When the first button was undone, it revealed very little of the woman's body. The second button allowed the butler to see a degree of flesh, but not every much at all. The third button allowed him to feast his eyes on a little bit more. As did the fourth, and as did the fifth. Finally, all buttons were undone and the Duchess' dress hung from her back. Her pale white skin was exposed and the butler could not keep himself from it for very long. He ran his tongue from her neck to the very bottom of her back, which made her shiver. The butler was surprised to find that the skin of the Duchess had no discernible taste. While this would not come as a shock to you or I, Harrison had always imagined that the Duchess would taste of strawberries or chocolate or something else that wealthy people enjoyed. Although he was a tad on the disappointed side, he continued to run his tongue up and down her body until she turned to face him once again. With a smile on her face, she pushed her dress from her body and let it fall to the floor. She was not wearing petticoats. Before receiving the message that Alexia was in trouble, she had dressed herself for the theatre and had been anticipating a sexual encounter with the Duke upon returning home, which meant petticoats would only be a hindrance. Now she was happy that her back pain throughout the evening had not been in vein.
She grabbed Harrison's head and pulled him towards her chest. She essentially forced him down upon her right breast and commanded him to open his mouth and start chewing. The butler had only chewed upon a nipple once in his life and had been quickly told to stop by his wife, as she did not enjoy it very much. The Duchess, however, would never have guessed this, as the man seemed to be quite adept at the task. He pulled and tugged on her nipple, gnashing and grinding his teeth. The Duchess also found herself grinding her teeth, as it was all she could do to control herself. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she could not. Such a thing would be unbecoming of a duchess. While the butler could not measure the level of the woman's arousal through her behaviour, he was able to gauge it accurately by the moistness of her vagina when it pressed up against his left leg. She was wet. Very wet. He was equally aroused and the beginnings of his male fluid was seeping out from the top of his penis. The Duchess could feel it against her body, which put her at ease, as she was worried she was becoming more aroused than her lover. She took a handful of the butler's hair and pulled him from her breast. For a moment, Harrison feared that she had come to her senses and did not wish to precede any further. He even went a far as to once again prepare himself for a slap. However, he received yet another pleasant surprise when Katrina fell to the ground, spread her legs and instructed him to enter her.
Chapter Seven
Meanwhile, in the Duke's carriage, the Duke and his long-time maid were engaged in a passionate encounter of their own. Though there was no sexual intercourse transpiring - neither the Duke nor the maid would do that in the back of a carriage - there was quite a bit of pleasuring going on. The maid held in her hand the Duke's erect penis. It was not as large as her husband's, but that did not bother her. It had been so long since she had seen a man's erect member that she was willing to take what she could get. Besides, the Duke's penis was not small by any means. It was larger than average, thicker too. She moved her hand up and down the shaft, making him moan and squirm and sigh and twitch. Betty was also twitching and sighing and squirming and moaning, for as she pleasured the Duke, he pleasured her. His hand was up her dress and through her underwear. He had two fingers inside her and his thumb rubbing her clitoris.
They were nearing the Duke's manor, but that did not matter for they were also nearing climax. The Duke could feel his fingers getting wetter and wetter and Betty could feel the Duke's knees knocking against her hand. That was a good sign. When a man loses control of his knees, it is not long before he loses control of his body entirely. The driver, who was separated from his passengers by nothing but a thin cloth, did his very best to pretend that there was nothing going on. This was rather hard for him to do because he could hear both the man and woman screaming and professing their love for one another. Once the driver reached the manor and the horse drawing the carriage ceased to move forward, the carriage did not became stable. Instead, it continued to rock from side to side as the couple within increased in intensity. They were so close to what they wanted. So close. Then, almost at exactly the same time, the Duke and the maid came. How wonderful a feeling it was for Betty to cum after such a long time. She had forgotten just how good it felt. Although the Duke had engaged in intercourse with his wife just one day earlier, he too was flabbergasted by just how great his climax was. Perhaps there was something to be made for cheating on one's wife.
The couple took a moment to gather themselves and attempt to understand exactly what had just happened. Betty had been so aroused that it became impossible for her to control her hand as it journeyed to the Duke's private parts. The Duke, being a man, did not have the strength to tell the maid to stop when she began moving his penis back and forth inside his trousers. This was a weakness, which he was happy to have, as it led to one of the most glorious orgasms of his life. Betty, who he had never looked at in a sexual light, had been responsible for it. Now, sitting across from him in the carriage with her hair a mess and her lipstick smudged from biting her bottom lip, the maid had never looked better.
She looked out the carriage window to the manor door and began to laugh.
"We had better be getting inside," she said through laughter. A statement with which the Duke agreed. "Our spouses must be missing us."
THE END
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The Maid’s Dowry
Regency Romance
By: Rosamund Talbot
The Maid’s Dowry
Chapter One
Randall was born into riches. His father was the beloved Duke of Albany and his mother was the daughter of a wealthy landowner, meaning that there was no shortage of money on either side of the family. He lived the sort of life one would expect the son of a Duke to live. He wore only the finest of clothes, was presented with only the finest of gifts and had only the finest education available. The apple of his mother's eye and the light of his father's life, it was always assumed that Randall would grow into an intelligent and well-respected member of high-society and would take his father's place as Duke when the old man passed on or decided to step down from his position. On the first day of spring in 1812, Randall turned twenty-one years of age and there was a great party thrown in his honour. His father arranged for many of England's most renowned and respected business men to attend the affair, alongside their wives and, most importantly, eldest daughters. The Duke and the Duchess had long been planning to make this the night that their son would meet the woman who would go on to become his wife and, in time, be crowned the new Duchess. It was rather an important night for Randall's parents and they were quite a bit more excited to see the arrival of the merry guests than he was.
"Father, I know not even one of the people whom you have summoned here tonight in my honour," Randall complained to the Duke early on in the evening. The Duke stood before a mirror in his chamber, fastening his evening shirt and hiding his grey hairs to the best of his abilities. For the past month and a half, he had listen to the protests of his son, who had made it quite clear that he did not wish to have such a lavish celebration for his coming of age.
&
nbsp; "My son, I have told you many times already, consider this not a party for you, but a party for those attending."
"You have tossed that phrase around near one hundred times in recent weeks and not a single time have you told me what it means."
"What it means, my dear boy, is that if we ensure the many wealthy families whom I have invited have an enjoyable evening, they will ensure that your time as Duke is as easy and as carefree as possible. Not only that, but tonight you will pick out your future bride, and so it is advisable to be in the favour of her father."
Randall protested no longer. He had endured this same argument with his father nearly everyday since plans of the party had been revealed to him and by now he was all but worn out. If it were entirely unavoidable, the future Duke would have been able to decorate his face with a false smile and make merry all evening, such a requirement was not the source of his discontent. What was causing him such a great degree of unhappiness was the fact that his parents insisted he would, on that night, find the woman whom he would go on to make his wife. He realised that it was important, at least in the eyes of his parents, that he find a girl who came from a similar background to his own. His father still had many years of Dukedom left in him and those years would be made undeniably easier if his son was engaged to the right woman. That being said, Randall had no desire to take the hand of anybody other than Berta, the maid of the manor. Berta, who was Randall's senior by a number of months, had turned twenty-one during her employment at the house and received a mere day five and half hours away from her duties. Despite this, she managed to remain her spritely self throughout the day and the smile never once disappeared from her face. The maid's eternal optimism was one of the many things that drew Randall to her. He also found her silky smooth voice to be quite alluring, along with her laugh and, of course, her incredible good looks.
The maid and the future Duke met two weeks after Berta entered the manor as a maid. Randall had been visiting London with some friends when she first took up residence in his childhood home, but the pair became immediate friends upon his return from the capital. Being an only child, Randall rejoiced at the idea of having some company within his age range and he soon found himself falling for the new maid. Fortunately for Randall, Berta found him to be quite attractive and rather enjoyed his presence. They talked whenever they could but were often forced to suddenly end their conversations by the sound of the Duke or Duchess drawing nearer. Though his parents were rather liberal minded for the time, Randall knew that they would disapprove of his relationship with the maid, despite the fact they would likely champion an interclass relationship if it involved anybody but their son. Randall did not allow the fact that he had to keep his relationship with the maid hidden to get him down. With her love, he was free of worry and stress. Or at least, he was free of worry and stress until he learned of the party organised by his parents. His father's command that he pick a future bride on the night of his party posed a clear and seemingly insurmountable problem which had been causing him six weeks of anxiety and sleepless nights.
Still unsure of how he would tackle the situation, and a mere two hours away from the arrival of the guests, Randall left the chamber of his parents and ventured to the left side of the manor. The home was so large that it was almost impossible to denote a room (which was not a private chamber) with a common description. The manor seemed to contain two of everything and for that reason it was not enough to say "the dining room". Instead, one was expected to divide the home into two sides and use a description such as "the dining room on the left side of the manor". Berta usually finished off her workday on the left side of the manor and so on this evening, just like any other, Randall journeyed west in search of his love.
Chapter Two
Berta balled both of her hands into fists and rubbed her eyes vigorously. Dust had, as it so often did, found it's way from the object that she was dusting into her dark brown eyes. On this evening, the object that she was dusting was an old chest of drawers, which had been in the family of the Duchess for a number of centuries. She did not know for certain how far it went back, but she recalled Randall telling her that it had been given to his great-great grandfather by an Italian craftsman who revered him simply because he had a lot of money. Randall's great-great grandfather, being tight fisted in spite of his wealth, decide to save some money by presenting it to his wife as a birthday gift. From that day on, the chest of drawers was presented to the wife of the eldest child on their thirtieth birthday by the preceding recipient.
The dust had managed to reach the eyes of the maid as a result of her carelessness for, as she worked, she had allowed herself to drift away into a fantasy. It was the same fantasy that she had almost every time she cleaned the Italian man's handiwork. She dreamed that when her thirtieth birthday arrived the Duchess would present her with the chest of drawers. Of course, Berta knew that this dream was unlikely to ever come to pass for regardless of how much their son cared about her, the Duke and Duchess would almost certainly never welcome a common girl into their family. They wished for their son to be married to the daughter of wealthy parents, anything less would make them the mockery of the nation. For that reason, Berta felt it would be best to end her relationship with Randall on this night. It would leave her broken hearted, but surly a man as wonderful as Randall deserved to be married to a woman who could meet the standards of his parents and high society.
From outside in the hallway came a whispering voice softly calling her name.
"Berta, Berta. Are you here?"
It was the voice of Randall as he strolled up and down the hallway in search of his love. Berta let out a sigh, knowing that heartbreak was imminent. "I am in the study, dear Randall" she replied, her voice less eager than usual. The door to the study was slowly pushed open and Randall tiptoed into the room. On any other night, he would have created as much noise as he wished, safe in the knowledge that his mother and father were resting on the right side of the manor. On this night, however, it was impossible to know the location of his parents for certain. They would likely be patrolling every hallway of the home to ensure that there would not be a hint of dust spotted by their party guests.
"Oh Randall" exclaimed the maid upon seeing the future Duke in his casual clothes, "you have not yet dressed for your celebration this evening."
"If it were my decision to make, there would be no such celebration occurring this evening."
"My love, you must put on a merry facade and try to enjoy the festivities. After all, tonight is the night that you choose your bride."
"I have already chosen my bride, it is you."
"Dear, we both know that your parents would never allow such a marriage to occur. It is in your best interest to forget about me."
The mere suggestion of such a thing nearly served to bring Randall to tears. He knew that he would never be able to move past Berta and that a marriage to another woman would be, at the very most, settling for second best. The maid was also not fond of the idea of ending her relationship with Randall and, as we have noted, she still had fantasies of being wed to the future duke after receiving the blessing of his parents. However, she knew that she would feel a tremendous degree of guilt if she allowed Randall to refuse a beautiful young woman with wealthy parents who would be a positive boom to his family's social standing.
"You need to forget about me, my love,” she repeated.
"Berta, you know that I could never forget about you. I love you and only you. There is not a woman in the land whom I would rather take for my wife." The panic in Randall's speech was clear and his voice trembled as he spoke, as if he were about to break into a fit of tears. Berta also struggled to hide her emotions, but she knew she would have to hide all trace of sadness if she were going to convince Randall that his life would be better without her.
"Randall, you cannot deny that us parting ways is best for your future."
"I do not want to hold the Dukedom if I cannot hold your hand. I would rather be yo
ur husband than a member of the royal family."
"My dear, you must forget about me."
"But Berta, I cannot."
"But you must."
Randall felt as though he had received a blow to the stomach from one of the burly men who acted as his mother's guards whenever she ventured into the city without the Duke. He truly had not been expecting his nightly visit with Berta to take this kind of a turn.
"Berta, I beg you to reconsider. I love you."
"I love you too, Randall, but our relationship is simply not meant to be. You are soon to be the Duke and I am but a poor maid."
"Berta," began Randall as tears formed in his eyes, "if you will not grant me your life, I beg that you grant me a final kiss." Berta obliged Randall's request and Randall took her in his arms for what they both believed would be the final time. Berta's clothes smelled, as they always did, of dust and dirt. However, that never bothered Randall. Beneath the dirt and dust, was the sweet smell of Berta's body. Unlike most maids, Berta always wore perfume and her sweet scent poured into Randall's nostrils and made him wish their embrace would never come to an end. He placed his hips against hers for one last kiss. It was wonderful, just like every one of their kisses up that point. It felt right, it felt as though their lips fit perfectly together and that they were never meant to be apart. Unfortunately, Berta was forced to pull away from her love before the exchange turned into a more passionate affair.
The Duke's Dilemma: Regency Romance Menage Short Stories Page 25
