
By Blacksheep for Literotica
View all episodes
By Steamy Stories
3.6
2525 ratings
Lady Annabelle & Kate
Two stories from 3 centuries, about one English mansion.
By Blacksheep. Listen to the
Podcast at Steamy
Stories.
An aristocrat has an exciting encounter with a highwayman
It is the Year of Our Lord 1760, and the roads leading to
and from London be the most perilous for any traveler. Hounslow Heath being a
favorite haunt of the highwayman and footpad. Folly indeed, for the unwary to
wander alone. And London be a very wicked place, so it hath been told, with
whores, beggars and cutpurses on every street corner,
The journey of Lady Emily Arundel and her daughter Annabelle
had been an uneventful one so far.
"And when we arrive at Mablethorpe Hall, be sure to
show your appreciation to Lord Barrington-Smythe. His son, William, wishes to
seek your hand in marriage," Lady Emily began.
"Yes Mother," her daughter replied, with a
distinct lack of enthusiasm.
"His estate comprises over a hundred acres of
land,"
"Well, hark at that!"
"owns several horses related to Whistlejacket,"
Annabelle struggled to contain a sigh.
"properties in the colonies,"
"How glorious, Mother."
"knows a clutch of fashionable London society in
beautiful silk suits and powdered wigs attended by almost equally well
appointed valets! Whom are accompanied by gorgeous ladies in even more
elaborate wigs and dresses in the latest Paris fashions,"
The corpulent gentleman sat opposite them in the coach was
Lord Bracewell, an old and dear friend of Lady Emily. He grinned at Annabelle,
sensing her discomfort.
"Your Ladyship, it may please you to know, that we are
but a mile from our journey's end." And thank heaven for that, Bracewell
thought to himself, now feeling the great need of a chamber pot after drinking
an excess of ale. He adjusted his periwig.
"Erm, perhaps an opportunity at this gathering for a,
f, er, you know, eh?" He gestured something and Lady Emily quickly tapped
his leg with her foot.
"Shush. Manners, Cuthbert! Later, perhaps,"
At that moment the coach lurched as it hit a particularly
large pothole. This stretch of road was notoriously bad.
Suddenly, the coach shuddered to an uncomfortable halt and
the horses squealed. Other hooves could be heard alongside.
"Stand and deliver!"
"Oh dear God!" Lord Bracewell exclaimed, crossing
himself. "I fear we are about to be robbed!"
The masked stranger yelled at the coachman. "Throw down
your weapons my bonny boy, or I'll spill your guts on the road!"
There was the sound of muskets hitting the ground.
Inside the coach, Lady Emily trembled and uttered a prayer.
A robber might take more from a lady than her silver.
Annabelle should've been as terrified as her mother, but her
wildly-beating heart was more out of excitement.
"Perhaps this man may be more merciful than we give him
credit for?"
"Hush, my dearest daughter. These bandits are without
scruples! Pray to the Lord!"
A bay-colored horse's head and then its rider appeared
outside the window. The figure who leaned down to peer into the window appeared
tall, wearing a cape, a three-cornered hat and a black handkerchief across his
mouth. Dark brown eyes.
"Well now, what fabulous treasure do I find?" The
highwayman pointed a flintlock pistol inches from Annabelle's face. He leaned
forward and with a move of his wrist he flicked back her hood with the muzzle
of the pistol.
"Ah. A true English Rose."
"Sir, I beg of you, do not harm my daughter," Lady
Emily intervened. "She is but eighteen, an innocent child, she has no
silver!"
"Her fortune awaits at Mablethorpe Hall no doubt. But
it is she I am taking, not her money. Come." And he beckoned, the hand
still held out to help Annabelle down.
"Why, what foul swine would take a young lady's honor?
I forbid you to lay one finger on her!" Lady Emily yelled. "Take me in
her place."
"No Mother, I shall do as he asks," Annabelle
interrupted, taking his hand.
"My child, no!"
"It shall be alright Mother," Annabelle replied.
"Your daughter knows her own mind, Madam," the
highwayman said. "So now, I must ask you to keep thine own counsel. It
would give me no pleasure to shoot your coachman and your gentleman
companion."
Lady Emily could do nothing but remain in the coach as the
mysterious stranger led Annabelle away and into the trees at the side of the
road.
"Sir. If I may be so bold, may I request a merciful
death?" The damsel inquired.
This rather caught the highwayman off guard. This young lady
intrigued him far more than the other wealthy folks he'd ambushed in the past.
How the ladies had screamed like banshees and pleaded for their lives. The
simpering, periwigged dandy who'd pissed his breeches when a gun was pointed at
his head. Aristocrats. The damned preening lot of them! How he loathed these
ruling peacocks. Oh, he hadn't always been a highwayman. Back in his old life
he'd fought for king and country. Until good fortune and those he looked up to
had betrayed him,
He had planned to kidnap the girl and hold her to ransom.
Lord Arundel's daughter would command a high price.
"You are indeed bold. And, I have no wish to kill you.
Your beauty and grace are extremely attractive to young men and it is bound to
rouse their passions."
Annabelle thought for a moment. "Since I am without
silver or jewels, perhaps I could offer you a gift of a different kind? If I
were to sufficiently please you, would you let my mother, Lord Bracewell, the
coachman and myself go free? I'll do anything, to please you."
He blinked. "Even the most unladylike of things? Do you
realize what you are saying?"
"Sir, I am shortly to be married. It would be most
helpful if I were sufficiently skilled in how to pleasure my husband on our
wedding night. I have no experience whatsoever in meddling with a man, perhaps
if I could, practice somehow." Those less-than-polite urges that had been
assaulting her body recently, had now found the perfect outlet.
"Will you service my prick like a common whore?"
"Yes sir," Annabelle replied, kneeling before him.
"Let's see you try then." He kept his pistol in
his right hand. "No teeth."
Annabelle unbuttoned the highwayman's breeches slowly, her
careful motions at odds with the look in her blue eyes and pulled out the large
and swollen member. She couldn't help but stare at his impressive length,
simultaneously afraid and eager. A man's weapon in all its hardened glory. A thing
she'd previously glimpsed from afar, now in her hands.
He expected her to hesitate, but to his surprise, she leant
forward and ran her tongue up the shaft. With all haste, she opened her mouth,
allowing him to move it inside. He began to thrust his cock inside her mouth,
holding her head steady. Shocked at herself, Annabelle couldn't deny that as
she heard him pant and moan, she felt somehow strangely empowered. She began to
suck, working her tongue around his member. The highwayman cursed and blasphemed
holding her head firmer as he began to thrust faster.
Eventually, he grasped her blonde hair tightly as he
groaned, pushing his entire length down her throat and shot his seed into her.
She swallowed every drop of it, rather liking the taste.
"Impressive," he panted. He'd enjoyed that a lot
more than he was willing to admit, but wasn't done with this little rich girl
just yet.
"Have you had enough yet, Marchioness Whore?"
Panting she replied, "I think not. Please."
"Please?" He ran his hand under her dress and up
her thigh. "Please what?"
"Please sir."
He fingered her tantalizing wet womanhood. "Louder, if
you please."
"Ah, Please sir!"
He chuckled, and withdrew. She was ready to beg him, but before
she could he had her up against a tree, hands tied then the rope wrapped hight
around the thick trunk. With swift action he pulled up her skirting and down
went her petticoat. Pulling her ass out to meet him, had entered her virgin
cunt from behind, feeling the satisfying tightness of a deflowering. She winced
and made a squeal similar to those a fox makes when mating. It hurt, but at the
same time it felt so good. The highwayman withdrew until just his cockhead was
still engaged, leaving Annabelle feeling a little disappointed. But then he
pushed back in, all the way and in one go.
His animal instinct had kicked in and he had one overriding
desire; to plant his seed in this nubile young lady. He picked up speed,
plunging deeply each time.
Annabelle's own arousal was equally uncontrolled. She knew
what was about to happen after her recent voyeurism of Lord Bracewell fucking
her mother across a grand piano one afternoon. A more amusing rather an
arousing spectacle that brought to mind an overfed pug mounting a chair leg.
This time the explosion was even more powerful - and it was accompanied by the
highwayman's roar as she felt him fill her passage with his issue. It seemed to
go on forever and she felt it leaking out around his shaft and down her legs.
"God," he gasped as he finally withdrew from
Annabelle. He untied her and helped her stand.
"Did I, please you sir?" Annabelle inquired in her
refined & well-bred cadence.
The highwayman finally removed his face covering. Annabelle
was surprised to see a weathered but good-looking man, with cheeks bearing
scars. Under his cape, she had glimpsed a torn and darkened coat, that had
been, long ago a Redcoat officer's uniform. This man was no stranger to battle,
and had a long history that he wasn't prepared to reveal.
"You and the others have earned your freedom Your
Ladyship." He said with a bow, removing his 3-point hat in the process.
Her charms prevailing to ransom her entourage.
His siring became her own treasure, preparing her for yet
more charming accomplishment in the upcoming matrimonial bedchamber.
A Night at Mablethorpe Hall
Two millennials Ravished by the ghost of a Redcoat on
Halloween.
"Don't you just love a Halloween-themed tour and a meal
at an English country house?" Kate said to her friend as the minibus they
were in pulled into the grounds of Mablethorpe Hall.
"Yeah, these old places have a real atmosphere!"
Chloe replied.
"I've wanted to do something like this for like,
forever. Stay overnight in some old place, pretend I'm lady of the manor. I'm
so glad I booked this trip."
"Kate you are such a history nerd. Lucy Worsley has a
rival."
"My heart is in the 18th century. Seriously. I just
love anything from that time."
Kate had often been described as an atypical millennial.
They got off the bus and collected their luggage.
"Come on, the tour is about to start. Let's dump our
luggage. Apparently this place is haunted."
Kate smiled. "All good English manors should have at
least one ghost! Three hours in a minibus. I'm stiff from sitting so
long."
They collected their room keys. The Hall had not yet
upgraded to the modern electronic key cards. Kate liked that. A traditional
brass key was more in keeping with the decor. The receptionist looked worried.
"Are you ok with having Room 13?" she asked.
"Sure. I'm not superstitious. Don't tell me it's
haunted?"
"Well, some guests have reported that really strange
things happen in that room. And the wi-fi doesn't work in there."
Kate just assumed the woman was joking. "In that case,
it sounds like my kind of room! Think I can last a few hours without
wi-fi."
The room was large and splendid. "Seriously? I get a
king-size four poster bed?" Kate exclaimed as she gazed in awe. "This
is so fantastic! I feel like Queen Anne."
The bed looked so inviting, Kate couldn't resist just
flopping back on it and spreading out.
"Bliss!" she sighed. So much better than the
single bed back at her cramped one-bed flat. She closed her eyes,
Abruptly, Kate was overcome by a bizarre horniness, and masturbated
more than she'd done in a long time. She was getting so wet, so hot and in a
rush to give herself the release she so desperately needed. She hitched up her
dress and pushed her panties down just a bit, then shoved her right hand down
to her cunt. She used her left hand to push up her nightshirt and play with her
breasts, pinching her nipples hard, making her moan with pleasure. Kate's right
hand was busy with her cunt, alternately slipping down between her cunt lips
and inside her hot, wet core, fucking herself with fingers, then pulling out to
rub her clit. Back and forth, over and over. She was moaning, fantasizing about
being pounded, pounded by an unknown uniformed man. Begging him to fuck her
harder and send her climaxing in ecstasy,
Kate was screaming. Suddenly her orgasm peaked and hit full
force. She stopped all movement with her hands momentarily then began again, at
first very fast and hard, then slowing as her orgasm began to subside.
She lay there as her breathing slowly returned to normal.
"Jesus," she muttered, when she could finally
catch her breath again. "What the hell just happened?"
The tour had already begun when Kate arrived to join the
others.
"What took you so long?" Chloe asked.
"Thought you'd got lost."
"Oh I just, er, oh wow, check out that tour
guide!"
"Mablethorpe Hall, one of Berkshire's finest country
estates back in the day," the tour guide began. He was dressed in early
18th century period costume, with a long wig, frilled cuffs and breeches.
"He looks just like John Hurt did in Rob Roy. I love
the costumes in that movie." Kate whispered to Chloe, who rolled her eyes.
Kate listened intently as every detail of the building's
history was described.
"But the most fascinating story of Mablethorpe,"
the guide continued, "is that it's said to be haunted by Major Robert
Wolfe, a British Army officer."
The was a chorus of "oh!" from the assembled
tourists.
"The Major is said to return to Mablethorpe every
Halloween night, in hope of seeing the woman he once loved."
"So the poor sod just wants to get laid?" a
middle-aged bloke at the front said, and everyone burst out laughing.
The tour guide evidently took this old legend extremely
seriously and did not see the funny side.
"As I was saying, the Major was in love with Lady Annabelle
Barrington-Smythe. That in itself was a scandal, for she was married to William
Barrington-Smythe. Rumor has it that the Major was actually a notorious
highwayman known as The Fox, "
Later, the guests were treated to a Halloween-themed meal in
the Hall's grand banqueting room. There were the usual things adorning the
tables - Jack o' lanterns, candles everywhere, fake cobwebs. In the background,
a string quartet dressed as witches played a medley of Bach and Handel.
"Not as spooky as I was expecting," Chloe said as
she sampled the pumpkin pie and spiced rum. "I was hoping the lights were
going to go out and there'd be a jump-scare or something. Like two years ago
when we went to that zombie-themed night at Castle Howard. That was creepy as
hell!"
"This is nice though. Lots of atmosphere. I like it
here. I'd like to, get married in a place like this. Have a historical-themed
wedding. That is, if, "
"When, Kate. When you meet that ideal guy. And you
will. He's out there. Plenty of fish. Steve was a complete areole, but he's
ancient history. A bit like this hall."
"True!"
After the meal concluded, there was more live music and
dancing.
"Think I'm going to call it a night," Kate said.
"Oh you lightweight," Chloe replied, already
tipsy. "Aren't you going to stay up for the midnight ghost walk in the
grounds? You might see a good-looking highwayman."
"No, I'm totally exhausted. Really. You can tell me all
about it in the morning."
"Fine, whatever. I know you're too afraid!"
Kate headed up to her room, surprised at being overcome by
such tiredness. She hadn't drunk that much, and it had hardly been an energetic
evening. The glorious king-size bed and it's luxurious blankets beckoned,
Sometime after midnight, Kate was in a deep slumber, but
also in the throes of a nightmare.
He's coming,
Kate did not dream often, and she was even less often
plagued by bad dreams. Several times she stirred, came half awake, and heard
herself gasping in panic. Once, drifting up from some threatening vision, she
heard her own voice crying out wordlessly in terror, and she realized she was
thrashing about in the bed.
Suddenly the air was oppressively heavy, hot, thick; as if
it were not air at all but a bitter and poisonous gas of some kind. She tried
to breathe, couldn't. There was an invisible, crushing weight on her chest. The
unmistakable smell of gunpowder. Hoofbeats, many horses. Some kind of battle?
A murderous barrage of lightning crashed like a volley of
mortar fire, seven or eight tremendous bolts; and woke her from sleep in an
instant.
"Holy shit." Kate gasped as the storm made her sit
upright in bed. She remembered what Chloe had said earlier, about the tour not
being scary. Evidently, nature had now delivered a jump, a scare of its own.
Already her memory of the nightmare had begun to dissolve;
only fragments of it remained with her, and each of those disassociated images
was evaporating as if it were a splinter of ice. All she could remember was
that she'd been in a battle of some kind, and there had been many men -
soldiers on horseback. They'd been pursuing her. Firing guns.
As the nightmare receded, Kate became uncomfortably aware of
how dark the bedroom was. Before going to sleep she had switched off both the
bedside lamps. The curtains were all closed, and only thin blades of moonlight
were visible between the gap she'd left. She had the irrational but unshakable
feeling that something had followed her up from the dream, there was another
presence in the room, oh God! She fumbled for the lamp switch, damn, where was
it? Groped around, switched it on. Relief as golden light flooded the room,
And then she saw him. Stood at the side of the bed. He was
dressed in a Redcoat uniform, just calmly standing there.
She gasped, but was so shocked, she couldn't utter a sound
for a moment. Then her initial shock turned to anger. Was this part of the
Halloween tour? Having re-enactors actually enter the guest bedrooms was
completely unacceptable.
"What the hell are you doing?" Kate yelled.
He seemed taken aback by her reaction. "Who are
you?" She demanded once she had caught her breath again.
"I beg your pardon, Miss," he began. He removed
his hat as he moved closer.
"Major Robert Wolfe of His Majesty's 58th Regiment of
Foot."
"What are you doing here?"
He smiled politely. "Where I come from, when a
gentleman introduces himself, a lady generally responds in kind."
Kate was about to respond with a sarcastic remark, but then
she noticed that he was surrounded by a faint, silver glow. Her heart began to
pound like crazy. Gathering all her courage, she decided to ask him directly.
"Are you, dead?"
The Major's face relaxed into a smile. "Oh indeed.
Quite, quite dead. As I have been since the last night of October, Seventeen
Sixty-five."
Kate thought she might faint. "You're a,"
"A spirit, why yes. An earthbound and restless one,
forever drawn to return to Mablethorpe every All Hallow's night. Isn't that
quite a tale? I most humbly apologies for subjecting you to my battle
experiences earlier, but t'was the only way I was able to wake you."
She looked him up and down. He did look a gentleman, to be
sure, and a handsome one at that. The signature red coat, crossed with white
belts, the brown hair tied back in a queue and neatly curled at the sides, the
breeches, knee-high leather boots. A brass gorget glinted round his neck.
The Major took one of her pale, slender hands. Kate was
surprised to feel solid flesh, rather than some kind of gaseous form, as
expected of a ghost. Was he more of a zombie? His hand was as cold as ice. Kate
suddenly felt her cheeks flush, under his intense gaze. If all those old
stereotypes about ghosts were true, then he could probably see right through
her nightie, as well as walk through walls,
"Um, why did you wake me?"
He was still holding her hand. "Well, I must beg your
forgiveness for the manner of this intrusion, my lady. I am honored to make
your acquaintance. I was drawn to you from the moment you arrived here. You
resemble so much, someone I lost, long ago. For the past 255 years I keep
returning here, hoping to find a lady who might be able to satisfy my most
urgent of needs,"
Kate bit her lip, as she recalled that earlier incident in
the bedroom when she'd pleasured herself. She'd never been a religious person.
But now she was considering sex with a ghost. Was she about to embark on
something that might damn her soul? On the other hand, she'd been single for a
while, had been craving the touch of a man,
"Major, I am willing to help you in any way I
can."
"You are lovely beyond belief. If I may so bold as to
show my appreciation?"
He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of her neck; his lips
leaving a hot trail from just below her ear to the center of her throat at the
neck of her nightie.
Kate closed her eyes and moaned.
"A little more, my lady?"
"Yes, oh yes,"
He kissed her and she parted her lips to let him in. The
heat of his mouth and his probing tongue sent shivers through her body and she
shifted closer to him to feel the heat of his body against hers. She breathed
in the faint masculine scent.
Major Wolfe pulled back the bedcovers. Then he pushed her
nightie up to bare her belly. Leaning her back, he took one hardened nipple
with his lips and she gasped.
He sucked, pulling with his lips. At Kate's soft moan, he
drew in a shuddering breath. "Touch me," he pleaded hoarsely,
bringing her hand to the waistband of his breeches, and then guiding it down to
cup the bulge in his groin. She explored eagerly, desperately, feeling his full
erection through his breeches and groping lower to feel his balls. Oh lord, she
was trembling so much with excitement. Unfastening the fall front flap, she
pulled out his engorged organ. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was
groping the cock of a dead man! And she was so wet.
Kate took his hot length in her hand, feeling it, and
stroked it up and down as she licked and sucked at the tip. The Major was
generously endowed, and she felt herself blush.
"Here," he said, moving her unoccupied hand to cup
his balls. "Don't be shy, my lady."
Gently squeezing his balls, she slowly took his throbbing
cock into her mouth. He moaned as she deep-throated him.
"Oh my lady," he groaned.
Then Major Wolfe clambered on the bed and put his head
between Kate's thighs. The tip of his tongue brushed her clitoris. She jumped
and willed him to move faster. At first his tongue explored her wet folds, but
he replaced his tongue with gentle fingers that probed and rubbed and finally
penetrated. Kate's wetness was dripping down her arse crack and he rubbed it
around with his fingers. The sensation made her squirm and she placed her feet
on his shoulders, and when he finally sucked on her clit, she lifted herself up
to meet his tongue. None of her previous partners had ever thrilled her as much
as this.
His face was flushed and damp and his expression was one of
pure longing.
"My lady, I want you so much. "He whispered and
pushed up into her.
"Ah!" Kate gasped, more from surprise than the
stretching sensation.
"Are you alright?" he said, wrapping one arm
around her and holding her close. She gave her answer by kissing him. He
insinuated his hand between their bodies and fingered her clit as he began to
move inside her. Holy shit, those fingers, he knew exactly how to pleasure a
woman for maximum effect! For a moment Kate thought of the fact he'd been
waiting over two and a half centuries for this! He stroked her again with wet,
slippery fingers and thrust steadily up into her. The combination awakened
something within that she'd never felt before.
Kate dug her hands into his back and tried to speak, but
couldn't form words. The Redcoat's large cock filled her completely, stretching
her walls to the limit. He was groaning and fucking her like a wild beast.
"Come for me, my lady," Major Wolfe whispered in
her ear, and she cried out. "Come for me, release for me. Let us spend
together," he pleaded, and she did, her head falling back, her whole body
shaking and clenching with the intensity of orgasm. He followed immediately; in
an instant their coupling reached its conclusion and she was filled to the brim
with his seed,
Kate didn't want to let him go. They lay joined for what
seemed like a long time. Eventually, Major Wolfe gently withdrew his softening
member from his mortal lover.
"Dawn approaches, my lady."
"No, Major, stay, please," she whispered,
tiredness overcoming her.
"Rest now, my love. I must go."
Kate tried to say something, but sleep was rapidly
overcoming her.
"We shall meet again. Soon, my love," was the last
she heard.
The sound of someone knocking on the door finally woke Kate.
She squinted at the curtains. Bright sunlight was streaming through the gap.
"Kate, are you awake?" Chloe's muffled voice could
be heard.
Fumbling for a dressing gown, Kate staggered out of bed and
opened the door.
"There you are! Were you in a coma or something? It's
11 o'clock! You've missed breakfast and the minibus will be here in half an
hour!"
"Oh God, sorry, I forgot to set my phone's alarm clock.
I, er, I'll be down as quick as I can."
"Are you ok? You look a bit peaky."
"Just crashed out. How was the midnight ghost
walk?"
"Midnight wash-out you mean. Did you see that storm
last night? It was unreal. So much lightning. Thought a freaking nuclear bomb
had gone off!"
"Oh. Guess I missed that."
"Jeez, you were in a coma. That thunder could've wakened
the dead!"
"Maybe it did," Kate wondered.
Alone in the room again, Kate returned to the bed. Her mind
was a tumult of emotions. "It wasn't all a dream, was it? The product of a
Halloween-crazed imagination? It couldn't have been, " Suddenly she spotted
something under the pillow. Eyes widening, she picked it up. The brass gorget.
"He was real!"
She clutched it to her chest. And hoped she wouldn't have to
wait until next Halloween before she saw Major Robert Wolfe again.
By Blacksheep for Literotica
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