Lady Emily's Guardian

Mr. Singer

Poor Emily was distressed after Mr. Gainsley’s death. For some weeks, she had difficulty sleeping, creeping from our marriage bed and sitting in the nursery for hours in the night. She did not know that I was aware of her absence, but the loss of her warmth against me jerked me awake each time. Every night I debated going to her, but I never rose from bed. When she would finally return, I would pretend sleep as she slipped back into my arms.

I knew it was not so much the loss of the man himself (for though she’d had soft feelings for him before, she had come to despise him as his ill treatment of his poor wife became more and more obvious), but from her guilt for covering up the murder. The poor dear girl always had a heavy conscience. It caused her many sleepless nights when we were first together (though that was somewhat in part due to our activities together), but she had learned to be happy and free of her guilt in time. And so, I allowed her to pull herself from her depression. After a while, she was herself again.

Mr. Gainsley’s death also served to restore Emily’s friendship with the dead man’s sister. Miss Gainsley had been resentful of my wife since our return from India, and would treat her with stiff, cold politeness whenever they met. But at the visitation, held at her parents’ estate, their friendship was restored. As my wife and I, in our black mourning clothes, entered the parlor, Miss Gainsley excused herself from the company of her parents and came quickly to greet us.

“Oh, Lady Emily, I’m so glad that you are here!” she declared tearfully, throwing her arms around my beloved’s neck in a fit of uncharacteristic affection. “My brother’s horrible murder has given me a lot to consider, and one thing I’ve realized is that I’ve treated you ill. You are my dear friend, and I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course,” Emily said, as surprised as I, but gracious as Miss Gainsley led her to speak with her parents. I stood behind and glanced around the room. Most of our social circle had arrived to pay their last respects to Mr. Gainsley, who was laid in a closed black coffin on the other end of the parlor. His wife, in her black mourning clothes, stood alone beside the coffin. I approached her.

“Mrs. Gainsley,” I said gently, and she smiled at me.

“Hello, Sir Aaron,” she said, offering her hands to me and planting a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you for coming today. You’ve always been so kind.”

I looked her over briefly. She resembled her older sister, but looked so different from her, at the same time. More innocent than Miss Howard, to be sure; no doubt she’d been a virgin on her wedding night. She still bore some of her pregnancy weight, but it was flattering on her. She had pleasantly full cheeks and full, soft lips, much like her sister’s. I had to wonder…

“How are you getting on, Mrs. Gainsley?” I asked kindly.

“As well as one might expect, I suppose,” she said, dropping her eyes sadly. “I have returned to my parents’ home for the time being.”

I put my hands gently on her upper arms, in a comforting but not too intimate gesture. “If there is anything that you ever need, do not hesitate to call on us at Wainwright Hall. My wife and I are at your service.”

She smiled up at me then. “Thank you, Sir Aaron.”

My wife approached us then and paid her respects to the young widow. The visitation was pleasant enough, but there was tension in the air between Mrs. Gainsley and her late husband’s parents. Mrs. Gainsley had briefly been suspected in the murder, but fortunately for her (and for the true murderess), she had been supping with her parents that evening.

Miss Howard had been questioned, of course, and subsequently, my wife and I were as well. Emily was very coy in her deception; she had turned on her charm for the investigators. As a matter of fact, one of the investigators stayed back and enjoyed the pleasure of my wife’s accommodating mouth. We were quite in the clear, especially when news came out that an escaped convict had been suspected to be hiding out in the area. It was concluded that the maniac had broken into the home, shot Mr. Gainsley in cold blood, and fled. Case closed.

Still, the tension was real, and Mrs. Gainsley stuck by the side of her parents and sister at the funeral the following morning. Who else but my dear Emily, nursing her own sadness, could be the one to break the tension and restore goodwill? She made it her mission, at the dinner held after the funeral service, to make things right between Mrs. Gainsley and her in-laws. I sat with Miss Howard and watched my wife talk quietly with the widow and the mourning parents, and saw the pleased look on her face when Mrs. Gainsley and her mother-in-law sobbed and embraced.

“I don’t know why she cares for those people,” Miss Howard said bitterly. “They knew what was going on, and did nothing to stop it. And that prude little bitch Miss Gainsley…”

“Enough of that,” I whispered as Emily approached us. I must admit, I found Miss Howard’s irreverence to be quite amusing, but I knew my Emily would not take to it on such a somber occasion.

Restoring the friendship between the Gainsley and Howard families was my wife’s penance for her part in the murder, I suppose. As time passed, we were perfectly happy again, watching our child grow along with our love. We frequently hosted Miss Howard and Alfonso Beaumont in our home, and Alfonso had even brought along his visiting brother for a play-date with my whorish wife. After taking both dark men at once (while fingering her untouched cunt; I still would not allow anyone else to have her there, as it was my property), she would later giggle and admit to me that Alfonso’s brother Claude was the most handsome man she’d ever been with. Sensing my jealousy, she kissed me softly and amended, “Besides you, of course, sir.”

I worried not about my wife straying. As the first years of our marriage slipped by happily, she was as devoted to me as ever. I never have blamed her for what happened later on. I understand now that she had no choice, and she did what she had to do to protect her family, to protect me. As a matter of fact, other issues aside, I’ve never been able to stop blaming myself for it all. If I had returned home with her that night…if I had done a better job of protecting my precious one…all would still be well.

About a year after Mr. Gainsley’s murder, our nanny left our home. I had been disappointed by her lack of interest in my subtle advances as she firmly put me off, and so I had bribed her to just go away.

Besides, what was I doing overpaying this woman, when my wife took care of our child most of the time, anyway? When she was not doing her duty by me, she was constantly with our Mina. I make it a point to state that I loved that child. I never stopped loving her. But I must confess, I did not love her as I might have if she had more resembled her mother. In the beginning, this did not matter quite as much. She did not have her mother’s natural curls or soft features, or her lovely grey eyes. Mina much more resembled my family. She was always just as pretty as her mother (especially as she’s gotten older), but not quite like her. So different. Too different.

We did not even put out an ad for another nanny, but one was delivered to our doorstep, anyhow. It was most unexpected. On a warm July afternoon, I was lounging with my wife on our back patio while Mina toddled around the garden. I had to put my hand on my wife’s arm more than once, to keep her from chasing after the child. “Let her pick herself up, should she fall,” I would remind her. “That’s how your father taught you to walk.”

The heat of the afternoon was about to drive us in, when our housekeeper came out of the back door. “Mrs. Gainsley here to see you,” she announced, and in came the young widow. In the past year, she had still carried the sadness of her unhappy marriage and its sudden end. That afternoon, she still wore one of her heavy mourning dresses, in spite of the heat.

Emily and I both stood to greet her. “Mrs. Gainsley, what a lovely surprise!” Emily declared, leading her to our small table. “Would you care for something cold to drink?”

“Oh, no. No, thank you,” Mrs. Gainsley said nervously as she sat. “I am sorry to come unexpectedly…”

“Nonsense,” I said. “You are always welcome in our home.”

“Yes,” my wife concurred.

“I am afraid that I come to ask a favor,” Mrs. Gainsley said quietly. She looked ashamed. “You see…my father is quite ill. He is very soon to die.”

“Oh, dear,” Emily said softly. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Gainsley.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Gainsley said. “I…well, Sir Aaron, you are aware of our situation with the property and will, are you not?”

As Mr. Howard’s attorney, I certainly was. By law, his property was to go to his late brother’s son, a young man named Trent Howard. The small fortune would be divided between Mrs. Howard and her two daughters, but they would be put out of their home. I had tried everything I could think of to put the property into Mrs. Howard’s name, but the law was not on our side. As I’d sweated through the unsuccessful case, I had thought how fortunate it had been for my Lady Emily, that her father had had no male relations to claim Wainwright Hall from her. The Howards were not so fortunate.

“My mother is going to London to stay with her uncle,” Mrs. Gainsley said. “She has invited me along, but I do not wish to leave the area. This is our home.” She was tearful then, and Emily put a comforting hand on her arm.

“Of course it is,” Emily said kindly. “We all adore you here.”

Mrs. Gainsley blushed. “I hate to bother you, as you’ve both been so kind to my sister,” she said. Miss Howard, our friend, was away in Greece visiting her relations, but no doubt would be called back before her father’s death. “I…I had heard around the village that you recently lost your nanny.”

“Why, yes,” Emily said. She realized Mrs. Gainsley’s intention. “Are you asking for the job, dear?”

Mrs. Gainsley nodded. “I am very good with children, you see, and…I don’t have anywhere to go, really. I would hate to be a burden to my in-laws, but they sold my husband’s house and he left me with nothing and…” The poor young woman burst into tears. I realized, as my Emily comforted her, how young she really was. She had married at 16, widowed at 17, and was only 18 as she sat sobbing helplessly on our patio.

“My parents wanted me to find another husband,” Mrs. Gainsley sniffed as Emily put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m not like Tatiana, I’m not independent as she is, oh, I…” She stood suddenly from her chair, burning with humiliation. “I’m terribly sorry. It must be the heat…I don’t know what’s come over me…I’m sorry to have bothered you…”

“Oh, Mrs. Gainsley, please stay,” Emily said, rising with her.

“The job is yours, Mrs. Gainsley,” I said, and that halted her. My wife looked at me in surprise, but she did not look displeased.

“Yes…yes, of course it is,” Emily agreed, and led Mrs. Gainsley back to her seat. “My husband and I were just discussing how we’ll be desperate for a new nanny soon, as we are trying to have another child.” This was a lie, but as my wife spoke it, I liked the idea. She’d come out so well from her first pregnancy that all of my fears were cast away. More children…fill the house. And keep my wife looking fat and lovely just for me. How I adored her in her pregnancies! And how I missed her sweet milk. She had recently stopped breast-feeding, and as a result, had stopped lactating. How I craved her sweetness again.

“Oh, you are both the kindest and most wonderful…” Mrs. Gainsley was overcome with emotion yet again, and my wife and I patiently waited out her outburst. As my wife looked over at me with a smile, I threw her a little wink. “It is no wonder that my sister adores you both so.”

“Do you know where she intends to go, when all of this is settled?” I asked, but of course I knew. She would take up residence at Wainwright Hall as well. My cock twitched suddenly at the idea; my own little whore-wife, and two sister-whores to play with us. Mrs. Gainsley, so pleasantly chubby and innocent still, would be a lovely treat. I even rubbed myself under the table, as subtly as I could, as we continued our conversation.

It was decided that Mrs. Gainsley would stay with her parents until her father’s inevitable death. Then, she would move into Wainwright Hall and begin her duties as our nanny. We worked out a generous salary for her, one that she first tried to refuse. “Oh, no,” she said, “Being able to stay here is more than generous enough.”

Emily laughed kindly. “We wouldn’t just not pay you, my dear Mrs. Gainsley! And besides, you are quite worth the price. Mina knows you, and she already likes you, so there won’t be any problems with you bonding with her. We know that our dear child will be in good hands with you.”

Mrs. Gainsley, with tears of gratitude, bid us goodbye soon after. As soon as she departed, my wife went to scoop our daughter up and bring her inside. As I waited for her at the door, I watched her carry our growing child, laughing and kissing the child’s soft cheek. “Well, my dear,” I said, “we better start working on getting pregnant, then. I think it’s nap time.”

“No nap, Daddy!” Mina cried, and Emily and I laughed.

“Yes, yes, time for a nap, my little one,” I said, taking the child from my wife’s arms. And though she fussed and whined, she was asleep by the time I laid her down in her nursery.

When I went into the master bedchamber, my wife was already naked and waiting for me by the bed. “How will you have me, sir?” she asked sweetly.

“On your knees, whore,” I snarled, and I saw my wife’s eyes light up at the harsh language. As I stepped toward her with my cock out, I said, “What do you think, my dear? Want to invite Mrs. Gainsley into our bedchamber?”

“She’s very innocent,” Emily said hesitantly.

“Do you find her attractive?” I asked, as my wife began to stroke my throbbing cock.

“Oh, yes,” Emily said. “Mrs. Gainsley is beautiful.”

“You were innocent once, too,” I reminded her. “And now you’re a perfect little whore. Suck my cock, my dear.”

“Yes, sir,” and she did so, gobbling me hungrily. My incredible little wife could sense exactly how I wanted it. She knew when I wanted slow, sensual fallacio; she knew when I wanted to ram my cock down her throat; she had a sixth sense when it came to my sexual appetites.

She could tell that I was feeling adventurous that afternoon, so she spun around so that she was directly beneath me, putting her hands on my thighs as she took my testicles into her greedy mouth, sucking hard. I groaned, weak in the knees, as my wife encouraged me to squat down on the floor, where she laid herself down. I kept my balls in her mouth as she kept sucking sloppily and nibbling lightly, while jerking off my shaft with her sweet, soft hand. As she bit down on my testicles a little harder, she teased my asshole with the tip of her index finger. I have to be in a certain mood for ass-play, and I was in that mood that afternoon, so I cried out for her to shove her fingers in deeper. She obeyed, and as she wriggled her two fingers around in my asshole, I felt myself started to come.

Biting harder on my balls, my wife pointed my cock at her own stomach, so that I ejaculated all over her. When she removed her fingers from me, I let out a little fart into her pretty face. “Sorry, my dear,” I said, and she giggled.

When I stood up, she stayed on the floor, slowly tracing her finger over the cum-mess on her stomach, sensually licking my cream from her finger. “Mmmmm,” she murmured with each lick, like a child sneaking forbidden tastes from a jar of preserves. “Sir, you are delicious.”

When she finished cleaning herself, I grabbed her by the collar (which she had slipped on after stripping for me, like a good little slave) and by the hair, pulling her to her feet. “Wasteful little whore,” I scolded. “You wasted my seed. How am I supposed to get you pregnant if you eat all of it?”

Emily giggled. “I’m sorry, sir. I have been a very wasteful girl. Will you punish me, please?”

“Of course I will,” I snarled, and still holding her hair and collar, led her to the far wall of our bedchamber. Months before, I had fastened shackles to the walls, two for Emily’s wrists high up on the wall, and two near the ground for her ankles (about three feet apart, forcing her to spread her legs). The servants, well aware of our bedroom activities at that point, politely ignored them during their daily cleaning.

I fastened my wife in with her back to the wall. “Look at those little tits,” I teased, cupping her left breast in my hand. “No more milk for your old friend?”

“No, sir,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She had even gone back to wearing her old nipple clips (just her very first pair, as her nipples were still sensitive from so many months of breast-feeding two hungry mouths).

“The only thing your tits are good for now,” I said, “are squeezing and flogging. Which shall it be today?”

“Oh, sir, use the cat-o-nine tails,” my wife begged, her nipples visibly hardening with excitement. In fact, her entire body had broken out in goose bumps, so excited was she. “Punish these useless tits, please, sir.”

“Very well,” I said, and retrieved the requested whip from our box of treasures in the closet. This was a new whip, one that we’d acquired from one of those taboo shops in London. I enjoyed taking my wife to those places, and having the raggedy perverts stare at the fine lady as she examined objects of torment and pleasure. When she had whispered to me how disgusted she was by the attention of these men, I made her offer her ass to one of them. Can’t have my sweet wife getting too uppity.

I also retrieved a blindfold and the handkerchief for a gag. We owned a few gags, but she enjoyed the handkerchief best. She said that it reminded her of our first night together, when I’d gagged her with it while sweetly raping her in our bed. I covered her eyes and shoved the gag in her mouth before delivering twenty painful blows to her tits, with a few on her stomach (now tight again, from her time outdoors walking and riding; I longed to see it bloated proudly with child again).

The vicious whip left bloody cuts all over my wife, and she sobbed as I finished beating her and cleaning up her wounds. I covered her injured tits and stomach with soft kisses, and her whimpers of pain turned to moans of desire. Without removing her blindfold or gag, I fucked her right there on the wall, grabbing her by the shoulder and the arm and angling myself to thrust inside of her as deep as I could. I smashed my cock into her, rubbing my balls against her engorged clit as I fucked her. After I came, I licked up the mess of cum from her pussy as she moaned…I had denied her release, and decided to deny her for a while yet, leaving her naked and shackled for a little while as I went downstairs to attend to some paperwork.

I kissed her softly on the cheek before departing. “You stay here and be good,” I whispered teasingly. “Your friend will return to take care of you.” She moaned a protest, and I touched her cheek and laughed. “Patience, my sweet love, patience.” And I left her to wriggle and moan helplessly against the wall.

When I returned to her less than an hour later, she was near to explode. She had rubbed herself desperately against the wall, smearing her juices, but when I touched her pulsing clit, I knew she had been unsuccessful in getting herself off. I scolded her, “You naughty, messy whore. You’ve left quite a mess on the wall.” I removed her gag.

“Oh, please, sir,” she begged. “Please, I need it…”

“Silence,” I ordered. “You will clean your mess first.” I unshackled her from the wall, and forced her to her knees, to lick up her juices from the wall. When she had finished, I took her by the hair and collar again and threw her to the bed. “Pleasure yourself,” I said. “I want to watch you.”

She bent her knees and lifted her hips, and began to rub her pussy desperately with one hand, while fingering her hole with the other. I grabbed my cock (not quite hard, not after two climaxes in the past couple of hours) and watched as Emily scrunched up her face in determination, finally giving herself an orgasm. An unsatisfying one at that; she sobbed in frustration, nearly having a temper-tantrum.

“Poor little Emily,” I teased. “She can please everyone but herself. Want your friend to help you?”

“Yes, sir. Please,” she sobbed, and I smiled and tied her up before eating her to a much more satisfying climax. I did not untie her, but did allow her to sleep when we were finished. I loved tormenting my little wife, and though she complained, she enjoyed it as well. Especially since she knew that she would get her pleasure in the end. As far as that went, I never let her down.

Following Mr. Howard’s death, Mrs. Gainsley and Miss Howard both came to stay at Wainwright Hall. They took rooms in the once-empty east wing, and I wasted no time in indoctrinating our new little friend into our routines.

Between the three ladies and myself, Mina was well cared for, and we all had our share of leisure time. When Mina was laid down for her nap the day after the sisters moved in, I requested that all three ladies join me in my office. They stood in line, my precious wife leading her friends, and awaited my orders. Emily and Miss Howard smiled knowingly, while Mrs. Gainsley looked puzzled.

“Well, ladies,” I said, pacing before them. “If we are all to be one happy family for the time being, we must establish order. Lady Emily, will you tell us who is the master of this house?”

“You are, sir, of course,” my wife answered promptly, and I nodded, addressing Mrs. Gainsley directly with my next words.

“My word is law in this house,” I explained. “I am a fair master, but I can be very tough as well. Now, my pretty ladies, off with your clothing.”

Mrs. Gainsley did not move except to open her mouth in shock as my wife and her sister quickly stripped off their summer dresses. “Well, Mrs. Gainsley?” I asked. “Are you part of this household?”

“Oh, sir, I don’t…”

“Silence,” I said, and glanced briefly at my wife, who was giggling with excitement. “You will do as I command, or you are welcome to leave here. It is your choice, Mrs. Gainsley.”

Mrs. Gainsley looked desperately at her sister. “You never said…”

Miss Howard laughed. “Don’t be naïve, Bea. Why else do you think I’ve spent so much time at Wainwright Hall these past couple of years? You know my ways.”

“Lady Emily…”

Emily kindly smiled at her shy friend. “Don’t be afraid, Mrs. Gainsley. We have a lot of fun here.”

“That’s right,” I said, stroking my wife’s neck affectionately. She had been wearing a high-necked dress that afternoon, so she already was wearing her collar. “I do enjoy an innocent young woman, Mrs. Gainsley. I have had my eye on you for some time now.”

The young lady blushed prettily, but said nothing, and made no move to remove her dress. I sighed, and decided to try another tactic. “Now, my dear Mrs. Gainsley,” I said softly, approaching her. “I want to make you feel good. Did your husband ever please you in bed?”

She flushed bright crimson, such a charming color on her, and shook her head. She looked more puzzled than ever. “I don’t…”

“What was sex like, with your husband?” I asked. She still blushed, so her sister prompted her.

“Go ahead, Bea,” Miss Howard said. “Tell Sir Aaron what you told me.”

Mrs. Gainsley closed her eyes and whispered, “It was just…unpleasant. I would lie there, and he would grunt and sweat and pump into me, and…that’s all.”

My wife and I exchanged knowing glances. “Mrs. Gainsley,” I said gently, “Your husband knew nothing about how to please a woman. You do not enjoy sex, because you’ve never had a man properly make love to you. You’re a lovely woman, Mrs. Gainsley,” I said, and she opened her eyes and looked at me then. She was trembling. “You deserve to have a man who will please you the right way. And if I do say so myself, I am an adequate lover.”

“He is the best!” Miss Howard declared, and my wife nodded in agreement.

The young lady was softening, but she still made no move. “I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Gainsley,” I said. “Why don’t you watch what I can do to your sister? You and Lady Emily can sit on the couch, right there, and watch. Would you like to try that?”

“All right,” Mrs. Gainsley said hesitantly. Emily took her hand and led her to the couch, and they sat side-by-side (Mrs. Gainsley, in her heavy mourning dress; my wife, in her glorious nakedness) as Miss Howard stepped close to me and ran a gentle finger up my arm. That sexy little whore always knew what she was doing.

“Sir Aaron,” she whispered, “I’ve missed you so much while I’ve been away. I thought of you every time I was with a man.”

“Lady Emily and I missed you, too,” I said. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”

“Yes, sir,” my wife responded. She still held Mrs. Gainsley by the hand.

“Lie down on the floor,” I ordered, and Miss Howard did not hesitate to spread herself out on the expensive rug for me. I slowly removed my suit, and noticed that Mrs. Gainsley eyed my cock with curiosity (and just a touch of modest disgust). “Lady Emily,” I said to my wife, “Ask Mrs. Gainsley what you’ve wanted to know.”

Emily giggled and leaned close to Mrs. Gainsley to whisper in her ear. I knew what she was asking. Mrs. Gainsley, still blushing furiously, actually giggled. “Oh, goodness, no,” she declared out loud. “He was much, much smaller.”

The girls all laughed, and I grinned. “Well, Mrs. Gainsley,” I said, “Technique is often more important than size, but that does make an enormous difference. Watch.”

I climbed on top of Miss Howard, who stared up at me expectantly, biting her lower lip. I looked over at Mrs. Gainsley, who did not turn away as I plunged into her older sister. There was no need to prepare the whore with foreplay; she was more than ready. I held her wrists to the ground as she wrapped her legs around my waist and I knelt before her, fucking her with slow, deep strokes, getting into a steady rhythm. With my free hand, I groped her huge tits, squeezing them cruelly. And the entire time, I did not take my eyes off of Mrs. Gainsley, whose chest began to heave with excitement as she watched us.

I spoke to Mrs. Gainsley while I fucked her sister. “See how much she loves this, Mrs. Gainsley?” I grunted, pounding faster into Miss Howard. “I can do this to you, too, Mrs. Gainsley, I can fuck you like a whore and you’ll love it.”

“Oh, Aaron!” Miss Howard screamed, and I stopped groping her tits and slapped my hand over her mouth. I tore my eyes from Mrs. Gainsley for a moment to watch my wife, who was stroking herself with her free hand. I grinned at her.

“Lady Emily loves it to…she was an innocent girl like you, Mrs. Gainsley, and now she’s my good little whore.” As Emily grabbed Mrs. Gainsley and kissed her passionately, taking her hands and putting them on her clipped breasts, I thrust into Miss Howard frantically. I was about to explode…I had my own little harem of whores, it was a dream come true, my lovely wife and two beautiful sisters to play with us…Beneath my hand, Miss Howard screamed and groaned, and she lifted her legs higher, bending them back as far as she could, moaning as she came.

I kept thrusting, determined to hold out for a little while longer. I usually have good control; I can fuck my wife for well over an hour, but with three women present, I wouldn’t be able to go for long. Especially as my wife began slowly peeling off Mrs. Gainsley’s hideous dress, still kissing her roughly as she ran her hands down the younger woman’s shoulders.

I addressed Miss Howard directly for the first time since I’d started fucking her. “Relax for me, come now, Tatiana, come again for me…” And she did, so rapidly, screaming and drooling all over my hand as I released into her, groaning loudly myself. I kept my hand over Miss Howard’s mouth, even as I weakly removed myself from her. Her legs hit the floor and she did not move, only smiling at me as I sat up. We both stayed on the floor and watched the girls on the couch.

My Emily had successfully gotten Mrs. Gainsley naked, her black mourning dress in a discarded pile on the floor. Emily pushed her breasts against Mrs. Gainsley’s and began to finger her clit gently. I was amazed when Mrs. Gainsley began to open up her legs, slowly, to allow my wife access to her.

“Oh, Mrs. Gainsley, may I?” Emily asked softly. Mrs. Gainsley nodded fearfully, glancing over at me as my wife dropped off the couch and crawled between her legs. I smiled and nodded at Mrs. Gainsley.

“That’s it, let Lady Emily take good care of you,” I encouraged her. “She’s as good at pleasuring women as she is at pleasuring men, and she always leaves me satisfied.”

“Oh, God!” Mrs. Gainsley cried as my wife began lapping at her pussy with her greedy tongue. Her hands trembled visibly; she didn’t seem to know what to do with them as my wife began eating her cunt. I decided to help her, so I rose slowly from the floor and went behind the couch. I grabbed her by the elbows, and slowly ran my hands down her arms to her wrists, seizing them tightly and raising her arms over her head. I held her wrists with one hand and groped her large tits with the other as she moaned and shook.

“Come, now, Emily, really let her have it,” I encouraged my wife, and that prompted her to stab her tongue into Mrs. Gainsley’s cunt, wriggling it around as Mrs. Gainsley screamed in surprise and pleasure. Her screams took on a higher pitch as my wife tongue-fucked her and fingered her clit. Mrs. Gainsley’s nipples hardened, and I teased her left one, stroking it slowly before pinching it, just slightly, just twisting it enough to make her whimper between moans.

Mrs. Gainsley let out a whining scream, sounding almost pained as she had her very first orgasm. Tears ran down her plump cheeks as my wife lapped up her juices greedily. I let go of her wrists and went around to the front of the couch as my wife got to her feet. She offered me some of Mrs. Gainsley’s pussy juices that she’d wiped up with her fingers. I took my wife’s slender fingers in my mouth. “Mmmmm,” I sighed, and kissed my wife softly as Mrs. Gainsley trembled and sobbed before us.

I sent Emily to sit with Miss Howard in an armchair, and the girls sat together, their legs wrapped around each other as they watched me sit beside Mrs. Gainsley on the couch. When I put my arms around her, she laid her head on my chest, crying against me. I stroked her hair and comforted her, laughing softly. “There, there, Mrs. Gainsley,” I said. “Didn’t know it could be that wonderful, did you?”

“Oh, Sir Aaron, I never…” Mrs. Gainsley was at a loss for words. She looked up at me, a look of confusion in her dark eyes.

“It’s all right,” I said. “This is going to be a good thing, Mrs. Gainsley. We are all friends here, do you see? Me, and Lady Emily, and your sister and you. We’ll be a family, all of us together. And you’ll get to feel good like that every single day.”

“Are you going to…?” Again, the poor young woman didn’t know what to say.

I smiled at her. “If you want me to fuck you, Mrs. Gainsley, I’d certainly be happy to. I will tell you that I’m worn out now from your sister, and I want to save some love for my wife. We’ve all gotten pleasure here except for her. She certainly deserves it, don’t you think so?”

“Oh, yes, Sir Aaron,” Mrs. Gainsley agreed. I looked over at my wife, sitting so close to Miss Howard. She smiled over at me, looking expectant.

“After all,” I said softly, not taking my eyes off of my one love, “She is the reason we are all here together. It’s very important, Mrs. Gainsley, that you remember how much you owe to my wife, and that you think of her every time you get pleasure.”

When Mrs. Gainsley had calmed down a bit, I took my wife by the hand. “You ladies may have the rest of the afternoon to yourselves. We will tend to Mina when she wakes from her nap. My wife and I are going to spend some time alone now. Miss Howard?”

“Yes, Sir Aaron?”

“Gather up your sister’s mourning dresses and get rid of them.” I looked briefly at the two pretty, naked sisters before squeezing my wife’s hand and taking her upstairs. We walked naked through the house, not caring if the servants saw us, so high we were on our emotions. As I tied Emily to the bed, I whispered to her, “You have made all of my dreams come true, Emily.”

“You’ve done the same for me, sir,” she whispered back. I kissed her softly before gagging her and thanking her, the best way that I knew how, for giving me such a wonderful life.

The next couple of years with my little harem was like a dream come true. Instead of one little wife-slave to please me, I had three willing whores at my beck and call at all hours of the day and night. Mrs. Gainsley, such an innocent thing, was blossoming into a horny woman under our tutelage. What thrilled me most about her was that, even after all that time at Wainwright Hall, she still had an innocent way about her. She was certainly not an obvious whore, like her sister, nor an eager whore like my wife. She still blushed whenever I touched her breasts and whispered dirty things to her.

Mrs. Gainsley did not like physical punishment, and though I had threatened to throw her out if she did not participate during playtime, I did not push this issue. Emily was my one and only pain slut, so I saved it all for her. I never played with either Mrs. Gainsley or Miss Howard alone; Lady Emily was always present and active during our play. And my private time with my wife was more intense than ever.

The other ladies did not spend the night in bed with us; in fact, they never even entered the bedchamber. I often worried that my wife would become jealous about having two other women living with us and fucking me regularly, so I kept our bedchamber private. She never seemed discontented with our situation; indeed, when the three women were together (tending to the child, or tending to me), she looked happier than ever. She told me that she finally felt like she had real sisters of her own. “Except for the sex, of course,” she said with a giggle.

I should also note that Mrs. Gainsley and Miss Howard, being actual sisters themselves, did not play around with one another. In the beginning of our unconventional relationship, Miss Howard had teased her sister about this. If Mrs. Gainsley had not been so disgusted by the idea, I do believe that the sisters would have been together. The idea certainly turned me on, but sadly, it never happened. Still, we had plenty of fun together, and most importantly, with Alfonso occasionally thrown into the mix, I knew that my wife got all of the attention that she craved.

It would be a lie to say that I did not adore the sisters. I was particularly fond of Mrs. Gainsley, so sweet was she, and obedient (though it sometimes took a little prompting to get her to play along with some of our activities). And I loved her soft, chubby body. Sweet Emily had not been able to keep on any of her pregnancy weight, and though I always craved her little body and her tight ass, Mrs. Gainsley’s rolls and curves were a fascinating contrast. I particularly enjoyed watching my wife and Mrs. Gainsley, pleasuring each other on the couch in my office while Miss Howard sucked my cock.

Miss Howard was always a lot of fun, and very willing. I enjoyed her company, and found her to be amusing. But after everything that happened, I would find her presence to be an annoyance. I came to hate her, but I could see no way to be rid of her, and she would eventually become all that I had. Our happy times together, with my perfect wife and our two friends, would come to an end, much sooner than I ever would have feared. But, while it lasted, life was very good with my little harem.

A couple of months into my wife’s second pregnancy (it took her longer to become pregnant than we had anticipated), before she’d started to show, we were confronted with an awkward situation. One afternoon, while having some private time in our bedroom (I had Emily against the wall, her back and ass exposed to me as I whipped her with her favorite riding crop), we were interrupted by a tiny voice. “Daddy! What are you doing to Mummy?”

I turned, dropping the riding crop, and saw Mina standing in the doorway, tears in her big dark eyes. I scolded her. “Mina! You know the rules in this house. You are to knock before entering this bedchamber.”

“Why are you hurting Mummy?” Mina demanded fearfully.

“I’m not hurting her, Mina,” I said, a bit more gently. I removed the gag from her mother’s mouth.

“It’s all right, Mina,” Emily concurred. “Daddy and I are playing a game, that’s all.”

I took my wife from the wall, and we both put on our robes and sat with Mina for a long talk. Mina, just three-years-old, sat curled in her mother’s lap as we told her about sex and love. “When adults care for each other, they want to make each other feel good,” Emily explained patiently. “Daddy and I play lots of games like that. That’s how we have fun and show our love for one another.”

“Doesn’t it hurt, Mummy?” Mina asked, referring to the gashes she’d noticed on her mother’s back.

“Yes,” Emily said carefully. “It does hurt. But…I enjoy it, too. It’s a game, Mina. Daddy would never really hurt me.”

We also explained to her that we liked to have fun with other adults as well, including her Auntie Bea and Auntie Ana. “Daddy and I like to make them feel good, too,” Emily explained.

“Daddy,” Mina said, “Do you love Auntie Bea and Auntie Ana?”

“Yes, darling,” I said softly. “I do love them. Not like I love Mummy, though. Mummy is my wife, and she is my soul mate. Auntie Bea and Auntie Ana are our special friends.”

“Now, Mina,” Emily added, “It’s very important that you not talk about what we just told you to anyone outside of Wainwright Hall. The things that adults do in their bedchambers are secret, and it is not appropriate to discuss it with others. We’ve just told you now so that you will understand and not be afraid. Can you keep this a secret?”

“Yes, Mummy,” Mina said cheerfully, and we both gave her a kiss on her fat little cheeks. “Will I play like that? When I’m an adult?”

Emily and I looked at each other for a moment. Emily looked startled at the idea; I bit back a loud laugh. “Well, Mina,” I said gently, “If you meet the right man, and marry him, you may want to play like that with him. But only if you really, really want to. That’s why it’s fun, Mina. You should never let anyone make you do anything that you don’t want to do, or touch you if you don’t want to be touched. Do you understand?” I briefly remembered that I had forced her mother the very first time. Then again, I had plenty of evidence to show that in her heart, she had wanted to. If I’d never found those nipple clips…if I’d never read her secret diary or searched through her room…we never would have become lovers. I wondered what our lives would be like, if we were not together.

“Yes, Daddy,” Mina said. “I understand.”

“And from now on,” I added, “You must remember to knock before entering the bedchamber. Mummy and I do not wish to be disturbed during our private time together. All right, Mina?”

Mina nodded, and that was the end of it, for the time being. Mina would question her aunties on the subject later, and our friends recalled their own conversation to us (Miss Howard laughed hysterically as Mrs. Gainsley blushed with mortification). Though Mina’s interruption had caught us off guard, Emily and I had decided that, when she asked us about sex, we would be open and honest with her. That’s exactly what we had done, and we felt good about the discussion afterwards.

It would come back to haunt me, a few years later, after Emily was gone. Mina, nearly 10 at that point, had walked in on me and Mrs. Gainsley together, alone. I had chased after her, following the quick-footed child all the way to the stables before catching her by the arm and demanding an explanation for her invasion of my privacy.

“You don’t love Mummy anymore!” Mina accused me. Her words stabbed me in the heart; I slapped her, for the first and only time in her young life, and we’d stared at each other in shock before falling into each other’s arms and sobbing uncontrollably, right there on the grounds on Wainwright Hall.

“I do love Mummy,” I tried to explain. “I love her more than anything, Mina, I do, I’ve never stopped. I think about her all the time. But I’m lonely, Mina.”

“What about Mummy?” Mina demanded, but angry as she was, she still allowed me to hold her. “You said she’s thinking about us, and wishing she could be with us. How could you do this?”

“I’m sorry,” I said helplessly. “I’m sorry, Mina. I am a weak man.”

“When is Mummy coming home, Daddy?” Mina asked, and that was the question I’d been asking myself for over five years. When would she come home? When would our happy life together be able to continue? Life had gone on since her disappearance, and I wanted it all to stop, to stand still, until Emily came back to Wainwright Hall. I didn’t want her to miss her children growing up. I didn’t want her to miss anything at all.

“I don’t know, darling,” I answered truthfully, squeezing my daughter. “I don’t know. But I know that, wherever she is, she is trying to find the best and quickest way to get back to us. She never wanted to leave us, Mina, and when she comes home, we’ll all be a happy family again.” I desperately hoped…and I still desperately hope…that this was the truth.