by Cecelie Hart
They'd barely let Emma catch her breath before beginning a new depravity...
The lady groaned, stirring in her sleep, memories of intense carnal pleasure suffusing her waking dreams. Mmmm... she could almost feel the housekeeper's lips pressing on her pussy.
Aaah! Emma woke with a start, shuddering in pleasure with a redheaded maid hard at work between her thighs. She groaned and squirmed, sitting up and clawing behind her at the headboard while a girl she'd never seen before brought her to the edge of orgasm...
... and left her hanging. She choked in frustration as the maid slid from the bed, curtseyed and slipped from the room. Emma stared after her, eyes wide.
The housekeeper chuckled as she slipped into the room carrying a silver tray.
"Good morning, your ladyship," she purred. "I hope you slept well."
Emma whimpered in reply. The short, thick hair between her thighs was damp with both saliva and her own flowing quim. Despite the previous night's exertions, her rosebud ached, longing for attention
"His lordship requests your presence at breakfast, milady. He also sends his fondest regards and hopes the wake up call he arranged has put you in the proper mood to dine."
Emma groaned. No doubt her husband wished to bend her over the breakfast table and use her like a cheap whore. Her womanhood shivered. If the housekeeper would be there to lend a hand, Emma was of a mind to let him.
"I've had your clothes brought up, milady," Ada continued smoothly, "and taken the liberty of picking out a dress..." She smiled and plucked something from the silver tray. "But first we must ensure you are properly prepared."
Emma whimpered softly as the housekeeper advanced, but she rolled onto her stomach and lifted herself onto her knees, lowering her face and raising her bare behind. Her buttocks spread naturally, exposing her beautiful brown flower. It was already blossoming, eager to take its root.
♠ ♠ ♠
A Pillory for the Hesitant Bride
Figged in the Stocks
♠
Lady Emma woke the same way she'd woken every morning since her wedding night, with an eager mouth between her spread thighs lapping at her pussy. She moaned as she felt the curling, probing tongue ease her wetly from her dreams. Mmmm... who was it today? Sally? No... Sally would be slightly rougher, she'd suck harder and more often on her mistress's engorged rosebud. This girl was delightfully tentative, a true tease. She kept pulling back, her kisses fluttering all around Emma's soaking opening. Daisy? Yes, Daisy... this was her style. Emma lowered her hands, winding her fingers into the maid's distinctively curly hair. She was right.
After nearly a month as a married woman, nearly a month living under her husband's rules, Emma was becoming a connoisseur of cunnilingus. Each of Edmund's maids was practiced and skilled, no doubt extensively trained by his intriguingly stern and beautiful housekeeper. Emma could already feel her toes start to claw down into the mattress. Her body was squirming, inching away from the exquisite torture brought on by Daisy's tongue. Her back was beginning to arch, soft gasps escaping her lips. She was close. The little death was gathering its strength in the heart of her womanhood. Soon it would sweep out to engulf her in its blissful embrace...
But, alas, that was not permitted. As always, just when she was on the verge of ecstasy, the maid stopped, leaving Emma gasping and silently pleading for more. There was one rule above all others that her husband insisted on: Emma must never have an orgasm without him inside her. It was the primary law of his estate, the one thing Edmund insisted on. Although he did seem to go out of his way to make it a very difficult rule to follow.
She groaned as the pretty maid's brown hair slid out from between her fingers. Her job done, Daisy slipped off the bed, curtseyed and darted from the room. Her body flushed and shivering beneath her thin, silk shift, Emma sat up eagerly. Her full breasts were hard and heavy. Her legs were shaking. She needed the release of the little death. She'd been trained to crave it. But the maids her husband sent each morning were only intended to help prepare her, to bring her to the edge. Her whole routine was designed to have her go to him at breakfast desperate to be touched, eager even for the masculine contact she would otherwise disdain. Edmund might be a darkly handsome man, but his wife's tastes lay elsewhere. She knew he liked it that way.
The housekeeper was waiting patiently beside Emma's dressing table. Edmund had promised to arrange a lady's maid for her, but after a month the position was still vacant. She certainly did not mind. The more time she spent in the care of Ada the better. Even when she wasn't aroused to the edge of joy, her skin shivered with pleasure at the housekeeper's merest touch. Her stomach fluttered at the slightest sign of approval. Now, her womanhood throbbed in anticipation of what might come. While her husband would enter her and take her as he pleased at the breakfast table, they did not eat alone.
The young lady rose from her bed and skipped lightly over to the housekeeper. She didn't sink into the chair before the dressing table. It wasn't time for that yet. The routine called for something else first, something that Emma wasn't sure she'd ever quite get used to, something that she anticipated with equal parts dread and reluctant eagerness. She hiked her shift up above her waist. Then, closing her eyes and bracing herself, she bent forward while reaching back to spread her buttocks. Her cheeks opened to present her puckered arsehole to the housekeeper. It was time for her morning figging.
Edmund liked her squirming and sweating from the heat of freshly inserted ginger. He liked her to come to the breakfast table with her anus involuntarily clenching around the peeled root. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, she still couldn't stop her bottom from clamping down and squeezing the spicy juice into her shuddering, sensitive arse. But the fires did more than burn her flesh, they fed her appetites. The merest spark quickly became a raging inferno. By the time she got to the dining room she'd be as frisky as a mare in heat, begging to submit to her husband's depravities in her itchy need for relief.
Biting her bottom lip hard, Emma readied herself for the heat and the agony. Her rosebud was still throbbing from its close approach to heaven. She couldn't wait to see what sin Edmund and Ada would have her commit today.
But this morning the expected root didn't come. Only a cool draft entered her waiting, spread arsehole. Emma opened her eyes and craned her neck to look over her shoulder. Was there a delay of some sort? Were the kitchens out of ginger?
"Please sit down, milady," Ada requested in that seemingly deferential tone she often used that was somehow still unmistakably a command. "I'm afraid I shall need to dress you quickly this morning, his lordship has requested my presence elsewhere."
Frowning as she sat, Emma pouted at the housekeeper. This was wrong. This wasn't how the routine went. The hard wooden seat was cold with just a thin layer of silk between it and her bare bottom. Usually she wouldn't notice that. Her arse should be aflame with ginger.
"Is something wrong?" she asked timidly.
"Not at all, milady," the housekeeper replied smoothly. "We have a new maid joining our service this morning. His lordship wishes for me to assist in breaking her in."
Emma tensed. A new maid? Her mind raced, cold anger rose from her frustrated, aching pussy. Her husband wished to spend his morning fornicating with a servant rather than with his beautiful, young wife? And worse, he was bringing the housekeeper with him? She gritted her teeth. Had she just been a novelty to him? Had that novelty now worn off?
"Should I have your blue dress fetched, milady?" Ada asked, brushing Emma's long dark hair. "Your breakfast will be ready in the dining room as usual."
"Is my husband joining me?" Emma spat through clenched teeth.
The housekeeper shook her head and replied calmly as if her mistress's fury was beneath her notice. "I believe his lordship has already eaten."
"Then have a maid bring something up!" Emma snapped, rising abruptly to her feet. "I shall eat in my room."
"Of course, milady," Ada purred, stepping back and deftly
extricating the hairbrush. "The dress?"
"Later," Emma hissed. "If my husband doesn't desire my company, I shall take the opportunity to lie in."
"Very well, milady," the housekeeper nodded. "Will there be anything else?"
Emma glared. "No, Miss Collins," she replied with flat formality.
"Milady," Ada nodded with a curtsey. When she stood back up, she momentarily grasped the back of the chair as if to steady herself. But she recovered quickly and backed smoothly from the room, closing the doors behind her.
Quivering with anger, Emma hurled herself back onto her bed. Her breasts were like swollen rocks, her rosy nipples almost piercing the shift. Between thighs that still glistened from Daisy's saliva, her womanhood throbbed painfully. How dare Edmund toy with her like this? If he wasn't going to indulge his sordid desires, why had he sent the maid to torture her like that? Her body was trembling with rage and frustrated lust. To have her reduced to this state and then not permit her release was simply cruel. His rules...
Emma pouted. To hell with her husband's rules! If there was one thing marriage had taught her, it was how her body could be brought to a quivering climax. If Edmund was going to torment her like this, she would just take things into her own hands.
Sitting up against the pillows, Emma spread her thighs and reached down beneath her short, silk shift. An illicit thrill ran through her as she sank two fingers into her hot, wet pussy. She moaned and bit her lip as she curled them upwards, stroking the upper wall of her cunt the way Ada often had. She gasped and wriggled as her quim trickled down her fingers and dripped onto the sheets.
With her other hand, Emma clutched at her large, hard breasts through her shift. She whimpered softly as a sparkling tendril shot from her bosom, down through her body, to join with the glow in her womanhood. This was her first time touching herself. She wasn't as good as the maids, let alone the housekeeper, but she was in complete control. She could guide her touch to exactly where it was needed...
Emma closed her eyes, her breathing coming in short, stuttering bursts. She could feel it coming. Her skin was flushing red. Her cunt was beginning to convulse. Good Lord! Why had she never done this to herself before? The way to heaven had been literally in her grasp her entire life...
She cried out, her face red with strain. Oh yes! Oh... Oh... Huh?
Emma yelped in fright and frustration as hands suddenly grabbed both her wrists. Her orgasm vanished as her movements were abruptly stilled. Her eyes shot open and she gasped in confusion as she blinked back salty perspiration.
Her hand was firmly pulled from her cunt and forced to join the other above her head. Her legs kicked as she felt fingers close around her ankles, but the firm grips held easily.
"Raise her," Ada commanded from by the dressing table.
The young lady squealed in indignation as she was lifted up from the bed by her arms and legs. Her stinging eyes darted around furiously. Four maids surrounded her, one for each limb. They carried her across the room to the stern, disapproving housekeeper.
Brandishing a large pair of scissors, Ada cut through her mistress's thin, silk shift and let it fall to the carpet. Emma whimpered as she dangled stark naked, her hard nipples still pointing, her quim glistening from her spread thighs.
"Bring her," the housekeeper said flatly, turning to leave.
Emma trashed and squirmed, but it did no good. The maids manhandled her with little difficulty, carrying her downstairs as they followed Ada. The male servants they passed deferentially averted their eyes. But the other maids gave Emma knowing little smiles.
"Where are you taking me?" she gasped as they carried her across the ground floor to another staircase, one she'd never seen before.
"To where those who break his lordship's first rule do penance," the housekeeper called back flatly, her shoes clacking on the bare stone stairs.
Emma fell quiet as they descended to a long, poorly lit and musty hallway. Her husband's family had a long history. The manor house was old, very old. The earliest parts had been constructed in very different times with archaic intent. Most of great house had been renovated many times. Where they were now had not. The walls were simple stone. The floor was well worn. They passed rooms that had been repurposed for storage. But their original use was clear. They were in the dungeons. It was hard not to whimper.
At the end of the hallway was a simple room. If it had once been a cell, its door was long since rotted away. But that didn't matter. Emma gasped as she saw what was waiting open and ready for her—clean, but worn from regular and recent use.
Her mouth fell open in a quiet gasp as the maids carried her to the pillory. With a disapproving shake of her head, Ada brought the top beam down and locked it, sealing Emma's neck and wrists in three separate holes. The lady groaned as the maids dropped her feet. She could stand, but it arched her back painfully, strained her thighs and lifted her naked arse.
She peered up out of wide eyes at the stern housekeeper. Ada smiled sadly down at her. "Everyone breaks the rule once, milady," she whispered, taking something out of the large pocket on the front of her severe black dress.
Emma's eyes widened as she recognized the object: a peeled ginger root wrapped in cheesecloth. But why did the housekeeper have that if she hadn't been planning to use it?
But there was no time to dwell on such questions. The housekeeper unwrapped the root as she circled behind her mistress. Emma gasped in shock and pain as a flat hand came down hard on a pert, pale buttock.
"His lordship will be down shortly," Ada told her softly, before making the growing red marks on the lady's glowing posterior symmetrical. "In the meantime the ginger will help you contemplate the nature of your penance."
Smarting from the sting of the slaps, Emma braced herself, trying to relax her bottom for when the root was shoved up her arse.
The housekeeper thrust the ginger in with a single smooth motion. The lady gasped. Her jaw fell slack with shock.
For an instant nothing happened, then Emma began to whimper as her body began to convulse. Holding the root snuggly in its warm, wet embrace, her pussy slowly began to burn.
♠
Her nose twitched as a bead of sweat hung from its tip. Emma shook her head to shake it free. The wood of the pillory rubbed at her neck, but the scrape against her skin barely registered in her thoughts. Not even the growing ache in her back seemed to matter. She stamped her feet and screamed at the empty room in frustration. But nothing helped the frightful fire in her squirming, salivating cunt.
She broke down and allowed herself a tiny sob. A tear trickled down her cheek, seemingly racing the droplet of quim running down the back of one thigh from her soaking pussy. She'd thought she'd grown somewhat accustomed to the feel ginger. The glow of a root in her pert posterior was by now almost a welcome friend. But the sensitive flesh of her womanhood was only used to the delicate kisses of the maids and the, sometimes rough, penetration of her husband's cock. The peeled ginger was much smaller than Edmund but it was really making its presence felt. The pain in her pussy was overwhelming and intense. Up her arse, the scalding juice squeezed from the root made her loins squirm with heat. But the desires that provoked were rather enjoyable. But this way... this way her lust was terrible, almost cruel. The itch in her cunt was so deep, so unbearable she'd do anything to relieve it. If one of the male servants appeared, she'd beg him to fuck her like the most craven and wretched of whores.
Yet, how would he? She had no doubt that no one would touch the ginger torturing her womanhood without her husband's express permission. But then no cock could enter her—not without threatening to plunge the root deep into her writhing body. What did Edmund have planned for her? How did he punish those that broke his primary rule? Or was this her penance? Would he simply leave her to stew in spice and lust?
Footsteps? Emma looked up. Yes, there were footsteps in the long, stone hallway. Two pairs—both quick, confident—one heavier than the other. For a second, she strained at the w
ooden pillory, her hands pulling at the tight holes trapping her wrists. The gaps were very small, designed for slender arms. A man might not have fit. This was intended for a woman... Emma stopped thrashing. How many girls had her husband bound in here before her? How many had he figged? How had they greeted him afterwards? Had they begged? Had they pleaded?
Emma snarled defiantly. She would not. She was his wife, not a servant. She might be subject to his whims and desires, but she was a lady, born and bred. She held her head up as high as the pillory would allow and determined to greet him with the calm dignity appropriate for her station. She thought she did quite a good job. It was a shame that the perspiration beading on her forehead and the involuntary squirming of her pussy would mar her otherwise impeccable serenity.
The footsteps reached the end of the hall. Emma smiled up politely as her husband leaned on the doorway and surveyed his trapped, naked wife. Behind him, the housekeeper waited patiently with her hands crossed in front of her.
Edmund snorted softly and slowly unbuckled his breeches. Emma couldn't quite stop herself from flinching as they fell to the ground and his erect cock sprang up, pointing at her like a spear. It throbbed eagerly, clearly liking what he saw.
Despite her best efforts, her eyes kept flicking down to the straining shaft. Emma found its huge bulk ugly at best. She far preferred the soft beauty of the housekeeper breasts and welcoming pussy. But her cunt convulsed at the mere sight of her husband's cock. Regardless of her personal distaste towards Edmund's member, indeed his entire gender, her body had become conditioned to what it meant: release was at hand. As soon as he was inside her, she was permitted the little death.