Lady Dorothy's War (Episode 1)

Lady Dorothy’s War

(Episode 1)

(A story set in England during 1944)

Bugger, bugger, bugger!” cried Lady Dorothy Brooks as she peeled her riding johdpurs down her slim thighs in the master bedroom of the Manor House in Little Bedford, Lincolnshire. Undoing the button tops of her garter belt she tossed first one and then the other silk stocking across the bedroom, before stepping out of her pleated and soaked white panties. Moving over to the bedroom mirror she unpinned her dark curling hair so that it framed her elfin face and looked candidly at her reflection.

Beneath the starched white hunting shirt her smallish breasts thrust jauntily upward, their little brown nipples visible through the white cotton. Below her flat stomach, toned by years of horse riding and never challenged by childbirth was a cheeky thatch of auburn pubic hair at the bottom of which could just be discerned a tiny hint of moist, pink flesh. Even without the flattering silk stockings her long legs remained shapely and elegant, balanced upon a pair of dainty feet that were anointed with rose coloured nail varnish.

She really was not a bad looking girl, she thought, but whatever was the use in possessing a beautiful figure if the only person who ever saw it was herself? And how much more frustrating to discover that even her own servants were enjoying the sexual delights of one another while she herself had forgotten what it was like to be touched by a man.

Of all the days to uncover a household scandal surely today must be the worst, obliged as she was this afternoon to meet the newly appointed commander of the village’s neighbouring USAAF B17 Bomber squadron, a Lt. Colonel Hart, if memory served.

It was at times like this that she really missed her husband, captured by the Germans in France in 1940 and currently languishing in a POW Stalag somewhere in Poland. Although their marriage had always been less than perfect, not least since her spouse was older than herself by some 30 years, she couldn’t deny that that Lord Henry did have an ability to deal with problems on the estate that her own limited experiences left her incapable of coping with…

What had happened was this.

At only 26 years of age it was the habit of Lady Dorothy to take her favourite mare, a graceful bay named Venus, for a canter about the Bedford estate just after breakfast. This morning, having visited with some of the estate’s tenants, Venus had begun to limp slightly obliging Lady Dorothy to walk the animal back to the stables at the rear of the house.

Approaching the outbuilding and seeing no sign of Alfred, the young man who looked after the horses, she had tied up the ailing animal outside the barn and upon entering she heard a low murmur of conversation punctuated by both throaty laughter and a high pitched giggle.

Edging quietly up by the stalls she was greeted by the shocking sight of her junior housemaid, Daisy, standing in front of Alfred with her black uniform skirts and white apron bunched above her waist. The buxom red-head had freed her ample breasts from the tight confines of her servant’s blouse and was further displaying a scandalous array of stockings, ivory undergarments and plump bottom cheeks, as the lad reclined on a bale of straw sipping upon a jug of cider.

The boy’s other hand, her Ladyship could not help but notice, was inserted into the front of his overalls, caressing his privates. Slipping into an unoccupied stall Lady Dorothy watched and listened in shocked fascination.

“So I’ve shown you mine then,” said little Daisy in her Lincolnshire burr, “Are you going to show me what you’ve got down there, Master Alfred? ”

At this the stablehand groaned loudly and passed his cider cup to the pretty servant girl while standing up to remove his trousers. Comically he fumbled while removing his overall as the feisty servant girl drained the remainder of the cider while frantically removing her knickers with her free hand. By now, Alfred had unfastened himself from his clothes and his rigid prick pointed at the stable ceiling. He was almost as large as one of his horses, his ruby helmet shiny and angry as he reached for the girl and turning her about, placed her hands upon the wall as his other hand crept between her legs.

Stroking her there briefly, he withdrew his hand and drew it to his mouth, licking his fingers for a second before spitting onto his hand and lubricating her entrance with his saliva. She began to moan loudly now as his his thick fingers teased her furry and dripping womanhood as with his other hand he brought his stiff penis to her sacred portal.

Lady Dorothy watched all of this in stunned silence, mortifyingly aware that her own undergarments were beginning to dampen as her arousal at this unprecedentedly private encounter was stirring deep forbidden feelings within her.

Unbidden, unplanned, her own fingers now found themselves delving through the the tangle of her own tingling mound, caressing the top of her sex beneath jodhpurs and knickers as her other hand unconciously entered her mouth to allow her teeth to bite on her fingers, supressing her moans of arousal…

Alfred had by now entered the pretty housemaid and as his calloused hands kneaded roughly at her ample bosum he began to fuck her with vigour. Her high cries of passion were twinned with the stablehand’s own loud throaty groans of lust.

By now she was pushing back furiously against the barn wall in an endeavour to possess more and more of the thick shaft that was propelling her towards the ultimate pleasure, now lifting one waving leg off the floor entirely as her lewd cries spurred on her lover in his passion. Then suddenly, realising her partner was close to his own spend, she reached behind and directed his fat cock toward her bottom hole, arching her plump ass higher again as she sank back and allowed him to penetrate her most secret area.

Alfred paused for a split-second before the realisation struck him that the girl simply wanted to avoid any risk of pregnancy, and then gloryifying in this tight new embrace he allowed himself to spurt deeply and copiously into the depths of this holiest of holies. As he did so, Daisy’s own cries of ecstacy confirmed that she too had crested her wave and he fell sated against the heaving body of his wanton lover…

As his softening rod plopped from the bruised arse of the servant girl, a stream of milky come poured from her bottom and pooled upon the stable floor. His empty prick now beginning to droop Alfred turned the still moaning girl around and kissed her passionately and deeply upon her mouth, their tongues delving deep into each other’s throats.

It was Daisy the maid who broke the embrace.

“I must go My Lover”, she panted, shining eyed. “She’ll be back from her morning ride soon and she’ll wonder if I’m not up at the house…”

Alfred reluctantly released the girl and bending to pick up her discarded knickers he gave her a contented smile.

“I’d bet Her Ladyship would much rather have had Your morning ride, eh, Daisy Crabtree?”, he grinned, holding out the housemaid’s now sodden knickers and allowing her to step daintily into them.

“Don’t you be so disrespectful to my Lady Dottie, Alfred Seaton,” she winked and pausing only to kiss him quickly on the cheek she stumbled towards the stable door, clumsily pulling up her knickers and buttoning her blouse as she ran.

The Lady watcher in the stable had by now enjoyed her own explosive orgasm and was only just quick enough to collapse into the straw under the stable wall to avoid discovery… Her right hand was still clamped under her panties between her shaking thighs and her teeth unconsciously sucked the fingers of her left hand.

Her eyes remained wide open in amazement at what she had just secretly witnessed when she felt the click of her wedding ring against her still chattering teeth.

“I’m a married woman,” she thought to herself, her heart even now still pounding in the aftermath of her orgasm. “So why have I never, ever experienced such a feeling before? And how passionate they were, and how wanton, like, like animals… Perhaps that’s how the working classes make love… Oh Dear God! ”

As Lady Dorothy’s mind filled with both unanswered questions and graphic images of the sexual scene she had just witnessed she was totally oblivious to the fact that her hand had once again begun to describe slow gentle caresses around the top of her still tingling pussy.

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To help understand why Lady Dorothy Brooks was so paralysed by her unexpected. (and thus far undiscovered), encounter with her servants it might be helpful to explain a little of how indeed she came to be the Mistress of the Little Bedford estate.

As an older girl she had been sent away to a Catholic Convent boarding school and despite the normal schoolgirl crushes occurring in such establishments she had upon graduation remained largely unaware of not only the sexuality of others but even her own.

There had been illicit dormitory fumblings of course, exploratory kissings and carressings of other pretty classmates who would climb into her little bed after ‘lights-out’. And yet such understandable curiousity would inevitably stop at the point where a questing, tentative finger might accidentally brush the knickers of a sighing girl, the hand immediately grasped and drawn away lest the fires of hell rise and envelop the inexperienced lovers.

To kiss a favourite on the lips in the darkness of the dormitory was forgivable, even accepted and the more forward girls might even unbutton a bedmates nightgown and softly caress the breasts beneath.

Towards the end of her time at the College Dorothy had fallen quite madly in love with the blonde-haired and gamine daughter of an Admiral in the Royal Navy and the secret nighttime sessions had become steamier.

Each girl would undo the other’s nightdress and after much kissing and fondling a searching mouth would descend upon a by now rather heaving breast and after a few delicate licks an engorged and aroused nipple would be welcomed into a hot little mouth. However, on the only occasion that the Admiral’s daughter had unmistakeably cupped the older girl’s cotton-clad pussy with a gentle but firm touch it was Dorothy who brushed the hand away and demanded that she stop.

The rejection caused the younger girl to flee from Dorothy’s bed in mortified embarrassment, but later, as a frustrated and tearful Dorothy listened to the lonely sobbing of her innocent lover in the next bed, her fingers crept under the waistband of her damp cotton briefs and she stroked herself while imagining it was her blonde-haired love who was pleasuring her… But as always she stopped herself from continuing lest she damage her mortal soul and slept that night with her hands jammed firmly beneath her pillow…

Upon graduation the now 19 year old future Lady Brooks returned to the family home in Sandhurst in England, where her widower father taught history at the Army Staff Officer’s College.

Now you might think that an army officer’s training college might prove an interesting envioronment for a curious and intelligent, (not to mention very pretty) teenage girl but alas that was not the case.

Dorothy’s father strictly forbade her to associate with any of the college students and moreover made it known that any daring young sprite who attempted to romance the girl did so at the risk of his career. Consequently Dorothy spent most of her social evenings sipping sherry in the company of her father and his colleagues and their inevitably staid wives.

Indeed, on the few occasions when convention demanded that she socialise with the younger staff student officers she was disappointed to realise that while she herself was intrigued by both their manners and their gallantly uniformed physiques it was apparent that they had no interest in the Professor’s daughter.

One of her most private pleasures at Sandhurst was to visit the changing rooms at the rugby ground long after the players had retired to the local pub and inhale the aroma of their pungent manhood. The sensations this activity aroused in her would leave her flushed of face and filled with curious and forbidden images.

She was of course not to know that she was in fact the subject of lust and longing among the younger men, who would have most ungentlemanly discussions as to what she might be like in bed. (One young rake in particular penned a ribaldly speculative poem entitled ‘Dottie The Hottie’ which stiffened many of its reader’s sheets…) None of them however were willing to sacrifice their commissions in order to find out.

And after 2 years of this drudgery Captain Lord Henry Brooks, 17th/21st Lancers, arrived in Sandhurst to lecture the staff students in the new science of Tank Warfare.

To Dorothy, the dashing cavalryman in his navy blue dress uniform was a breath of fresh air.

Although he was well into his 40s this still made him at least two decades younger than any of her father’s colleagues, and moreover the man had an aristocratic and irreverent sense of humour that amused the young woman. Although he socialised with his students as often as with the faculty, when in Dorothy’s company he invariably managed to monopolise the girl, and she grew to welcome the scent of cigars and brandy that meant that Captain Brooks had arrived.

She was aware that he had a romantic interest in her. Often he would reach out to touch her thigh to emphasise the point of some long-winded story and he was always most attentive to her needs. More interesting to her, his stories of army life in India and Asia hinted at devilish indiscretions and dangerous romantic liaisons with native ladies that caused the younger woman to blush in rapt fascination.

And he was kind.

When he took it upon himself to ask her father’s permission to take her to the private birthday celebration of a graduating student at a local hotel she was ecstatic. The night passed in a blur of dancing, drinking and high jinks and she was delighted to find that outside the rigid confines of the college the military student officers were charming and amusing company.

It did no harm that the younger men also obviously adored the worldly flamboyant and suave cavalry officer who was her escort. For the first time since school she also enjoyed the company of young women of her own age and although some of the girls were undoubtedly not of her own class, she enjoyed their rude humour and bawdy behaviour.

Captain Lord Brooks drove her home to her father’s apartments in his Bently. As they cruised at speed through the country lanes he stroked her thigh almost absentmindedly between gear changes, his hand approaching higher and higher with each new carress.

Dorothy, by now rather drunk and desperate to be kissed by this debonair aristocrat reached down and clutched his hand, which was slowly stroking the top of her inner thigh.

“Darling, do you want to stop?” she asked, in the sexiest voice she could summon.

At this Henry jerked his hand immediately from her legs, swerving wildly as he momentarily lost control of the car.

“Oh my dear girl I am so very sorry”, he cried, “Whatever must you think of me? I apologise Dot, I really do, please forgive me I don’t know what I was thinking…. I… I… Oh Dear God!”

The expression on his face was one of acute embarrassment and as she watched his profile in the dark light of the car she began to giggle uncontrollably.

“I say Dear Girl”, he said after a moment, “There’s no need to laugh at me…”

“I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean stop THAT,” said Dorothy coquettishly between tipsy giggles, “I meant, do you want to stop the car for a bit?"

"Ahh....", said Lord Henry.

And he stopped the car.

(To Be Continued.....)