Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Thirteen

 Life of Luxury

1

When he woke up in his cramped little hotel room, Ann reached for his coat and slipped the little framed picture he’d found in the hay barn drawer out and looked at the image of his real face. His woman’s face. Lady Ann.

He just stared at it for a minute or so, eyes flicking from one detail to another. He didn’t think about doing it; he just did it.

The woman in the photograph looked so beautiful; her eyes so bright. Her skin looked so soft.

Looking down at his big hairy arms and callused hands it seemed impossible to really believe that only just over a week ago he had been this lovely woman – that in just five days he would be again.

Ann gazed at her perfect lips, shifting on the bed so that he had his legs dangling onto the floor his back against the wall. He’d slept naked as usual and his hand found his thick stunted cock, fondling it slightly as his gaze moved across the sepia image.

He remembered the little fantasy he’d had the other day, imagining not switching back at the end of the week and instead taking this beautiful woman by the hand and leading her out into the woods.

Ann’s cock thickened immediately and grew and he started to stroke it, closing his thick dirty fingers tightly around the shaft.

He imagined taking Lady Ann in his arms and kissing her tenderly on the lips, then he imagined going down on one knee as her ladyship blushed in delight and expectation.

“I love ye Lady Ann,” he imagined saying. “I’ve never loved no one like I love you. Will ye marry me?”

“Oh yes Burt!” the fantasy Lady Ann said, squealing with delight. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

In the vision, he took her in his arms again and kissed her, harder this time and in the squalid little hotel room, Ann stroked his growing erection, moaning as he became more and more aroused.

“You’re so strong Burt,” said the fantasy Lady Ann. “And so manly.”

Ann’s cock swelled even more and she let out a loud groan.

“I’ve never known a man as virile as you Burt. Or as handsome. I’ve always wanted to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be your wife. Mrs. Burt Harper,” she whispered in his ear. “And we’ll be rich. Just me and my big man. My big strong masculine man.”

Ann pumped harder and harder, beating his cock as he stared at the photograph, completely lost in the vision.

He saw them living together in Griply Hall – Lady Ann his wife, he the lord of the manor with Harry and the other servants bowing down to him. He saw her ladyship walking arm in arm with him at the races, him dressed in a top hat and tails. He saw her stop and turn and place her hand on his cheek; and whisper, “Burt. My husband. My big strong working man.”

And then Ann came, spurting semen, his whole body jerking, overcome by the passion of it.

Then he lay, naked and a little cold, on the crumpled sheets, staring up at the damp on the ceiling, panting heavily in the shuddering afterglow; feeling dirty and wrong and satisfied and guilty.

2

When Burt and the duchess went into the sumptuous hotel dining room to get breakfast she was startled to see, of all people, Richard striding toward her, reaching forward to take her hands.

“Lord Hurley! What are you doing here?”

“I’m in town on business and thought I’d drop by to say hello as I was passing.”

“Oh. Well it’s a pleasure to see you,” replied Burt, allowing herself to be led to a table in one of the bay windows. “What an extraordinary coincidence.”

Burt noticed the thin smirk on Grandmamma’s lips and did her best to conceal her own. “It really is an incredible coincidence that you happened to be here,” said Burt.

“Yes. Incredible,” said Grandmamma.

“Well…” Richard looked slightly guilty, clearly floundering for a moment. “Coincidences do happen and it gave me a chance to see you… two ladies again, which is always a pleasure.”

“Indeed.”

The waiter came to take their order then discreetly departed.

“As a matter of fact,” said Richard, “I was wondering if you might like to take a turn out on my yacht later.”

“Why Richard,” replied Burt, “that would be divine.” He voice turned playful. “But surely with your… business to attend to, you won’t have time.”

“Well. I’m sure I can find the time if I try hard enough.”

Burt smiled and nodded, feeling smug. She had well and truly hooked this man and it was a great feeling.

3

Ann wasn’t quite sure why he ended up in church that morning. But he did.

If anything it was probably from a lingering sense of guilt he had over that morning’s escapades. As Ann, she had been brought up to be prim and proper. To find herself masturbating again – and over an image of making love to her own body was just wrong somehow. Or maybe it wasn’t. Ann was very confused at the moment on a number of matters.

He took a seat and dutifully sat through the first part of the service, singing the hymns badly. This made him disappointed, remembering his lovely voice as a woman, but there was nothing else for it. He really was tone deaf as a man.

The sermon was almost identical to the one that the real Burt had sat through a couple of weeks earlier in Griply chapel.

“I look out at you fine people in the congregation today,” said the vicar, “and see men and women who work for a living – who may not possess material riches but who nevertheless are held in God’s good favour.

“You may look on your lives of long working hours and little money and feel that you have been hard done by but nothing could be further from the truth. When God made mankind he allocated important work to each part of society. He created the upper class separate from the lower class.

“Even though you are inferior to those of the upper class you should not feel bad. God made them more intelligent, refined and better educated than you so that you would have someone to tell you what to do. It’s nothing to be ashamed of that you are incapable of making decisions. It’s nothing to be ashamed of that your brains are weaker… because your bodies are stonger! And that is why you excel at the labour that needs to be done.

“This was how God designed it and we should be grateful that you have your place. The upper classes are your superiors but you, in your blissful ignorance, are every bit as vital to keep this great country running.”

Ann thought about the sermon on the way down to the railway station. The subject of it happened to be something he agreed entirely with. As a woman he had always known that God created the quality to be better than and to rule over the lower orders. Members of the upper class simply were superior, both mentally and physically. That was a fact.

He’d considered it before; how inferior his body and brain were now; but he hadn’t considered it in terms of the real Burt in her real body. Just as Ann now possessed Burt’s substandard physicality and mental processes, Burt in her body was now his superior. Burt was better than he was – made of finer materials and honed by God’s hand to a far higher degree.

It was a sobering thought. It made Ann consider what it would be like when Burt returned in her body. When they met again, Burt would be the cultured intelligent lady of the manor and he would be the ignorant clodhopper. The idea of that seemed entirely intimidating.

They would simply have to affect the swap immediately so as not to draw out the situation. Ann couldn’t abide the idea of Burt being better than he was.

Even if it was true.

4

Burt left a forlorn Gladys on the dock as Richard took her and grandmamma out on his enormous yacht.

He had a crew that operated the sails and the steering while the three of them enjoyed the gentle rocking of the sea, sipping white wine. It was another gorgeous day and they chatted about a wide range of subjects. Richard’s business was thriving and he was one of the wealthiest bachelors in Great Britain. He was modest but Burt could tell he was an expert businessman with sword-sharp instincts.

After two hours on the open sea, grandmamma announced she needed to rest; the waves were too much for her. Richard kindly offered his cabin and dismissed the crew below decks. He took Burt up to the wheel and let her try to steer.

She was frightened and shy of it, just like any lady would have been, so Richard put his arms round behind her, gripping the wheel to the sides of where she gripped, helping her keep it steady.

Burt had never felt so happy.

She released the wheel, turning within the wide arms of Lord Hurley and found herself face to face with the handsome aristocrat.

“Oh Richard,” she sighed. “I’m so glad you came to Brighton today.”

“And I, Ann my dear.”

He leaned forward slightly as though they might kiss and Burt moved his lips closer to meet Richard’s.

But at the last moment Burt pulled away, smiling. “I really ought to go and check on grandmamma. And perhaps we should get her back to port.”

“Of course my dear, of course,” said Lord Hurley.

Burt went below decks but the colour was up in her cheeks. She didn’t know if she was coming or going. She’d never felt so light on her feet and ecstatic.

Or anywhere near as confused!

5

Ann got off the train in Griply and walked cross country back toward the hall. It was a longer walk that way and the afternoon was getting on but he didn’t feel like carousing again tonight. He just fancied a good night’s sleep – or as close as could be to that in the draughty hayloft.

As he climbed toward the highest point in the valley, Crickley Mount: a hill from which you could see for miles, Ann spotted another figure out there in the middle of nowhere – and a lady!

He carried on walking, getting closer to the woman and was surprised finally to recognise his sis— Ann’s sister – well his sister when he was Ann. Hattie. She was dressed in a long bustle coat that covered her wide skirts down to the grass – a coat she must have bought in York; and the hat to match.

She saw Ann approaching and leaned against a gate, watching him.

“You’re the man from the train station,” she said. “I see you got home alright.”

“Aye. I did at that,” replied Ann, embarrassed by his clodhopper accent. He didn’t know what to add, unsure how to interact with this girl now that their roles had shifted so completely. After the sermon in church had underscored it, he was acutely aware of her status as a lady and his as a servant. “Ta very much for that. It was right kind of you to ‘elp… with m’reading.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed that you can’t read,” replied Hattie matter of factly. “Very few working class men can.”

Ann felt his face flush.

“As a matter of fact,” said Hattie, “I think it’s disgusting. It’s not your fault that you have no prospects. People think that because you’re only going to be a labourer for the rest of your life there’s no point teaching you anything but I disagree. I admire and respect working men.”

This attitude surprised Ann but not as much as the sudden swelling of his cock in response to it.

“You may be illiterate,” went on Hattie, “but a strong man like you has a lot to offer the world.”

Ann’s penis grew even more and he suddenly saw his sister in a new light, as a man to a woman. Ann never would have expected it and was repulsed at some level by it, but right now they weren’t related by blood at all, and as the saying went, the cock wants what the cock wants.

“Well I reckon you ain’t ‘arf bad yourself miss,” said Ann awkwardly, noticing for the first time how pretty Hattie’s eyes were.

“I think working men in general ought to be afforded greater respect,” said Hattie, still rolling out her theories as she always had done. “One day, perhaps, they will be and then everyone will acknowledge your kind as being equal.”

“You know you’re a right pretty young lass if’n you don’t mind my saying m’lady,” said Ann, unsure why he’d added the “m’lady” at the end of that statement – it had just popped out.

“Thank you I’m sure.”

“With a right pretty face,” said Ann, raising his hand to Hattie’s cheek.

“Uurgh! Get off me!” Hattie pushed him away with a look of absolute revulsion and Ann staggered back. “Keep away you big hairy monkey! Uurgh!”

Ann’s face was glowing from embarrassment. “But I thought—”

“You thought that you! And I!? I’ve never heard anything so objectionable in all my born days! Get out of my sight!” She pointed. “Go on! Go!” Ann started to amble away. “Run!”

Ann hurried, breaking into a shambling jog, feeling shame and humiliation in every part of his body.

“Get away from me, you stupid little man! You disgust me! As if I would become involved romantically with someone of your class! You’ll be lucky if I don’t have you fired for your insolence! Go on – run! You ugly, hairy, ignorant little man!”

6

Burt reclined in her lovely deep bath at the hotel in Brighton, luxuriating in the sensuous flowery scent of the soap.

But it didn’t fully take her mind off the awful predicament she found herself in.

She was devoted to Lady Ann – she had been since she was a little boy. This entire adventure had only been undertaken as a great favour to the good lady, hopefully; in Burt’s dearest wish; in return for a development of her feelings toward him when he returned to his true body.

But meeting Lord Hurley – Richard – had thrown her into a whirl until she didn’t know if she was coming or going anymore. He was such a wonderful kind-hearted man and so handsome. And his prospects were unparalleled. He was, quite simply, a perfect match in every way. Burt had never been queer; had never been interested in men in any way; but she felt that if she wasn’t careful she might fall in love with Richard. It would be all too easy.

But she made herself become calm. She couldn’t stay with Richard. There were only four days left of the holiday. After that she was back to being Burt; back to being a stable hand at Griply Manor, hundreds of miles away from the handsome Lord Hurley.

It wasn’t fair – to be given this delightful experience then have it taken cruelly away!

But Burt had made a promise in her heart to Lady Ann. She couldn’t let her down. It was Lady Ann she loved and she must remember that above all other things.

Except…

Well it was hard to think of “Lady Ann” as being a different person. She was Lady Ann and she’d told herself so a hundred times. The idea of there being another Lady Ann separate from herself just seemed peculiar, even though she knew it was so.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of Lady Ann and Richard!

She thought about her other persona as Burt the stable hand and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She had been so filthy and uncouth. She could only imagine being repulsed by touching such a filthy urchin now.

For a moment, she toyed with another possibility – that when she went back to Griply Hall, she remained in this body and loved Lady Ann in that one, as Burt.

She laughed out loud.

The idea of that was preposterous! And quite disgusting!

Burt shook her head ruefully, wondering if Lady Ann in her old body had changed as much as she had.

7

Ann stomped angrily back to the stable house feeling equal parts fury and humiliation.

He couldn’t believe that that stupid situation had taken place at all! He hated the fact that he had found himself attracted to Hattie! He hated the fact that he’d decided to act on it, completely misunderstanding her intentions! And he hated the fact that she’d rejected him in the plainest possible terms!

It underlined everything that was bad about living Burt’s life, which Ann was rapidly starting to hate just as much as he loved it.

He wished he’d just gone away somewhere for the fortnight instead of spending time near home. It was abjectly humiliating to have to play the part of a bumpkin imbecile around his own family – her own family!

He was sick of this! He wasn’t a man, he was a woman! He was Lady Ann for chuff’s sake!

He was Lady Ann.

He sighed. Thinking that just didn’t feel right. He’d reinforced it so many times the other way. Every time he thought of himself as Ann, a louder voice would pop up in his head, reminding him he was really Burt. Really an ignorant clodhopper.

His own words back to haunt him.

He walked round the back of the stables and started up the stairs, eager just to put his head down to sleep.

“Burt!”

Ann stopped and sighed again. Old Harry was in the thicket gathering firewood.

“And where do ye think ye’ve been you ugly great pillock?”

“On holidee. In Blackpool,” grumbled Ann.

“Oh, ‘ave ye now? Look at you! The big man!” He started walking over. “Well your rent’s due. Hand it over.”

“You can ‘ave it tomorrow,” said Ann, continuing up the stairs.

“Burt!”

“Chuff off!” he snapped. “I’m tired! I’ll give it you tomorrow!”

He went in and slammed the hay barn door then slumped into his chair by the cold stove, wishing this week would hurry up and be over and he could go back to his life of luxury.