The Stallion (10 page)

‘It’s nice to have you here. It really is so terribly nice.’ She smiled at him and to herself. He even sounded like a head boy – one left over from some obscure and ancient public school.

And yet there was sincerity in his eyes and on his lips. She was aware of sudden silence. Conversation, which up until now had flowed almost unabated except when Penny had attracted their attention, had now ceased. Suddenly, she felt as though she were the centre of attention.

Briefly, she glanced towards Alistair. His eyes met hers before he leant across the table and spoke to Sir Reginald. She couldn’t
grasp
what was said. She looked from the older man to the younger, then was aware of the eyes of Alistair’s sister, Nadine. They were like pale grey pools amid the heavy black make-up. And suddenly, along with everyone else, there was lust in her eyes.

Holding Nadine’s gaze and tensing her back, Penny clenched her buttocks in an effort to control the familiar ache surging between her thighs. There were opportunities here, she told herself, and though her vision was blurred and her head was light, she had no intention of missing them.

‘Do you think you will like it here?’ Auberon asked her.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath for her answer. All, she guessed, needed to know how her earlier sojourn with Sir Reggie had affected her opinion.

‘It’s nice to be here. It really is,’ she said brightly. ‘Am I right in thinking you’ve got the room below me?’ She placed her hand on his thigh, felt the iron-hard muscles tense beneath her touch.

Around the table, there was a sudden exhalation of breath, as though there had been a doubt, which was now discarded.

But Penny was only half-aware now of what was happening around her. She made no secret of what she was doing at the table, her smile wide, whilst her fingers flicked gently but determinedly at the awakening flesh just behind Auberon’s zip-fastener. Here was a flower just waiting to be plucked, and she had just the vase to put it in, she thought cheerily.

He flushed as he nodded, and his eyes flitted briefly around the table. Other mouths smiled, other eyes sparkled, as though they too were experiencing what he was experiencing. Nervously his tongue licked at his lips. As his leg moved, his shaft jumped against his trousers.

And yet, there was a vulnerability about him, an innocence that seemed strangely irreconcilable with the determined
sportsman
she knew him to be. She retrieved her hand and smiled.

I wonder, she thought to herself, head supported on cupped hand whilst her other hand twirled the dark liquid in her glass, whether he’s a bit of a cane man – even a bit gay.

‘Time for bed.’ Alistair got to his feet. As if it were a prescribed signal, everyone else got to theirs.

Sir Reginald coughed and yawned in disjointed unison, and Penny smiled into her wine as the shiny seat of his well-polished dinner trousers came into view.

Nadine rose in chilly black splendour like a winter’s night, head and shoulders above everyone present.

She was silent, though her eyes glittered and flitted briefly from one face to another before ending up on Penny. There was no disguising the self-congratulation in her look. As though she’s looking through my clothes rather than at them, thought Penny. It was as if, she reflected, weakly grasping the thought as it circled in her mind, that Nadine knew exactly what was underneath. It was then she remembered her suspicions about the mirror and also about Alistair being a man who watched, not did. There were no guesses as to who he’d be watching tonight.

‘I’ll be taking a stroll, if anyone wants to join me.’ Sir Reginald’s now bloodshot eyes searched for an offer.

No one did join him.

All the same, Penny was aware of knowing glances passing from one to the other. A curling feeling rose and fell in her stomach. Somehow she knew that no matter where she went to bed that night or what she did, someone would be watching.

Alistair bade goodnight and Nadine glared with glittering iciness at Penny and Auberon, but ignored Sir Reginald completely.

They went off in different directions, Penny holding Auberon’s hand, and Sir Reginald out through the front door for his so-called walk.

Auberon and Penny went outside, too. Both wished to check on their mounts before they turned in. At least, that was what they said.

The night sky was deep indigo and scattered with stars. The air was warm, and an owl hooted from a far-off meadow.

Penny breathed deeply, threw her head back and felt the tickling of her hair against her shoulders. The cool breeze of evening lifted her skirt and wafted around her naked thighs. The muskiness of sexual secretions reached her nostrils. The memory of that orgasm tantalised the crowding nerve ends that clustered around her clitoris. Excitement re-kindled desire. There was still a need within her.

She shouldn’t complain, she told herself. She’d had two superb climaxes since she’d arrived, but both had been achieved by manipulative fingers not a penetrating penis. And the need to experience such a penetration was getting stronger.

Speculatively she looked sidelong at Auberon. Perhaps, she thought to herself just a little wickedly and a little selfishly, just perhaps they could both have what they wanted – both her and the young, fresh-faced man walking beside her.

‘What a beautiful night,’ she murmured into her escort’s ear. ‘Good enough to get to know each other better.’

His smile was bashful, perhaps even vague. It irked her to see that he didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic. She eyed him again, and thought of her first impression of him. Head-boy type. And he was rather pretty in a boyish kind of way. Public school, she decided, had shaped his sexual preferences. In the darkness, she grinned. Perhaps, a wicked thought said in her head, Auberon liked other things.

Gravel scrunched under their feet as they walked the path to
the
stables. Vague mutters born of wine and brandy drifted in the night air. Sir Reggie appeared to be wandering off towards the shining glass of the orangery.

Perhaps it was the clarity of the night air, but Penny was very aware of the odour of the man at her side, the spoor of masculine sexuality that lay in a fine film over his skin.

It was also the night air that brought the sound of other footsteps crunching on the same gravel they had walked.

Slyly she looked back along the path. Sir Reginald had stopped in his tracks; two figures had joined him.

Beaumont is a spectator, Ariadne had said. In Penny’s opinion, there were others here besides Alistair who liked to watch.

As the wine cleared from her head, it occurred to her that this could well be the first chance she would have of trying her luck with Alistair; of putting on a good enough show to at least whet his appetite.

She looked at Auberon as though she could eat him. Her fingers tangled in his. He smiled at her, a little shyly. As if, she mused, he had thoughts in his head that did not quite match hers.

Never mind, she thought, we could both get what we want tonight, or at least go some way towards it. First, she decided, she must make no secret of her intentions and her willingness to cater fully to his needs.

Lightly brushing against his hip and thigh as they walked, her fingers fondled the slight rise that pushed against his fly. His gasp hung on the air between them. He gulped and cleared his throat before he spoke.

‘That’s terribly nice, awfully nice in fact,’ he stammered.

‘Just nice?’ she asked, and lent an ache of disappointment to her voice as if she were feeling just a touch insulted that her adept probings had not produced a more satisfactory response.

‘Very nice,’ he added on the edge of a sigh.

She moved her hand, ran it around his waist, then slid it over and between the iron-hard cheeks of his behind.

Ahhh! That’s better, she said to herself as his breath and a nervous cough collided into a kind of choke.

‘That’s delicious!’ he breathed at last, his voice one or two octaves higher than it had been.

So she was right. She smiled at the night. Tonight could finish even better than it had started.

‘Is that?’ she asked with sudden cruelty, her nails digging into one tight buttock.

‘Terribly,’ he moaned.

‘And that?’ she asked again as her nails dug into the other buttock.

‘Awfully!’ he gasped. ‘Ahhh!’

‘That’s not good enough,’ she said suddenly, thanking her intuition and enjoying the unfamiliar cruelty she brought to her voice and her clawed hand. ‘I’m sure you can do better than that, boy! Don’t you think so?’

Beneath her nails, his flesh trembled. Her own loins quivered in sympathy.

‘I . . . I . . .’ His eyes glittered and she saw a bead of sweat erupt on his brow, then divide and run like melting ice towards his eyebrows.

What use did she have for his answer? She knew what he wanted, just as she knew they were being followed, and that whatever they did would be watched and enjoyed by those they had been with at dinner.

‘This, I think, is what you need!’ she exclaimed, her voice fierce with authority and dripping with promised discipline.

Taking careful aim, she plunged her index finger into where she judged his rectum should be.

He groaned as his cheeks tightened over her rigid finger. As
much
as she could, dressed as he still was in his dark and well-cut evening trousers, she pressed her finger in, deeper.

They still walked towards the stables, him almost on tiptoe, her finger guiding him like some rigid and oversize puppet to where they were going.

With undisguised curiosity, she stopped in her tracks and put her other hand on his crotch. Her fingers closed over it like the petals of a flower. There it was, the fruit of her labour, hard, erect and begging for more.

So that was what he wanted.

The footsteps behind did not cease. She looked back into the darkness before walking on; she knew they were following and also what their intention was. Well, they would see everything they were coming to see . . . and more.

If they expected a straightforward fuck, then they were going to be sadly disappointed on this occasion. Much as she might want it herself, she knew that Auberon’s path to that end would be different from hers.

And they would be watching. She was sure of that, just as she was sure of the light scrunching of gravel she could hear from somewhere behind them.

‘We’d better do something about this,’ murmured Penny as she kissed his cheek and undid his flies.

His prick fell out, white, lean and topped with a foreskin like an unfolded toadstool. The moonlight caught it, giving it a ghostly appearance as they walked on. Like the cane of a blind man pointing the way, it jiggled from side to side as they walked. She enjoyed seeing that, and in order to maintain such an unusual sight, she pushed her finger as firmly as she could into the crack between his buttocks.

‘I’m terribly excited, you know. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.’

Auberon’s voice held all the excitement of a small child with
worn,
but well-loved toys and a new friend. It was sweet, and only made Penny more curious to know what sort of a man and how much of one he was.

‘Don’t mention it. I’m always willing to do a man a favour.’ That at least, she realised, was the honest truth.

What a picture they must present, she thought, her finger still firmly embedded in his rectum. All the time, she could feel the cheeks tensing, then relaxing, one muscled orb moving with slow deliberation against the other. The effect was arousing to her as well as to him.

Curiosity gave wing to inflamed sensations. Already she could feel the pertness of her clitoris pushing through the mat of satin hair that shielded it from the outside world. Soon it would demand its tribute, crave without pity for the height of ecstasy that was its due reward.

But, in the meantime, she would give Auberon what he wanted, and give the approaching band of spectators exactly what they deserved.

Lit only by the glow of a low moon, the stable block smelt of warm hay and the sweaty flesh of the animals it was home to. In the gloom, the beasts snickered softly and moved gently within their stables.

As his hand reached out for the light switch, she took her finger from his behind and grabbed his cock. She heard him gasp and saw him take his hand away from the switch.

‘This way,’ she whispered as she used his dick to lead him into the adjacent hay store.

A round window divided into four odd-shaped panes allowed moonlight to stream through and throw a silver pool on the area she had selected to give her debut performance.

She smiled to herself at the thought. Like a great celestial spotlight, outlining and accentuating everything they would be doing for their very select audience.

Beneath them the straw was warm, its scent full of the earthiness of ripe meadows, hot summers and unbridled fertility.

‘How much do you want what I am going to give you?’ she asked him provocatively, one hand encompassing his hot weapon whilst the other squeezed the felt softness of his balls.

‘A terrible amount!’ he exclaimed. ‘A truly terrible amount!’

‘How much?’ she asked with some sharpness.

He squealed like a pig as she squeezed his balls harder and dug her fingernails into his scrotum.

‘Truly! Very. Oh please . . .’

She paused, wondering for just a moment if he might faint. Tremors of mingled emotions enveloped her. There was elation in being in control of such a situation, of having his penis so stiff, yet so vulnerable, in the palm of her hand.

She swallowed her own excitement and her own need to have him probe into her body. Auberon had definite tastes. If she was to get what she wanted, she had first to satisfy his own particular proclivities.

She let his prick drop from her hands and, although she had expected her release of him to result in temporary disappointment, she certainly hadn’t expected tears.

‘Please . . .’ he pleaded, his voice little more than a whimper. ‘Please . . . anything you want you can do to me . . . anything at all.’