Anonymous: A Stately English Mansion

Even so, a pleasurable puffing sound emitted itself from between Letitia's compressed lips as the huge engine slewed slowly up her, inch by inch, until the warm, hairy plums of the manservant's balls hung closely beneath her nest. With Easton, or another of her own station in life, Letitia might have then wriggled her assent, tickling die dangling balls with her own curls, but she remained rebelliously still while Johnson descended his breeches further and brought the warm sphere of her bum to nestle closely into his bared loins.

'Lovely, m'am. You got a tight one, still. Nigh as tight as yer bumhole', gritted Johnson who had squirted into that aperture a number of times.

'Do… do your w… work, Johnson', Letitia choked. Her split bottom was hard-pressed against his skin, his wiry pubic hairs tickling her pleasurably.

'Yes, m'am, and I will. Slowly, as yer likes it. In and out. Make yer come, I will. Now, if Miss Bella or Miss Ethel… '

'Q… quiet, Johnson! How d… d… dare you speak of them…AH!'

'Yes, you likes it coming near out and then going right up, don't yer, m'am. Come on now, I'll give it to yer proper. Move your arse a bit while I do'.

'NO', gritted Letitia mutinously, though her head and her body were already growing dizzy at the wicked sensation of having that big plunger moving back and forth in her. She wriggled once, as though to adjust herself, and began panting quietly as did Johnson whose loins now moved more powerfully, shunting his engine back and forth in her shed.

Letitia knew well what would come next. High- or lowborn, most males were much the same. In moments of hot desire, words appeared to enchant them more than they did women. Eyelashes fluttering, Letitia spilled her salty juices over the in-driving prick, and then came again, though so fine was her spurting that Johnson scarcely noticed it in his own excitement.

'Ask… ask me to fuck yer', he growled, producing the very words that she had anticipated and which he almost always spat out moments before the gruelly sap rose in his stem.

In reply, Letitia conceded only a soft moan. Long years ago, when she was scarcely Ethel's age, a birch had bitten and spurred again and again across her naked bottom while a voice behind her had urged, implored her, to say the selfsame thing. But she had not. Hot as her bottom had become, and as much as she had dolefully sobbed and waggled her hips in silent pleading that her 'discipline' would soon come to an end, still she had remained otherwise mute- performing indeed as she now was with Johnson whose movements became faster.

'F… fuck yer… ' he intoned to himself.

O blissful silence on her part, Letitia thought. Her eyes, unseen by him, screwed up, and she sprinkled once more. The first powerful pellets would come soon, and they did. With a groan, Johnson embedded his throbbing member full in her avid nest and produced a long, heavy spout that Letitia could feel spattering her spongy, clinging walls.

'C…c… come ON, Johnson!' she gritted, reversing their roles of the subduer and the subdued.

'Y… yes, m'am, d… doing it… coming in yer… AH, what a cunt you've got, roll your bum-do it!'

Letitia responded-responded because these were the dying moments-the fall of the gladiator. His cock was spouting still as her plump rear formed a hot, demanding ball into his belly and ground itself there, producing more yielding groans from him, more leaps of sperm, more pearls. The last thing string, then his outgasping of desire, and both were still while his full-sheathed member throbbed in her. Letitia received each pulsing of his thick cock in pleasurable silence and then at last heaved a huge sigh.

'Get off me, Johnson. Take that wicked thing out'.

'Yes, m'am. I'm sorry, m'am, if I done what I did', he responded stupidly.

Letitia did not answer. Her hair was still well-pinned, her bodice unbuttoned. As the slackening slug of flesh drew out of her, regretfully, dropping a single pearl of come upon her leg, so she rose quickly and thrust her skirts down. All was done. The 'conversazione', as Easton was wont to call it, was over.

Tossing her head and smoothing down her skirts, Letitia made her exit silently, knowing that Johnson would now slump down in a chair, wan and defeated, as males finally always were, despite all, despite all.

Anonymous

A Stately English Mansion

Finding the drawing room empty and then being beseeched by cook to 'Look at the menu for tonight, m'am', Letitia did so, agreed with it entirely because she felt not in the least hungry at that moment of time, and proceeded upstairs to discover her husband at ease in his study.

'What are you doing, what have you done?' she asked all in one breath and noting that one of the front buttons of his trousers was undone.

'Writing a poem, my dear', Easton replied, whereat Letitia plumped herself down on his lap and gazed at the sheet of paper before him.

'You have only written one line', she declared, as though more would have been of greater profit to her. Her bottom urged itself over his flaccid tool as she spoke, and a frown of disappointment appeared on her attractive features at not finding him stiff.-“That is ALL you have done?' she asked.

'All, my love', Easton replied with a distinct absence of truth.

Leaning against him, Letitia purred her cheek to his and murmured, 'Do you know what that awful Johnson did to me?'

'Is it not better that I do not?' Easton replied artfully. He was minded to raise her skirts and to enter with her into the son of conversation that always stirred and excited both to amourous lechery, but he needed a further twenty minutes or so in which to recuperate after spilling out his liquid treasures between the blissful gripping of Bella's thighs.

'I shall tell you in bed tonight, dearest. Where is Ethel?'

'Gone to make the acquaintance of the waif'.

'Oh, it is not nice to call her that-is it? You mean to use her, Easton; I know you do. Another female tidbit for your friends?'

'An introductory measure, my pet, nothing else', said Easton who had gained many influential friends in high places by presenting for their attentions such delectable young ladies as came his way-poor, usually, or speaking of themselves as the daughters of distressed clergymen, but fit to be polished-up, nicely attired, made ready, as his own phrase was for them. Sometimes the wives or mistresses of his acquaintances took a fancy for such girls, having no other way to make the chance for such themselves. Like the several who had gone before her, Kate would be bedroom-trained, put through her paces. From the briefest of conversations but ten minutes before with the unmatchable Miss Martin, he gathered that Kate had been 'started' already and had proved 'responsive'.

Easton had passed her five sovereigns for her 'introductory work', and had passed his hand up her skirt for a moment, too, to feel her lustrous thighs. At the age of thirty-four as she was, Miss Martin was a voluptuous creature, as Kate had already discovered. She was, too, a venturer into Bella's room at night, as Easton knew, though he had not commented on it. He had a great fancy to watch them tonguing one another, but Bella's key was ever ready in her door.

Miss Martin had responded with what Easton would describe as 'cool warmth' to his exploratory caress. Her lips had met his own briefly but without passion while he fondled her fur. Had it not been for her excellent and unusual services, he would have dismissed her long ago. Now she was the possessor of too many of his secrets to do so. On several occasions Easton had uncovered her marbled, firm breasts and palmed them while she leaned back indolently against his study wall, seemingly unmoved by the tingling of her risen nipples to his palm.