Chapter 4: Father And Sons

In the six months of her marriage, Katherine Dunrossiter had learned much of her husband’s household and way of life and had begun to suspect that her marriage had been a mistake. For one thing he was incredibly high-handed with the servants, indeed, with anyone of Irish blood. He taxed them unmercifully, worked them piteously, and was prone to chastise any errors, whether real or imagined, fiercely. Her attempts to alleviate the suffering she witnessed were only partially successful. The servants themselves, so long abused, could not fully trust any Dunrossiter, and the Earl would become angry with her when he discovered her efforts.

His sons were as bad as their father. Kent and Robert were nineteen and eighteen years old, respectively, sons by his first wife who had died giving Robert birth. They were much alike to their father, having his same stocky build, dark hair and countenance, and innate cruelty. Kent was, of course, the heir to the Dunrossiter estates and fortune, and Rob’s father was expected to buy his middle son a lieutenancy in the Army a few months hence. Both youths delighted in tormenting the servant girls, and if the whispered rumors were only half true, the degradations they visited upon the wretches were scarce to be believed.

Not that all the Dunrossiter men were beasts where women were concerned. The youngest son, James, or Jamie as he was called, was born of Dunrossiter’s second wife, who had died giving birth to a second child of her own, who had followed his mother to the grave the next day. While his father and older brothers were fond of him, there was little question that he was cut from a different cloth. Physically he was both taller and slimmer than the other men in the family, although as he approached his fifteenth year, he was filling out rapidly. His voice was a tenor, as compared to the baritones of his family, and he was still unbearded. Moreover, unlike the others, he had a decided intellectual bent to his nature, and Katherine often would notice him in the library, immersed in some weighty tome. Truth be told, she found his company preferable to the others.

There was, of course, the exception of the company of her husband in their bedrooms. What he lacked in a positive nature in every other aspect of life, he more than made up for with his talents and abilities as a lover. His wife craved his touch, and the vastly more experienced Dunrossiter gladly taught his wife positions and techniques she had never imagined. Although he attempted to induce her to explore the oral aspects of pleasure, she heatedly protested that this was the way of Sodom and Gomorrah, and he declined the issue, since there were more than enough Irish sluts around the household to take care of those needs. The wenches could also be induced, if by nothing more than a good caning, to open their buttocks to his advances, as well, so he declined introducing his wife to those ways as well.

Katherine loathed the eldest sons. They were only a year or two younger than she, and obviously considered her no match for their charms. On more than one occasion, she had been required to sharply rebuke them for advances and remarks made as to their vigor and abilities of an amorous nature. They had laughed when she had reprimanded their behavior and had undoubtedly gone off to slake their thirsts with one of the poor serving girls.

“Well, Rob, what do we have here?” asked Kent, smirking to his brother as they rounded the corner of the barn.

Tess Sweaney, an eighteen-year-old cook was spreading corn for the chickens, wryly thinking to herself that the chickens ate better than her mother and younger sisters. She looked up in alarm as she noticed the approach of the two young men. She knew what they would want, and also that she was presently ripe, it being midway in her courses. Tossing down the last of the corn, she backed up into the barn and moved to scurry to safety. She had barely rounded the corner when she came across Rob, who grasped her shoulders firmly, preventing her escape.

“Excuse me sirs, I was just feeding the chickens, and I have chores to do,” she replied, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

“I think we have something better here to pluck than chickens, eh, Kent?” replied the younger of the two men snidely. He turned the girl around to face his brother.

Kent strode up to Tess and lifted his hands to her bosom, fondling it through her dress and shift. She shuddered at his touch, then gasped as he tore the thin material open, exposing her ample breasts to view. “I think these need plucking, don’t you brother?” he asked, pinching her small brown nipples.

“No, please...,” she begged. “Not now, it’s my time...”

Kent slapped her cheek. “You lie, bitch. You said the same thing two weeks ago. Hold her, brother.” As she struggled in the much larger and stronger Rob’s arms, Kent undid his breeches and pushed them down to his knees. Settling himself on a blanket thrown over a hay bale, he ordered the girl to kneel before him. As Rob pushed her into position, he rudely grabbed her head and brought her forward.

Tess opened her mouth and took him between her lips. Kent and his brother were both of a similar stature as their father, so she was forced to open her mouth widely to take the engorged member inside. She dared not nip or bite the Earl’s heir; the last girl who had done that had been flogged! Behind her she could hear the other sibling undoing his own breeches and was unsurprised when he knelt behind her. Rob flipped her skirt up over her arse and pushed her legs apart, then buried himself swiftly within her.