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Image for the poem The Maids Adventures chapter 7 part 2

The Maids Adventures chapter 7 part 2

The Maids Adventures chapter 7 part 2

For some reason she didn't feel very relieved about that, even though she knew she should.

Garrett, said Patrick, his voice full of warning as he paused at the entrance to his tent. Do not let your little maid escape because you are distracted. Then he disappeared inside the tent. The Princess let out a loud cry and then it sounded like something was pushed into her mouth, stifling the noise.

Bridget looked up to see Garrett staring at her as if he'd never seen her before; his dark eyes were blank and his expression looked somehow both haunted and angry. For lack of better things to do, she watched him as he turned his face away from her and then began to pace back and forth, occasionally glancing towards the woods and occasionally back at her. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was planning his own escape. After a few minutes she had to stop watching him because he was making her feel anxious with all his movements and the darting glances.

Looking at the woods on the opposite side of the camp, she studied the trees with their green leaves and the sunlight trickling through, wondering if Patrick was truly worried that Garrett was so distracted he might let her escape. Truthfully she didn't see why Patrick needed someone here to guard the women. Or why he'd chosen Garrett when the other man was the closest thing to a second in command. Although, perhaps he worried that Garrett's natural tendency towards leadership was having an effect on Samuel and Blaine. If Garrett was setting himself up as a rival, then perhaps Patrick wanted to keep Garrett close to himself rather than giving him more time to influence the others.

Watching the men was fascinating enough in and itself but she also knew that studying these divisions between the men could only help her after all she had heard the soldiers at home talk often enough about the importance of unity. If the men were busy with their own arguments and disagreements, then they'd be paying even less attention to her. And it was obvious that Patrick wasn't at all worried about her attempting escape; he'd seen her fear over the Princess' punishment and had taken her submissive compliance exactly the way she'd wanted him to.

Of all of them, only Garrett seemed to sometimes see the real her. Maybe that's because he was good at acting too.

"Bridget, come into the tent," Garrett snapped out harshly, making her jump as his voice rang out through the clearing. Loud enough that it interrupted, Patrick's masculine moans coming from the other tent. Without looking to see if she followed his order, Garrett strolled into the empty tent, obviously expecting that she would follow.

Fury boiled up in her and she stood, striding forth and ready to give him a piece of her mind. She had done nothing to deserve that angry tone in his voice! A sudden realization hit her, almost like a blow to her stomach and all the air in her lungs whooshed out. She was angry at Garrett. Truly angry and more than willing to snap back at him, something that she would never do with any of the other men. In fact, she'd talked to Garrett in ways that she'd never do with the other men already, snapping back at him, taking her anger out on him. Because deep down on some level, she trusted him trusted that he wouldn't hurt her that he wouldn't punish her for her words or actions, trusted him with some of the emotions that she kept hidden from the others.

And he hadn't taken advantage of that once.

Shaken by her revelations, Bridget stumbled into the tent to find Garrett lying on his back in the center of it, shirtless. He paid no attention to her entrance but continued staring up at the top of the tent, one arm flung out to the side, the other bent at the elbow to tuck his hand under the back of his head. The slightly dimmed light cast shadows across his ribbed abdomen and the ridges of his chest, the dark sprinkling of hair looking soft and enticing across his chest and down his belly. Even on his back Garrett appeared almost dangerous, too strongly muscled to be anything but threatening. She glanced down at the front of his breeches and wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed that the large bulge at the front didn't indicate any arousal on his part.

Strip, he said, not looking at her, his tone much milder than it had been outside. It almost sounded like a request rather than an order. As she shimmied out of her garments he continued to stare at the top of the tent. Only when she was completely naked did he move his gaze, his eyes roaming over her with appreciation. Under that lustful stare her nipples puckered, despite herself, and she had to lick suddenly dry lips as the bulge in his pants began to lengthen. Come here.

Reaching with his out-flung arm, Garrett pulled her down to him, but not in the position she expected. Instead she found herself resting her head on his upper arm, her back to him as he turned and pressed against her naked back, his legs curving against her buttocks. The stiff ridge of his arousal rubbed between her soft mounds as he situated himself, curving his free arm around her body and pulling her back against him so that they were fitted together like a wooden joint. The hair on his body tickled the soft skin of her back and she squirmed a little, as much as she could, although he didn't give her much space to, trapping her by pressing his forearm against her stomach, his hand reaching up to cup one breast.

Heat pulsed through her as he idly massaged the soft mound, her nipple rubbing sensuously against the palm of his hand. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he used his face to move her hair out of his way, pressing his lips against her shoulder blade. A quiver of lust went through her and she fought to keep from showing her reaction to him.

When she spoke she could feel his lips moving against her skin.

Do you have a large family, Bridget? His voice was very soft, not like he was whispering, but just that he was speaking so low that if she hadn't been pressed right up against him she wouldn't have been able to hear him.

No, just one older brother, she said instinctively keeping her voice as low as his, puzzled by the question. Had he brought her into the tent and stripped her down only to ask about her family?

Were your parents sad to see you leave with the Princess for England?

Bridget shook her head, confused by his apparent desire to converse. Her body felt like it was humming, every inch attuned to his touch, and yet she knew she should be glad that he wasn't taking his pleasure in her. What on earth did she want? If he took her then she'd be angry, but now she felt a burning need for him between her legs.

They were proud that I had been chosen. And they knew that I'd always wanted to travel.

Fingers stroked through her hair, almost idly, as he curved his arm beneath her head, making it fall back against his chest.

A little adventurer, are you? He chuckled and she could feel the vibrations through his body and hers. This kind of easy going intimacy and conversation was dangerous to her it was all too easy to forget who and where they were again.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice, plaintive and breathy, as conflicted as her emotions. The hand in her hair stilled.

Somehow, his voice went even lower and she strained to hear him.

One day I will be able to explain that to you. For now, you must trust me.

Trust him? She wanted to laugh, but all she could do was tremble, because she already knew that she did. Hadn't she just realized that before entering the tent? With the other men she always felt a mixture of revulsion and arousal, with Garrett the revulsion was sadly lacking. So was her resistance. It was enough to make a woman weep. His fingers began stroking through her hair again. Sighing, she gave up the fight and felt the tension flow from her body, nuzzling her head into his arm and relaxing into his caress. Part of her wished that he would do something with her breast other than hold it, but for now she sank into the illusion of the safety and warmth of his body.

I have a half-brother and a half-sister, he said, his voice rising just a tad. Still low enough that anyone even a foot away wouldn't be able to make out his words, but she no longer needed to strain to hear him. Both younger I used to have an older half-brother. His voice turned wistful, almost dreamy. She almost asked him how he could have half-siblings that were both older and younger than him, but it was truly none of her business. After all, he had already told her that he'd grown up in a whore-house why hadn't he mentioned his siblings before.
It felt like there was something more to the story that she wasn't getting.

"Were you looking forward to living in England?"

Bridget stirred against him, trying to ignore the tingles between her legs as they shifted together. "Yes... I thought it would be an adventure. And I've always liked seeing new places and doing new things. The Princess didn't travel much but many people traveled to us at court and they always told such stories of distant lands..." She wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him this, except that he seemed to want to talk and she couldn't work herself up to beginning something physical with him. "This seemed like my only chance to see any of them for myself."

"England's rather wet and cold compared to Southern France," Garrett said, his voice almost teasing.

"It's still something new and different," she said. "And I suppose I thought that if I truly hated it, I would be able to go back. Not like the Princess, since she'd have been constrained there by her marriage."

"Hmmm," Garrett said, making an enigmatic noise.

Suddenly his hand on her breast slid down her stomach, the hand in her hair curving over her shoulder to grip her other breast and pinch her nipple. She cried out at the sudden sharp pain, her hips and soft bottom pushing back into his groin. Fingers slid through the curls on her mound and into her damp folds and her cry turned into a moan as he began to twist her nipple sensuously, the tingling sensation going straight to her core where his devilish fingers were eliciting the most incredibly sensations. Just like that she'd turned into a mass of feminine need, her thighs spreading as she moved her leg back and on top of his to rest, allowing him further access to her body.

The palm of his hand ground against her clit as he slid two fingers into her, moving against her backside. The leather of his breeches rubbed over her buttocks, the hot rod of his cock pressing between her creamy cheeks as it slid up and down along the crease. Bridget found herself arching back against him, both of her hands clasping the wrist of the hand between her legs as she moved. His fingers curved inside of her, rubbing over a particularly sensitive spot that made her jerk and gasp, her fingers tightening around his wrist and she wasn't sure if she was trying to pull his hand away or shove it deeper inside of her.

In front of her, the tent flap burst open and suddenly Patrick was there, leering at them. Bridget closed her eyes and turned her face into Garrett's arm, trying to shut out the sight of the bandit leader. Her body was completely on display for him in this position, only Garrett's hands covering her privates and that seemed even worse than nudity. The hand between her leg slowed its movements, his fingers moving with deliberate strokes in and out of her aching hole.

"Do you need me for something?" Garrett asked mildly.

To be continued
Written by nutbuster (D C)
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