Lady Emily's Guardian

Mr. Singer

During the first few months of marriage to my Lady Emily, I was happier than I ever thought I could be. She was sweeter than ever, and so willing and obedient. Any time I wanted her, she was ready and waiting for me. It was so tempting to push her boundaries everyday, but I knew that some days I had to be easy on her. But she never refused my requests; she performed well beyond my expectations of her, and I was quite proud.

Our honeymoon in Greece, in my memory, is a blur of sandy beaches, sights, and unbelievable sex. We met another honeymooning couple, from Holland, while we were staying in Crete. Lady Emily speaks a little Dutch, which they found charming, though they spoke English well enough. I do not remember their names, and we did not keep up correspondence with them, but it does not matter. That young married couple, both tall and lean and blonde, drank with us during and after dinner one warm evening, and we all went back to our honeymoon suite together. As Emily and the young woman took off their clothes and began kissing heavily, I turned to the young man and threw him a wink. He looked uncertain, but his cock certainly wasn’t; he had a generous bulge in his pants.

“What do you say?” I asked the young man. “Want to watch my wife pleasure your wife?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily eyeing me expectantly.

The young man was enthusiastically agreeable, and we watched Emily lay the other young bride down on the bed. “Just relax,” Emily said softly. “Has your husband given you an orgasm yet?” When the woman responded that she did not know, Emily smiled. “Then he has not; I may be able to show him a trick or two.” She turned and looked at us over her shoulder. She beckoned to the young groom. “Come and see,” she said invitingly.

We both stepped forward and watched Emily go down on the other woman. “Oh, your pussy has no hair on it!” Emily observed with a giggle. “So soft…” I grabbed my cock as I watched my wife stroke the lips of the bride’s pussy gently. After spending a minute or two fingering the bride (who was already breathing heavily, probably more in anticipation than pain, as her new husband had a generous sized cock himself), Emily put her head between the bride’s legs and lapped at her carefully, aiming at the bride’s clit. She swirled her tongue in slow, teasing circles before plunging it into the bride’s cunt, lapping at the walls of her pussy, pushing her head deeper and deeper into her crotch while prying her legs wider and wider apart.

The bride cried out in surprised pleasure, and I looked at her husband with a grin. “That’s how it’s done,” I said to him, as we watched Emily eat the other woman to an intense climax. As the bride came, Emily opened her mouth wide and covered her pussy with it, so that she took most of the bride’s cum in her mouth, licking her thoroughly to clean what was left.

As the bride recovered from her orgasm, I asked her husband if she had ever gone down on him. He answered that she had not, looking disappointed by this fact, perhaps wishing that his young bride were a whore like mine. “We can teach her,” I said. “My wife is quite an expert cocksucker, aren’t you, my dear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She had been wiping the cum from her face with a towel. She stood up and gave the groom a sweet smile. She brightened suddenly. “Oh, sir, I have an idea! I can show her how to suck cock by showing her on you, and she can copy what I’m doing on her husband.”

“Marvelous,” I said. I nodded to the groom, and we stood side by side, pulling down our trousers to reveal our hard cocks. I examined his, of course. Most men are not comfortable with this, but everyone looks; some people are just sneakier about it. I was pleased to see that while he had a generous-sized cock, perhaps good enough for his little wife, I was certainly the larger. I do not like that I need this reassurance about the size of my cock; the satisfied smile on my wife’s face every time I fucked her should have been enough.

Emily took the bride by the hand and led her to us, not hesitating to get down on her knees before me. The bride did hesitate, and Emily turned to look back at her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

The bride frowned. “I don’t want to,” she said. “It…it’s disgusting.”

Emily frowned up at the bride and stood up. “That’s very selfish,” she said. “Your husband just allowed you to get pleasure. Didn’t you like what I did to you?”

The bride blushed. “Yes,” she said slowly.

“And your husband will be willing to do that to you, I’m sure, if you’ll do this for him,” Emily lectured. She gave me a smile. “Trust me, when you get better at it, it feels just as good to give as to receive.”

I reached out and grabbed Emily, pulling her to me and kissing her deeply. I touched her face before putting my hands on her shoulders, half-forcing her to her knees (she was already dropping to her subordinate position), and she took my cock in her mouth, sucking with more enthusiasm than ever. I have noticed that, when other people were around, Emily performed fallacio even better than when we were alone. It wasn’t that she was trying to show off; not exactly. It was more for the fact that having people watch her please me just excited her. If she didn’t get off on it so much, I perhaps would not have allowed so many people to join us in our activities.

I watched the bride hesitantly following suit, taking her husband’s cock in her mouth as she watched Emily out of the corner of her eye. Emily’s focus was on me, as it usually was when she pleasured me. I looked down at her and she was looking up at me, thoroughly enjoying her chore. I threw my head back and moaned as Emily took me as deep as she could; I could feel the tip of my cock lodging deep into her through, my balls against her chin. I put a hand to the back of her head, tempted to begin pumping into her frantically. But I held myself; Emily was teaching her new friend an important lesson.

The young man was groaning aloud as his wife got into her task. I smiled to myself. She had discovered the joy of being a cock-sucking whore, a joy that too few women experience. As the young man’s breathing grew heavier, I knew he would be coming soon. “Have your wife take it down her throat,” I instructed. “Don’t let her pull away; it’s good for her.”

The young man heeded my word, grabbing the back of his wife’s head and forcing himself deep into her as he moaned and came. “Now she is to clean you with her tongue,” I said, and as they finished up, I focused on my own whore, who needed no lessons or instruction anymore.

When Emily squeezed my testicles (the naughty girl had learned my weaknesses), I came. She cleaned me slowly, demonstrating for her student how to carefully lick up every drop of cum. When she was finished, she looked up at me with an expectant smile. I was pleased to see that her student was looking at her husband in the same way.

From Crete, Emily and I went on the Athens, and toured much of the country in that area. By the time we were on the ship, finally headed back to London, Emily looked tired from all of our adventures. “Oh, sir,” she said, on the first day of our voyage back, “I’ll be so glad to be home again.”

“Have you not thoroughly enjoyed yourself on this trip, my dear?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, sir, I certainly have,” she said. “But I miss Wainwright Hall. And I miss my friends. And I cannot wait to show you off to everyone!”

“Silly thing,” I said, “they all know me.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, “but they do not know you as Sir Aaron Singer of Wainwright. And,” she added with a giggle, “I can’t wait to see how jealous all your admirers are that you are my husband.”

We made a couple of friends on our trip, two young cousins who were traveling to London to work in the shipping yards. They were traveling in the lower class of the passenger ship, and we might not have met them at all if my sweet Emily had not spotted them whilst taking a solitary walk on the deck. She saw these young men eyeing her, not daring to speak to a fine lady as she. So they had been surprised when she had turned and given them her attentions.

It was Emily’s first time with three men at once, and I surprised my little wife by having all three of us fuck her at once (me taking her cunt, of course; it was, and was meant to always be, mine and mine alone), filling her fuck-holes with our eager sex. I even allowed the young men to take turns taking my wife over their knees and spanking her. This inspired me to try a new, fun punishment for my girl. I pulled my belt from my trousers. She has been beaten with a belt before, but not quite the way I had intended. I sat beside one of the young men on the bed; the other stood by the watched.

“Lady Emily,” I said to my wife, whose ass was already sore from punishment, “lie across this young man’s lap and put your face to my crotch.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, almost cheerfully, doing as she was told. I handed the belt to the young man.

“Whip her ass,” I said. “Stop when I tell you to, or when you see blood. Understand?”

The young man nodded, and delivered the first blow to Emily’s ass. She screamed, and I put my hand on her head, pushing her face against my cock. I felt the vibrations of her screams against my hard member with each fresh scream. The young man showed no mercy on my whore, and as he continued to beat her, I allowed her to put her face up for a quick breath before pulling down my trousers, revealing my hard cock. “Suck, my lady,” I instructed, and she did so. She was unable to stop herself from moaning each time her ass was struck, and would scream with my cock in her mouth. I felt just the slightest brush of her teeth against my sensitive skin, enough to make me groan.

“Stop, stop,” I groaned to the young man, and he did, with some regret on his face, as I came into my wife’s mouth.

We had other times together such as that, which distracted Emily (a little) from her anxiousness to be home again. When we arrived in London, Emily convinced me to get us to the train station right away. We were very fortunate; a train that would be stopping in a village near Wainwright Hall was departing that very hour. We did not secure a first-class compartment, but Emily did not mind. She spent the entire trip looking out of the window, as though she couldn’t quite believe that she’d made it back to England.

I took her hand at one point and whispered in her ear, “It has not changed much since we’ve been away.”

She looked at me and smiled. “No,” she agreed. “But I have.” She squeezed my hand gently, and we sat hand-in-hand for the remainder of the train ride.

When we finally arrived, Emily nearly leapt from the train, so happy was she to see familiar sights again. Right way, she noticed people that she knew at the train station, who were already flocking to her just as I was climbing down from the train to join her. I came and put my arm around her waist, smiling for our acquaintances.

“We want to be the first to congratulate you on your marriage,” Miss Albertson, a wealthy middle-aged spinster known for her loose tongue, gushed to us. “Everyone has been saying what a wonderful match this is indeed.”

“Truly?” Emily said. “I rather thought that people would be surprised.”

“At first, many were,” Miss Albertson’s companion, the widow Garrett, said. “But the general consensus is that you have both married well. A successful, wealthy, charming man and his titled, beautiful, young wife.” She and Miss Albertson both sighed.

Emily seemed much relieved by this news as we made our way to the carriage station. We would have to rent a carriage to take us to Wainwright Hall, as our servants had been expecting us the following day. But before we made it inside, we were accosted by none other than Emily’s friend, Miss Tatiana Howard.

Ah, Miss Howard. My wife had told me many wild stories about that young lady, and I could verify for a fact that many of them were true. Only the fact that her father was very wealthy kept her reputation in tact; were she a common villager with her openly whorish habits, she would be shunned by the community. Not that she cared much for reputation, not like my Emily. I knew that we would not be able to be as open and free as we were on our trip, but perhaps we had at least one willing friend to join our fun…

“Well, well!” the young lady called, “if it isn’t Sir and Lady Singer of Wainwright!” She and my wife embraced warmly before she turned her flirtatious eyes upon me. All of Emily’s young lady friends have been friendly to me, but Miss Howard most of all. “When did these newlyweds get into town?” she asked.

“Just a moment ago,” Emily said. “We will need to rent a carriage to get home now.”

“Nonsense!” Miss Howard declared. “My carriage and driver are waiting for me. I’ve just been to see a friend,” she explained, pointing to what were clearly a bachelor’s quarters above the bakery. “Let me take you home. I’d love to hear all about your trip!”

So we took up Miss Howard’s offer, and we rode the six kilometers to Wainwright Hall together in her carriage. All the way, Emily chattered away happily with her friend, telling her of all of the sights of India and Greece, and telling about the wedding in Calcutta.

“There have been some exciting events here at home as well,” Miss Howard said. “My baby sister is wed!”

“Beatrice?” Emily asked. “To whom?”

“Why, to your old favorite suitor, Mr. Gainsley,” Miss Howard answered. I searched my wife’s face for her reaction; would she be upset? But no; her face even brightened at the news.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Emily said. “They had courted for so long.”

“Well,” Miss Howard said, “I must be honest and tell you that I don’t like it one bit. And not just for the fact that my father is now asking me when I will finally be wed.”

“What’s the matter?” Emily asked.

“It happened so soon after you left,” Miss Howard explained. “When his sister returned from her trip, word got around that you were betrothed, but had not said to whom, only divulging this information to Mr. Gainsley.” Miss Howard said the last pointed, with a bit of hurt in her voice.

“We wanted to keep it a secret,” I explained. “My wife felt it necessary to tell Mr. Gainsley as a courtesy, so he would not waste time waiting for her hand any longer.”

Miss Howard nodded. “Well, he certainly did not wait any longer…not at all! He asked for my sister’s hand not a day after your departure; I did not even learn of your own engagement until after they’d already wed. I feel like my sister, and I, and our entire family, have been tricked.”

“Well,” Emily observed, “it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it now. I have seen the two of them together; he dotes on her. I’m sure it will all be well.”

But Miss Howard shook her head, her agitation deepening. “He is much changed since they have wed. I see the way that your husband looks on you with adoring eyes, Lady Emily, and it is not the same for them. No; he is rather rude to her. My fine baby sister does not deserve that treatment!”

Emily did not know what to say to that, nor did I. Emily would confess to me later that she was gladder than ever that she had not married Mr. Gainsley, if he would have been a negligent husband to her. I did not realize, at that time, that this would only be the start of a different kind of drama, but it would not come to its frightening conclusion for several more years. I only felt contempt in my heart for Mr. Gainsley; I knew that Mrs. Gainsley was as lovely as her elder sister, and her cad of a husband did not treasure her as he should have.

We invited Miss Howard for dinner, but she declined. “We are hosting a visiting cousin, and I am expected home to sup with them,” she said. “Oh! But I shall inform my parents of your arrival back in town. I’m sure that they will be eager to be the first to host the newlyweds.” In fact, when she sent her driver back with the message of our arrival, she received word back that we were absolutely to come to dinner that evening, and no excuse would be accepted for our absence.

I nearly declined, concerned as I was for my dear wife, but her energy seemed renewed. “May we go?” she asked softly. I answered in the affirmative, and we set out in our own carriage to the Howard family home. We had been there many times before, as guests for dinner or parties, but never as man and wife. We were making our debut into society so soon, and as we rode along (Miss Howard ahead of us, in her own carriage), my wife confessed her anxiety to me.

“Not to worry, my dear,” I said. “If those old biddies at the station could receive us so warmly, I’ve no doubt that our friends will be most welcoming.” She nodded and was silent for the remainder of the trip, but the worried expression remained on her face.

We arrived at the Howard estate, and I helped my wife down from our carriage. Miss Howard led the way into the house, and when we entered, we found a group of our old friends waiting for us in anticipation. Mr. and Mrs. Howard were close acquaintances of mine, especially since I had assisted Mr. Howard in some legal trouble years back. They smiled and greeted us. Mrs. Howard kissed Lady Emily’s cheek while Mr. Howard shook my hand.

“A good match, indeed,” Mrs. Howard said, echoing the sentiments of the ladies at the station. To Emily, she added, “You’ll never have any doubt that he can properly take care of you.”

“Well said,” Lady Emily replied.

“Lady Emily, Sir Aaron, you must remember my eldest nephew, Mr. Patrick Culver,” Mrs. Howard said, presenting the handsome, dark-haired young man. I did not remember him at all.

Emily, who always had very good memory for faces and names, said, “Yes, of course. We met here at the Christmas party last year. It is a pleasure to see you again,” she said, presenting her hand. I knew that she found him attractive, but I fought the urge to encourage a flirtation. We had to tread lightly, for the sake of our reputation.

The final members of the part were Mr. and Mrs. Gainsley themselves. Mr. Gainsley greeted my Emily with more warmth than I found to be appropriate, but I said nothing. Emily smiled, and allowed him to kiss her hand, but I could sense her discomfort. I stood close to her as I shook the man’s hand. He nodded to me coldly after speaking his congratulations; he had not forgotten that on our last meeting, I had threatened to shoot him.

Mrs. Gainsley greeted Lady Emily last of all. “It is so good to see you again,” the young newlywed said softly. I did remember the younger Howard sister being the quieter one, but she did seem sad. It was obvious to all in attendance, and I felt discomfort in the air, intensified with Mr. Gainsley’s attentions to my wife as he ignored his own.

Lady Emily remained cheerful in her greeting. “Mrs. Gainsley, I’m so thrilled for you. Congratulations, to the both of you,” she said.

We were led into the parlor for drinks. Hanging back, my wife put a hand on my shoulder to gain my attention. In my ear she whispered, “Do not leave me alone. I am afraid that Mr. Gainsley may wish to confront me.”

I nodded. “You just stay right by my side, my dear. I’ll protect you.”

She smiled a bit more easily. “Thank you, sir.”

It did seem that Mr. Gainsley was eager for my wife’s attentions, but as I remained at her side, he kept his distance, instead sitting on the other side of the room while Emily regaled the entire party with her stories of our travels. She chose the most charming, parlor-appropriate anecdotes, telling of the time we were lost in Mumbai on the way back to our hotel, how there were no carriage drivers in sight, and how no one on the street seemed to know a word of English. “Strangely,” she said in comical thoughtfulness, “some of them had no problem hurling insults at our backs in English as we hurried off to find someone more helpful.”

The evening continued without issue, and we enjoyed a pleasant meal among friends. Mr. Howard got me up-to-date on some business dealings in town that occurred during my absence, alerting me to a couple of possible clients. Things would be getting back to normal; I would go back to work, and Emily would continue to study and socialize (though without the courting, of course). We had been happy before. But, I reminded myself with a smile, things would be all the sweeter, now that we were truly together.

We begged off after dinner, and made our way home again. Emily seemed anxious again. “What troubles you now, my lady?” I asked patiently.

She shook her head. “That poor, dear girl,” she said. “I don’t believe that her husband looked at her once the entire time we were there. And when we were having a conversation, the three of us and Miss Howard, Mr. Gainsley made the most rude comment about a question that his wife asked of me. He called her ignorant. Right there, at the table. I never knew the man to be such a bully.”

“My dear,” I said, “I know that you do not wish to see your friend in such a position. But it is not your place to worry so. Mrs. Gainsley chose to marry him; she is the one who must deal with the consequences.”

“But if he showed her a false face whilst courting her,” she argued, “then it is not her fault.”

“Regardless,” I said, “it is still not your concern. Besides, Emily, you do not know what two people are like behind closed doors. He may be very sweet and kind to her when they are alone…you don’t really have a way of knowing this, do you?”

“No, sir,” my wife admitted.

“Consider ourselves as an example,” I continued (though I’d already won the argument). “You and I have a certain image that we wish to maintain in front of our friends here. Do you think that any of them would suspect, would even begin to dream, of our private activities? Of the things that we did on our little trip?”

Emily giggled this time, coming back to herself. “No, sir,” she repeated.

I put my arm around her and kissed her softly. “Emily,” I said, “I want to tie you up when we get home. I’m going to tie you to the bed and fuck you until you’re numb. Is that agreeable to you, my dear?”

She giggled again. “Yes, sir.”

A couple of months after our return to Wainwright Hall, I asked my wife at breakfast one morning, “My dear, when are you going to invite Miss Howard to play with us?”

Emily gave me a look of surprise. “You desire her, sir?”

“Not quite,” I said. “I desire to watch you with her. Do not tell me that the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.”

“Yes, sir,” she admitted. “I’ve been mulling it over, sir. I just…I just do not know how to go about it.”

“Miss Howard is a straight-forward young woman,” I said. “I’m sure that if you just came out with it, she would be most willing.”

My wife nodded with resolve. “All right,” she said. “I’m going to be meeting her for our ride later in the morning. I shall discuss the matter with her then.”

I rose from my chair to go to my office for a few hours of work. I kissed my wife softly before departing. “Express to her that we are both most eager to have her company. Encourage her to come right away; I will be in my office.”

I certainly was not bored with my wife, but I had been noticing, when we were in the company of Miss Howard, that she would sometimes have a look of longing in her eyes. She wanted her friend; I wanted her to have her friend. I will not deny that I found Miss Howard to be a very sexy young woman. She had a full chest, almost the largest I’d ever seen on a girl with such a trim waist. She did not have my beloved’s full hips, and stood almost a head taller than she.

I never loved Miss Howard, but I did want to fuck her. I longed to shove my cock between her tits and cover her chest and face in my cum. A wild whore like her deserved such treatment. I wondered if she would take to be slapped around a bit.

Needless to say, I did not get much work completed in my office that morning, as I fantasized and waited for the girls to arrive. They did not keep me waiting for long; Emily’s familiar soft knocking stirred me from my thoughts at half-past ten, and I called them in.

My wife and Miss Howard entered the room. Emily looked a little flustered; Miss Howard looked excited. Neither said a thing as they approached my desk. I did not stand to greet them; I merely sat back and gave them a smile. “Good morning, ladies,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“Sir Aaron, your wife has just informed me of your…invitation,” Miss Howard said. She narrowed her eyes and moistened her lips carefully. She knew exactly what she was doing, the little slut. “I am so honored…I only wish that the offer had been extended sooner.”

“My lady,” I said to my wife, “Would you mind going down to the kitchen and requesting tea?”

“Of course, sir,” Emily said, leaving the office briefly and closing the door behind her, leaving Miss Howard and I alone. I beckoned to the young lady, and she came and took a seat across from me at my desk, gazing at me steadily.

“Miss Howard,” I said, “what do you think of my wife?”

“Oh, Lady Emily is my very best friend,” Miss Howard said sincerely. “She is the kindest person that I know.”

“All true,” I agreed. “Do you find her attractive?”

Miss Howard blushed, her gaze shifting momentarily. “She is beautiful. I have always envied her little figure and her complexion.”

“Miss Howard,” I said, “has my wife explained to you how I have helped her to become a whore?”

Miss Howard brightened. “Oh, yes,” she said, laughing a little. Not a dainty giggle, like my Emily, but a hearty laugh. “I never would have thought! Sweet Lady Emily…but she was never scandalized by my stories. She is one of the few people that I trust.”

“And she trusts you,” I said softly. “I raised her to be proud, and she has enjoyed a spotless reputation in our community. She wishes to keep it so; I believe that to be the cause of her hesitation in inviting you to join us. So before I allow you to do so, would you swear to me that you will keep the activities performed and discussed in Wainwright Hall to yourself?”

Miss Howard looked a little startled by my serious tone, but she suddenly laughed again. “Of course,” she said. “I can be discreet when I wish to be.”

“You are not so discreet in many of your personal activities,” I noted, perhaps harshly. But she took it in stride.

“I choose to take the company of men who sometimes have loose lips,” she said. She shrugged carelessly. “It does me no good to practice discretion in some situations, when the truth will be known, anyway. I may not care for my reputation as my good friend does, but I understand her, Sir Aaron. Her secrets, as well as yours, are safe in my care.”

I had to smile. I could not wonder, then, why Miss Howard and my sweet Emily had been such close friends all of these years. “Very well,” I said, just as Emily came back into the room.

“Tea will be along, presently,” she said, perching herself on the arm of her friend’s chair.

“Well, my dear,” I said, “Miss Howard and I were having a nice little chat about some of the things that we may wish to do to you.”

“Have you?” Emily asked.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Miss Howard, why don’t you tell my wife what you have in mind for her?”

Miss Howard seemed to glow as she stroked Emily’s arm. “I’d like to tie her to a chair, and put her feet up over her head, so that I might lick her asshole thoroughly.”

We waited until the tea had been brought in before preparing Emily. She threw off her riding dress without hesitation. Miss Howard, still clothed, stepped forward and ran a gentle finger down her friend’s side as she leaned in and kissed her softly. I sat down on the couch and watched them for a couple of minutes as they made out in front of me. Then, Miss Howard took Emily by the hand and led her to one of the armchairs. Emily sat down and waited.

“Sir Aaron, do you have anything handy with which I might tie your wife up?” Miss Howard asked.

I stood. “I always have something handy,” I said, and went to the closet to get some soft rope. When I came back to the girls, Miss Howard was toying with Lady Emily’s nipple clips.

“These are even bigger than the ones I wear!” she remarked. I handed Miss Howard the rope and stood by to watch her tie up my wife. She tied my wife’s torso to the back of the armchair, with a length of rope above and directly below her chest, leaving her breasts beautifully exposed. My Emily smiled up at me, and I returned her look.

I helped Miss Howard to position Emily’s arms and legs. Emily put her arms straight up in the air, and with only a little difficulty, Miss Howard helped her to raise her legs up, so that her ankles were tied to her wrists. I stood behind the chair and put my hands around her bound wrist and ankles, helping her to hold them up with a bit more ease as Miss Howard went down on her.

Miss Howard wasted no time as she knelt in front of my wife, stabbing her tongue into her asshole. Emily gasped and squirmed, and as she began to pant heavily, I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and shoved it into her mouth. We did not want to risk the housekeeper hearing us (though I knew, at that point, that our servants had to at least suspect our activities), but mostly, Emily’s muffled cries seemed to urge Miss Howard on and on as she continued to lick my wife’s ass crack, frequently wriggling her tongue back inside of her.

I snaked one hand down Emily’s thigh, and, leaning over the back of the chair, rubbed her clit roughly as her friend tongue-fucked her ass. Emily shuddered from the sensations, and from the strain of holding her arms and legs up so high, even with the help that I gave her. I slipped two fingers into her, and I watched the rhythm of Miss Howard’s tongue-thrusts, so that I could keep the same as I played with her cunt. As Miss Howard shoved her tongue in one last time, I did the same with three fingers; Emily screamed into her makeshift gag and came, just as Miss Howard pulled her tongue from her ass. Emily let out a small, almost dainty fart into her friend’s face, and as Emily moaned in embarrassment, I had to laugh.

I untied her wrists from her ankles and allowed her to relax…for the time being. Still restrained to the chair, but with her arms and legs free for movement, she wrapped her arms around Miss Howard as her friend climbed onto her lap. As they made out again, Miss Howard began to tear off her own dress. I helped her with the buttons in the back, and when she was naked, I stroked her back with my fingers.

Miss Howard’s complexion was a bit darker than most ladies in the area. Her skin was soft and well cared for, like my Emily’s, and I leaned in and kissed the back of her neck while the girls pressed their clipped tits together. I reached around and grabbed Miss Howard’s huge tits in my hands, groping and squeezing as I leaned over her shoulder and kissed my wife.

My wish to fuck Miss Howard’s tits came true as I pulled her down to the floor. I kept my suit on, only pulling down my pants as I straddled her waist and shoved my hard cock between her tits. I took her hands and put them to the sides of her breasts. “Squeeze them together,” I instructed, and grinning, the whore did so. I smashed into her tits, and with each thrust, she would squeeze them around my cock. Miss Howard started saying dirty things to me, but I didn’t find myself getting turned on by them as I did when my Emily is naughty. So I slapped a hand over her mouth and fucked her harder, relishing her muffled cries.

I turned to look up at my wife, who was fingering herself and watching us with great interest. “You need it, my dear?” I asked between ragged grunts.

“Oh, yes, sir,” she moaned, and I stood quickly from Miss Howard, forgetting her as I leaned into my wife. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck as I fucked her. She moaned in my ear, whispering, “Oh, sir, fuck me harder. Yes…thank you, sir, oh, fuck me.”

I was sweating, my eyes nearly bulging from my head with each hard, almost painful thrust. My wife screamed as she came, again, and I came heavily into her, filling her. I would give my cum to Miss Howard’s face another day.

Miss Howard, not accustomed to being ignored, was laying on her side, looking up at us with her sexiest look, one that I’m sure she’d practiced in the mirror many, many times. I motioned for her to stand, and I untied my wife from the chair, having her stand up as well.

“Miss Howard,” I said, “would you like Lady Emily to pleasure you?”

“Yes!” Miss Howard cried with enthusiasm, and I had her lie down on the couch before Emily positioned herself between her legs. As my Emily did her magic, I rubbed my cock until it was hard again (as I think back on it now, I do miss those days when my cock hardened so easily, on command; I am far from impotent, but I do lack the stamina now that I had years ago). I debated shoving my cock into Miss Howard’s waiting mouth, or my wife’s tight little ass. I decided to allow Miss Howard to please me; I knew she’d want to.

And she sucked me with enthusiasm, but with a surprising lack of skill, though perhaps this was due to the fact that my Emily was leading her to the most intense orgasm of her life yet. After she screamed around my cock and came in my wife’s face, I had to make her keep sucking until I was finished.

After everyone was clean and had come down from their respective orgasms, we all sat down for tea, still at a drinkable temperature as my naked wife served us. She sat upon my lap on the cum-stained armchair, while Miss Howard sat opposite us on the couch. After a minute or so, I said, “Well, Miss Howard? What did you think?”

Miss Howard looked at us both with that steady gaze. “That was quite fun,” she said, but her voice was not as steady as her look. “I, um…I would play with the two of you any time. Any time at all.” She furrowed her brow. “But I’m really not allowed to play with Lady Emily’s cunt?”

I shook my head. “Not you, or anyone else,” I said. “That is my rule.”

Miss Howard nodded. “Very well. But I’m happy to offer up my cunt to the both of you.”

“We appreciate the sentiment,” I said, and my wife nodded in agreement. “I’m sure that we’ll get much use out of you.” And so we did. For a while, Miss Howard’s frequent appearances in our home were a fun time for all of us. But after some time, I sensed that Miss Howard had an ulterior motive. Though she paid my wife as much attention as ever, I suspected that she was trying to get at me especially. She even tried hitting on me, several times, when Lady Emily wasn’t around. I had scolded her each time, reminding her that she was a playmate to both myself and my wife. “I do not allow her to play around without me, and I grant her the same courtesy,” I got tired of explaining.

Still, I did not suspect the hand that Miss Howard would have in later events. Had I suspected, had I known, would it have done any good? Perhaps…I will forever be haunted by the possibility. But I never did suspect; I was a blind fool.

Several months after we returned to Wainwright Hall, my wife and I had fallen into a comfortable routine. I was happy, thrilled, with the way things were going, and I didn’t want anything to change that. But there was one possibility that I had not considered, and when it happened, I reacted with less grace than I am proud to admit.

One afternoon, almost a year after my wife and I became lovers, she tapped on the door to my office. I called her in eagerly; I had been thinking of going off and finding her to take care of the erection that had crept upon me. As she entered, though, the troubled look on her face caused me to go limp. “My dear?” I asked. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes,” she said. She shook her head. “Well, no, I suppose nothing is the matter, but…something has happened.”

“Sit down, Emily,” I said, startled. “Tell me everything.”

But she did not sit. She came and stood in front of my desk. “I believe…I am certain…that I am with child.”

I do believe that my jaw dropped. “You’re pregnant?” I asked.

“You seem so surprised,” Emily teased, a smile on her face. “Come, sir, did your parents not teach you about…”

“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently, and the smile dropped from my pretty wife’s face. “I just don’t believe this,” I whispered.

“Well, sir, it was inevitable,” Emily said carefully, perching on the corner of my desk. “You are not pleased?”

I looked my wife square in the face. “I can say, with full honesty, that I am most certainly not pleased, my dear.”

Her face crumpled. “But, sir…”

I stood up and without a word, walked out of the room. I hurried up the stairs as my wife chased me, calling to me. “Sir! Please, sir, let’s sit down and discuss this. Sir, what are you doing?”

I went into our bedchamber and threw the lock. As my wife knocked on the door and pleaded with me to come out, I sought my riding boots in the closet. “Sir, please come out, please,” she called.

“Leave me be, Emily!” I called, with more venom in my voice then I intended. She was silent, but I felt her presence just outside the door as I pulled the boots on. Grabbing my jacket, and I went to the door. My wife looked startled. “I’m going for a ride,” I said. “I will be back soon.”

Tears filled my wife’s eyes. I was tempted to scoop her in my arms and carry her to bed, and confess to her all of my fears. But my stomach churned at the thought. I needed to get away, I needed to think. Before my wife could say anything, I added, “Do not follow me, Emily. I shall be very angry if you do. Stay here and wait for me.”

“Yes, sir,” she said helplessly as a tear slipped down her cheek. I wiped it away tenderly before turning away from her and storming out of the house.

As I rode Emily’s favorite black stallion away from the grounds of Wainwright Hall, I thought about the troubles that had crowded my mind since Emily had given her announcement. I had somehow allowed myself to be in denial, to believe that Emily was incapable of getting pregnant. Whatever had given me the idea? It was a secret wish of mine, that my wife would be infertile and could never have a pregnancy.

There was only one thing that I feared in the world, and it was losing my sweet little wife. As strong and healthy as she was, she was very small. And her mother, of a similar build, had died in childbirth. What would prevent the same from happening to Emily? I did not think that I could give the motherless child the same love that Sir Peter had given to his daughter. I knew that I would regard such child as a killer, the person who had stolen my beloved away from me.

I rode and rode for miles, stopping only to give the stallion a break. I tied him to a tree branch and sat beneath the same tree. It was a chilly afternoon for springtime, but the cool breeze felt refreshing as I sat and considered our new situation. There was nothing that I could do, I realized. Short of shoving her down the stairs and killing the child (and risking killing my dear wife in the process), the baby would come. When I forced myself to think on it, I realized that I’d suspected a pregnancy. I was, after all, very well in-touch with my wife’s body, including her menstrual cycles. Yes…she had skipped her time that past month, and very well could be pregnant.

As I looked up at the cloudy sky, I suddenly felt ashamed of myself. Poor Emily; she would have thought of all those things herself, surely. After all, her own birth had resulted in her own mother’s death, and she was well aware of the risks.

But little babies are born to healthy, living mothers every day, I reminded myself. And times had changed; it had been nearly 19 years since Lady Anne’s death, and Dr. Yates surely had ways to help my wife through her labor. And I began to think of what it would be like to have a baby. I imagined my wife breast-feeding, and I liked that imagine, I liked it quite a bit. We would be our own little family. Sweet Emily had never had a real family; she’d only ever had me, her good friend, to love and care for her. And I had lost my father to grief and adventure when I was still a boy; I would never leave my wife or child alone, never, I promised myself as I sat under that tree.

I went home, thoroughly ashamed of myself for my behavior. I found my wife waiting patiently in my office. I thought she would have been crying, but she was clear-eyed and calm as I came in. “Hello, sir,” she said pleasantly. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” I said. I beckoned her to the couch. “Come and sit with me, my dear.” She took a seat on my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly. I kissed her neck. “I’m so sorry, Emily,” I whispered.

“Why were you so upset?” she asked.

“I’m afraid, Emily,” I said. I looked into her eyes, and I didn’t need to explain myself any further. She nodded.

“I’m afraid, too, sir,” she confessed. “And I’m not just afraid to die. What if I’m a terrible mother?”

“Oh, Emily,” I sighed, “that is impossible.”

“Perhaps not,” she said. “I’m spoiled, and I always have to be the center of attention.”

“And you’re also loving and sweet,” I said, kissing her again. “I wouldn’t want any other woman to bear my children.”

“I need you, sir,” she said quietly. “I need you to be strong for all of us.” She began to cry again, and she put her face to my chest. I stroked her hair and let her cry for a while before I soothed her with an image.

“Imagine, my dear,” I said. “Our beautiful baby, with your green eyes and your dark, lovely hair.”

“The baby will look like you as well,” Emily said.

“God willing, it will get most of its look from its mother,” I said, and she smiled at that. “And you’ll sit right here, with our beautiful baby in your arms, and you’ll feed our child while I watch. And when little baby has been put down to sleep, I’ll put my lips to your bare nipple, and I’ll begin to suck…”

Emily slowly pulled down the front of her dress, revealing her breasts. She had removed her nipple clips, in anticipation of her new role as a mother. I leaned down and, just as I said I would do, took her right nipple between my lips and sucked hungrily. It would be several months before her breasts would produce any milk, but I imagined drinking her sweetness, and I sucked harder. She sighed, running her hands through my hair as I sucked greedily, finally biting her nipple just a little. She moaned, and I bit her a little harder. Her grip on my hair tightened.

I planted kisses on the tops of her soft breasts. “Your tits will grow,” I observed.

“Yes,” Emily said. “That’s a good thing. I know you’re not fully satisfied with my breasts…”

“Foolish girl,” I scolded. “I am fully satisfied with you as you are. But,” I admitted, “it will be fun to have some larger breasts to knock around.” I reached out with both hands and groped her breasts, squeezing her in a clockwise motion as I kissed her mouth possessively. “You are my perfect little wife-slave, aren’t you, my dear?”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, tilting her head back.

“You will feed our child well,” I said, “but you will save some milk for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned again, and I kissed her neck, drawing her to me. She straddled my waist and rode me right there on the couch, bouncing against my thighs faster and faster as she took me deep up inside of her. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I’m having your baby, sir. Oh, God, yes, I want your babies, sir. Let me have your babies,” she moaned.

I was pleased; pregnancy was making my little whore of a wife hornier than ever. And the next few months would be a lot of fun. Watching my wife’s stomach expand was an erotic experience, and I found her sexier and sexier as she got bigger and bigger with our child. In fact, our best sex was during her pregnancies; looking at her tied to our bed, with her huge pregnant belly sticking up, turned me on more than I can describe. I was easier on her when it came to punishments, only using my bare hand or a paddle to slap her ass and thighs. She asked me to use the riding crop, but I refused; it didn’t seem right to viciously whip a woman with child.

Still, as our child came closer to being born, I was troubled by the possibility of my wife dying in childbirth. I kept these thoughts to myself; Emily was so happy, glowing with excitement as she came to her last couple of months of pregnancy. So I bit back my fears, and sometimes had to force a smile to keep her happy, secretly wishing that the pregnancy were over and that both my wife and child were well. But I also prayed (yes, actually prayed) that if one of them had to die, to have it be the child. As long as Emily was alive, all would be well.