Valves & Vixens, Volume 2 Read online

Gillian burst into laughter. “I should have guessed! Girls from the streets the likes of us escaped to would know all about the likes of you! Girls from my school wouldn’t know any better!”

  She gave Ashton a shrewd look. “So who taught you how to kiss?”

  “Maxie.”

  “And Owen?”

  “Also Maxie. Her friend Lenne was too nervous, at first. Maxie started on Owen, while I couldn’t convince Lenne to touch me until Maxie jumped onto my lap saying she would ‘show us both how it was done’. Lenne nearly pulled her off, but I had the basic idea, by then.”

  Gillian’s brow furrowed for a brief moment before clearing. “I remember them!” She slapped Ashton sharply. “I remember when they came back, half giggling and half terrified they were pregnant!” She thought for a brief moment. “I think that was when the rest of us learned about condoms.”

  “Nobody had told us about condoms!” Ashton objected.

  “That is no excuse! Who did teach you?”

  “We...” Ashton’s cheeks flushed as he tried to avoid her eyes again.

  Gillian seized his ears again. “Tell me!”

  “We thought we were hunting,” he said wretchedly. “We turned out to be prey. It was two women who were older than us, perhaps about thirty, who decided we would be fun. It wasn’t hard to convince us, we were so keen we would have said yes to anyone who was half as attractive, and they looked like goddesses to us.”

  “Not hard,” Gillian said archly.

  Ashton flushed again. “If you don’t wish to hear this story...”

  “Think very carefully about whether you want to keep this from me.”

  “If you will keep interrupting...”

  “You just need to keep talking.”

  “A gentleman does not interrupt a lady.”

  “That is a flagrant lie and you know it, Mr Wallace.” She slapped his shoulder sharply. “Stop trying to distract me!”

  Ashton sighed. “We met them outside a hotel we were trying to sneak into. They needed all of two minutes to convince us to go with them. We got into what we thought was a cab, but they didn’t need to give directions. They drew the curtains.”

  “Their names?”

  “I have no idea,” Ashton said frankly. “They told us to call them Cristina and Angela.”

  “I see.”

  “Angela sat on my lap,” Ashton continued, “Cristina sat on Owen. They taught us a lot more about kissing during that short drive than anyone else ever had.”

  “’Anyone else’ meaning?”

  Ashton squirmed, embarrassed again. “Maxie, Lenne, and, um, Phoebe and Molly.”

  Gillian contented herself with a smug chuckle.

  Ashton attempted to ignore this. “When the cab stopped, they blindfolded us before leading us out. I remember praying we would never be recognised by the cab driver again. I heard him laugh.”

  “Cab nothing, it was their coach.”

  “We worked that out later, thank you!” Ashton sighed. “That house was like a palace inside. We didn’t know whether to stare at the furniture, or at the women. They gave us the best brandy I had tasted then or have ever tasted since, then Angela took me to a bedroom. Cristina had Owen on the rug in the drawing room, he told me later.”

  Gillian looked slightly disappointed at this revelation they had been in different rooms.

  Ashton looked wistful. “She had me for three hours, at the end of which she had taught me even more than she had about kissing, while I could barely walk. They blindfolded us again, then put us back in the carriage, which threw us out outside the school. It was the closest we had ever come to being caught breaking in or out.”

  “There is more to this story,” Gillian said with narrowed eyes.

  “Yes, there is.” Ashton seemed to be lost in remembrance for a minute. He was bought back to himself abruptly when Gillian, who had been feeling his swelling cock, pressed her hips against his trousers.

  She picked up the wrapped condom from where she had dropped it next to his head, then sat up.

  She was bought up sharply with a clink of hook against hook. “Oh, confound it!”

  Ashton burst out laughing, offering little help as Gillian unhooked them. When she could finally sit up, she managed to unfasten then unwrap her skirt before sliding backwards along his legs to access his fly. “Keep talking.”

  Ashton, grinning now, resumed his narrative with more enthusiasm. “The last thing they told us was to meet them at the same place, at the same time, the next week. We could not believe our luck. We exchanged our stories on the ride back, and kept swapping notes through the week, whenever we were able to.”

  Gillian opened Ashton’s drawers, liberating his cock from where it had lodged under the bottom edge of his waistcoat.

  Ashton tried to settle himself more comfortably on the ground, with little success. “We were, of course, early for our rendezvous the next week, and could barely contain ourselves while we waited.”

  Memory, and Gillian’s confident fingers, made Ashton’s cock throb slightly. She tugged his trousers and drawers a little further down, to give her access to his testicles.

  “They turned up in their carriage, picked us up, then Cristina sat on my lap, and Angela sat on Owen.”

  Gillian made an approving sound, her gaze fixed on Ashton’s face as her fingers toyed with his privates.

  “This time, Cristina had me on the rug while Angela took Owen off to her bedroom. Cristina was... assertive.”

  Gillian smirked as she felt Ashton’s cock react to the memory. Ashton was too lost in memory to notice.

  “Angela had demanded I fuck her. She said ‘fuck’, it was the first time I had ever heard a woman even say the word. She spent three hours telling me what to do to her. Cristina told me to ‘take it like a woman’.”

  Gillian, sitting dominantly astride Ashton, barely suppressed a laugh.

  “She didn’t even let me touch her unless she wanted me to. I had to call her Sir, and say thank you every time she ordered me to do something. I was too terrified to enjoy myself, but too eager to try and stop her. She made me do most of what Angela taught me, but Angela made me do all the work. Cristina used me like a toy.”

  Gillian slid the condom over Ashton’s cock.

  Ashton broke off, looking down expectantly. Gillian held up an admonitory finger. “Keep talking.”

  Ashton sighed, lowering his head back to the floor. “We were sent back to the school again, with orders to meet the next week.”

  Gillian felt Ashton’s cock wilt a little in anticipation of the next part of the story. She countered that with her fingertips on its tip.

  “This time, when we got into the cab, they were sitting on the same bench. Angela told us to sit together.”

  Gillian’s face bore a hungry expression. She lifted up onto her knees, shuffling forward along Ashton’s body.

  Ashton’s face bore the expression of a man who knows he is about to suffer embarrassment only because the compensations will be worth it.

  “Cristina told us to kiss each other.”

  Gillian moved over Ashton’s cock, pushing down teasingly slowly.

  The breath caught in Ashton’s throat for an instant.

  “Keep going,” Gillian purred.

  “They must have taught us well,” Ashton said, a trifle unsteadily. “Neither of us thought to disagree. We were so drunk with expectation we thought it would be a lark.”

  “So that’s how you do it,” Gillian murmured. Ashton tried to ignore what she said, but was unable to ignore the way she was beginning to slowly fuck herself upon him. There was no doubting she was doing it for her benefit, but Ashton could not complain about that.

  “Owen asked me which of us should be the lady. I offered to. Cristina
told us we both were. We tried to kiss as if we were girls, but it was a total failure.” Again, Ashton ignored Gillian’s snort of fond derision. “Cristina told us to kiss like men kissing a woman. We had to stop laughing first.”

  Ashton was managing to settle into telling the story while Gillian was pleasuring herself upon him. Gillian was having no trouble listening while doing so.

  “Our second attempt was more successful.”

  “Did you find it exciting?” Gillian asked, a touch of glee in her voice. “Lie to me and I shall know it.”

  “Putting on a show for them was exciting,” Ashton hedged.

  “Not what I asked, little boy.”

  Ashton gasped as Gillian clenched about him.

  “It was something new,” he admitted when he got his breath back.

  Gillian moved one hand behind her.

  “It was forbidden. Yes! I admit it! It was exciting!”

  Gillian, smiling smugly, released his testicles.

  “They blindfolded us again, took us inside, then told us both to undress in the drawing room while they watched.”

  “This is a sight you have so far denied me,” Gillian said, meaningfully.

  “It was a sight we denied ourselves!” Ashton protested. “I couldn’t look at Owen. He assures me he couldn’t look at me. Cristina told us to kiss again. We couldn’t. If I hadn’t been naked, I might have run.”

  “That would have been much more embarrassing,” Gillian murmured, still slowly rising and falling over Ashton.

  Ashton avoided the comment. “Angela stepped behind me, taking my thomas in one hand. Cristina did the same to Owen. They pushed us together.”

  “I should be making notes,” said Gillian, her head full of the picture Ashton was describing.

  “We kissed again. That was exciting.”

  Gillian’s cheeks were beginning to colour as her playful fucking became earnest.

  Ashton looked as shame-faced as a man can while deep inside an excited woman. “We did not notice that the women had released us, until they ordered us to stop.”

  Gillian moaned in approval, her hands clenching onto Ashton’s shoulder as she worked her hips more firmly atop him.

  “They ordered us ahead of them to Angela’s bedroom, then onto her bed. Then Cristina said they would not undress until we had made each other spend.”

  Gillian shuddered. Ashton, watching her face, could scarcely believe his own actions as he gave her mortifying detail after mortifying detail to feed her lust.

  “I felt as if I were dreaming. Owen later said he had never been so drunk while clear-headed. We were so eager for the women we found ourselves eager for each other.”

  Gillian gasped.

  “I wrapped my hand around his thomas as he straddled me, seizing mine.”

  Gillian groaned, her hips moving faster. Ashton was finding it difficult to continue speaking.

  Ashton, staring at Gillian’s face, had completely lost all sense of shame. “Owen kissed me with as much passion as I’ve seen him kissing you. I kissed him in kind. I heard Cristina asking Angela which one of us would spend first.”

  Gillian was making fast, short sounds, her face straining on the edge of her own release.

  “They were watching us closely.” Ashton had to pause to gather enough breath, and concentration, for a second phrase. “But we spent so closely together they could not ... AH!”

  Ashton, who had not failed to learn the rhythms of Gillian’s body in their months together, managed to time his climax perfectly with hers.

  Gillian leaned heavily on Ashton’s chest with both hands as they both strove to regain even breathing.

  “Then?” She gasped.

  Ashton could not stop a triumphant smile as he continued, “Then Cristina pushed Owen off me, to lick his spend off my skin. Angela cleaned Owen, before both ladies undressed.”

  Gillian leaned back, still sitting heavily upon and around Ashton, to peel some errant strands of hair from her face. “Is that all?” She prompted.

  Ashton sighed. He knew when to be gracious in defeat. “They directed us in more play.”

  “Sodomy?” Gillian asked, with increased prurient interest.

  “No!” Ashton said, with sufficient relief that Gillian, to her disappointment, was compelled to believe him.

  “Not even with them?”

  Ashton laughed, ruefully. “I can not imagine such as them accepting sodomy, but I can imagine them committing it upon others, by proxy or wooden tool.”

  “You might be surprised,” Gillian murmured, the trace of a smile flickering about her lips. “I do not take it merely for your enjoyment. Did you meet them again?”

  Ashton, looking briefly sad, shook his head. “No, they sent us away with no word, which we did not realise until we were back at the school. No, I think we disappointed them by not being more eager. They gave us a series of tests, of which we passed two and failed the third.”

  “You tried to return to them,” Gillian said with shrewd certainty.

  “Oh, we tried! We were as desperate as opium smokers, for a month. We hunted about where we met them, without success, but have not seen either of them to this day.”

  “And you did not take your frustration out upon each other?”

  Ashton managed a self-satisfied grin, while pinned flat on his back on deeply uncomfortable brick flooring. “We had no frustration. We found ourselves company each time we left the school.”

  “Oh, the boys had grown up!”

  “It seemed we had been lacking in confidence, not in verbal skill.”

  Gillian sighed. “A belief that is sadly common among men.”

  “You did not find us too lacking,” Ashton said with affronted dignity.

  “I saw through you to your potential, my darling.”

  Gillian tried to raise herself off his still proud member, then had to try again, with the aid of her hands, when her legs refused to cooperate.

  She flopped gracefully to the floor next to Ashton, restoring her bloomers as he began, with a grunt of effort to raise his head far enough to see, to restore his drawers and trousers.

  Gillian gave him a speculative look. Ashton knew he was not yet free and clear even before she spoke.

  “I recall this began when you objected to the thought of kissing Owen upon...”

  “We did not!” Ashton interjected. “I think Angela and even Cristina knew that might have been a step too far. I suspect that is where we failed.”

  Gillian clucked her tongue in disappointment, then pushed herself to her knees.

  Ashton seized her hand. “You cannot tell Owen what I have told you”

  Gillian raised an imperiously enquiring eyebrow.

  “We swore never to discuss it, or mention it, again.”

  Gillian leaned forward, slightly, as if to emphasise what she was about to say. “You went looking for them. You wanted to go back.”

  Ashton turned white. “Well, we did, but...”

  “You are telling me you never, after that day...”

  “We spent all our energy on women!”

  “On, in and upon, most likely. Never kissed? Never woke up from a guilty dream?” Her eyes, quick and sure, registered the quick flicker of an expression passing over his face. “Aha!”

  “Please, Gillian!”

  Gillian tugged her hand out of his, then used both of hers to smooth down her bloomers. “I told you we had no secrets. But I will try and convince Owen to confess without confronting him.” She paused, to consider. “Unless I think of something more entertaining.”

  With a groan of despair, Ashton let his head fall back to the ground. “Ouch!”

  With a sigh known to women everywhere, Gillian pulled Ashton towards her, to cradle
his sore head in her lap. “Oh, my thoughtless fool.”

  ***

  Ashton returned to his calculations, throwing himself into them to take his mind off a mixture of guilt and terror.

  Gillian, feeling an immense sense of smugness and satisfaction, left Owen alone to his testing as she began cutting slats of wood to shape for the boiler Ashton had been planning to insulate.

  Hours later, Owen looked up from his work, satisfied he could find nothing more to adjust or criticise, to find Gillian tidying up from hers.

  He squinted at the light coming through the workshop’s windows. “Gillian, my love, what say you?”

  “I say we should consider the possibilities offered by the nearest pie van.”

  “I was thinking the Cog and Piston.”

  “It is only Thursday.”

  Owen gave the deep sigh of a man whose taste exceeds his budget. “Of course.”

  “I shall go upon an errand. I have not left these walls all day. Is your boiler still full?”

  Owen pushed a large metal bucket underneath the car. “I shall be out soon.” He opened a valve, blowing down the boiler with a ferocious gout of roaring steam.

  Gillian went to inform Ashton of their plans.

  At the side of the workshop, beside the drafting room, a door lead through the massive stone walls into a house that would have been a much greater contrast in comfort and warmth if it bore the marks of occupation, not merely habitation.

  By the time Owen had carefully carried a bucket of near-boiling water through the drawing room to the back of the house and into the substantial laundry, Ashton had enthusiastically helped Gillian out of her corset, skirt, boots and stockings.

  Owen, to his credit, did not threaten to drop or upset the bucket at the sight.

  A large copper tub and a bucket half full of cold water had been placed in the middle of the room. The house had a bathroom, but repairing the plumbing had not been ranked highly on their list of necessary jobs and, being upstairs, it was further to carry the bucket.

  Owen, still wearing his thick gloves, poured some hot water into the cold.

  “It’s a shame this tub is so small it can only accommodate one of us at a time,” Gillian said brightly as she stepped in. Ashton paled. Owen, who had spent long enough with Ashton to become intimate with his moods, noticed but said nothing.