Anonymous: A Stately English Mansion

'You ain't posed proper, m'am, if I dares to say so, for a question like that', Johnson said and emptied his glass, stepped back and placed it down. Letitia's being by then empty as well, he took it from her hand.

'Am I not?' Letitia asked.

'I seed 'em threaded upright sometimes, knees all bent and quivering, agin a rick or a stable wall, and that's a rare sight. The girls 'ang their 'eads on the men's shoulders and works their bottoms. There's a lot of splashing when the men grunt and come'.

'I imagine', Letitia said faintly. As with Easton, she allowed her wrist to be taken and to be drawn up, though keeping her head well averted from the sturdy manservant's face-the which he respected, as she always realised with pride.

'Nobody's ever done you upright, 'ave they?' Johnson asked, adding 'M'am' quickly.

Her face staring down girlishly, Letitia shook her head, though it was not true. Servants had quaint ideas as to what went on among 'the gentry', despite the actuality of this moment-despite the fact that Johnson had manfully pumped her a score of times now. On Letitia's wedding day, after most of the guests had gone and only her immediate relatives remained, there had been what was politely and carefully called a 'passing by'.

Still attired in her wedding gown-a wondrous frothery of white and cream silk and lace-Letitia had been taken into the morning room by Easton who had asked her, 'Are you ready?' Realising that she was not permitted to refuse, and that several sturdy penises had long been awaiting this moment, Letitia had blushed and nodded, whereat Easton had drawn her gown and underskirt up to her waist and tucked the heavily-folded rear between the wall and her bottom. Any jerky movements on her part would cause all to cascade again, and Letitia knew that, too, was not allowed. Hence she had kept very still while Easton removed her frilly, spotless drawers and laid them perfectly flat at her feet with the filled legs extended forward.

It was the tradition that her drawers were not to be trodden on. Such, curiously, would be a great discourtesy and an affront to her as a bride, even though she was about to be rogered by five gentlemen.

Blushing more deeply, Letitia had allowed Easton to part her legs in a wide vee and feel her cunny, which not unnaturally was moist with anticipation. Having tickled it briefly, he then stood at her side.

'Are you ready to receive-to be passed by?' he asked, and Letitia had placed her palms flat against the wall, braced herself, closed her eyes and said softly, 'Yes'. The ladies being in waiting and invisible in the drawing room, the door to the morning room was then heard to open and the first of Letitia's cock-ready champions presented himself. Trousers opened ready, he approached her quietly, avoiding stepping on her extended drawers by parting his own legs at an angle to match her own, held her glorious hips gently and probed the helmet of his knob slowly and deeply up into her quim, causing her breath to hiss out with pleasure.

In a way-Letitia now thought-it was rather as with Johnson. There were no kisses, and no caresses as such. Heavy breathing sounded, accompanied by the faintest of squishy noises as the thick, long penis worked up and down in her smooth warm slit, finally bubbling out its sperm in a way that made Letitia nip the tip of her tongue between her teeth with pleasure. Knowing well whose prick she was first taking, Letitia supressed a desire to work her hips in unison with his manly thrusts and suffered the penalty of having to remain 'modestly' still.

Five cocks. Never before or since had Letitia had more than two in succession, and the memory thrilled her still. Her cunny had been puffy with cream by the time she had received the last, and the door had closed again. Sagging, she had hung in Easton's arms while he cupped her bubbling quim and murmured his adoration of her. Lascivious kisses having been exchanged, Letitia had then put on her drawers again and re-entered the drawing room regally, by which time the gentlemen had tactfully removed themselves upstairs and the ladies received her with kisses and murmurs of approbation.

'Some of the men tells the women what superb arses they 'ave', Johnson was saying now through the multiple threads of Letitia's memories.

'Do they-have they?' she asked dreamily. Her own skirts were being gathered up now, baring her plumpish thighs, the dark-purple stocking tops with garters of the same shade, under Johnson's seeking hands. Not having put on drawers that morning in anticipation of such an encounter, Letitia suppressed a sigh as the bulbous, naked cheeks of her bottom received the assuaging of his broad palms.

'Some 'as, m'am, but none finer than your'n. If I were a gent I would 'ave married you-asked for your 'and', Johnson said thickly, holding open the rearing nether cheeks as if Letitia required the air to cool her fervent warmth between.

'Would you?' asked Letitia faintly. She gave no account whatever to such words as passed between them, and wondered whether Johnson did. Nor would she reach between them and touch his velvet-sheathed prick. She had never handled it. It was a sufferance-a delicious sufferance, she assured herself, and to be so handled herself, so roughly and positively, without thought of refusal on the manservant's part, thrilled her exceedingly.

'I'd best take you to the couch, m'am', Johnson said, meaning the divan.

'I do not know. Is it proper?' quavered Letitia.

'The master says… ' Johnson began, and stopped.- 'You walks to it, holding your skirts up, showing yourself off, like you 'as to. You kneels up and puts it up. Like at the harvest that's done'.

He released her, and Letitia stood for a moment, head hung, as if forlorn.

'Must I, Johnson?' she quavered.

'I 'as my prick ready for you, m'am, like is necessary for a lady. Don't let yer gown drop, will yer. Step nice and dainty, for I likes to see you go, bum bare and ready for it, as I know you are'.

'Very well, Johnson, but I do not think it proper. You will see more than my bottom when I kneel up'.

'That I will and means to. You're nice and well-thatched, Missus-pardoning my calling yer that', came the reply while Letitia stepped forward past him and brought herself in three paces to the divan. Gathering up her skirts more, she sank her stockinged knees upon it, edging forward until the pale, cleft globe of her bottom orbed itself just above the end of the divan, bringing the fig of her brown-shrouded slit well into Johnson's view-he stepping in her trail and unbuttoning the flap of his breeches to expose his large tool.

At the sound of his approach, Letitia clenched her fingers and hid her eyes in the dusty surface of the threadbare brocade whereon other females in her family before her marriage had been shafted, as she well knew.

“That's a good 'un, that is. Rare sight-like the full moon itself. Come harvest time, there's three or four of us can 'ave you', Johnson muttered, but he always said something like that, as Letitia well knew. So many men anticipated the moment of entry into the female by talking about it, as if to exorcise even more magic that the act of copulating brought. A quiver ran through her as he worked her thighs apart more and then rested his knees a little to the rear of her own while manoeuvring his swollen crest against the pouting lips of Letitia's quim.

'You wants it, don't yer?' Johnson growled.

A murmur came from Letitia as the plum entered sleekly, burrowing its heavy nose between the clinging walls of her cunt. The sound her lips uttered was incomprehensible. She had no intention of saying yes to Johnson, until perhaps he began pumping her and all was lost save for the ardent heat and passion of the moment.

'Right up yer-that's where it has to go'. Hopeful was his utterance-steadily holding but three inches of cock in her slot-yet still no answer came. Yet, as Letitia had long learned, silence could be as intriguing as speech, for it had long been a tenet in her original home that, 'Silence, as in the case of young ladies, implies consent'.