Chapter 35 #2
‘What in God’s name is that?’ Ash asked, looking perplexed. ‘How long have you been hiding that under there?’
‘Only a day or so. You ought to take better care of your chambers, Ash.’
Ash shook his head as Olly pressed the box into her hands.
‘Here.’
Having no idea what he could have procured for her, Agnes gave him one last look before opening the lid.
She gasped. Or, perhaps, she laughed – the two mingling over each other into a snorting, croaking choke.
‘Oliver!’
‘What is it?’ Ash said. He turned to Olly. ‘What is it?’
Agnes reached into the box and pulled out a perfectly formed, perfectly weighted phallus.
‘Good God,’ Ash said. ‘Is that a … is that a cock, Olly?’
‘Not a real one,’ Olly said, as Agnes turned it over to get a better look at it.
It was, she realised, much like the one that Olly had described to her before.
It was made of dark red leather. When she wrapped her hand around the shaft – eliciting a noise from both men that she did not miss – she found it hard beneath her palm.
Inside was no doubt wood, or perhaps bone, wrapped with something softer to ensure it remained pliable.
It did not feel entirely like a real cock, but it did not feel entirely unlike one either. The base of the thing was sewn to a kind of girdle, along with two long, soft-feeling straps.
‘Is this—’ She laughed at herself, at the false phallus. ‘Is this to be worn?’
‘Of course.’ Olly grinned, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘And you can wear it wherever you wish.’
Agnes had the sudden image of her strutting around the fields, breeches – or skirts, for that matter – tended with an illusory erection. She raised her eyebrows at him.
‘Oh, no, not like that,’ he said, gesturing at it. ‘I had Pepper make it for me. For you. You can remove the rod inside and wear it like that. Make it—’ He drooped dramatically with his arms. ‘One does not always stand to attention, after all.’
Agnes looked down at the cock. She imagined herself wearing it – wearing it stiff or tucked away beneath her clothes. Sparks ran up her spine: not the thrill of desire, but the elation of something else, something she could not name.
It was hers. It felt, somehow, like a part of her.
Olly took a step forwards, taking her arm. His expression was open and sincere. Despite his laughing, despite his lewd jokes, she could read in his eyes that this was true. This was not a joke at her expense, not an insult to the way her soul and body clashed.
‘You do like it?’ he asked. ‘If not, we can pretend this never happened. Throw it in the river.’
‘No.’ Agnes shook her head. ‘No, I like it very much.’ His hand still lingered on her arm. ‘Thank you, Olly. Really. It is … I hesitate to call it lovely, but … I do love it.’
Olly’s lips parted a little. He looked terribly unsure. He looked how she felt, too: as if there was something just out of reach, something that she was sure she wanted, but was too scared to take. She didn’t know what it was. She wanted to find out.
She edged closer and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. Olly’s eyes fluttered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
‘You do?’ he said, his voice strained.
‘Yes,’ she muttered, their lips brushing. ‘I do.’
Olly looked from her to Ash. ‘Do you wish to try it on?’
None of them were too sure what she should wear with the piece, before deciding that the best course would be to strip up to the waist, her hose and braies abandoned in a pile beside the bed.
There was a moment – a brief moment that drew out – when Agnes insisted that if she were disrobing then they should as well, leaving them all to become distracted while the phallus sat unused on the bed.
By the time they remembered what they had planned to do, Olly was utterly naked aside from the bandage around his middle, Ash in only his undershirt, and Agnes quite ready to push them onto the bed, cock or no.
It took all three of them to work out precisely how to attach it, devolving into a short argument between Ash and Olly as they threaded the straps between her legs, trying to find the best place to tie them.
The belt around her waist tightened perfectly, and together – with much shuffling and moving and grabbing – they managed to secure it in place.
Agnes stood, legs a little apart, the cock – her cock – jutting heavily in front of her.
It felt … right. It was unwieldily upon her body, but not in a way that made her shrink away.
She felt the heaviness of it, the pressure, the way it moved against her when she shifted.
With a little repositioning, a little extra fabric, she wondered if she could place it in such a way that she could rub herself off against it too.
A thought to be chased later.
She sauntered to the rarely used mirror that Ash had hidden away in the corner of his chambers and observed herself in the metal.
The dark red of the prick matched the brighter colour of hair quite prettily.
Ash and Olly appeared in the mirror behind her. They, too, were observing her reflection.
‘You may need tutelage if you wish to use it,’ Olly whispered over her shoulder, placing a hand on her hip. ‘Although much is …’ he trailed the hand lower ‘… instinctive.’
Agnes nodded. She caught Ash’s eye in the mirror.
‘Well?’ she said, keeping his gaze.
Ash pressed his lips to her shoulder. She could feel his cock rubbing against her arse, stiff and eager.
‘I must admit to being interested,’ he said.
She turned so she could see him, the real him, not his muddied reflection.
‘In that case,’ Olly said, breaking the tension that hummed between them, ‘I shall fetch the salve.’