Mystery at Brackenwood – Part 3


It was now May 2002. The incident with Tom was still in my thoughts, and whilst I knew that the outcome had been the right one, I found myself slipping down into a depressive state of mind.  I had begun to recognise the signs a few days after seeing Tom that evening. The constant sexual hunger I had grown to accept as normal for me seemed to fade. And with it, the need to masturbate several times a day was no longer there. My energy levels dropped, and everything became an effort. Life had lost its excitement for me, and a cloud seemed to descend and pervade my senses. Back at boarding school, both Emily and Alex noticed my dramatic change of mood. Suddenly, almost overnight, they found that I was no longer the sex mad, promiscuous horny girl they had known. Alex couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to suck his penis during our sexual liaisons, and, for the first time since we met, I wasn’t able to reach orgasm when we had intercourse. Emily was upset when I told her I didn’t want her to masturbate me. My eighteenth birthday came and went in April. My parents arranged for me and a few of my friends to go to London in a stretch limousine, and have an evening out clubbing. It was nice to be with them, but passed me by. At the end of May that year, we had a long Bank Holiday weekend, to celebrate the Queens Golden Jubilee. This meant a four day weekend, with Monday and Tuesday off. My parents had arranged to spend the weekend down at Brackenwood, their property in Cornwall, and had invited a number of friends and colleagues to join them. I travelled down to Cornwall with my parents on the Friday evening, 31st May. Jenny, my parents trusted housekeeper and nanny, had travelled down a couple of days earlier, to open up the house and sort out the rooms, laundry and food arrangements. Whenever we had these large gatherings, her calm and efficient support was invaluable…in fact I am sure my parents couldn’t manage without her. In addition to Jenny, my mother had hired a freelance chef to provide the catering over the weekend. This was quite a regular occurrence, and we had used the same chef a couple of times previously, as he seemed to be very good. With a houseful of guests to cater for, even Jenny’s culinary skills weren’t up to keeping appetites satisfied. According to Jenny, he was getting married the following weekend, and was understandably quite excited. We arrived at around 7pm on the Friday evening. Despite my poor state of wellbeing, I did find my spirits lifted upon arrival, as the car swept through the large iron gates and down the long gravel driveway, finally pulling up in front of the front entrance. I was quick to go to my bedroom and unpack my things. A number of guests we due to arrive that night, but I wasn’t in the frame of mind to see anyone. I just wanted to get to bed, much to my parents annoyance. “Darling, I really think you ought to stay up and wait for our guests to arrive,” my mother whined in the car on the journey. “Its terribly bad manners not to be there to greet them you know.” “Their your guests, Mother, not mine,” I remember replying, grumpily. Maybe I could have been more diplomatic, but it was true. All the guests were either friends or business colleagues; Charles and Pamela Hartington, Anthony and Serena Atherley, Sir Richard and Lady Helen Ormsby – Gore, Peter West OBE, David and Annette Raddner, William Corby QC and his wife Nicola, Ian and Susan Atkinson and Paul and Margaret Harrison. Whilst I was aware of some of these people, I had never met any of them, and didn’t really see it as my role to receive them on their arrival. So that night, feeling pretty low and certainly not in the frame of mind to socialise, I stayed in my room, and was asleep by 10pm. At 2am on Saturday morning, I woke up with a start. I’m not sure why…but I was very thirsty, and feeling rather lightheaded. I lay still for a few minutes, before getting out of bed and walking in the semi darkness across my large bedroom to the window. Pulling back the curtains, I gazed out into the clear night across to the wide expanse of Falmouth harbour, lights shimmering on the calm waters. The view from my bedroom was stunning, even at night, and sitting there on my window seat was, and still is, one of my favourite places to be. As my bedroom was up on the 2nd floor of the house, and a corner room, I had panoramic views of both the sea and land. The old house had seen many changes over the decades since it was built, but never lost its charm and character, even through the bad times. I decided to go downstairs and make myself a cup of tea. The kitchen was quite a journey, as it was situated on the lower ground floor, originally part of the old Victorian kitchens from when the house was first built. Therefore I had to walk down two flights of stairs to get to the ground floor, then once I had reached the bottom of the oak staircase in the hallway, follow the flagstone corridor which led from the hallway, past the dining room, eventually reaching a small flight of four, foot worn stone steps which arrived in the large kitchen. I looked for my dressing gown, before realising that it hadn’t been packed, so instead slipped one of my T shirts over my head, pulled on a pair of knickers, before quietly opening my bedroom door and padding silently along the landing, past a couple of bedrooms and down the stairs to the first floor. The sleeping house seemed to be watching me, as I passed more bedroom doors on the first floor, then down again until I arrived in the elegant, gothic hall at the bottom of the staircase. Then along the corridor to the old kitchen. Although modernised over the years, the kitchen still had the feel of history about it. There was still the old fire range, with a large iron spit in front of it, powered through a chain and pulley system by a heat fan up in the huge chimney breast. Next to the range was the huge Aga, and dominating the room, a long oak table, showing the signs of years of food preparation. Hanging from the ceiling were all sorts of kitchen utensils..some familiar, but some not. I went across the kitchen to the Aga, and switched on the light above it in the alcove, which threw a soft light onto the hobs. There was a large, flat bottomed kettle sitting on the warming plate already, which contained enough water for a cup of tea, so I lifted the lid of one of the hot plates and moved the kettle on to it. Still feeling rather strange, I sat down on one of the old kitchen chairs, and closed my eyes, listening to the sound mobil porno of the kettle heating up. It had become a familiar routine for me over the past few weeks, waking in the middle of the night, not able to settle back down gain. During my depressive times, my sleep patterns were often erratic and disturbed, which then seemed to make me feel even more tired and depressed, in a never ending downward spiral. I was roused from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming along the long stone corridor, used by servants in long ago days. Surprised, I turned to see a tall, distinguished looking middle aged man appear at the top of the steps leading down into the kitchen. He was wearing a deep red, satin dressing gown and slippers. “Ah… good morning my dear,” he said, in a low voice, almost a whisper. “So, you couldn’t sleep either?” He walked across the kitchen, round the table towards me. I stood up, both surprised and a bit embarrassed to be found down in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, wearing just a flimsy pink T shirt and pair of white lace knickers, by a man I had never met. “No…I am just making myself a drink,” I replied. He nodded, and smiled. “I assume you must be Katherine?” I pulled a face. “Well…I prefer Katie.”  “Well…Katie it is then. Nice to meet you Katie. I am Richard…a colleague of your fathers.” Sir Richard Ormsby-Gore, eminent Barrister and a senior partner in the chambers of which my father was a partner, held out his hand, and I shook it. As I did so, I noticed his gaze flicker up and down, as he took in the details of my appearance…my long, blonde tousled hair falling around my shoulders in an untidy, just got up fashion…my cheap cotton T shirt, which clung to the roundness of my pert breasts, and struggled in vain to reach my waist, leaving my slender stomach partially uncovered. And then my white lace knickers, sheer cut and leaving little to the imagination. Even in the dimly lit kitchen, the fine, delicate material revealed that my pussy was completely shaved, a detail which I could tell hadn’t gone unnoticed by Sir Richard. “Nice to meet you Sir Richard,” I replied, and smiled cutely, as he reluctantly brought his eyes back to mine.“Can I make you a drink?”  “Well..that’s very kind of you..thank you..a cup of tea would be nice.” I nodded, and went to get the cups from the cupboard, as the kettle began to boil. I was well aware that the situation I now found myself in had echoes of the experience I had had 3 years earlier, with the dishwasher repair man. However, this time it was different. I was different. I wasn’t in a mental state to even think about playing games. In any other time and place, I would have probably have tried something. But not tonight. I put the teabags in, then poured water into the cups. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Sir Richard from behind me. “Oh, well I hope it was good,” I replied, stirring the tea. “Oh, of course. Your parents are very proud of you.” I smiled to myself. This wasn’t something they had ever shared with me! “They didn’t tell me what a pretty girl you are though,” he added, his voice quieter now. “Oh..well…thanks”, I replied. I wasn’t in the mood for this! “Milk, sugar?” “Just milk, thank you my dear.” I went to the fridge, now not wanting to face him. I didn’t want to encourage him any further by giving him the excuse to look at my private parts again. Pouring the milk, I gave the teas a final stir and put the milk back in the fridge. I picked up his cup and turned round to hand it to him. He gave me a smile, and reached out to take the cup, and it was then that I noticed. As he stood there, just a few inches away from me, I realised that Sir Richards satin dressing gown was partially open at the front, and the belt untied, hanging loose. As he took the cup from me, I found myself staring at his semi erect penis, steadily raising itself up as I gazed in complete shock. For an older man, his penis still appeared to look like a young mans. His balls seemed full and heavy, held up tightly. It was only the greying pubic hair which gave away his age. He was now holding his cup, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was exposing his erection to an eighteen year old girl. “Oh…er..Sir Richard…your …” I stumbled my words out, genuinely shocked at the sight before me. The whole situation seemed so bizarre. Here I was, at 2.30 am, staring at a shaved, Knighted penis! “Pardon, my dear?” he replied, apparently unaware of his state of revelation. He took a sip of his tea. “I think you should cover yourself up, Sir Richard,” I finally managed to say. I pointed down to his crotch area. He looked down and exclaimed, seemingly horrified. “Oh my goodness…I am so sorry my dear.” By now his eager penis was pointing up towards me, its purple head proudly gazing back at me with a one eyed stare. He quickly turned around and put his cup on the table, then wrapped the dressing gown around him, tying up the belt. “This damn’s so slippery…the belt is forever untying itself. I am so sorry my dear..I had no idea, I promise you.” At that moment, we both heard footsteps in the corridor, and turned to look . Down the steps appeared an elegant, slim lady..I guessed in her late forties or early fifties.  “Richard..what are you doing down here? Who is this?” she stared at me, suspiciously. I could understand why. Seeing her husband alone with an eighteen year old blonde who is wearing just a flimsy T shirt and see through lace knickers at 2.30 in the morning did seem rather odd! “Ah..Helen…it’s you. I couldn’t sleep..came down to make a drink. Er…this is Katie…you know…Nancy’s daughter..she was down here too..she made me a drink.” He held up the cup of tea, as if showing the evidence in court. There was an awkward pause, as if Helen was assessing the likelihood of the story, before she spoke. She eyed me up and down. “Well, perhaps next time Katie should put more clothes on when she comes downstairs – especially with guests in the house.” She gave me a hard stare. I stared back defiantly. I decided that I didn’t really like her. “Come on Richard – back upstairs.” With that she turned and left. How dare she speak to me like that! “I’d better go…sorry about that…nice to meet you Katie,” Sir Richard mumbled, apologetically. He picked up his cup of tea and left. I stared after him, hardly able to believe the events of the last few minutes. Had I just imagined it all? I returned to my bedroom, puzzled and confused. It seemed highly improbable alman porno that a man of Sir Richards standing and reputation would have deliberately behaved in such a way in front of the teenage daughter of his host and long standing business partner. And it was plausible that his silk dressing gown had accidentally undone itself – the nature of the material did lend itself to loosening and slipping open. And yet… And yet, was it really possible for a man to stand in front of a young girl, with his penis completely exposed and erect, and not be aware of it? Surely, if he was completely unaware of the dressing gown being open, his penis wouldn’t have become erect. Wasn’t it the knowledge that this teenage girl would be able to see his private parts that had caused him to become aroused? It was all rather odd! I drank my tea, switched off my bedside light, lay down, and drifted off to sleep, visions of a penis poking out from between a dressing gown floating around my head. *** I woke late the following morning, sun streaming through the windows. The events of the early hours somehow seemed like a distant dream now, but as I got up and walked across my room and into my en suite bathroom for a shower, I began to realise that something was different this morning. It was me. I felt different. For the first time in weeks…in fact since Easter…I felt alive again. The cloud which had engulfed me in the days following the incident with Tom seemed to have somehow lifted during the sleeping hours since my encounter in the kitchen. At first I wasn’t really sure what the feelings were…my depressive state of mind seemed to have become so entrenched in my psyche that it was hard to think of being any different. But, as I stood in the shower, the warm water pouring over my nakedness, it felt as though my body was trying to give me a message. From somewhere deep inside, a burning hunger seemed to be developing, and for the first time in over 2 months, I found my fingers slipping down between my legs, searching for my puss. Standing with my legs slightly parted, I rediscovered the contours and folds of my inner labia, the soapy water enabling my fingers to slide gently inside the tight, neglected opening of my vaginal canal. Almost as if in response, the muscles contracted around my fingers, as though my pussy was giving them a welcome back hug, after being away for so long. I began to carefully slide my fingers in and out of my puss, whilst at the same time rubbing my firm clitoris with my left hand, and within moments the first quivers and trembles of orgasm started to ripple deep between my legs. I let out a moan of pleasure, long and low, as though releasing weeks of pent up sexual hunger, and bending my knees I slid down the tiled shower cubicle, until I was sat at the bottom, my legs wide apart, my smooth pussy now open to the sensations of warm water falling over it from high above. Now working my fingers quicker, I could see that the deep red lips of my inner labia were now becoming swollen with arousal, pushing out and parting to expose the entrance to my vagina. Hips now lifting up and down, my breathing was becoming shallow and rapid, sometimes letting out a loud groan as waves of orgasm began washing over me. And then, I came hard and strong, a sudden flood of thick girl cum gushing out between my legs into the shower tray, instantly mingling with the warm water from the shower. Slightly milky, it flowed out in four or five waves, the sensations so powerful that my whole body slipped, and I found myself on my back in the shower tray, legs up in the air, with cum pumping out from within me. With my hands at my sides to support me, it was as though my puss had gone into autopilot, no longer requiring my fingers for encouragement. Looking down, I was quite shocked to find that, without any stimulation whatsoever, my hips were now quivering rapidly back and forth, as my muscles contracted and relaxed in a climactic spasm of ecstasy. Gasping for breath, I watched my puss pump out my milky cum, as though powered by some invisible electric motor. It was all I could do to just lie there under the pouring water and allow my body to regain its insatiable appetite for sexual pleasure. It was almost as though it was emerging from a two month long fast, and was now gorging itself , desperate for more. Fifteen minutes later, I appeared downstairs for breakfast in the dining room with the guests, and I felt wonderful. After experiencing some of the best orgasms of my life, I was glowing, and more importantly, felt hungry for more. It was a though the events of the night before had acted as the catalyst I needed to kick start my mental and physical inertia back into action. “Morning Darling,” my father greeted me, as walked into the room full of guests. He was sat at one end of the long dining table, my mother at the other. Down each side were sat assorted guests, all fifteen of them, who now all turned to look at me at once. Rather embarrassed, I gave a smile. “Morning Dad…morning everyone.” I quickly found my place at the table. “This is our daughter, Katherine, everyone…I don’t think you’ve met her have you?” my father announced, proudly. “Please..just call me Katie,” I replied immediately. I didn’t want everyone using my full name..I hate it. There was a murmur around the table as people said hello to me. I overheard a lady at the end, sat next to my mother say “Well, you said she was a pretty girl..and you are right.” My mother smiled. “Thank you,” she replied. I wondered whether she would still look so pleased with herself if she knew that her pretty, darling daughter had spent half an hour on her back in the shower, with creamy girl cum pouring out from her pussy like a river in flood. At that moment Jenny came bustling into the room, carrying a tray with a tea and coffee pot on. “Ah, you’re up at last then, sleepy head,” she said when she saw I was now sat at the table. “I wondered when you might make an appearance today,” she smiled. “Sorry I’m late everyone. I didn’t sleep too well.” I explained. I smiled down the table, and noticed Sir Richard looking at me intensely. I guessed he was concerned that I might mention our early hours liaison in the kitchen, but I wasn’t about to. “Oh you poor love,” Jenny soothed, “how about some coffee to wake you up?” She came round the table and poured me a cup. Lovely Jenny…I adored her. “Perhaps it would be nice if you could all introduce yourselves, as some people don’t know alexis texas porno each other..or Katherine,” my Father suggested. So for the next few minutes, people introduced themselves, and finally my father welcomed them all, and hoped they would all have a nice weekend. It was an interesting mix of people..lawyers, accountants, a journalist, a nurse, a civil servant, a chief executive of a large publishing company. Jenny ushered me over to the side table and helped me to cooked breakfast from the heated serving dishes, and I spent a pleasant time making polite conversation with the Atkinson’s and Corby’s. I discovered that my parents had invited their guests out for a cliff top walk along the coastal path that morning, before returning back for light lunch. As we chatted I noticed Lady Helen looking at me a couple of times, and wondered what she was thinking. Somehow I didn’t trust her. After breakfast we all went off to change into walking gear, and eventually met on the terrace overlooking the gardens at the back of the house. As usual my father led the way, out across the lawns, down the path through the woods, eventually coming to the gate which formed the edge of our land, backing onto the south west coastal path. With eighteen of us in total, we formed quite a merry band, and as we got up onto the cliff, we spread out as those who were faster walkers began to pull ahead, leaving the others to follow on behind. I walked with the Corby’s for a while, then the Harrisons. I was not sure I wanted to speak to either of the Ormsby-Gores after last night’s incident, and for a while I didn’t have to, as they were walking with my parents. However, after about forty-five minutes, I realised that Sir Richard had dropped back and seemed to be waiting for me. I couldn’t really avoid him now. “Hello, my dear…what a glorious morning isn’t it?” he said in his rather posh accent, almost sounding like an old retired officer from the RAF. He was aged about sixty, I guessed, tall and lean, with a full head of thick grey – white hair, and a grey moustache. I agreed it was indeed a lovely day. Sir Richard seemed to glance around, as if to see if anyone was nearby, and then spoke in a low tone. “I do hope we can keep last night’s little accident our little secret my dear…I mean, it was just simply an accident…I hope to realise that?” I looked at him, and gave him a look of mock surprise. “Sir Richard, of course I realise that. I am sure it wasn’t done on purpose.” “ course not. I do hope you weren’t offended ….I mean…it must have been a shock for you my dear.” I assured him that no, I wasn’t offended. “Good..good…well, that’s alright then…I just wanted to clear up any misunderstanding…you know…that you might have had.” I told him that I understood perfectly. “After all,” I added, “ it wouldn’t be very polite to expose yourself to a young girl deliberately, would it?” He shot me a glance, and I smiled back at him innocently. “Quite so..quite so,” he replied. “And I suppose Lady Helen was right…I should have put more clothes on. I just didn’t expect to meet anybody at that time of the morning.” “ suppose not,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “So I do hope you weren’t offended either – seeing me like that?” I asked, coyly. “Oh, course not…course not. Well..I’ll go and catch up with the others now.” With that, he marched on leaving me to walk by myself. I knew now that it had not been a simple accident. Naughty Sir Richard! As the cliff top walk continued on, I found my thoughts racing, and for the first time in weeks realised that my pussy was tingling and wet again. Since my early teens, I had become used to the fact that, regardless of what else was going on, or what I was thinking or doing, my pussy tended to always be wet…it was almost my default position. But over the past few weeks of my depression, it had lost its usual moisture, and I could feel no sexual sensation at all down there. But now, as I walked, I could feel once again the warm, damp feelings returning between my legs. We had reached a viewpoint on the walk, and gradually we all congregated together again to admire the panorama before us. The Cornish coast is just so spectacular, and on a clear day like this we could see for miles all down the coast. We set off again, and I was surprised when Lady Helen came alongside me and took hold of my elbow. “Shall we walk together for a while Katherine?” I took it as less a question, but more a demand, from the tone of her voice. “That would be nice, Lady Helen,” I replied, pretending to be thrilled. There was a pause as we strolled side by side, and then she got to the point. “I noticed you chatting to my husband earlier,” she said, vaguely. “Yes..I was.” I was wary of what to say to her. “I think it only fair to warn you that Sir Richard can sometimes become…rather attached.. to young ladies,” she said, rather mysteriously. I didn’t say anything. “How old are you, Katherine?” “I was eighteen last April.” She nodded. “ Yes…girls your age seem to be a weakness for him,” she said, almost to herself. I looked at her. She seemed anxious and on edge. “I just want you to be aware that Sir Richard’s behaviour towards girls can sometimes be …inappropriate…and I wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a difficult situation with him, Katherine.” “Oh…I see,” I responded. I wondered now if she had indeed seen what had occurred in the kitchen last night. I wasn’t sure. “He is a lovely man, but sometimes can’t help himself,” she continued, “ I’ve spent the last twenty-five years of marriage trying to keep him out of trouble.” I remember thinking that perhaps I could hear a tone of sadness, even pain, behind her words. We walked in silence for a few moments, and I didn’t really know what to say to her. “I’d like to ask you to do something for me, Katherine,” she said suddenly. I looked at her, surprised. “Well..I suppose so. What do you mean?” I replied. “Please try to keep your distance from him…don’t encourage him. He has his eye on you already, you know. I can tell. He can behave rather badly when there is a pretty young girl around, and I don’t want you to have to see him like that. Will you try?” She was almost begging me, and it was sad to hear. “Well..I am sure things will be fine, Lady Helen…but yes, I will try to be careful,” I said. I couldn’t tell her that it was already too late …he had already started behaving badly! She nodded, and we walked on until we caught up with the others. We all arrived back for light lunch of a salad buffet, with a whole poached and dressed salmon, baked gammon ham and slices of roast chicken breast. The spread looked amazing, all laid out along the long serving table at the side of the dining room.

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