Sins and Secrets

by P. F. Kozak

  Lucy sighed. “Oh, yes, Miss Pamela, I’m here.”

  Pamela smiled. “Good.” Leaning forward, she kissed Lucy on the lips, a gentle kiss meant for a lover. “Thank you, Lucy, for sharing this with me.”

  “Miss Pamela, I have never been so satisfied.” Lucy winced as Jack pulled himself out of her. “Now you know one of the ways we use to not conceive.”

  “I’ll have to suggest it to Peter.”

  Jack cleaned himself with his handkerchief. “If you hope to keep us in your employ, I wouldn’t be telling him where you got the idea.”

  Pamela laughed. “Not to worry. This is our secret.”

  Go to Chapter Seventeen

  Within the misty haze of rum and arousal, Pamela thought she heard the parlour door’s hinge squeak. Not wanting to break the spell of Lucy suckling her, she dismissed it as being her imagination. When she heard the door click shut a few moments later, she bolted upright, nearly knocking Lucy onto the floor.

  “Peter!”

  Peter stood just inside the closed parlour door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Hello, Pamela.” Nodding at Lucy, he simply said, “Lucy.”

  Lucy tried to put her arms back into the sleeves of her dress, only to find they were turned inside out. While she struggled to untangle them, Pamela continued to stare at him in disbelief.

  “You are supposed to be in court all day. What are you doing here?”

  “Even though I do not owe you an explanation for entering my own house, I will explain. My scheduled session in court was cancelled due to the illness of a key member of the hearing. Rather than going back to chambers, I came home to help you with the Christmas tree.”

  “Where is Jack?”

  “I expect off doing the list of errands you gave to him. I flagged a hansom cab to bring me back.”

  Lucy, being too flustered to fix her dress, held the bib of her apron to her chest, only partially covering her bare breasts. Her voice quivering with fright, she asked Pamela, “Miss, may I please be excused?”

  Before Pamela could answer, Peter replied, “No, Lucy, you may not be excused!”

  Not making any attempt to cover herself, Pamela snapped at him. “Peter, don’t you dare frighten the poor girl. This is all my doing.”

  Peter strode across the room, his bearing even more intimidating than usual. His voice had an edge when he spoke. “Pamela, I have no doubt whatsoever that is the case.” Turning to Lucy, he softened his tone. “Lucy, I am not angry with you. As long as you cooperate, you are in no danger of being sacked.”

  Blinking back tears, Lucy muttered, “Sir?”

  “Peter, let her go. Do what you would with me. The responsibility is mine. Lucy is not at fault.”

  “Hush, Pamela. Mind yourself and be quiet. I’m speaking to Lucy.”

  “How dare you take that tone with me!” Pamela stood to leave, furious with his cavalier dismissal. Pulling her dress up to cover herself, she took several steps toward the door.

  “Pamela!” The sharpness in Peter’s voice caused her to stop in mid-step. “If you wish for Lucy to stay in our employ, you will come back here and sit down!”

  Lucy whimpered, “Miss Pamela, please.”

  Pamela came back to the sofa, glaring at Peter. “I’ve never known you to be so cruel. Let her go.”

  “I am not of a mind to be cruel. But I do believe the two of you have some penance to do in order for this to be forgotten.”

  Pamela lowered herself to the sofa beside Lucy. Allowing her dress to once again fall to her waist, she put her arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

  Peter hunkered down in front of Lucy. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her head. “Lucy, look at me.”

  Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she looked at Peter. “Yes, sir?”

  “Lucy, when I came in, you seemed to be enjoying Miss Pamela. Is that correct?”

  Lucy whispered, “Yes, sir.”

  Peter let his hand fall from her chin to her apron. He tugged it away from her hands and it fell to her waist. Her bare breasts hung deliciously close to his face. “Would you like to enjoy her some more?”

  Pamela hugged Lucy closer. “Peter, what are you doing?”

  Peter answered with cool control. “Only what you seem to want.” He turned back to Lucy. “It would be exceptionally satisfying for me to watch you and Pamela together. Would you do that for me, Lucy?”

  Lucy glanced at Pamela, not knowing how to respond. Peter also looked at Pamela, their eyes meeting in vaporous heat. An unspoken understanding passed between them.

  “Lucy…” Pamela spoke softly, her voice seductive. “If we do as he asks, I promise this whole embarrassment will be forgotten. Peter, tell her.”

  Peter smiled, knowing he had Pamela’s acquiescence. “Lucy, Miss Pamela speaks the truth. All you need do is what I ask of you and what has happened will not leave this room.”

  “You won’t tell Jack?”

  “I promise not to tell him. Will you do it?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing more than what you were already doing. It was quite tantalising.”

  Pamela took Lucy’s hand and placed it on her breast. “Lucy, Master Rennard wants to see us together. Entertaining him would be quite exciting, don’t you think?”

  Lucy moved her head closer to Pamela’s. In barely a whisper, she said, “Yes, miss, it stirs me, it does.”

  Pamela’s lips brushed Lucy’s. She whispered back, “As it does me, Lucy. Let’s give Master Rennard an early Christmas present.”

  “Yes, miss.” Lucy breathed the words into Pamela’s mouth as their lips met.

  As Lucy and Pamela kissed, Peter sat in an overstuffed armchair facing the sofa. He settled in, knowing his afternoon’s entertainment would be much more pleasant than he could have imagined.

  Lucy caressed Pamela’s breast. Pleasure rippled through his groin hearing Pamela moan. It seemed Pamela’s carnal hunger grew more voracious with each passing day, her appetites rivaling his. Her seduction of Lucy, albeit unexpected, did not surprise him.

  He sat quietly for several minutes, letting their passion build. As Lucy leaned over to suckle, he stopped her.

  “Lucy, help Miss Pamela remove her dress, and then she will help you remove yours.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lucy’s face flamed red, but she immediately set to the task. She unbuttoned the last few buttons and tugged the dress from the bottom. Pamela lifted her bum, so Lucy could pull off the dress and the petticoat, leaving her in only her stockings and drawers.

  With no hesitation, Pamela turned Lucy around to undo her apron strings. Lucy stood and faced Peter, practically touching his knees. Pamela stood behind her. Peter stroked himself, watching Lucy’s breasts rise and fall with her breath as Pamela took off her dress.

  “Pamela, put your hand inside Lucy’s knickers and stroke her.”

  Pamela caressed Lucy’s belly. “Is that all right, Lucy? May I touch your private parts?”

  Lucy didn’t answer. Instead she put her hand over Pamela’s and guided it to the waistband of her drawers. Together, their hands disappeared inside. Lucy leaned back against Pamela and sighed. Peter, watching the rhythmic caresses inside Lucy’s knickers, felt his cock twitch inside his trousers.

  He noticed Pamela staring at his crotch. While she watched, he exposed his prick. Lucy’s eyes remained closed, her pelvis undulating against Pamela in a most provocative rhythm. Pamela moved with Lucy, beguiling him with a salacious dance. Silently, Peter gestured to Pamela to pull down Lucy’s knickers.

  With her free hand, Pamela tugged the already loosened drawstring. Lucy started. Pamela kissed her shoulder. “Master Rennard wants to see you, Lucy. You are quite lovely.”

  Lucy blushed so furiously even her chest turned pink. She saw Peter stroking himself, watching her. With wanton abandon, she undid the string herself, allowing her drawers to fall to the floor. She kicked them off.

&nbs
p; “Now yours, Pamela. I want you both bare.” Peter’s usually smooth voice sounded throaty and low-pitched, his arousal evident. He could smell their female musk. He reached out and traced a vertical line the length of Lucy’s vulva. “Pamela, spread her open.”

  Cradling her pelvis against Lucy’s bare bum, Pamela reached around and pressed her fingertips into Lucy’s swollen lips. She opened her labia, revealing Lucy’s rosebud to Peter. He gently diddled her clitoris with his finger, carefully examining the pink flesh. Lucy moaned and pressed backward into Pamela.

  “Lucy, I want your help now.” She didn’t respond to him. She continued to lean against Pamela, her legs splayed indecently. “Lucy!” His sharp tone sobered her.

  “Yes, Master Rennard?” She closed her legs and attempted to stand straight. “I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “I need your help now.”

  “Sir?”

  He reached around Lucy and took Pamela’s hand. “It is time for Miss Pamela to receive her comeuppance. Would you help me?”

  Again, Lucy looked to Pamela for permission.

  “Lucy, we are here to please Master Rennard. If he requires your assistance, then he shall have it.” Pamela stepped around Lucy and knelt in front of Peter. “Lucy, behind the picture frame on the piano, you will find something I put there. Please get it for me and give it to the mister.”

  Completely forgetting that she had nothing on, Lucy quietly went to the piano. She found the hairbrush and the sheath behind the picture. She brought them back and gave them to Peter. Then, she stepped off to the side and waited.

  “Now why on earth would you have these in the parlour?”

  “I hoped to have them here for Christmas Eve. But perhaps they would be useful now.”

  “Pamela, you are a constant source of amazement. It is quite extraordinary having my charge, my fiancée and my courtesan bundled up in one beautiful package.” He handed the hairbrush back to Lucy. “Lucy, you are in charge of the paddling.”

  Lucy took the brush. “Pardon me, sir, I don’t understand what you are askin’ of me.”

  As Peter took off his jacket and waistcoat, he explained. “You see, Lucy, Miss Pamela has been quite wicked, taking advantage of you as she has.” He opened his shirt. “She must now suffer the consequences of her actions. It seems only fitting that it be at your hand.”

  “Pamela, I want you to kiss my prick while Lucy spanks you. You will show me how sorry you are for seducing Lucy and compromising her position in our household.”

  Pamela scratched her fingernails down his chest to his groin. Peter stifled a groan, his prick throbbing at her touch. She whispered softly, “Your organ is quite thick and terribly purple. I will do more than kiss it, if you wish.”

  Peter ignored her flirtatious invitation. “Lucy, please give Pamela ten strokes with the brush, and then frig her with the brush handle.”

  “Merciful heaven!” Lucy could not contain her astonishment.

  Peter fondled Pamela’s breast while he spoke. “Lucy, Miss Pamela welcomes the punishment for her outrageous behavior, don’t you, Pamela?”

  Pamela answered by bending down and kissing his erection.

  Peter relaxed into the chair, Pamela’s breast filling his hand. “Lucy, I’m waiting. Do it.”

  With some hesitation, Lucy lightly brought the brush down on Pamela’s arse. Peter barked, “For God’s sake, Lucy, you are a strong girl. Put some force into it!”

  Lucy took a deep breath and brought the brush down again. This time, the sting made Pamela yelp.

  “That’s better. Now, give Miss Pamela time to kiss my prick before the next stroke.”

  By the sixth stroke, Pamela’s moans filled the room. By the ninth stroke, her legs had opened and her arse jutted upward, wanting his prick inside of her. The tenth stroke landed. Her now pink bum undulated against his knees.

  In a hoarse whisper, Peter said, “Now frig her.”

  Lucy turned the brush, the round handle warm and slick from her sweaty hand. Positioning the end at the entrance to Pamela’s cunt, Lucy slid the handle inside. Pamela pushed backward and groaned. Again kissing Peter’s cock, she pleaded with him. “Please, I want you inside me. Fuck me, Peter. Put your cock in me, not the brush.”

  “Not yet, dear Pams.” Lucy continued to slowly push the handle in and out of Pamela’s cunt. Pamela pressed her face against Peter’s cock and again begged him, “Peter, fuck me before I go mad!”

  “Is she ready, Lucy?”

  “Oh, my soul, yes, Master Rennard. Her wet is all over the brush and my hand.”

  Peter slid out from under Pamela. Without regard to Lucy’s presence, he took off the rest of his clothes. Pamela remained bent over the chair. While putting on the sheath, he instructed Lucy, “I want you to touch my balls while I fuck Miss Pamela. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and Lucy…”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Touch up yourself at the same time. Perhaps you will spend with Miss Pamela.”

  “I would fancy that, sir.”

  “As would I, Lucy.”

  Peter knelt behind Pamela. The moment the tip of his prick touched her, she pushed back on him, shoving his full length inside her. The sensation caused them both to make guttural sounds, which resonated though the parlour. Lucy chose that moment to cup his balls in her hand, sending more flames through his groin.

  As Lucy massaged his scrotum, he pounded his prick deep into Pamela’s cunt. She twisted and writhed against him, her own passion on the verge of climax. Determined to hold on until Pamela finished, Peter hissed at Lucy, “Touch up Pamela, Lucy. Rub her hard.”

  Lucy reached between Pamela’s legs and rubbed her clitoris, as Peter rammed himself deeply into her. Pamela squealed, “My God, Peter!” Peter held her, his weight preventing her from rising up. She thrashed underneath him, her climax upon her.

  Lucy moved to the side of the chair. Peter saw her hand working furiously between her legs. Suddenly, she gasped and thrust her pelvis forward. She struggled for breath, trembling with her orgasm. With both women in the throes of spending, Peter allowed his own fire to move. Slamming against Pamela’s soft arse, he filled the sheath.

  As the heat of the ménàge à trois subsided, he heard Pamela say quietly to him, “Happy Christmas, my darling Peter.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  During the winter months, Pamela’s days were full. Peter gave her carte blanche to decorate as she saw fit. More than anything, she wanted cheerful wallpaper. The choices Peter made years before reflected a dreary, masculine sensibility.

  For the dining room, she selected tea rose wallpaper, with brown, green and copper on ivory. She did her bedroom in satin wallpaper with small flowers in burgundy, plum and gold. With some searching, she found a carpenter willing to build a canopy for her bed. She covered it with deep rose material and had curtains made to match.

  After reminding Peter that she would soon be sharing the master bedroom, he reluctantly agreed to let her redo his room in a lovely cream damask stripe. Room by room, she went through the house. She replaced or added furniture where needed. In the end, Peter’s house became a happier and brighter home because of her presence and her hand.

  She also spent time with May, learning how to properly run the household. May insisted that as lady of the house, she had to know everything, including how to cook. Pamela had never been fond of cooking. But with May’s patience and humor, she actually enjoyed learning.

  When Peter heard Pamela would be cooking the Easter meal, he offered to have food brought in, thinking May had taken ill. Pamela assured him May was fit as a fiddle. With some trepidation and considerable teasing about the possibility of food poisoning, Peter sat at the Easter table. After his third helping of candied ham and scalloped potatoes, he admitted that Pamela had learned to cook a decent meal.

  Now, as they approached the end of Eastertide, Peter’s birthday on the twenty-eighth of May would be
upon her in a few days. She wanted to surprise him with something. What, she didn’t know. A party would be out of the question. Because of their unorthodox living situation, they avoided entertaining and selectively received only a few individuals who wished to call. Once they were married, that would change. But for now, Peter preferred their privacy be maintained.

  Pamela sighed. A surprise party for Peter would be delightful. Perhaps she could manage it next year, when surely they would be married. The Parliament had taken the Married Woman’s Property Act under advisement. Peter had championed the cause, courting votes whenever possible.

  He cautioned Pamela that the final vote might not take place for some months, as the debates were ongoing. Already, revisions had been made to the original bill proposed by Richard Pankhurst.

  That left her with the problem: what to do for Peter’s birthday? She had never been home for it, her school year ending later in June. This being the first year to celebrate with him, she wanted it to be memorable.

  Pamela found Lucy changing the bed linens in Peter’s room. “Oh, there you are.”

  “Yes, Miss Pamela, here I am. Where would you expect me to be?”

  “One never knows with you, Miss Lucy.” Since Christmas, Pamela and Lucy tended toward considerably less formality when alone.

  Lucy giggled. “What do you want of me, miss?”

  “I want to know what Peter does on his birthday. Do you have any idea?”

  Lucy continued making up the bed. “He’s never home on his birthday, miss. Jack takes him someplace every year. They always get home late.”

  “Do you know where they go?”

  “No, miss. Jack has never said. When Jack comes back from taking the mister to chambers, you might do well to ask him.”

  “Thank you, Lucy.”

  “Certainly, miss.”

  Pamela went back to her room and considered the possibilities. It seemed unlikely Peter would have celebrated with Constance. It also seemed equally unlikely he would have gone to his club. Then it hit her. Of course. He most probably went to Nellie’s.