The Queen’s Catcher

The Queen's Catcher

How does your garden grow?

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Author's Note

I often get ideas for stories in the form of suggestions from readers. This one happens to come from a fellow author by the name of Maonaigh. Remember that name if you want to read some fabulous stories when you're done with this one.

The suggestion came as a comment on my story about Bo Peep. "What about Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary?" After the idea steeped in my brain for a while, this is what I came up with.

Enjoy,

WaxPhilosophic

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All copyrights reside with the author. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over the age of eighteen. You should be too if you're reading this.

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Part I -- Cockle Shells

"Where are you off to dear sister Shells?" Shelly's sister snickered as she asked.

She snickered for precisely two reasons. The first being the unfortunate name of 'Shelly' that had been bestowed by their parents. Now, one would not normally think of Shelly as an unfortunate name, not unless one's family had a habit of using the nickname Shells. And if Shells weren't bad enough in itself, combined with the family name of Cockle, in a culture that put family name before given name when addressing someone, you might, dear reader, become acutely aware of some of the pain in Shelly's daily existence.

The second reason, had nothing at all to do with Cockle Shells the name, but rather Cockle Shells the person. For, you see, dear Shelly was three years older than her snickering sister and she had begun to put away her dolls and toys and take notice of rather more womanly pursuits. This was something that her little sister took great pleasure in pointing out at any chance she had.

"You're going off to meet a boy, aren't you?" her sister jeered.

"Shut up."

"You are, aren't you."

In fact, Shelly was indeed going to meet a boy, or at least she hoped. That she had no idea why she wanted to meet a boy, or what she would do with said boy when she finally did meet him, had no bearing at all on her decision to sneak out of the house this evening.

It was simply what girls her age did. Every girl in her village who was over the age of eighteen had met a boy in the woods under the pale light of the moon. Shelly would not have been at all surprised to know that her own mother and father had met on a clandestine night such as this. There was no question. It was simply the way things were done. So when the boy in the market place asked to arrange such a meeting, Shelly enthusiastically agreed.

"Watch out for the Queen's Catcher," Shelly's sister said. "If she catches you you'll be sent to the garden."

"Queen Mary's garden?" Shelly laughed. "You know that's a story to scare little girls. Big girls don't believe such nonsense."

"Suit yourself. Can I have your stuff when you don't come back?"

"Sure, whatever." Shelly turned the door handle ever so quietly and snuck out the front door. "Queen Mary's garden, indeed," she mumbled, shaking her head.

* * *

The air had a slight chill that evening and caused the small, fine hairs on Shelly's arms to raise in protest as she walked. Hugging her arms around herself, she scurried off toward the woods where the boy from the village said he would be waiting. As the breeze kicked up, Shelly decided to take a short cut through a farmer's field of rye. Though the crop tugged at her skirts and got caught in her stockings, Shelly did not mind. The shortcut limited her time in the chilly autumn breeze and, in all honesty, she suspected she would be liberated of her skirts and stockings soon enough, anyway.

Shelly raced on through the swaying grass, toward the trees and the silhouette of what looked to be the boy from the village—and he was on horseback. Shelly had no idea the boy's family possessed such wealth and she nearly swooned at the thought of being whisked away on horseback to some romantic hillside. Shelly ran now, her feet light and her mind giddy with the ideal of young love. Closer and closer she got, until she could almost make out the face of her mounted young Romeo.

But, what she found, was the face of a woman. Even with the black mask covering her eyes, Shelly could make out the decidedly feminine grace of her features.

Shelly froze. Beyond where she stood, she could see the backlit image of the boy from the village. He was quite far off on a hillside and definitely not on horseback. And rather than coming out to meet Shelly, he was running in the opposite direction. Shelly's shoulder's slumped. She turned, ready to sprint back home to cry in her pillow when she felt a rope drop over her shoulders and with a pull, cinch her arms up tight against her chest. She gasped.

"Caught you," said the masked woman on horseback.

"Let me go!"

"I will not. I am the Queen's Catcher."

"The Catcher? Out here in the rye?" Shelly humphed, and not believing a word of the myth was quite glib. "Shouldn't you be guarding the castle or something?"

"This is her majesty's field you are trespassing upon, insolent girl. I could have you hauled up on charges of treason."

Shelly's face fell. She no longer felt the defiant ire that had given her to question this woman on her mount. Shelly shivered a bit.

The woman, whom Shelly was now beginning to believe actually was the Queen's Catcher, dismounted her steed and took young Shelly by the chin. It was a gentler touch than Shelly would have expected from someone with the title of 'Catcher', and the leather of her glove was soft and warm.

"If you tell me your name, I may take pity on you and send you back to your family. I'm sure your father will be more than happy to give you a good thrashing when I tell him how you have defiled the Queen's property."

"Please don't."

"Your name."

"Shelly."

"Full name."

"Cockle Shelly." She waited for the inevitable tittering that always accompanied the use of her full name.

"Cockle Shells," said the masked woman, "I like it."

Shelly looked up. The woman was smiling as she mounted her horse. She extended a hand.

"Come on up," the Queen's Catcher said.

Shelly looked around. "Me?"

"Certainly not the tosser who ran off, abandoning you at the first sight of trouble. Yes, you."

"Umm." Shelly flexed her shoulders, straining against the rope that was holding her arms fast.

"Oh, right, the ropes. Let me help." The woman reached down and with one hand plucked young Shelly off the ground and deposited her across the back of her horse.

"What are you—"

"What am I doing?" the woman threw her head back and laughed. "I'm the Queen's Catcher. I'm catching you. I'm going to take you into the woods and I'm going to have my way with you until you can't see straight."

The woman tapped her horse with her boot heels and Shelly began to bounce as they trotted along.

"Umm," Shelly said.

"Tell me that isn't what you came out here for tonight and I'll turn around and take you home. Just say the word. Tell me you weren't prepared to pull up your skirts for this boy you met... let me guess, in the village marketplace."

"How did you know?"

"It's always the same story. There's always a boy in the marketplace and an eager young girl ready to give her womanly treasures to him, and for what?"

"I don't know," said Shelly, "it's just what boys and girls do."

"I assure you, young Cockle Shells, I do it better. Once I've had you, you'll never look at boys the same. I promise you that."

"Umm." Shelly felt her nipples begin to tighten, though if it was from the night's chill breeze or the Queen's Catcher's offer, she could not say.

"Please make up your mind before we get to the woods. I won't do anything without your consent, but I'm also not in the mood to go trotting around all night while you mull it over."

Shelly thought about home. She pictured the redness of her father's face as he sent her off to her room with no supper. She heard her mother's words, begging him to reconsider as he cut a branch from the willow tree.

"Umm. You said you were going to have me?"

The Queen's Catcher stopped her horse. They were just in the shadow cast by the mighty oaks against the moonlight.

"Yes. I'm going to fuck you, to use the vernacular. Quite senseless."

Shelly lifted her head, looking at their proximity to the forest edge and remembering the Catcher's words about making her decision. It was now or never. Home for a whipping and probably never being let out again until she was married off, or being defiled by this masked woman on horseback.

"Umm, how?"

The Queen's Catcher turned to face Shelly and pulled the long black glove from her right hand. She pushed the tips of her fingers together and tucked in her thumb. With her other hand, still gloved, she made a circle of her finger and thumb. In the moonlight, Shelly watched the ungloved hand being pushed through the circle. There was no mistaking the gesture and what it meant.

And so it was that Shelly felt her mouth parch and her head go light. She swallow against a dry lump in her throat. She looked at the Catcher's long, slender fingers. She considered the measure of her father's anger. These things she weighed in her mind, as she came to regret not listening to her sister's warning.

"A—alright," she croaked.

"What's that little one?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, you can take me into the woods and have me—fuck me. Whatever. Please let's just get it over with."

"Oh honey." The Queen's Catcher slipped her glove back on. "When I'm done with you, you'll be sneaking out of the house even on the coldest nights, hoping to spy my silhouette in the moonlight. I guaranty you won't be the same. Provided you can still walk that is."

And with a tap of the Queen's Catcher's heels, the horse trotted off in to the wood, with young Shelly still bound quite securely, jouncing along.

* * *

All at once, Shelly stopped bouncing as the horse came to a halt. The Queen's Catcher dismounted. The tenderness Shelly felt in the two hands around her waist caused to her to look briefly upon the Catcher's face. Even with the mask, Shelly could see a twinkle in the eyes. And that helped softened the Catcher's expression to the point where it looked less like a maniacal grin and more like a genuine smile.

"Would you like to remain bound?" the Queen's Catcher asked. "It might help you avoid the temptation of running off."

Shelly looked at her surroundings. Judging from the direction of moonlight, she figured she could find the way home. But looking at the Catcher's horse, she knew that the news of her trespassing on the queen's rye field would arrive at her family's door before she did.

Shelly swallowed hard and nodded.

"What's that little one?"

"Yes. Please bind me."

After several more passes of the rope and the feeling of the breath being squeezed from her lungs, Shelly began to feel the finality of her decision.

"The fallen tree over there," the Queen's Catcher pointed. "That will do nicely."

Shelly was expecting to be marched over, tripping on brambles and vines as the Catcher prodded her roughly along, but to her surprise the masked woman scooped her up and gently carried her over the forest floor. She was laid face down over the thick trunk of a fallen oak and felt a gentle hand caressing her neck.

"I'm going to pull up your skirts now, Shelly, so I need to know if you're still amenable to this."

"Yes." Shelly swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

"So respectful," said the Catcher.

Shelly thought perhaps she heard the masked woman purring as she felt her skirts being lifted. Or more likely it was the wind. For in her exposure, Shelly certainly felt the chill of the breeze, even muted as it was by the thick forest. She shivered as she lay against the unforgiving oak.

"So lovely," Shelly heard, just before she felt something warm and wet between her thighs. "And such a taste."

Shelly shuddered, feeling her nipples tighten until they ached.

Her tongue?

The woman in the mask took another swipe of her tongue against Shelly's sex that was rapidly warming to the occasion. Shelly had heard stories of this kind of love, the kind performed with the mouth and the tongue, but it was something she dismissed as a fantasy told by little girls who didn't understand the ways of the world. Girls who spread stories of the Queen's Catcher.

"So sweet," said the Catcher from behind, as she continued pressing her tongue into Shelly's intimate spaces.

Shelly struggled against the rope holding her. She no longer thought about running away, but still she felt constricted of breath, almost as if she would pass out if the pleasure continued to mount. "Mmm," she moaned.

"I told you, you'd never be the same," said the Catcher.

Shelly felt a slim finger accompany the woman's words. And something else. While the woman touched her inside, she had moved her tongue. It was moved to a place Shelly never would have expected, and it caused her to clench and quiver. This made the Catcher chuckle and press harder. Shelly shivered and moaned in spite of herself. The Catcher added another finger.

"Ohh," Shelly gasped.

The Queen's Catcher was licking and salivating all over Shelly. Everything was wet, and in the breeze, a little bit chilly, until the Catcher's tongue came back around to warm her. Shelly felt another finger.

"Oh, if you could see yourself, Cockle Shells. So flushed... so wet... so nicely spread before me." The last word was punctuated by the Catcher's tongue moving the entire length of Shelly's backside—from the little button that made her quiver with delight, all the way to the tight little muscle that had never given her such pleasure as on this moonlit evening in the forest.

"I think you're ready."

"Uuhhng," was what Shelly felt bubbling up from her throat as she felt herself being stretched beyond imagination. "Ohhhhh."

And then the Catcher stopped. "Take a moment to relax, little one," she said. "I'll wait."

Shelly imagined the Catcher's fingers barely flexing inside her, even as the Catcher promised to keep them still. Shelly clenched, sucking breath after breath and straining against the ropes binding her. Finally, she caught sufficient air in her lungs and her breathing began to even out.

Shelly arched her back and canted her hips. The feelings coursing through her caused her to shiver. The Queen's Catcher laid a neat row of kisses in the small of Shelly's back. Shelly wondered if the boy from the marketplace would have been so considerate as he impaled her.

"Please?"

"Are you ready young Cockle Shells? Tell me what you want."

"Have me. F—Fuck me... plea—"

Shelly's last word was lost in a rush of air expelled from her lungs as the Queen's Catcher did exactly as she asked—and quickly. She had never felt such fullness, such aching. But the aching, she decided, was as much form her own yearning as from the Catcher's ministrations.

Soon a rhythm was developed, an unspoken cooperation between the two, and Shelly's own body surprised her by relaxing. She still felt the constriction of the rope to be sure, but from below, what she felt was hot and wet and wonderful. And as the Queen's Catcher continued to lick in places that should not be licked. Shelly shuddered, not from revulsion, but from the pure pleasure of the Catcher's gentle swirling.

"Ohh," Shelly moaned.

"More?"

"Ungh. Uh-huh."

The Catcher, true to her word, impaled Shelly harder than she could ever imagine, and much longer than she had ever anticipated. By the time Shelly was writhing and moaning, clenching against the Catcher's hand, singing out her praises, the moon had moved a considerable distance.

After a final groan that came from deep within Shelly, the masked woman came around to kneel in front of here. Shelly was sweat soaked and heaving. Even with her eyes barely focusing, she could see the glistening trail covering the Catcher's hand and smell the nectar that had been pulled from deep within her. The Catcher waited patiently. One by one, Shelly opened her mouth for the Catcher's fingers, and one by one she gulped down the strong taste of her own lust.

The Catcher stood up and with her freshly cleaned hand, slapped Shelly hard across the ass.

"Mmm," Shelly moaned.

"If I catch you out here again, young Cockle Shells, you'll find my fingers curled up in the place where my tongue was playing this evening, and I dare say even a girl as wanton as you may have trouble finding the pleasure in that."

Shelly shivered. But before she could fully consider the implications, the Queen's Catcher plucked her up and tossed her over the back of her horse. Shelly bounced home with an aching in her loins and a smile across her face.

* * *

Part II -- Silver Bells

Despite the stern warning given by the Queen's Catcher, it wasn't long before our young heroine was out for another moonlit stroll. For the Catcher was not bragging when she said that Shelly would never be the same. In fact, young Shelly shunned the advances of any and all boys in the marketplace now, not just the one who ran off leaving her alone and stranded. Though she held little malice in her heart for the boy, for if not for his cowardice, she would have slipped through life, never having met the Catcher in the Queen's field of rye.

As it was, she now spent her time in the marketplace, not looking at boys, but secretly examining women's hands. Shelly was sure she would be able to identify the Catcher by those long, graceful fingers she happened to glance in the moonlight on that night her whole world changed. Instead of a silly boy, Shelly would meet the Catcher, known her by her fingers, and make plans to meet her in the woods. She would be nervous, but the Catcher would be gentle, and Shelly would be a changed woman.

But the right hand never came along, and Shelly was left to wonder if perhaps the queen had hired the Catcher from another village. This also gave Shelly the urge for a clandestine rendezvous to investigate This time, however, she waited until she was sure her sister was asleep before slipping out and latching the family's cottage door quietly behind her.

* * *

Shelly was standing in the middle of the rye field, shivering on a chilly night, ready to turn back home, when she finally spied the masked woman on horseback. Though there was no surprise this time as she felt to rope drop over her shoulders, she shuddered anyway.

"So this is how you want things to go?" the masked woman said.

"Yes." Shelly didn't even try to catch the woman's eye as she was hoisted up and onto the back of the horse.

The ride seemed longer this time. Possibly because Shelly's body betrayed her. Her nipples hardened and her thighs became slick with moisture as she bounced along helplessly. Any attempts to reach down and find out just how much moisture, were stopped short by the rope.

Again, there was a gentle lift down from the Catcher's mount, but this time the rope was loosened rather than wrapped tighter. Shelly opened her mouth to ask why when the Queen's Catcher spoke.

"Strip," she said.

Shelly shivered and hugged herself.

"Strip, or I take you back home."

Shelly untied her peasant's blouse and slipped it over her head. She dropped her skirts next. She stood, shivering in the moonlight and studying her feet.

The Queen's Catcher held up the end of the rope. Shelly felt a twinge from down below and slowly shook her head. The Catcher was much more methodical in her tying this time and soon Shelly found herself bound with her arms crossed behind her back, but with space between the coils to leave her breasts exposed to the air. She cursed this new arrangement with the first chill breeze that made her nipples stand proud.

"This is your second offense, Cockle Shells" said the Catcher. "If I were to report you to the Queen, she would have you sent to the garden for sure."