Chapter 10: Consummations

It was as Woodrow Allen had suggested. I ploughed Annette Blanchard's fields by day, then ploughed her madge by night. After the ploughing it was the sowing; during the day I cast seed upon the field and at night I cast my seed upon her furrow.

It did not seem as if this would be the outcome when we first climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

The lady had requested me to be gentle, slow, and not thrust wildly into her portal, nor practise cunnilingus upon her madge, and I obeyed all these strictures. I approached her as if she were a sixteen year old virgin, not that I have ever galloped a sixteen year old virgin; my Spanish galloping companion, Dolores, may have been sixteen but she was no virgin.

It seems ludicrous that I should have to treat Annette in this fashion. She was at least fifteen years older than me, and had borne two sons, besides having had to accommodate the demands, and desires, of soldiers from three foreign armies;—she would have been well and truly galloped in her lifetime.

Even with the restriction of her requests I managed to pleasure her, by judicious use of my fingers on her madge, of my mouth and tongue on her breasts and nipples, and, with only the bell end of my plunger inserted in her cleft.

As she achieved release she let out gasp of satisfaction, tightened her arms about my neck and kissed me passionately.

We lay entwined, her bosom heaving delightfully against my chest, as she steadied her breathing. I had hardly broken sweat, but I was pleased that I had managed to get her to climax.

"That was how Raoul first got me to release—you are as skilled and gentle as he was. Thank you, my dear Jacques." With that she kissed me, and turned over to sleep—leaving me with Mr Thomas still upright and unsatisfied.

She suddenly turned back to me. "My pardon, Jacques. You must think me the most ungrateful and uncaring of women. Allow me to bring you some relief."

And with that she ducked under the bedclothes, sucked my plunger into her mouth then skillfully fellated me.

I fell asleep, surprised but satisfied.

A week later I was ploughing the West field, the largest of the estate. I was moderately tired, as Annette and I had made The Beast twice during the previous night. I now had her trust and confidence, and we coupled as experienced adults would when making The Beast, with all the groans and cries of pleasure that people engaged in energetic sexual congress make. She often gave me love bites, usually on my chest, but last night had left several on my neck as she had reached her climax. I had reciprocated, by sucking on her breasts as I fired my volley into her. The girls noticed the marks, for although I attempted to hide mine Annette wore a dress that displayed plenty of her bosom, thereby showing hers with pride.

I was resting Atlas and Hercules when Annette appeared, carrying the basket containing our lunch. It was her practise to come and eat with me, and after finishing the food we would kiss and caress, no more than that, but enough to keep Mr Thomas inflamed, ready for the evening bout. She put the basket down, came into my arms and proceeded to give me a most passionate kiss, her tongue delving into my mouth and her hand delving into my breeches.

I pulled away, gasping. " We can be seen, and besides I still have half the field to plough."

"Damn the field, and damn being seen! I want your phallus in me now, swift and strong, hard and deep."

I was amazed by her speech, and her actions. She pulled Mr Thomas from my beeches and lifted her dress up around her waist, then guided me into her wet madge as swiftly efficient as a Covent Garden whore. She had gone from nervous virgin to wanton harlot in the space of a week.

We ended up on the recently ploughed soil; writhing, bucking, and gasping. I ploughed her with my steel hard ploughshare, turning her longtime fallow furrow into rich ripe flesh, thirsty and eager for my seed to irrigate her. The rooks in the trees took off in alarm when she shrieked out in her ecstasy. Moments later they flew skywards again at my bellow of pleasure, as I shot my seed into her greedy portal. We lay there, panting and sweating, the smell of the rich Flanders earth mingled with the scent of the juices produced by our combined release.

Mr Thomas had shrunk back to his usual size, and I tucked him back into my breeches and got to my feet. Annette remained stretched out on the bare earth for a minute or two, her legs spread, and her skirts bunched around her waist, before she sat up and pulled her dress modestly back down over her knees.

"I have all the appetites of my mother and sister, and occasionally they get the better of me. Do you think me a duplicitous person? I ask you to treat me with gentleness, but deep inside I want to be ravished—and to ravish you."

I kissed her gently. "That was so unexpected, and so wonderful; I grant you leave to ravish me anytime you wish." I kissed her again, and we held each other close, until she said. "Let us eat. You will need all your strength; tonight I intend to take you at your word."

Her smile of happiness lit up the whole field.

It was five days later before I had finished ploughing all of the estate fields, -- the West field had taken me longer than anticipated. Now it was time for sowing, and Annette had decided to sow the barley and then the oats, leaving the planting of the potatoes until the middle of April.

In a line spread across the field, the three girls, Annette, me, several ragamuffins from the hamlet of Wallers, a brace of old women who did the laundry at the château, and even François Truffaut—who had to be careful that his peg leg did not get stuck, began the sowing.

The method of sowing has not changed since Cain slew Abel. A bag, filled with seed, is carried slung over a shoulder, and the seed is broadcast by flinging a handful to either side, as you move in a rhythmic procession down the field. I had done this at Greenaway's farm since I could walk; Annette had to learn when all the estate's men were conscripted.

It took two days to sow the two fields and then we had a small celebration. Jugs of beer and bottles of wine were brought from the château, with fresh baked bread and the omnipresent Cambrai cheese. François played his fiddle, and the girls and Annette vied with each other as to who would dance with me. I danced with them all, and with the toothless washer women. Even Mimi smiled at me, briefly.

That night after dinner Annette had a bottle of wine brought up from the cellar, and took it with us when we retired to bed.

"It is time you learned something about wine. This is a Medoc; Raoul's favourite, and I would like you to try some."

I knew this wine from my time in Bordeaux. It tastes of sour vinegar, and I would rather drink turpentine, but I smiled, weakly. "I'm not much of one for wine, but to please you I will try a glass."

She laughed. "I think you will enjoy the way wine is served here at Château Blanchard."

Annette poured a glass and took a sip, then came over to me and kissed me. Forcing open my mouth with her tongue she dribbled in the wine. I eagerly ran my tongue around her mouth, lapping up wine, and her saliva. Even Medoc is nectar when served from a woman's mouth.

"There, mon cher, what do you say to more wine?" Her voice had a laugh hiding behind it, and her eyes sparkled with mirth.

We took turns at sipping from the glass, and then transferring the wine into each other's mouths. By now we had stripped naked, and the wine ran down our bodies, lapped at with avid tongues, while we kissed and sucked on the wine wet flesh.

She broke away from my laving tongue. Fixing me with lust laden eyes she slowly tipped up the bottle, allowing the wine to course down her body, soaking the hair on her mons, and running on to, and through, the lips of her madge.

"Drink!" Her voice was husky with passion, and I obediently knelt in front of her and lapped and licked and sucked and nibbled and kissed and poked, with tongue and finger, at those slithery, slippery wet, wine soaked lips. She sank onto the carpet alongside me, and poured the last of the wine on to my plunger, which was then engulfed by her ravenous mouth.

We embarked on a soixante neuf of a wine tasting session, which lasted until we both dissolved in a tumultuous climax, with wine, sweat, love juice, and saliva, mixed in our mouths and coating our bodies. Nothing in the world had prepared me for the exquisitely decadent feeling of gratification and pleasure which swept over me during that act of debauched licentiousness. I can now understand how even the most righteous of men, which I am certainly not, could become addicted to a life of lechery.

Matilde

Although the ploughing had been completed there was still work that required the team of Percherons. One of the ancient rights of the Blanchard family was to be supplied with logs, freely hewn, by the foresters of Valenciennes Forest. I used Hercules and Atlas to drag these logs to the sawmill in Wallers. That morning Matilde had stopped me just as I was setting out.

"I shall be bringing you your lunch today, M'sieu Jacques. Where will you be working at midday?" I gave her directions to where the felling had been carried out, and then led out the horses.

I had made five journeys to the saw mill, and was unharnessing the horses for their mid-day rest, when I saw Matilde approaching with the lunch basket. She placed the basket on the ground in front of me, reached down and brought out a stoppered jug. Giving me an unfathomable look, she said. "I bid you drink."

With that she removed the stopper from the jug, drew her skirts up about her waist and poured the contents of the jug over her madge. I watched, spellbound, as wine trickled through the thicket of hair, and glistened on the pink lips, of her portal.

Matilde was young, no more than eighteen, and the lips were delicate, well-shaped, and a target for my eyes, and then for my mouth and tongue.

It did not take long before I was out of my breeches and she was out of her dress, and I was up to my nugs in her tight eager portal. She arched her back, drawing me deeper into her, and I revelled in the sweet young flesh enfolding me. My thrusts were urgent and swift; she spurred me on, with cries of pleasure and by drumming her heels on my buttocks, and it was not long before I loosed a volley into her. Thankfully Mr Thomas, so pleased to be buried in such delicious grasping flesh, kept rigidly to attention, and moments later Matilde gave a shrill shriek of joy as she climaxed. We lay, entangled in exhaustion, enjoying that feeling which comes when both partners have found satisfaction. Eventually she wiggled from beneath me and got dressed.

"There, M'sieu Jacques, you are certainly not too old to give a young woman enormous pleasure." Her smile warmed me, as did her mouth, as we kissed deeply and tenderly.

"After what we have enjoyed together I think you can dispense with the formality of calling me M'sieu, Matilde." I cleared my throat, and with some embarrassment, continued. "Do not worry, I shall not tell Madame of our–uhh–tryst." I felt rather ashamed of my behaviour, as only the night before I had been galloping, or rather I was being ravished by, Annette, and thought myself something of a blackguard for now dallying with another.

Matilde gave a peal with laughter. "You silly goose, who do you think it was sent me out here with the jug of Medoc?"

Matilde left, leaving me dumbstruck, and wondering why she had been sent to pleasure me.

Annette explained her reasons that evening after dinner.

"I love my girls; they are to me daughters, sisters and friends. I cannot bear to see them unhappy. They envy me, hearing me expressing my pleasure, loudly and frequently, every night, and I want them to experience something of the ecstasy I have been enjoying. Matilde has gone singing round the house like a linnet, since you and she shared a jug of wine."

"What! You expect me to gallop all three, even Mimi?" I shook my head. "Even if I could manage to satisfy both Matilde and Chloe, Mimi would never want to be galloped by me. Besides, what of you? Have you grown so tired of me that you palm me off on others?"

She came and sat on my lap and showed, by her kisses and caresses, she was not yet tired of me, or of my plunger, which she took into her mouth and gulped right down her throat. After some little time, and a libation from me, she continued with her explanation.