Chapter 4

In The Outhouse

Two nights before, Tim Farragut had just finished work for the evening. The chairs had been stacked on the tables. The glasses were all clean and set back on the shelves behind the bar. Miss Adams had long gone to bed and now it was time for him to do the same. As he made his way across the yard at the back of the pub towards the outhouse where his own room was, he heard a noise coming from the stack of barrels in one corner.

The figure of a woman, a long cloak reaching the ground with a hood that reached up over her head and shadowed her face emerged. Tim stopped. “Hullo,” the figure said.

He knew what the woman wanted, without knowing her identity. It had been a regular occurrence, every four weeks, for the last few months. Each encounter had left him puzzled, confused and ashamed. “I suppose you want...”

“Yes. You understand. I have my needs.”

“But...”

“I’ve explained, before. It’s not much to ask and in return you have your home here without problems. Lady Henderby might not look kindly on a bar-boy that thought himself able to ignore the calls of his betters. Besides, from my recollection, you have not been unwilling in our previous encounters.”

It was true, Tim thought to himself. When he had first been approached by this mysterious woman with her half enticing, half threatening seduction he had been flattered and had lost his virginity to her without a care. He had enjoyed their physical entanglements, delighting in the lessons that this woman had given him in the arts of love. But now, her repeated returns, the continuing mystery of her identity, the combination of threats and enticement, the fact that she always kept her face veiled throughout their carnal encounters left him feeling used. Although it wasn’t clear to him what influence Lady Henderby might have on his fate, he didn’t feel able to risk the threat.

The woman seemed to sense his acceptance and led Tim by the hand into his own room. She shook her head at it’s untidy state but pulled the bed covers back and pushed Tim down on his back. “Shh, stay still, pet,” she said quietly reaching for his belt buckle, unfastening it and pulling his trousers and pants down as far as his knees.

She knelt astride him. She pushed the hood of her cloak back and Tim could see that her face was, as ever, veiled. With one gloved hand she felt for his cock and began to squeeze. Steadily it became erect. “Good boy,” the woman said. “Very good indeed. You will soon be ready. This needn’t take long.”

For Tim that assurance was both a comfort and a curse. The squeeze of her hand was a delight and he would be happy for it to be indefinitely prolonged but to be here on his own bed, being ridden to orgasm by this veiled woman was a humiliation, that climax would bring to an end in a way both pleasurable and shameful.

The woman eased herself down onto Tim’s erect shaft. He could not see the expression on her face hidden behind her veil. He saw nothing of her body, her long skirt hiding the fact that she was wearing no undergarments, but the ease with which she accommodated him told of her arousal. She slid herself forward against him, pressing herself against him and pulling back in turn until her quiet mutters of pleasure became more vocal and louder. The animal like nature of their coupling ensured Tim’s continued tumescence until he could control it no longer and his orgasm broke.

The woman stayed in place, leaning forward against Tim’s chest, her veiled face close to his ear. “There,” she whispered. “That was very good. You are very good.”

And then, as quickly as she had arrived, she had gone.