A hunky Australian gardener beds the wrong woman and must face the humiliating wrath of his employer...her sadistic younger brother. Another hot tale from Amalaric with an impressive collection of manips!
Lord Chatterley’s Forester - Page 1
by Amalaric
Art by Amalaric
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The deed to the estate was an ancient one, held by a single aristocratic family for many centuries, though most of the present sprawl of landscaped gardens, woodland, and palatial living space was the result of the heady days (and deep pockets) of Victorian plutocracy in the second half of the nineteenth century. The Chatterley’s, like many of their exalted class, had known certain social and political ups and downs as the long years rolled by, harbored a fair share of eccentricities, and- even if several generations of death duties had hit rather hard in modern times, reducing things a bit- well, what a Chatterley might call ‘belt tightening’ would make anyone else feel like a surfeit of luxury.
Like many of the great family estates completed in the Victorian period, the Chatterley pile, centered on its extensive grounds, looked and felt older than it really was. A palpable ‘medieval’ air of rambling state rooms, dusky libraries, turreted towers, wide gables and wisteria covered stone enforced the mellow fantasy of bygone days of privilege…and servitude. The outlying buildings, used to house some of the on-site staff, likewise emphasized the languid gap between social classes; comfortable, but starkly simple crofter’s cottages with tiny windows, sooty fireplaces, and neat back gardens for cultivating kitchen herbs. It was in one of these that Jim Oliver, the newly hired forester, set up a happy bachelor’s pad. Shaking his handsome head at the foibles and pretensions of the owners up in the ‘big house’; he, nevertheless, counted himself a very lucky man, the forester’s job was a dream come true for the natural-born outdoorsman only recently arrived from Down Under.
Jim had been a lackadaisical student in primary and, later, secondary school on the edge of the Outback where he had grown up; far more interested in sports and, after a certain age, screwing the local birds (most the daughters of roughneck Irish immigrants with bright blue eyes or dancing dark ones and a decided divide between conceptions of public and private morality) who might be ready and willing for a fast roll and mutual scratching of the eternal itch. Academics just wasn’t his thing, yet, as luck would have it, instead of turning into a drifter, day laborer, alcoholic or all three, instead, Jim discovered his avocation and excelled at the local trades college learning about horticulture, land management, and animal husbandry as if born to the profession. Landing the Chatterley job so soon after arrival (with barely a pound in his frayed denim pockets) in the UK was…well, I’ll say it again, simply a dream come true.
Lady Constance Chatterley was a slender blond and, at twenty four, might have been beautiful except for a nearly indefinable brittleness that marred her otherwise refined porcelain features. Ensconced in one wing of the rambling mansion she presided over the estate in a kind of informal partnership with her younger half brother, Lord Edmund, who, at nineteen, had inherited early due to the untimely death by acute alcoholism of their father, the late lord, who had passed away in besotted misery at the tender age of fifty six only a little more than a year ago. Lady Constance, bored nearly to tears after a long weekend spent with cocaine-fueled abandon among the London party set, quickly noticed the new forester…and licked her thin, fuchsia-tinted lips with approval. Taking another look, her slightly frazzled mind wandered as she idly watched the tall stud shamble about his tasks; how did the old song go? You know; that one hit wonder from some Aussie group with the catchy reggae beat…on a hippie trail, head full of zombie, I met a strange lady, she made me nervous… Constance paused, tickled by the memory, and giggled, dredging for more…he was six foot four and full of muscle. I said, ‘Do you speak-a my language?’ And he just smiled… Making up her mind, the Lady’s mouth creased with slow amusement as she hummed the end of the refrain to that silly tune, remembering a last fragment of lyric …can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder? You better run and take cover.
There was always a lot of work to keep a forester busy in the late summer and Jim soon found himself putting in many ten, sometimes twelve, hour days on the grounds of the estate. The weather had been unusually warm and, often shrugging out of his shirt, he enjoyed the feel of suffused warmth on tan skin slicked with beads of honest, working class sweat. At six feet three inches Jim Oliver was actually taller than the mythical buck in Lady Constance’s remembered song; with broad shoulders, muscles sharply defined by hard exercise, a handsome face with classically masculine chiseled features including a rakish cleft in his chin, capped by a full head of bristly black hair that he had kept clipped conveniently short since his stint in the military. Of course the forester was aware of the Lady’s lingering, mock-surreptitious interest as, young, good looking and nearly always horny, he was ever the ladies man on the lookout for some action. For all of those reasons Jim was unsurprised when Constance finally made her move behind one of the stone barns…and, obediently following his diminutive mistress into the cool shadows, the grinning stud fucked her as if there was no tomorrow, thoroughly gratified by her squeals of wet passion and goaded to drill ever deeper for the better part of a very long afternoon. When, finally, they both lay spent, slicked with each other’s sweat and flecked with hay, Jim Oliver knew better than to even pretend to any measure of love. Instead, in response to her breathless command, the tall forester vowed many a passionate reprise…but unfortunately (for him) that was a promise he would be unable to keep.
‘Still a virgin, Edmund?’ Bored and in an edgy, bitchy mood, Constance took her frustrations out on her younger half brother. ‘I have responsibilities…’ he sniffed, ‘and, besides, there is plenty of time to beget an heir to the title. Beget an heir??? Constance nearly burst into laughter. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and hissed, ‘Well…hmmmm…I suppose you may be right, Ed…though it might take longer than you think…if your lover wakes up in the morning and pisses standing up before his shave.’ Gratified by her half brother’s look of scandalized horror and the bright spreading blush across his otherwise pale face, Constance knew in an instant that her remark had hit home. Unable to resist the impulse, she continued, ‘You know, the new forester…yeah, that strapping Aussie, might be worth a go. With those broad, manly shoulders and deep chest and…’ she giggled, ‘a fat cock over ten inches when it’s rock hard, should give you plenty to play with.’ Pausing, she winked then shrugged as her azure eyes took on a dreamy cast, ‘Maybe if you’re a real good boy…I’ll loan him to you sometime. One thing’s for certain; I can definitely vouch for his, ah, skill.’ The stinging slap across the face only caught her half by surprise and, oddly, merely served to deepen her amused pleasure. She watched smugly as Edmund stormed from the room, sighed, and poured herself a drink.
Jim Oliver had just placed a plate of leftovers in the microwave after another long day of hard labor on the estate when angry knocking on the front door disturbed the mellow reverie of that special dinnertime hour. Answering the summons he was thoroughly surprised to find himself face to face with Lord Edmund whose body language fairly shouted a threat, even to the most untrained observer. The thin youth stood on the threshold of the croft with fists balled at his side, lightly shaking and paler even than usual. His boyish face was creased with both excitement and resolve. Vaguely suppressing a rising sense of anxiety, Jim attempted a welcoming smile, stepping aside to let his young employer enter the croft. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ At a loss for anything else to say by way of greeting, the forester could only assume that Lord Edmund’s visit was a matter of business. ‘You raped my sister!!!!!’ Shocked to momentary silence, the tall forester merely stared at his teenaged employer in disbelief, allowing Edmund to continue, ‘Like a fucking animal rutting on the floor of the barn…anxious to despoil someone nobler, more beautiful…so frail,’ he choked, looking as if he were about to burst into tears. With a mighty effort Jim overcame his surging anxiety and managed to focus. Slowly shaking his head in emphatic denial, Jim’s voice was clear and measured. ‘That’s not the way it was, sir. Not the way at all.’ Edmund opened his mouth as if to say something but Jim, now deeply offended, rumbled on, ‘See, it was her idea and, yeah, we had a fast and fun roll in the hay…and there weren’t no complaints!’ Without warning Edmund’s demeanor faded from near-hysteria to icy calm, ‘So, you admit it then? Sex with Lady Chatterley, just as she said, in one of the barns…except (he lied) for the bruises, the tears, and her final stammered accusation of …’ he swallowed hard, ‘rape.’ Instantly, Jim Oliver knew that he had made a terrible tactical mistake and in those slow ticking seconds he saw his dream job melt away in a red haze of deception and lies. ‘Very well, Lord Edmund, though I repeat what I’ve already said- that no such thing ever happened- it’s clear that my welcome here on the estate must be over. I’m sure you will happily accept my resignation and,’ he sighed, struggling once again against a sickening tide of anxiety, ‘we will see one another in court.’ ‘Not necessarily,’ Edmund drawled, ready at last to spring his carefully laid trap.
‘Listen carefully to what I have to say.’ Edmund’s tone was crisp and Jim Oliver bent his head of close cropped black hair in wary concentration, not knowing what to think or if he should even dare to hope that something might yet be salvaged of his life or livelihood. ‘My sister has left the estate for an extended period of rest and recuperation on another of the family’s more secluded estates.’ This was a bold lie as Constance had really departed for a three month beach holiday at an exclusive Thai resort in order to escape the rigors of the looming English winter. ‘And it is most certainly NOT the Chatterley way for things of such a sordid nature to be aired in front of the entire public as would be the case if this went to a court of law. Can you imagine the field day the tabloids would have? And trust me on this one,’ he smiled mirthlessly, ‘YOUR picture would also figure prominently on the front pages.’ Jim reckoned that was true and continued to listen, keeping his wary silence. ‘No, a courtroom drama must never be part of the scenario. Furthermore, though the nature of your employment here must necessarily change,’ once again a slow smile, this time enigmatic, ‘I think that it would be wise if you remained on the estate.’ At last Jim dared to begin to hope that things might work out after all. Seconds later, however, hope wavered in the face of confusion at Lord Edmund’s next remark. ‘And you must not even consider leaving, Jim- not in anger, denial, or whatever self-righteous delusion you choose to wallow in.’ Jim’s hot blood ran cold as the skinny teen concluded, ‘We are an old and powerful family who have always influenced the law and sometimes even made the law. Furthermore, we are…um…well connected on a number of levels. To make things simple for one of your station and level of intelligence let me put it this way; if you decide to run, no matter how far, someone will certainly find you and make things go completely, terribly, and possibly terminally wrong.’ Fucker just threatened me. Why???? Though he was deeply disturbed, even frightened, the forester stood at his full height and asked in a rough voice, ‘Why would I want to run?’
Edmund’s humorless smile widened. ‘We like to settle matters of this nature ‘in house’ so to speak…but make no mistake boy (Did that skinny teenaged fuck just call me ‘boy’???!), satisfaction will be made.’ He paused for effect, ‘My sister’s honor and the honor of the Chatterley family demands it. You will either submit or pay…ummm…far more serious consequences of a more permanent nature. The choice is yours.’ That’s the second time he’s insinuated a threat to my life…can he really be serious? Stalling for time, Jim waded deeper into the trap, ‘OK, sir, just what sorts of consequences for payback or whatever…for something I didn’t even fucking do (he desperately tried to control his rising anger) are on the agenda?’ Chatterley, utterly unimpressed by Jim’s bravado, immediately replied. ‘You will continue to work on the estate for a minimum of three months but not as the forester. Rather, as a common laborer at a, um, very minimal stipend.’ Jim shook his head in frustrated dismay, contemplating the humiliation and monumental waste of time. ‘Furthermore,’ Chatterley continued, ‘you will report in the morning to a designated location for a thorough flogging. It has always seemed that the working classes respond best to corporal correction and I, despite my youth, am a strong supporter of old fashioned values.’ A flogging? What the hell….!? ‘I…I don’t understand…sir.’ But he did understand, deep down and with a horrified, sinking feeling of dread. Jim knew that he would comply to the bizarre command because his intuition (and he had always been one to act on a hunch) told him that Chatterley’s threat was, indeed, deadly serious. Lord Edmund rolled his doe-like eyes and reiterated the simple ultimatum. Finally, unable to look his antagonist in the eye, Jim Oliver capitulated with a few mumbled words. ‘OK, yeah…I guess so…and then I’m outta here. That’s right, three months to the day…’ he trailed off in a misery of defeat but Edmund wasn’t quite finished. ‘Very good! Now, if you will, please bare your torso as I wish to conduct an inspection.’ ‘What??!!’ Freshly galvanized, Jim could only stare at his relentless antagonist in stunned amazement. ‘You want me to strip to the waist?’ ‘That’s right…I want to have a good look at your development prior to the…flogging.’ Jim felt suddenly nauseous but, summoning the last scrap of wounded will, he let out a huge sigh and complied with the intrusive request.
The autumn night was cool but still tinged with the memory of recent summer. Jim wore a soft gray hoodie but was shirtless underneath. He slowly lowered the zipper and shrugged the hoodie off of his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist. His denim trousers were beltless and sagged suggestively around his hips revealing more than an inch of the white expanse of his briefs. ‘Pleased with the view…sir?’ The sarcasm was ignored as the humiliated forester stood semi-stripped before the appraising stare of his employer. ‘Turn around…slowly.’ Gritting his teeth, Jim did as he was told; feeling a frisson of terror when Edmund ordered him to stop just as his broad naked back and denim clad butt came into full view. Though he knew it was inevitable the forester, nevertheless, flinched as Edmund’s fingers lightly brushed the smooth, corded muscles of his upper back and shoulders, tracing a ticklish path down Jim’s spine where he playful tweaked the short dark hairs that dusted the narrow, dimpled area just above his drooping levis. Finally, the intrusive exam was finished. ‘Right,’ Edmund grunted, ‘tomorrow morning at ten sharp; report to the great house and we shall try and resolve this…ah…sordid affair.’ Jim shrugged, suddenly dejected and fearful, hiked up his hoodie and latched the door of his dimly lit croft as the lord of the manor strode into the early evening darkness.
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conversation17 - September 30, 2016, 7:21 am
Amalaric in full flight. This is the master storyteller and the master image creator at his finest.
MasterJon - November 6, 2016, 10:28 pm
Hot as fuck! Thank you. @MasterJon approved