Chapter 7

The loft was hot, and the straw was dry and dusty. Dom was enthusiastic, and practiced, and loving. I was surprisingly desperate, wet, hot and willing. The dream wouldn't come, though Dom did, and so did I.

I didn't want him to lay me down and caress me in the straw, or for us to wrap ourselves in the hot, prickly blankets. I wanted him to take me, impale me, fill me with his seed. No kissing or stroking. Just thrusting.

I leaned on the rail, and lifted my skirts. His erection appeared, bathed in straw-reflected sunlight, and I bent further at the hips, encouraging him to take me from behind.

His entry was a little sore, but the delight was greater by far than the pain, and I pressed solidly against his hardness, sweaty and hot in my clothing as I fell into the rhythm of it.

His hands on my hips and his cock inside me worked their familiar magic, and as he reached the point where he could not stop, and his thrusts became desperate and final, I came with him, climaxing as though it had been a lot longer than a few hours since the last time. I pushed him as deep inside me as I could, and loved the feeling of him spurting there, hard and hot, and suddenly wet.

I stood still for a while, still supported on the rail, and when I felt him soften inside me I pushed him away a little, stood up, and turned. I took his face in mine, and kissed him, hard, not saying a word, not needing to talk. I kissed Dom enough for him to know that I loved him, and then I pushed his face away from mine, smiled, and left, without a word.

I'd needed his cock, his strength and his need, but now I wanted to be alone. I wondered if I'd overdone it, but I climbed down the ladder, aching more than a little, and walked out of the stable before I realised I just needed the air. I could breathe in the loft before we made love, but afterwards it was just too dusty and hot. I looked back at the doorway, and saw him watching me with concern. I smiled and waved before heading to the house.

Everything was alright, I decided. It had been quite a day though, waking up and dealing with myself, before climbing on Paul, and letting Dom climb on me. I needed a rest. Unfortunately, my mother caught me in the doorway, and it was hours before I could escape from the chores again.

I stumbled up the stairs to my room in the early darkness, tired and hot after the day. My mother had found more and more tasks for me to complete, as if she'd known how much of the day had been devoted to my own pleasure, and was determined to undermine my mood. It didn't work. I might be exhausted, but I knew it was worth it.

I stripped naked, uninterested for once in any kind of exploration, fell on the bed, and slept.

I was awakened a couple of hours later as Simone crashed through the door, loud and giggling, a smile apparent on her face even in the low light. I remembered then. Simone had relatives staying in the servant quarters, and had asked if she could sleep with me. I moved over a little in the bed, pulled the covers up against the suddenly apparent coolness of the night, and turned away in hopes of more sleep.

It didn't work. Simone was giggling still, and whispering to me loudly about finding me naked on the bed, as she removed her own clothing and fell into the bed behind me, her smooth skin against my back.

I should have been annoyed at her invasion of my space. I should have been upset that she'd woken me. I should have insisted on her giving me sufficient space to sleep, but I didn't. I lay there, instead, and thought about how nice she felt there, how warm and soft she was, how her breath fell on my shoulder.

I didn't move, for a start. I let her breathe on me, let her hands pull me tight. I jumped when her hand touched my hip, but when she removed it I reached behind myself and put it back.

It was strange, this feeling. Simone and I had slept in the same bed before, many times. We'd slept fully clothed in the middle of the cold winter, and naked, like this, in the heat of summer. We'd even slept with another girl between us, swearing afterwards to never let the noisy smelly thing do it again. This time though, something was different.

As her hand slid up and down my side, I remembered the night I'd arranged for her to be with Dom. I remembered watching the two of them together, and how I'd played with myself as I watched them slide together. I remembered the look of delight in her eyes as Dominic had impaled her, the frantic expressions on Dom's face as he tried desperately not to come before her, and succeeded.

I could feel Simone's nipples behind me now, sliding a little up and down my back, her hot breasts lovely against me. I could feel the mound between her thighs rubbing over my buttocks, hot with need and desire. I could feel, most importantly, my body reacting, and pressing against her, willing her to continue, hoping that she would do something more.

Simone's hand slid further then, her fingertips stretching over the top of my hip, and down into the valley where the desire was burning. I could feel her fingertips thread their way through my thatch of curly hair, her other hand on my buttocks now. I could hear the sound of her breath and her sighs, the rhythmic sound of her body so close.

As her fingers delved further, down into the valley, I needed her to touch me in that place, to stroke me there, to slide between my willing folds, and take me. I needed her to, but in the end, I couldn't. As her fingers touched me just where I wanted, I jumped.

This time, it wasn't a tickle, or an aroused reaction. Despite the way I was feeling, her fingers hurt. My most tender parts had been abused a little today, and my body was reacting. I turned in the bed to explain, but she spoke before I could.

"I'm sorry, Alys. I thought you wanted to. I won't do it again."

"No, no, Simone. I do. I do want to."

"You do?"

"Very much."

"But you..."

"I'm sore."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I've..." I grinned at her then. "I think maybe I've worn something out."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It's been a hell of a day."

"You want to tell me?"

"You want to know?"

"You already know the answer. Now talk!"

So I did. I told her all about my early morning efforts, alone in this bed, my fingers caressing myself. I told her about my later adventure, about the river, and how I took a willing victim. I didn't tell her it was Paul, but I related all the details, all the little things that I knew she wanted to hear. I told her also about Dom, and the loft, about him taking me from behind without any words, about the way he felt as he entered me, about the way he came, and I with him.