by C P Waterman
Charlotte heard Sir Richard leave the room and, in the next instance, there was a tap on the door of her chamber. She opened it slightly and, when she was satisfied he was standing there alone, she let him in.
“I have been discussing an intimate setting comprising the maid Sally with Darcy and me together. Although Sally is probably willing, neither Darcy nor I wish to copulate with her; Darcy is married and… well, my dear, I have some feeling for you - even though you, too, are married - and I would not want to betray our tender, growing relationship.”
Charlotte thought for a moment. “Might I suggest that Sally is dressed in a number of diaphanous gowns, arrayed as Salome dancing and discarding each of her seven veils? You and Mr Darcy would be watching her - with your heads turned away from the observer so you can not be identified - and you could both be pleasuring yourselves as her poses become more and more… erotic? This would mean creating a series of sketches - perhaps four? - and this would take me some time to complete.”
“That would be wonderful. As for diaphanous gowns, I am not sure whether they can be readily sourced.”
“Petticoats? I am sure Sally has at least two, and a few other skimpy sheets in which she might drape herself. I can use some imagination when drawing the scene.”
“Excellent. Now, to preserve your anonymity, I shall want you to sit with your sketchbook behind a screen in the corner of the room. You will be concealed from everyone, and there will be no communication between us and you. You won’t be able to provide directions about poses - we shall just have to rely on our own creativity. Since we won’t be able to communicate, you will not be able to tell us when you have finished one picture and are ready to go on to the next. How long do you need to sketch each of them?”
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“Ten minutes should be sufficient for a decent draft of each one. Then, when we’ve finished, I can retire and produce the final drawings.”
“Good. Since you can’t call out to me when you’ve finished, I shall have my watch in easy reach to make sure we’re not wasting too much time. I’ll speak to Sally now, and I’ll show you another chamber where we can conduct this business. While you’re setting yourself up with your sketchbook behind the screen in the corner, Sally can be gathering up her veils and getting dressed. If you follow me, I’ll take you to the other room.”
Charlotte grabbed her sketchbook and a handful of pencils, and went with him to a chamber at the far end of the corridor; with a servant’s help, he placed a tall, wide screen at one end, with a chair and a small writing table. She noticed two small slits in the fabric of the screen through which she would be able to observe Mr Darcy, Sir Richard and the maid Sally while they posed for her series of drawings.
While she waited for the others to arrive, she flicked through the drawings she had already made in the book. All in all, she was quite satisfied with their quality. Of course, there were so many others which she no longer had in her possession, either in this book or in her earlier volume; they had already been sold to Mr Darcy by Sir Richard, or she had given them to Lizzie when she was staying at Pemberley. She wished she had had the wherewithal to make copies; she would have to remember the details and recreate all of them when she had time.
She heard the door open and, peering through the slit in the screen, she saw the two men enter. They undressed, sat on two dining chairs and waited for Sally to arrive. No words passed between them.
Sally soon walked in, and offered a curtsy to the men. She was dressed in a few layers of petticoat and wore white stockings; Mr Darcy suggested to her that she offer a range of poses and they would select the one they wanted to use for the first picture. She went across to a low table and placed one foot on it, pulling up her skirt to reveal her open crotch. Spontaneously, the men touched themselves and began masturbating slowly. Then she turned round and, with her back to the men, pulled up her petticoats and put her foot on the low table again; she bent forward, revealing her butt and the crevice below.
“Yes!” cried Sir Richard. “We’ll do that pose!”
Hidden behind the screen, Charlotte set to work immediately, her eyes focusing on the two men who were busy caressing their growing erections. They did not speak, for their minds were locked on the sight of Sally’s private parts. Charlotte worked quickly, capturing the three figures she spied through the aperture in the screen, although she found it a little difficult to concentrate; she was aroused by the sight of Mr Darcy and Sir Richard masturbating. She wanted to finger herself, to savor this delicious moment; if she worked fast enough, there might be a few moments available before the time allotted to this pose was at an end….
It was a race. She worked furiously with her pencil, mentally willing the men not to reach their orgasm before she had completed her draft. She omitted the men’s faces - allowing them some anonymity - and would draw them in later, providing them with fresh identities. That would save her a minute. But she forced herself to capture in her memory the expression on their faces, reflecting their bare lust for the girl posing before them.
When she had satisfied she had finished her draft, Charlotte put her book and pencil down and began to finger herself, her eyes concentrating on the excited purple tips of the men’s erections; she wanted to watch their semen ejaculate and wondered which of them - Darcy or Sir Richard - would expel his seed with the more powerful force.
Darcy came first, shooting in an arc towards the girl and the first drops landed on the back of her ankles.
Behind her screen, Charlotte rubbed herself with a wild passion; her fingers were dripping wet but she could not reach her climax. She was despondent when she saw Sir Richard looking at his watch.
“You finished off just in time,” he remarked. “Now let’s move on to the next scene.”
“You didn’t come?” asked Darcy, surprised.
“No. I don’t like to rush things. There’s plenty of time.” Turning to Sally, he motioned her to move in a variety of other erotic poses. When she bent forward, allowing her breasts to tumble out of the top of her gown, he gave her a signal to stop. “That will do very nicely. Don’t move. Just give us a seductive pout.”
She obeyed, and Charlotte took this as a cue to pick up her materials and begin drawing the second scene.
Darcy remained seated in his chair, but Sir Richard moved to a position behind Sally where he stared at her butt, exposed as she bent forward, and began fondling his penis which, in the intervening moments, had become limp.
From her position, Charlotte noticed that Darcy had his arms folded while he stared at the girl. She would allow herself some artistic license and would have him masturbating once more. And, on the other side of the picture, she felt stimulated as she watched her host pleasuring himself. Without thinking, her left hand flew down to her crotch again and her fingers became busy while she made every effort to concentrate with her right hand to produce her current work-in-progress.
It was increasingly difficult for her to continue as she watched Sir Richard’s hand work faster and faster with his erection; her fingers endeavoured to rub herself at the same pace. She stopped suddenly and shut her eyes for a moment in order to regain some composure; there was a ten-minute deadline to finish this work before Sally moved to her next pose.
The maid spoke for the first time. “Please don’t pleasure yourself so fast, Sir Richard,” she smiled. “I shall want to try giving you some satisfaction in the next picture. You want to save your energy.”
Darcy roared with laughter.
Sir Richard looked at his timepiece again and declared it was time to move to the next scene. Charlotte was annoyed with herself because so much of her picture remained unfinished. She had enough detail in her draft to prepare the final copy later.
“What ideas do you have for the next tableau, young Sally?” Darcy grinned.
Unnoticed by everyone else when she had entered the chamber, Sally had brought in a canvas bag and now put her hand in it. She pulled out a cucumber. “The kitchen
staff didn’t mind my taking it,” she explained. “I told them it was for you.”
The two men looked at each other with a quizzical expression.
The maid pulled up the front of her gown and secured the cucumber between her thighs, making it appear as if she had an erect penis. “May I invite one of you gentlemen to sink to your knees and suck my cock?” Her fingers curled round the shaft of the vegetable and she made a gesture to suggest she was masturbating like a man. Except - Charlotte noticed - she was sliding the cucumber back and forth so that it produced friction against her own private parts to get her excited.
Blood rushed to Charlotte’s face in a flood of arousal. This was the most erotic act she had ever seen.
Darcy went down and took the end of the cucumber in his mouth, looking up at Sally’s face as if he were hypnotized.
Sir Richard stood, open-mouthed, and began caressing his penis. It quickly stiffened.
Charlotte began sketching feverishly, her knees locked together and her thighs tightened; her free hand flew down to her crotch in an attempt to stem the flow of juice which had begun as soon as she had beheld this provocative spectacle. Her eyes danced back and forth between Sally’s fist on her cucumber and Sir Richard’s on his erection; its swollen head was purple and, in the passing minutes, it looked ready to burst. As soon as she returned to the parsonage, Charlotte resolved, she would snatch a cucumber from the kitchen and lock herself in a private room to give herself the same carnal pleasure that Sally was enjoying now.
The girl’s movements with the cucumber became faster and faster, and she was jerking her pelvis back and forth; it was evident that she was on the verge of orgasm. Darcy had taken his lips away from the vegetable some time before, aware of the violent and erratic movements she was making. Her face was screwed up tight, her eyes shut, as she savoured the ecstasy of the moment. Charlotte detected a thin, glistening trickle running down Sally’s thigh, and her own feeling of passion stood on the threshold of eruption. Luckily, she had finished the basic framework of her sketch, and she now pressed both hands against herself as the frenzied outburst of elation pulsed its way through her.
And when she recovered from that intense tide, she sat back on her chair and looked across at Sir Richard; he had just reached his climax, and she observed a small stream of semen running over his fingers where he still clutched his erection. She wished she had seen it ooze forth from his source.
Sir Richard wiped his hand against his thigh and spoke to Sally. “Now it’s time to move to the fourth and final picture. Do you have anything in mind?”
“If it pleases you, Sir, I’d like to fuck one of you with my green cock.”
Both men laughed again, and Sir Richard stepped forward. “All right, Sally. It might as well be me. But please… be gentle with me, won’t you? No one has taken me up there before.”
The three laughed again. Charlotte turned a page in her book, ready to sketch the last scene.
Sir Richard got himself in position, bending forward and pulling the cheeks of his butt apart to allow the cucumber to slide inside him. Sally held her vegetable between her thighs again, ready to rub it against herself as she pushed forward and withdrew it like a man with a long, hard penis. In the meantime, Darcy stood behind Sally, stroking his testicles while he ogled her buttocks, hoping to become excited once more.
In the meantime, Charlotte worked quickly, remembering the time she had knelt on the stone floor of the Grecian temple by the lake at Pemberley and allowed Sir Richard to penetrate her anus. She remembered the sensation of having him inside her, and his seed dripping down the back of her thighs when he had finished. She longed to return the favour upon his body; she hoped that one day she might have the opportunity of some intimacy with him in this fashion. She had heard of an exotic edible herb called a banana, available in England but it was very expensive and only appeared on the dinner tables of the most opulent houses. From an illustration she had seen, it was yellow, curved, with one thin end and one thick. If she could ever find one, she mused, perhaps she could insert the thick end into her vagina and could place the thin end in Sir Richard’s anus so their bodies might be conjoined for the sexual act.
Sally’s thrusting was becoming more vigorous and it was not long before Sir Richard cried out. “Enough!”
She stopped immediately and, blushing, apologised profusely to her master. “I just lost control of myself. A girl has needs too, Sir. And it is a rare day when such needs can be fulfilled.” She carefully withdrew the cucumber from his anus and pushed the other end slowly inside her vagina, working it back and forth as she fingered her little bud.
Charlotte sat in her hiding place, enthralled, trying to concentrate on the task in hand. She could hardly wait to be alone with Sir Richard once more… how much longer would Darcy stay at Oakhurst today? Surely Lizzie must be bored, waiting patiently for him to return to Pemberley?
“Enough!” called Darcy. “I think your artist friend has enough material for today. I’d be happy to peruse the preliminary sketches before I leave.”
Sir Richard turned to Sally, and thanked her for her services. He would see her recompensed later that afternoon. She curtsied and departed. The men quickly dressed themselves again, while Charlotte waited behind the screen. As soon as Darcy left the room, she took her sketchbook and pencils and walked to the centre of the chamber.
“How was everything?” Sir Richard asked her. “Did we give you enough time?”
“Much of it is incomplete. But it would only take me another hour to finish it.”
“I fear my cousin will want to leave as soon as possible. Let me have your work-in-progress, and I’ll show it to him in the library. I can detain him with a glass of wine before he sets out, and then I shall return your pages to you.”
A few minutes later, Charlotte stood eavesdropping by the door outside the library in the hope of hearing Darcy’s remarks.
She listened to him flicking over the four sheets. “You know, Walden, looking at this series of drawings - and the others by your artist contact that I have purchased through you - I am reminded of the style in which a recent visitor to Pemberley drew a picture of Lizzie. I refer to the wife of that odious parson under the control of Aunt Catherine. You were with us at Pemberley, too - remember the picnic? - and I’m beginning to wonder whether this work has also been produced by her.” He paused for a moment’s reflection. “Mrs. Collins! Of course! She lives not far from here, does she not?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Darcy.”
“Nonsense, cousin. It’s too much of a coincidence. I want more of these. Many more. And now I know who can produce them.”
“Be very careful, cousin. You don’t want to ruin the lady’s reputation.”
“I’ll take that as an admission that Mrs Collins is indeed the artist. Now, I must devise a means of enticing her back to Pemberley….”
“Her husband won’t let her come alone. And he’d get in the way….”
“No. I’ll think of something. I’ll send him an invitation that he can’t refuse. By the way, Aunt Catherine mentioned this morning that she’d heard from her servants that Mr Collins will be back from his visit tomorrow. His servants tell her servants everything. So, if his wife is with you here today, you ought to warn her that she should return home immediately. I wouldn’t want her to get into any kind of trouble with her husband.”
“I’d heard that Collins was away with a friend in Hythe for several days.”
“Indeed. He’d asked another clergyman to conduct Sunday’s service, but the man has fallen ill and Collins has to return to perform his obligations to the church.”
Charlotte gasped. She had hoped for a few more days in Sir Richard’s company. But it was not to be. She hastened back to her chamber and began packing her trunk. Just as she was finishing the task, she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves outside her window; she looked out and down, in time to watch Darcy riding away, and Sir Richard giving him a friendly wave.
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She sat on the bed and was overcome with sadness. Everything had gone wrong.
A little later, there was a knock on the door and Sir Richard walked in. When he saw her anguished state, he realised she already knew.
“I shall arrange for a coach to take you back to Hunsford immediately,” he began. “Sally can accompany you, for form’s sake. I shall truly miss you, my dear. I do hope this is not the end….”
She wailed more loudly.
“There is one thing you must do, when your husband returns. It is for your own sake. You must entice him to make love to you tonight. Just in case… you may already be carrying a child as a result of our own… activities together.”
She stopped crying. The thought of having Sir Richard’s baby - a creation in his own image, with his personality - heartened her. But it would be no substitute for a lifetime of delicious fornication with this darling man.
Sally was summoned, and the coachman came to carry Charlotte’s trunk downstairs. Within ten minutes, she was waving farewell to Sir Richard, to Oakhurst, and the unforgettable times she had enjoyed with him. There had not even been time for a parting kiss; his servants were present.
Life at Hunsford soon returned to its daily routine, and Charlotte worked slowly to finish the pictures she had begun. But how was she going to convey them to Sir Richard, who would pass them on to Darcy?
She shut herself away in her private chamber, allowing her the compensation of idle reveries of her time with Sir Richard.
One morning, about a month later, her maid entered the room. She carried an envelope. “A letter has arrived for you, madam,” she announced.
She opened it. When she had finished reading it, her heart leapt with joy.
My dear Charlotte,
I know it was only a few weeks ago that we entertained you at Pemberley, and I regret that you felt you had to leave us so suddenly to return home to your parsonage.