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Chapter 17 – The summer is spent preparing for the big day
Quite what Miss Hailsham meant by that comment became apparent in the weeks that followed.
Emma was not beaten again. It proved entirely unnecessary as she settled into her new role without further demur. Miss Hailsham treated her as much as a confederate as a pupil. It was clear from the outset that the governess was training her into her own role. They both treated Georgina as either a disobedient school girl or as a little pet to be toyed with.
I would have objected to this treatment except that my daughter so clearly revelled in it. Submitting to her friend as if to her governess was clearly a shock to her but she immediately began to derive an obvious pleasure from the situation. Sir Thomas had clearly been right in saying that her desire for humiliation was a deep well that would never run dry.
Georgina was required to address her former school friend as Miss Missenden as if she were her elder and superior. Emma in turn referred to her as Georgie in much the same way as Miss Hailsham did. While I cringed at this familiarity, Georgina just flushed and clearly became wet at the debasement.
I did worry about her: she wallowed in her pleasure in such a clearly submissive way. How was she to hide this from Lord Llanbedr? And yet she managed it. When he came to visit, which he did twice before the wedding, she changed from pet and plaything into proper lady without batting an eyelid. She managed her future husband with ease and he clearly adored her. She teased him terribly but complimented him too. He seemed amazed at his luck; I supposed he must have thought he would have to marry a merchant’s daughter who looked like a horse in order to secure a sizeable inheritance. Yet here he was with a girl who was beautiful and who, when he could trap her alone (and that was rarely), would do something hideously perverse with seeming pleasure.
She and Miss Emma spent a week at the Devernes with no mishap. Lord Llanbedr even contrived to be invited there for a couple of nights. It was clear that he would go to any length to spend time with her. I remember well the afternoon she returned from Deverne Court. Sir Thomas and I were sat on the terrace having tea with his sons who had returned during Georgina’s absence. Edward and James had clearly been impressed when their stepsister had returned an hour before. She in turn was polite but slightly off-hand with them both. Eighteen year old women about to be married are rarely interested in boys three or four years younger than they are. Sir Thomas had forbidden his sons from either touching their stepsister or from entering the Old Nursery unless specifically invited.
And so we sat having afternoon tea on the terrace. I kept thinking of the last tea I had spent with my stepsons and I could guess they felt the same judging from the looks they gave me. After a little while Miss Hailsham came out and joined us. She had not been on the trip to Deverne Court and had already met the boys. While they had shown some interest in her, she had shown none whatsoever in them, which confused them, much to Sir Thomas’ amusement. I supposed that as rich and handsome young men they were surprised that a governess should care not one whit for them.
“Miss Georgina and Miss Emma will be down in a few minutes,” she explained. “They are just changing out of their travel clothes.”
The boys told us about their visits and we passed the time pleasantly enough. Then suddenly James paused in mid-sentence and he stared behind me with wide eyes.
I turned to see what the commotion might be. There was Miss Emma crossing the terrace to join us, dressed in an elegant cream dress that set off her dark looks perfectly. It was clearly new and I guessed that Georgina had bought it for her in Ludlow on the way back from the Devernes.
However beautiful Miss Emma looked it was my daughter that had taken the boys’ breath away. She was almost entirely naked, wearing only her little boots and cream stockings that matched her companion’s dress. Her only other adornments were cornflower blue ribbons the colour of her eyes. Her hair was done in two blonde braids like a schoolgirl’s with blue bows at the ends. Her stockings were held up with blue garters and further blue bows had been tied around each wrist. The final blue ribbon had been loosely tied about her neck and was held at the other end by Miss Emma in the form of a lead. As we all stared at her Georgina blushed a deep pink.
Hugh, the footman, followed them carrying a low footstool. When Miss Emma reached her seat she pointed beside her own chair and Hugh put down the stool. Georgina ignored her own chair and instead sat down on the little stool beside Miss Emma who promptly tied the lead off on the arm of her chair. My daughter’s head ended up at the height of the table top.
“I am sorry we are late, Sir Thomas, Lady Caroline,” said Miss Emma, “but it took Miss Georgina a little while to change out of her travel clothes.”
“Well, my stepdaughter always looks ravishing,” teased my husband.
“Georgie has been such a good girl playing the role of the future Lady Llanbedr,” said Miss Emma sweetly, “that I thought she could play the part of my pet this afternoon.” She patted Georgina’s head as she might a little lap dog.
Georgina blushed a deeper shade but said nothing and kept her eyes down.
As we had our tea Miss Emma described how well the visit to the Devernes had gone. At intervals she would tear off a little piece of sandwich or a morsel of cake and pop it into Georgina’s mouth or hold out her cup of tea so that her pet could take a sip. At no point did my child use her hands.
After a while Miss Emma turned to my daughter. “Pet, your nips seem most awfully stiff now. Is showing off making you hot and sticky?”
“Yes, Miss,” said Georgina quietly.
“Well I cannot say that I am terribly surprised. But it does allow you to wear another ribbon or two. Stand up please, pet.” And with that Miss Emma undid the lead from the arm of the chair and let my daughter stand.
James and Edward stared as their stepsister stood before them. Her nipples were now so stiff that they must have been painful and she scissored her thighs together as if to ease an itch.
Miss Emma reached into a pocket and brought forth some thin blue ribbons the same shade as the others. “Here, pet, lean towards me,” she teased.
Georgina complied, leaving her tiny breasts quite close to her companion.
Miss Emma took the first ribbon and tied it to her pet’s left nipple, finishing it in a neat bow. She then repeated this on the other side. There was something terribly humiliating in being decorated thus and I could see from my daughter’s open mouth and heavier breaths that she felt it keenly.
“You look so pretty, Georgie,” said Miss Emma gaily, as if the ribbons were in her hair and not on her breasts. “Now, just the one ribbon left. Spread yourself for us, little pet.”
Georgina’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, Miss. Please not that. Please?”
“Is that disobedience I hear, Georgie, my little girl?” Miss Emma’s voice was soft and sweet but laden with threat.
“No… No, Miss,” stammered Georgina. “But please…”
“Then spread yourself, pet.”
“Oh please…” Slowly my daughter’s hands slid to her mound, which she thrust forward a little while using her fingers to open the lips there.
I thought James’ eyes would actually jump from their sockets so hard was he staring. Sir Thomas had on his air of studied nonchalance which Edward was striving to copy. Miss Hailsham watched with amused indulgence; her student was clearly doing well in her appointed task of tormenting my little girl.
Miss Emma reached out with thumb and forefinger and grasped the little nub of flesh revealed by Georgina’s fingers and tugged it back and forth gently to fully display it. Her deft fingers then placed the ribbon round it, tightened it and finished off in another little bow. Somehow the pretty blue ribbon attached in such a place and in such a manner was the epitome of humiliation. The flush on my daughter’s cheeks and the glistening of wetness at the top of her thighs showed that she felt it too.
“Walk round the table for us, Georgie,” said Miss Emma, “show us all what a naughty little strumpet you are.”
Slowly my poor girl paraded around, blushing furiously as we all inspected the bows tied to her most intimate flesh. She returned and gratefully sat herself down on her stool allowing Miss Emma to tie her lead to the chair once more.
Tea continued for a little while longer till finally Miss Emma turned to her pet and, stroking her hair, said, “You have been so good, dear Georgie; do you want a kiss?”
Miss Hailsham and I knew what she meant but the men present of course did not.
“Yes… I mean no, Miss. Not here, Miss. Not now, Miss. Please?” Georgina was clearly flustered and a picture of confused emotions.
“Perhaps a quick stroll in the gardens then,” said Miss Emma, undoing the lead once more and rising from her chair. “Excuse us for a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen.” And with a little tug of her lead she took Georgina off towards the steps down to the gardens.
They could not have gone any distance at all because within a minute we all heard the distinct and noisy sounds of orgiastic female pleasure, repeated loudly for several minutes. A brief pause followed until Miss Emma reappeared leading a flushed and still gasping Georgina back to the table. Her hair was somewhat messed and she kept her gaze firmly downcast.
“Oh dear,” said Miss Emma as they reached the table, “You seem to have lost one of your bows, pet. You had better go and find it!”
Every pair of eyes there immediately went to Georgina’s sex where indeed there was no longer a blue bow. The poor girl whirled about and headed back whence she had come. The eyes followed as her slim hips and little bottom descended the steps.
In a minute she returned with the missing item which she handed to her mistress.
“Spread, pet,” came the curt order.
While my daughter reluctantly complied, Miss Emma undid and straightened the ribbon. In a trice she had circled it around the little bud and pulled it tight.
“Oww!” Georgina gasped sharply.
“Does that hurt, little one?” Miss Emma was all mock solicitude as she finished off the bow. “Still, it should stop it dropping off again. You are after all dripping wet down there, aren’t you, you little harlot?”
“Yerss, Miss,” moaned my little girl through the stream of tears running down her face. It was hard to tell if they were tears of pain or of debasement and humiliation. Probably they were a mixture of both.
When tea finished shortly after I noticed that my husband and both his sons left with a distinctly uncomfortable gait. I felt a wry smile on my face: if my daughter was to be so appallingly treated at least they could suffer a little for it too.
The very next day, as I sat at my desk writing to my brother in London concerning arrangements for the wedding, in came Mrs. Jones with a shamefaced Mary.
“Oh Mary,” I said, “not again. Whose organ have you had in your mouth this time? Let me guess, James?”
“Nothing quite so bad, Lady Caroline,” Mrs. Jones replied. “But she was caught snogging in the kitchen gardens. It was fairly intense by Mr. Jenkins’ account.”
“And who was the lucky lad?” I tried to sound stern.
“Jack, the groom.”
“Oh yes, quite a handsome young man. Now, Mary, what did I tell you before? If you want a man’s cock in your mouth you are to come and see me and I will arrange it for you.”
“But... But please, your ladyship, I didn’t want to... to... do that. We were just kissing.” Mary sounded quite desperate.
“Has he asked you to marry him?” I enquired.
“No, Ma’am, not yet,” the maid replied quietly.
“Mrs. Jones, send for the young man.”
The housekeeper left and returned within a couple of minutes with the young lad. She must have told him to wait on the kitchen steps beforehand.
“Well, Jack,” I began, “what are the rules about relationships with the housemaids?”
“W... we are not supposed to go beyond holding hands, Ma’am. Not unless we has permission, Ma’am.”
“And were you kissing and touching Mary?”
“Yes... yes, Ma’am. But only over the clothes, Ma’am!”
“Jack, you know the rules. Not that I blame you. Mary here is a hot-blooded minx who I am sure led you astray. I will not have you distracted by her evident charms.”
At this point Mary began to softly weep and to whisper, “No, Ma’am. Please Ma’am.”
“And so, young man, to keep you both from being too frustrated by her desires I propose the following compromise. Once a week, Mary will take you somewhere private. There she will take your manhood in her mouth until you are relieved. The rest of the time you will confine yourselves to holding hands. Is that clear, Jack?”
“Yerss... Yerss, your ladyship,” the dumbstruck lad eventually choked out.
“On your knees then Mary,” I addressed the sobbing maid. “You can do this week’s session right now.”
“Please... Please... Not here, not Jack, not that.” Mary was quite beside herself but despite this, when Mrs. Jones pressed down on her shoulders, she slowly sank to her knees.
The housekeeper beckoned the stable lad forward and he fumbled at his fastenings. Out sprang a decent-sized male organ and despite her tears I saw Mary’s eyes widen a little. It was certainly larger than both Marco’s and Dai’s: the only other members she had personal experience of, though of course she had seen Sir Thomas’ still greater manhood at work on me, not to mention ‘Giant Jim’.
A push from Mrs. Jones on the back of her head and Mary opened her tear-wetted mouth and engulfed the flesh before her.
Jack let out a heart-felt groan of pleasure. He actually lasted longer than I expected; he was clearly holding back as hard as he could to prolong his pleasure.
When finally he spurted into her mouth, Mary swallowed frantically without being told to. She knew what would happen if she made a mess of my carpet.
“That will be all, Jack.” I said sternly, though my sex was now sticky and warm at this display. “And remember, once a week and in private. Apart from that hand-holding only!”
He fled leaving his partner still sobbing on her knees.
“I hope you enjoyed that, Mary? You are becoming quite proficient at sucking.”
“Oh please, Ma’am. Now he’ll never marry me...” The maid sounded heartbroken.
“Don’t be silly girl! Treat him nicely, tease him often, suck his cock once a week and refuse to do more than hold hands at other times and he will ask you within a month. You’re a slut, Mary, but he will want you to be his slut and his alone.”
“But... But, Ma’am, I’m not a slut...” The girl was distraught.
“Of course you are, silly child. Marco, Dai and Jack have all been in your mouth already and you are not yet twenty. I was 37 before I had had so many, and thrice married,”
“I’m a good girl...” Mary wailed.
“Mrs. Jones, Mary seems to be under some peculiar delusion. Ring for George, Hugh and David. Oh, and Stephen as well. Perhaps they can fuck some sense into the girl.”
“Nooo! Please, your ladyship, no! I’ll say it. I’m a slut... A slut! A slut...” She was kneeling at my ankles now.
“And don’t you forget it, Mary. You are a slut and I expect you to behave as one. When Mrs. Jones sends you under her skirts or when I tell you to suck some man’s cock I expect the enthusiasm of a really filthy slut. Am I clear?”
“Yerss... Yes, your ladyship,” sobbed the maid.
“Off you go then, Mary. Oh, and Mary, that is a nice sized member your Jack has. Make sure you treat it with proper respect.”
As I watched her leave I could feel my poor sex on fire, tormenting the poor girl was horribly exciting.
As the summer passed it sometimes seemed to me as if there was an informal competition between Sir Thomas and Miss Emma. Sir Thomas would once a week or so show off my obedience to his will while Miss Emma would with a similar frequency demonstrate her dominance over my daughter.
Miss Hailsham did not seem to object to Miss Emma taking over her role and seemed only too pleased to just becoming the drawing mistress. It transpired that she preferred sketching and painting to her work with young women. Her paintings of people were in many ways as good as those of Thomas Lawrence. I happily purchased from her many of her sketches of Georgina including all of those of dubious or obscene taste, of which there were many. I also paid for her to paint a head and shoulder portrait in oils of Mrs. Jones which I then presented to the housekeeper. The first version looked too severe and I had it altered so that it showed that enigmatic half-smile she sometimes bestowed on us when she was amused. When we presented it to her she said it was not appropriate to be hung below stairs as it might be taken for vanity. I replied that if that was how she felt I would have it in the Chinese Salon so I might enjoy it. The very next day it was hanging in her office. Though she never would admit it I know she was flattered by it.
The Sunday after the tea with the ribbons Sir Thomas invited all to come and witness my spanking before we set off to church. James and Edward, Miss Emma and Georgina, Miss Hailsham and Mrs. Jones were all present in the Library as I dropped my drawers around my ankles, gathered up my skirts and lay over my husband’s lap. Before them all he repeatedly spanked me, stroked me and fingered me. He was so expert at this chastisement that he could stoke me like an expert furnaceman till my bottom and my sex glowed white hot. Then he stood me back on my feet and allowed me to fasten my undergarments. Through my tears I saw the look of amazed surprise on the women’s faces and the naked lust on my stepson’s. And there was Mrs. Jones’ half-smile. Despite the seething sexual torment I was in I could not help but smile inwardly at the sight of it. For the vicar it was another wasted sermon on my part, I heard barely a word. Judging from the stiffness in James’ and Edward’s breaches neither did they.
After luncheon that day, Sir Thomas took me aside into the library.
“James and Edward are desperate for you to treat them to another teatime. They cannot touch the maids as Mrs. Jones has threatened them, I have forbidden them to go near Georgina and Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma have rejected all advances.”
“They could try the estate girls.” I did not want another tea such as the one before.
“They have, but most are locked up by now, and it is anyway not the same. So I have told them that, while I do not think your presence at another private tea is required, I am sure you will not mind meeting them briefly after church on a Sunday, here in the Library.”
“Please, husband, not that... Please?”
“You will come her directly after the service and before lunch and you will swiftly and obediently satisfy them, either digitally or orally. At all other times you will be free of their attentions entirely.”
“Oh God, please... not that...” I was sure the fact that he had decreed it weekly meant that he had heard of what I had done to Mary and was giving me a dose of my own medicine.
“If you decide to do it digitally, I only ask that you ensure that you lick up all the resulting mess. You will be obedient, won’t you?”
“Yes...” I whispered to his retreating back.
The boys entered a few minutes later. I felt like demanding that they should come one by one, but was sure I would be refused in my request.
Quivering and tearful I sat on a chair and beckoned one toward me. They both came but it was James who ended up directly before me while his brother just stood to one side and watched us.
I undid the boy’s breaches and loosened his already stiff member from his undergarments. It sprang to rigid attention. I began to manipulate it, at first gently and then more vigorously. It did not last long and I could tell from his moans that he was about to shoot. Bearing in mind Sir Thomas instruction I held my cupped hand before it to try to catch as much of the mess as I could. Apart from the first monstrous spurt I caught it all in a greasy little pool in my palm. Bending I lapped it up. I believe this to have been the most revolting thing I had ever done.
I repeated the process on his older brother with similar results. Once again I found them watching me as I licked the sperm from my hands.
“You missed a bit, stepmother,” said Edward pointing out where James initial shot had splashed across the desk.
I scraped it up with my fingers and licked them clean. It was disgusting and degrading.
The boys enjoyed the game though and spent several happy minutes finding every fleck of semen and watching me lick it up.
That was the last time I completed this obedience with my fingers. The following weekend when we went straight to the Library from church I sat my sore bottom on a chair and sucked them both, one after the other. It was faster, less messy and strangely somewhat less humiliating. I still felt like a cheap slattern though.
Another time in August it was a lovely day but we had been driven inside from tea on the terrace by a sudden summer thunderstorm. As we stood in the drawing room watching the sheets of rain, Sir Thomas came up with a proposition.
“Let us have a competition of the talents from you ladies. You can each show us your best skill and we men shall sit in judgement like Paris to decide the winner, though I am not sure which of you is to be Hera, Aphrodite and Athena. Personally I should say Miss Emma is Hera, always giving queenly commands. Miss Hailsham is Athena, wise beyond her years. My wife is, of course, Aphrodite, the most alluring of women and the goddess of sensual love.”
“And I?” Enquired Georgina. “As I recall, stepfather, Paris had only to judge amongst three ladies. So which goddess am I? And nowhere in the myth does Paris have two assistants.” She nodded at James and Edward.
“Oh without doubt, Miss Georgina, you are Artemis, lithe of form and fleet of foot. And I am entitled to some aid for I fear my task is harder than young Paris’ for I shall not be accepting bribes. The winner shall not receive a golden apple though, but she may demand the same forfeit from all the ladies she has vanquished. Now who shall begin?”
“I shall,” said Miss Emma, making her way to the pianoforte. She proceeded to play a piece from Haydn which was both difficult and perfectly delivered. We all applauded her loudly.
“I would like to be next,” said Georgina. “Will you accompany me please, Emma?” And she began to sing a well known folksong about a fair maiden imprisoned by a cruel lord.
Except that after only a few bars Miss Emma stopped playing. Georgina looked at her quizzically.
“I do believe your singing is too constrained, Georgina,” said her accompanist mockingly. “Let me help you.”
And with this she stood and approached my daughter. She undid her dress and stripped her naked to the waist, revealing her little bosom.
“There, now you can get more air into your chest,” she teased her friend.
I was about to protest at this attempt to put my child off when I looked at the boys. They were happily staring at their stepsister.
“Thank you, Miss,” said my daughter calmly. Then she thrust out her chest, pointing her stiffening nipples at the judges and she sang. If Miss Emma half imagined this trick would help her she had made a mistake.
“I’m next,” said Miss Hailsham as my daughter readjusted her clothing. “I shall draw a portrait of each of you in under twenty minutes.” And picking up her pad she began. It was a remarkable achievement and the six resulting portraits were true to life and not caricatures at all. She would have had my vote.
“And now you, my wife,” said Sir Thomas, smiling. “What shall you display your virtuosity in?”
“Alas, husband,” I replied, “I was raised in a merchant’s house and not a stately home. I am good at running a household but have none of the refined skills of a lady. I fear I shall have to forfeit.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” said Sir Thomas, “you are too hard on yourself. You have a greater talent for sodomy than anyone I have ever met. Why don’t you show us that?”
I stared at him in horror, shaking my head. “No husband, please not that, not in front of...” But he was already rising and ringing the bell. Mary appeared in a moment.
“Ah Mary, ask Mrs. Jones to attend us, find James the gardener and send Rosie to help her mistress undress.”
Mary hurried away and as we waited I sat staring at my lap and wringing my hands. Please not in front of my daughter and stepsons.
Soon Rose and Mrs. Jones appeared. Rose came straight to me and began to remove my clothing.
“Entirely naked please, Rosie,” said Sir Thomas. “I should like her ladyship without a stitch on.”
James appeared a few minutes later just as I reached a state of nudity.
“Here is our Hercules,” said my husband, “fresh from his labours. James, her ladyship wishes to display her skills in the art of sodomy and your instrument is the organ on which she will demonstrate her talent. Are you ready?” His face was split by his wolfish grin.
“Yes, Sir Thomas, at any time.” And the man began to strip away his clothing while staring at my nudity.
My husband came and took me by the hand and led me to the sofa. He leant in close and whispered in my ear.
“I expect you to win, my love, so show them your best.” Then he kissed me on the cheek and left me to be joined by the gardener whose monstrous equipment was rapidly swelling to ‘giant’ proportions.
I took a deep breath and arranged myself on all fours on the settee. I looked back to see Mrs. Jones handing Jim a pot of lotion.
I looked over at where the six spectators were sitting or standing. The boys faces were by then transfixed with a rictus of lust. My breasts were already swinging free beneath me and my rounded bottom and bald sex would be enough to cause that. My daughter was bright-eyed and open-mouthed, clearly my humiliation was exciting to her. Miss Hailsham was a picture of concentration as she looked at me and then down at her sketchpad. Dear God, I wanted to ask her not to sketch this. Miss Emma was staring at Jim’s swelling organ. Mrs. Jones and Sir Thomas were, as always, calmly surveying it all.
I felt a finger, well-greased slide into my bottom, followed by another one. They were clearly the forefingers of both hands as Jim began to pull them apart so as to stretch me open. It was disgusting and uncomfortable and overwhelmingly exciting, as yet there was no pain. My husband had by then taken my bottom so many times that only the insertion of the gardener’s giant manhood was really going to hurt. I felt my sex immediately begin to ooze uncontrollably. Soon he had four fingers inside me and was pulling my bottomhole open in all directions.
I felt the by then familiar head of his giant greased member between the cheeks of my bottom. It felt like a small apple sitting there. Then it was implacably pressing against my tiny aperture. With a little explosion of pain it slipped inside: so big, so hard and so hot. My sex was going to be gushing in a moment. I looked at my husband and he smiled encouragingly at me. He wanted me to win, to show how good I was at this.
“Fuck my bottom,” I said out loud, at first as a hoarse whisper and then as a loud command. “Fuck my bottom; shove it all the way in.”
‘Giant Jim’ followed my instructions and leant into me. I dropped my head to the sofa, arched my back and shoved back against him, speeding up my impalement. The pain and the stretching were by then overwhelming. I was going to climax so quickly. As I felt his hair tickling my bottom I reached back and squeezed my little bud.
“Aahhh! Coming! So good... so good!” My orgasm blew through me like a hurricane and I made no attempt to hide it. I was left weak and gasping.
My partner just began to work my bottom slowly; he knew that I could go from climax to climax. Indeed the next one took but a little time before it buffeted me about.
After that I pushed him off me and got him into a sitting position on the sofa. I straddled his lap and first rubbed my breasts into his face, half smothering him. Then I reached behind me and seized his giant tool and held it upright.
“Right, let’s get this thing back where it belongs!” I said staring straight at my audience and I lowered myself onto it. In this position it felt, and must have looked, simply enormous. Slowly I forced it into me, drawing a loud groan from the gardener. I fucked up and down on him hard, rubbing my breasts all over his chest. Twice more I squeezed my little bud and twice more I climaxed.
“I can’t hold out much longer,” he whispered in a strangled gasp.
“Two more minutes,” I whispered back.
I pushed myself off him and turned around so that I was facing them all. I straddled him again and played with my nipples, stretching them and pinching them painfully till I nearly came. I reached down for him, put him back in position and lowered my bottom until my delicate hole was once again transfixed upon him. I slowly lowered my weight till he was finally in me to the very root. It felt wonderfully immense inside me, as if it were pushing all my other insides out of the way, which it probably was. I pulled up my legs till my bare feet were on his thighs and spread myself apart.
“Hold me up,” I whispered to him and I felt his strong hands on my waist. I began to raise and lower myself on him at first slowly and then faster. With one hand I reached down and spread my sex wide open so that they could see every detail of me. With the other I began to strum my swollen red bud. As I climaxed I felt him begin to spurt inside me as his cock pulsed furiously. I jammed my little ring all the way down on him.
“Yes, come in my arsehole, you bastard. Fill my arse with your sperm. Fill me up!” And I frigged my clittie till I came again and again. Finally I slumped back against him as I saw Sir Thomas approach me and take one of my sticky hands.
He pulled me up and off the softening pole which left my body with a loud slurping sound. I stood there bow-legged and looked at poor James. The gardener lay back with a dumbfounded look on his face and his giant equipment slowly shrinking in his lap, covered in grease, semen and the juice that had leaked from my sex. It took him a minute before he began to gather his clothes to depart. He staggered as he left.
At my husband’s signal Rose hurried over to help me dress. As she slipped my drawers on I giggled despite my embarrassment. With the amount of male seed that was beginning to seep from my stretched bottomhole the undergarments were going to be a mess very quickly.
“So, James,” said Sir Thomas to his son, “who do you believe should win our competition?”
“Well, sir,” he began, “I thought Miss Emma’s playing was very fine and Miss Hailsham’s drawing was remarkable. But I like Miss Georgina’s singing and my stepmother’s performance best.” I wondered if our nudity had affected his decision. He blushed as he stared at where Rose was now fixing my corset back on. Each pull of the laces was forcing another little dribble out of my backside.
“And you, Edward?”
“I, Sir, thought Miss Emma and Miss Georgina were both excellent but Miss Hailsham and Lady Caroline were both the best at their skill that I can even imagine.”
“I concur,” said Sir Thomas, “Miss Hailsham is remarkable, I believe there can be few other women in England or Wales who can match her. But Lady Caroline is also a consummate artist. I am sure there is no other woman in Europe who can use her arsehole so skilfully. I declare my wife the winner: the Aphrodite of sodomy. “
There was applause from them all and I flushed crimson.
“And as the winning goddess you may now choose a forfeit that all the other women must pay.” Sir Thomas voice was teasing.
I looked at my fellow competitors. What should I choose as a forfeit? I felt like asking them all to fellate some footmen, for I should have liked to see Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma do that. But my own daughter would have to as well and that I could not ask. In the end I was merciful.
“I should like all the ladies to come to dinner tonight dressed only in boots and stockings. They can remain that way until bedtime.”
Shortly after, I retired to my room. I actually had Rose clyster me by choice; I wanted to get all of that mess out of my bottom.
As we met in the drawing room before dinner I found the boys there early. Usually they were the very last to arrive, just a minute or two before we actually went in to the dining room. I was dressed in an elegant gown and wore jewellery and had my hair elaborately fixed. Sir Thomas came over and kissed me and whispered in my ear a number of very obscene things he planned to do to me later.
Then the door opened and in came the ladies. Georgina was in the centre, holding her companions hands and leading them in. The three were dressed, as instructed, merely in their stockings. Georgina had an advantage over Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma: she had been paraded naked around the house more than once, often on a lead, and was somewhat used to nudity. She was also excited by being in such a state, which must have helped. She was as ever tall, thin and willowy. Miss Hailsham was the opposite in stature, a little over five foot, with mousy brown hair even on her neatly trimmed bush, hard muscled and with high breasts like firm little apples. She approached her nudity with ever-present determination. Miss Emma was the darkest of the three in both complexion and in her hair, which was brown but so dark as to be near black. Her figure was altogether rounder and she had a black bush on her fine hips. Her breasts were full and lush and I noticed the boys both staring at her. In her embarrassment her free hand kept trying to cover something, but there was far too much to hide.
“Here we are, Mama,” said Georgina, “I hope we have fulfilled our forfeit.”
“Not till dinner is done!” But I knew she was enjoying showing her friends off.
Dinner was lovely and Miss Emma’s evident discomfort and embarrassment only made the boys stare at her all the more and pay her close attention. James took her arm as we went through to dinner and I could tell how much he wanted to touch her more closely, his trousers were like a tent. At dinner she sat between the boys and they pulled her attention this way and that trying to get a better look at her. Finally they all went off to bed.
When my husband got me to his bedchamber he discovered how very wet watching their display had made me, and I found out exactly how stiff it had made him.
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