LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Eight - Part Six

Down in Griply at the Dog & Pony, the night was starting to wind down.

Ann was exhausted. When she hadn’t been serving drinks she’d been forced to clean and carry or else she’d been propositioned by most every man in the bar. It was awful; truly awful. She’d hated every minute of it, apart from when she’d passed near Burt. She’d been worked too hard by her new father to allow much in the way of conversation but Burt had never gone for long without keeping his eyes on her and in this whirlwind of disappointment and instability, his simple constant affection was like a curative elixir.

The work had kept her mind off dwelling too deeply on the future, allowing her only to suffer the melancholy of her present. Now that time was opening up she started to reflect and the hopelessness of her situation scraped away at her peace of mind.

She didn’t have the pendant, and her body – her Ann-body – was hundreds of miles away, impossibly out of reach with her dire financial situation. She had no illusions about the incomplete transformation she was still undergoing within her mind. She’d been Mavis overnight and through a whole second day now. The level of education she’d enjoyed as Lady Ann was long gone already and her voice was already heavily doused with a clodhopper accent. It couldn’t be more than a couple of days before she would once again talk like she was born and bred in Yorkshire; which of course she was.

Is this who I am forever now? she asked herself. Am I going to always be Mavis? Will I flirting with these dirty men and selling my body to them for extra cash? Is that’s what’s going to happen? Will I end up liking it so much that I wouldn’t go back to my old life, even if I had the chance, like Burt did?

She shuddered deeply.

“Yer’right luv?”

Ann turned, a little startled, and saw Burt watching her, one foot up on the chair in front of him. The rest of the pub was empty now.

“Eh?” she said, wincing inwardly at the use of the slang.

“Ye look a might troubled is all,” he said, “and I got me a fixative for that don’t ye know.”

Ann sighed, smiling sadly, grateful for his kindness. At least she had him. At least that much was right with her life. “You do?” she asked.

“Oh aye,” he said, winking. “You take me upstairs with ye and I’ll show ye what I’m talkin about.”

Behind the bar, the landlord was listening to the conversation. Ann looked at him tentatively, begrudging the hold he had over her, but he smiled and nodded. “Ye’ve worked ‘ard this evenin luv. Enjoy yerself.”

Ann smiled gratefully then felt sour over feeling that way, but she took Burt by his dirty, rough hand and led him to the door in back.

If it was being back in the environs she used to frequent as a man that told her where her new bedroom was or whether somehow she was already tapping into the real Mavis’s memories, Ann didn’t know but she took him where she needed to without uncertainty, leading with a candle.

The room was small and dirty. The floor was bare boards. The little bed had greying, crumpled sheets. There was no lantern in there, just another candle that she lit from the first. She thought of the electric lights up at Griply Manor and closed her arms round her chest feeling cold and lonely.

Burt touched her waist, squeezing the soft flesh there, pushing gently on one side and pulling on the other to turn her. She resisted at first but then let herself go where he willed. What else was she going to do? Who else would comfort her?

And wasn’t this exactly what she wanted? Hadn’t she satisfied her every sordid desire in a fuller way than she ever expected? She wanted to make love with Burt Harper. Well now she would be able to do so every night for the rest of her short unpleasant life.

As soon as she faced him, Burt kissed her neck, burrowing into it below the line of her chin, both pushing her back with his head and gripping her close on her waist with his rigid fingers. He chewed her there, grazing her skin with his teeth, prickling her with his bushy moustache. He worked down, his mouth chomping wide and closed, wide and closed, working his way onto her chest.

Ann couldn’t lose herself in it as she had before – she remained inflexible; restrained by her own binds of regret and alarm – but Burt suddenly snatched at the front of her top, pulling it down hard enough to free her big left breast, and he went to work on that, gnashing the soft flesh, squeezing it with his hard fingertips. Ann gasped, her face raising to look at the dark ceiling as the flood of arousal came to her suddenly and completely.

“Oh yes Burt!” she cried. “Oh Burt, I want ye so much. I need ye... so badly.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, still chewing. “Mmmmmmmy Mavis.”

Ann grinned, gripping the shorn hair on his head as he flipped out her other breast, exposing both of them in rude manner as he went to work on that second nipple painfully sharply, enough to make her wince and then smile alternately.

I really am his Mavis, she thought to herself. My dream came true and now I’m stuck with it. I’ll always be his. I’ll always be a barmaid.

But the buzzing came immediately following the affirmation and the insidiousness of it cut the loss of control out of her, snapping her attention onto the direness of her new station. She tried to pull away, conscious of the trap this was for her and that her only hope was to resist, but Burt wouldn’t allow any freedom of movement. He got down on his knees, guiding her backwards to her bed so that she lost her balance and sat back onto it with a jolt and a whimper.

He threw up her skirts and the moment caught her again with a yelp of surprise. Burt’s hands were so rough and when he hastily pulled off her drawers smoothed them up her legs she moaned in deep anticipation. He went to kissing her knee, rubbing her lower legs and scratching at her calves.

Again, for a moment, Ann recalled herself and her calamitous predicament, but only for a moment before Burt went back to chewing sloppily, this time on her inner thighs.

Ann griped his had once again, pinching the skin as hard as she could. Burt groaned, lifting his chin to smirk at her.

A lovely moment passed between them, then he clambered up her body so fast that it made her cry out in alarm. He grabbed her and pitched her backwards, then pulled his buttocks roughly out of his trousers and let his cock flip up into position. Ann grinned, licking her lips but Burt pulled at her, grabbing her pillow and pushing it under her rear, tilting her body up so that her bent knees were pointing at the ceiling.

“Oooah Burt luv,” she said, enjoying the sound of her accent now for a change. “What are ye doin?”

He only grinned down at her, gripping her thigh with one hand while he fumbled at her crotch to find the hole and shove his pulsing cock into it, her buttocks supported on the pillow and his knees. Burt gripped both her thighs now, rubbing them urgently with his calloused hands as he thrust into her again and again.

“Oh aye Burt,” said Ann. “Aye. That hits the spot, does that. It really chuffin does.”

Again he pummelled into her and again and Ann started crying out with each crashing thrust. The back of her hand went to her mouth and she smelt her own unfamiliar scent, the recognition that it wasn’t hers accelerating her arousal – because it was hers... now.

I’m really Mavis, she said to herself. I’m really Mavis.

“Oh, fuck me Burt! Do it to me! Harder! Fuck me Burt! I need you to fuck me!”

He rammed into her over and over again, stroking her smooth thighs and her pointed knees and he started to moan and roar himself as he did it.

“Harder Burt!” cried Ann. “Make me yours! Make me yours Burt please! I’m yours forever!”