by Alysha Ellis
Lise waited with unconcealed impatience as the proprietress reappeared with a pot of cool tea and a plate of stale cakes—yesterday’s baking, no doubt, or perhaps even the day before. The woman poured out enough to fill their cups while Lise held back a long sigh.
Finally, the woman retreated back to her room.
“What happened to tear them apart again?”
It was her friend’s turn to widen her gaze. “That is the great mystery. Most say that it had something to do with money. So many falling outs have to do with that. Others say that it was about a woman who Charles wanted—sorry, dear!—and Holden ruined. Or perhaps that is supposed to be the other way around. Who knows for sure? Certainly no one in the village.”
“Holden left after that?” Lise asked.
“Yes, for the war. No one saw or heard from him in years, until he showed up at your house.”
“How terrible,” Lise murmured, thinking of the figure of tragedy the injured soldier made. “How sad.”
With such a terrible image in her mind, she could not even contemplate sipping at the cooling tea or biting into one of the thin, flimsy looking cakes. Cook would have much better waiting for her at home. And as for Prudence—well, at least she knew how to boil an egg, an accomplishment Lise wouldn’t have owned up to even if her life depended on it.
What it must be like to be a Prudence, to never even have had the chance of a good match come across her path. Of course, Prudence had an awful freckled complexion and her figure was both stick thin and angular, not to mention her coarse unruly black hair, as thick and lank as a workhorse’s.
No, Lise thought complacently, a man like Luke Holden wouldn’t look at poor Prudence, not the way he’d looked at Lise in her drawing room all those days before.
She must see him again! But how?
“Of course,” her friend said brusquely, “Holden does not need to stay in this area. There are plenty of opportunities for a man like him in the towns, or even in a good country house.”
“As a soldier?” Lise asked stupidly.
“As a property overseer,” Prudence replied. “While they were friends, Charles ensured that Holden was trained in this way. He would also make a very good servant,” she added. “Returning soldiers are all the rage in domestic staff right now. He could be a head gardener, assuming he has any skill in that direction, or a good valet. Major Carmichael’s former batman is his ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ now.”
“But that’s different!” Lise protested. “A batman is already like a servant to a soldier. Luke Holden was born to a better class than that.”
Prudence gathered her reticule. “That doesn’t matter.” She spoke with the calm self-assurance of a woman who had inherited a good annual income. “One must accept the station to which life brings one.”
Though Lise clamped her lips shut, her thoughts were spinning like a whirligig.
A man like Luke Holden, forced into a life of poverty and drudgery! For a moment she forgot about her husband’s simpering valet or Cook’s ample curves and even more ample retirement fund.
Imagine a man like that, with good looks, a fit figure and, she suspected, high passions, left to toil for some staid monument to respectability such as a Major Carmichael. Even Charles would be better to work for—he was generous with the staff, more generous in some instances than anyone would possibly expect.
Lise’s mouth curved as she thought of Luke Holden in the place of the current valet. Given her husband’s animosity, that might be too much to ever hope for, but perhaps something else could be arranged to their mutual satisfaction.
* * * *
“That man is still lurking about the area,” Charles said over the dinner table that evening. “Were you aware of this?”
“I think one of the other ladies might have mentioned it,” Lise murmured.
She was thinking what a fine figure her husband cut that day, wearing a new suit he had had made up in town. A high colour was in his usually pale cheeks and even his lank brown hair was brushed back from his forehead to give him a hint of elegance.
He was not an ill-looking man, her husband—although his looks had been the last factor she’d considered when she’d married him. His low sex drive might have ranked a little higher in the account books, if she had known of it then, but as a good prospective wife, she had kept herself pure for her husband—well, as pure as could be expected of a healthy young lady who had attained the advanced age of twenty-two prior to her marriage.
Lise glanced down at her new dark-blue gown, stylishly patterned to mimic the latest Parisian fashion, with contentment. No, Charles might not be handsome with his too-high forehead and bland colouring, but he more than made up for it with his generosity. And he had proven generous in other ways as well.
Early in their marriage, her husband had made it clear that he would visit her in her bedchamber, once a month, for as many months as necessary for her to conceive. His disappointment had been palpable when, after a full year, no signs existed of that anticipated event. Never the most virile of men, his interest in her had seemed to wane along with his hopes for an heir.
Then Lise had come upon the sketches.
The drawings were so life-like that Lise had originally thought them some strange magic. The flesh in them was velvety and so realistic that she felt she could touch it. And there was a lot of flesh.
The first two etchings were ordinary enough. A naked man standing posed with his leg on a cushion, making a mockery of the ‘heroic’ portraits that elderly aristocrats liked to have commissioned, and very like the one of William Hessell that hung in the family gallery. From between the man’s strong legs jutted a huge swollen cock, which, if the artist was not prone to exaggeration, was a true tribute to the gentleman in question.
The matching sketch was of a nude woman reclining on a couch, her legs parted slightly to display a dark patch of hair and a hint at the creamy pussy beneath, but never to show it. Her breasts, small and round, were perfectly shaped. Unlike the man, she hinted at her sensuality, rather than displaying it openly. For Lise, this was by far the more thrilling sketch, as she could easily imagine herself in the woman’s position, legs parted, vibrantly naked, awaiting her missing lover.
Further into the thin deck of sketches, the scenes became more exciting. In one, a man sat on the couch while the same woman from the second sketch straddled him, their mouths locked together and the long clean lines of her bare back and buttocks prominent. The man’s hands were dark against her fairer skin, the hands of a labourer rather than a gentleman. Scrutinise the picture as she may, Lise could not tell if this man was the same as the one pictured in the first sketch or another man altogether. Both were dark haired but she imagined that the second man was somewhat brawnier, less elegant in face and physique.
By this time, she was certain of one thing. These sketches were modelled on real people. They were not the vague work of someone’s imagination.
The first man had a mole on his inner thigh. The woman’s face in the second was too asymmetrical to be other than realistic, and one of her breasts was shown slightly larger than the other, just as Lise knew her breasts were shaped, although the master painters often seemed to be unaware of this common female trait. The third man from another sketch had a scar on the back of his left hand like the lash of a whip.
The bottom three pictures were the ones that had made her mouth drop open with surprise and pleasure. After Charles had enlightened her about his strange habits, she thought she had met with every kind of perversity. This was different. This was…better.
In one of the last sketches, the woman was on all fours, her back arched as the first man ploughed her cunt. But her mouth was occupied too, her lips wrapped around the second man’s dick. With just a few lines, the artist had cleverly suggested her mouth was busily sucking. The second man’s head was thrown back in ecstasy.
In the next image, the men had changed positions, still enveloping the woman but this time lying pro
ne on their sides, one’s head curved between the woman’s thighs, his tongue on her prominent clit, while the other bent over her breasts, suckling deeply, his cheeks concave with the effort. The second man’s hand had reached up to grasp the other man’s cock, his grip hard and strong.
The last sketch was exquisite, drawn in loving detail. It was the one which had made Lise take to her bed, throw up her skirts and stroke her own pussy urgently, the image of the illicit threesome fresh in her head.
This time, the second man was lying on a coverlet behind the woman, his arms wrapped around her body, her buttocks pressed against his belly. Her nipples stuck out as if they had just been sucked and tugged by urgent fingers. The woman’s legs were braced as his cock entered her. Her eyes were shut tightly.
Behind the second man was the first, his head lifted to strain towards the second’s, their lips locked together in a consuming kiss. The first man’s buttocks were taut, as if caught mid-thrust, and his cock was buried in the other’s arse and in turn, the second man’s thrust into the woman’s wet pussy. A perfect balance.
It was what Lise wanted, what she’d been unconsciously seeking her entire life. Fucking servants and stable hands was one thing but what she craved was two men who loved each other and loved her equally, a perfect triangle.
And it was Charles’ secret sketches that had made her realise her true desire.
Charles, who preferred to watch as she fucked other men who were usually hired from town specifically for that purpose. Charles, who sat in an uncomfortable chair and masturbated while other men screwed her for hours.
Once, with a particularly virile young buck he’d acquired through an underground society he belonged to, he had tried to join in. He’d knelt on the bed where she’d been vigorously riding the young man and had dangled his thick erect dick over the buck’s face. The man had obliged by licking the pale pink length, tonguing the head thoroughly, but before he had been able to take it into his mouth, Charles had withdrawn. He’d finished the evening where he’d started, in a stiff wooden chair, yanking at his own cock.
Poor Charles. He didn’t even know how to enjoy the pleasures he paid for.
Chapter Three
Lise smiled with approval as she watched Jameson’s pretty, pouting mouth devour her husband’s fat cock. The two men were posed in the middle of Charles’ bedchamber, the valet kneeling before his master. Charles was nude save for the signet ring he always wore on his little finger, which glinted in the sunlight streaming through the windows as he guided the young man’s head. Short moans escaped his lips as Jameson sought to accept more and more of his dick down his throat.
“Relax,” Charles murmured. “It will allow your throat to widen and take more of me.”
The words, along with her husband’s roughened voice, made Lise’s pussy clench with pleasure. Finally, she thought, she would see her husband happy.
She’d worked for this outcome for many weeks, gradually dropping hints about other men to the valet, to see if he would entertain such an encounter, until she was certain that his interest was piqued.
With her husband, the chore had been less onerous. She’d simply let it be known to him that she’d found the illicit sketches, then had let him understand how much she was enticed, rather than repelled, by the idea of such an arrangement. Wouldn’t he like to take an active part in the proceedings, she’d asked coquettishly. And wouldn’t the new valet make an excellent third for their little experiment?
Jameson grunted as he struggled to obey, his cheeks bulging with Charles’ girth. Lise loved the image of his big blue eyes above those full cheeks. The way he looked up at his master and his palpable eagerness to please was touching.
Her mouth watered for the longer, thinner cock sticking out of the younger man’s lap, but she dared not interrupt the tableau. All she could do was play with her nipples, exposed over the frilly edge of her camisole, and hold her thighs tightly together in an effort to stem the flood of heat that threatened to swamp her tingling pussy.
Jameson established a slow rhythm, his eyes widening as he sucked Charles’ dick deep into his mouth and expelled it again, glistening with his saliva. Sucking deep again with a low moan, then a whimpering release. Charles’ entire body stiffened with each suck.
“That’s it,” Charles said approvingly, his fingers lost in the younger man’s curls. “Take all of it.”
The valet’s lips touched the thick tangle of curls at the base of his master’s cock and he held the entire length in his mouth for a moment, the movements of his cheeks showing that his tongue was working frantically within.
Charles looked up from Jameson to find Lise on the bed.
“Come here.”
She scrambled down from the high platform to stand by his side. Her breasts, aching with frustration, tingled at his glance. He’d never shown them this much attention before.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, his light eyes indicating the man on the ground before him.
Lise nodded quickly.
“Then join him.”
Their eyes still locked together, Lise knelt on the floor beside the valet, her entire frame quivering with anticipation. As soon as her husband’s cock emerged from the valet’s suckling mouth, she drew the wet member into her own, moaning deep in her throat as it filled her mouth.
She splayed her hand against Charles’ clenched buttocks as she took his cock fully. She drew on the length sharply, her tongue working frantically to lick the fat head, as she revelled in the low shout that came from him.
Then, as soon as she released the thick dick, it was back in Jameson’s hungry mouth and she could do no more than lick and suckle at the heavy dangling testicles that filled her vision until it was her turn again.
Back and forth they shared the big cock, each fighting for their portion but also trying to share it equally. Between times, Lise fiddled with Jameson’s narrow penis, sometimes lowering her head to give it a quick but ferocious sucking that made the young man’s hips thrust and buck uselessly.
“Now, Charles?” she whispered when Jameson’s flickering tongue had brought his master to the edge of control, his dick head fairly quivering with an effort to hold back his ejaculation.
Her pussy was hot and ready for his fat cock.
But instead, her husband brought his valet to his feet then pushed him over the side of the bed so that his round arse rose up palely from the rumpled bed sheets.
“Oh, Charles,” Lise cried, as she had never seen her husband behave in such a way. The intent look on his square face both frightened and excited her. “Whatever next?”
Yet, despite her lament, she was thrilled to see her husband slap the servant’s hindquarters before delicately prising open his arse cheeks to examine his puckered pink hole. Jameson’s face was turned so that Lise could see it clearly while her husband could not and she was the only witness to his silent spasm, half-surprise and half-delight, as if he was shouting without sound. There was also a hectic flush upon his youthful face.
“Have you ever been buggered?” Charles asked.
Lise scrambled up onto the high bed, not willing to miss a single word of the fascinating exchange. Her nipples stuck out, rigid and almost achingly purple from frustration. She was loath to touch them now, they were so stiff and sensitive. Her inner thighs were already coated with her slick cream.
“No, my lord.” Jameson’s words were a mere whisper.
Charles turned towards Lise and brought her to him with a peremptory gesture that rather startled her. When she was laid out next to the valet on the bed, Charles stuck his hand abruptly into her pantalets and scooped up her rich cream with his two fingers. Then he spread the wetness around Jameson’s exposed hole. Lise watched wide-eyed as he repeated the motion until the valet’s arse crease shone moistly.
Charles inserted a finger carefully within his valet’s exposed hole, causing Jameson’s butt cheeks to clench. He groaned loudly but Lise could tell that it was pure pleasur
e that made him sound so.
“Do you enjoy that, Jameson?” Charles’ voice was slightly thickened. “Do you like my finger in your ass?”
“Yes, my lord,” Jameson moaned the words as Charles began to thrust his finger in and out of the clenching hole.
Her husband turned to Lise. “Now you,” he told her.
Immediately, she saw what he wanted and she flopped over on her belly as well, her toes dangling off the bed. Her husband flipped up her skirts, ripping and shredding the expensive cloth and angling her body to his liking, until her buttocks were thrust into the air before him, both arsehole and dripping pussy exposed fully to his gaze.
He wet her arse up thoroughly before inserting a finger inside her. She loved it, wriggling and writhing with pleasure as he thrust his hand delicately.
Jameson now had two fingers inside him and when he turned his head towards her, Lise saw the sweat rise upon his brow. His buttocks were moving back and forth to meet his master’s hand and seeing him do so made her follow suit, until they were both up on their elbows, moaning into each other’s flushed faces.
Charles divided his attention between the two arses his fingers were fucking, giving Lise two fingers as well, filling up her small hole to the hilt.
But when he tried to insert a third finger into Jameson’s arse, the valet pulled away. Charles fetched him a sharp blow over his ears and removed his fingers, causing the valet to collapse onto his stomach, spent.
Then, as Lise had hoped all along, Charles pushed her head back down into the sheets and mounted her pussy. He had to remove his fingers from inside her to do so but she was more concerned with filling her other, more hungry, hole at that moment to care.
Charles fucked her pussy as he had never done before, riding it masterfully, his fat cock stretching her with every long thrust. She screamed out her pleasure, her eyes clenched shut, only parting them briefly to see Jameson in a corner of the bed, frantically beating his own dick. She felt the splash of the servant’s cum against her face at the same time as she felt Charles’ hot ejaculation within her. Then her own climax ripped through her body, making her jerk against him.
