EXTRACT FOR
The Lady Brought Low
(Ted Edwards)

     She moved closer, hot water rippling at his face; one of her hands clasped his stiff penis, fondling, while the other caressed his back. He could feel the firmness of her breast against his upper arm, the hard nubbin of her nipple betraying her arousal. They had seen off the plain, black coach ??" no markings or arms on the door ??" a quarter-hour before, standing to wave as it disappeared round a bend in the drive and had lost no time in retiring to his, rather than her bathroom, which had been used only a few minutes before and had not yet been cleaned.

      "He is quite a man," she whispered, her lips close to his ear. "He tupped me twice more and still had sperm left when I sucked him to spend. And that on top of the six times he had me in the two nights we spent together during the rout. And I know that he cavorted with some of our sluts as well as with Matilda D'Arcy and Clarissa Romville. He's almost as good and strong and virile as you, my sweet. Will you bugger me before you take our housekeeper to your bed?"

      "I will," he promised, "and anything else you desire, sweetest of wives. What genius! He asked me to call him 'Harry'! What a triumph!"

      "Oh, and he confesses himself astounded at our baths, calling them 'a marvel fit for a Brunel'. He swears that he will have them built in his own house."

      "I am delighted that you introduced him to them, albeit rather late, since he did stink, it being apparent even to me."

      Her nose wrinkled. "He did. And he was not very clean. He asked me to lick his arse on our first cavort on the very first day, but it was so unclean that I called a slut to do it in my stead. He did not mind, I hasten to add. One hopes that in future he will come to us smelling as sweet as a rose."

      "It is to be desired, particularly that he returns." He paused, enjoying the touch of her hands. "By the way, did his powers stretch to using the sluts that you so cleverly positioned in the bathroom?"

      "Only to wash him, for it was there that I sucked him. He will, I think, sleep well on his journey."

       He kissed her, meeting her tongue with his. Pulling back, he looked at her with admiration. "May I present my heart-felt devotion that you allowed yourself to endure his stink and un-cleanliness for our sake. It is something that I do not have to endure, I know."

      "It was but my duty, husband."

       "I appreciate the sacrifice you make. But do not build your hopes in the matter of hygiene, dearest. I have no doubt that when he finds the cost he will soon lose interest. When my grandfather built these," he splashed his hand in the water, indicating the ornately Italian-tiled room, the twelve-foot square, two-foot-six deep bath that was supplied with hot and cold water from an ingenious system of pipes and boilers arranged by a combination of Cornish mining engineers and Shropshire iron-artists, "he was forced to sell part of the estate to cover the cost. But enough of that," he turned to her, making more ripples, "the triumph I crow of is yours, so you shall have any reward you desire. I shall use that lovely bum-hole you reserve for me, worry not, as often as you wish. Ask me for something that will allow me to show my devotion."

      "Oh, but all I could ask is your magnificent prick, my sweet! It is the biggest and hardest I have ever known and it gives me so much pleasure for so long! No woman could desire more!"

       "But you can have that at any time. There must be more, surely?"

      She was silent for a moment, chewing her lower lip, eyes half closed in concentration. Then they opened, the furrows on her brow clearing. "I know!" she cried.

      "Ah! And what is it?"

      "It's not a 'what', it's a 'her'!"

      It was his turn to frown in perplexity. "'Her'? But you have dozens of sluts around you, my..."

      "No, not them! Her, the bitch at Percy Worsthorne's fling; the snoot-nosed, arrogant little cow who cut me dead! Her! The one with the flashy husband; handsome but shallow. And no title! Dammit, the man propositioned me and him title-less!"

      Light dawned. "Now I remember! But that was all of... what... nine months ago, wasn't it?"

      "And I have forgotten none of it! Do you not remember her? Blonde, a fetching if overly-modest and rather cheap burgundy gown; slim, a good figure, particularly in the tits?"

      "I do, now that you mention the tits. They were the reason that Percy invited the fellow in the first place, planning to get his hands on them and she besides. But she smoked the sort of entertainment it was in seconds, didn't she? She left there with her nose in the air and her husband trailing after like a whipped dog. And I do recall you fulminating on the subject. So you want her, do you?"

      "I do," she said, her agitation causing small waves that made him lift his face further out of the water, "I want her naked, whipped, grovelling in front of us, covered in spunk and begging for more! I want her tongue a foot up my cunt after it's been up my arse-hole! I want her brought low, broken. I want her crushed!"

      He laughed. "Well, that's clear enough and no error! I will make some discreet enquiries, though I must warn you that if she is well connected it may not be possible to have her brought here. There is licence, my dear and then there is plain stupidity; we may stand head and shoulders above the law, but we cannot flout it entirely, particularly since I hear that there is a new climate of moralistic cant at Court. You may have to be satisfied with having her abducted to some Moorish harem, possibly with some special instructions as to her treatment."

      She pouted, but recovered herself. "If it must be so, then it must be so. If that is all that can be arranged, then I will accept that she will be fucked by some Arab nigger, squealing the while. But I confess that I long to have her here where we can bend her in our own way. What joy that would bring me!"

      "I will certainly see what can be done. Now, sweetest, about that bum-fuck you asked for. Shall you have it here, or will we take these two sluts," he indicated the two naked women who were kneeling at the side of the bath, trembling with dread, "to your bed-chamber?"

      "Oh, here first, I pray!"

      "Very well, here first and then in your bed and Peg Longstreet will have to wait, I fear; for you can't hurry a good buggering."

      "I should be quite distraught if it were the case, husband."

      "I regret, My Lord, that I must make an adverse report on the behaviour of two servants, one of them one of your trainee sluts."

      The speaker was Peg Longstreet. She was standing, naked, at the side of the bed upon which he lounged, equally naked, his flaccid penis lolling on his thigh. He looked up at her, taking in the mature curves, the full breasts that sagged heavily but not excessively. She had unfastened her dark hair ??" not as black as Georgina's ??" which tumbled around her shoulders making her look years younger than her normal appearance and infinitely more abandoned than was the case when she was dressed and groomed habitually. She was a passionate and skilful lover, as he knew very well.

      He yawned; it was close to ten at night and he had left Georgina's bed only a half-hour before. Those exertions ??" for he had taken both trainee sluts as well as his wife ??" had tired him; not in his sexual abilities, but purely because of lack of sleep. He was seriously concerned that he would fall asleep at an inopportune moment and that would not do. "Is it serious?"

      "I fear so, My Lord," she replied. It was not a subject that she had wished to bring up at this particular moment, but she had just confirmed her suspicions in the last hour and was not going to risk delay in passing on the information. All too hideously clear in her mind was the incident four years ago when a partially trained girl had, on her assurance, been employed as a commode-bearer at an entertainment such as the one just ended. All that the task involved was standing with a pot so that gentlemen could relieve themselves, but something triggered a flash of sheer lunacy. The pot, unfortunately half-full, was dashed upon the head of a guest ??" a recently created Viscount - who fell, stunned and soaked to the floor. In the girl's case, retribution had been swift and terrible, infinitely worse than it would have been had the incident occurred in other circumstances; the Earl was a man of enormous control, but he was capable of terrible cruelty and this incident unleashed both his rage and that trait to the full: the girl was tied to an army-style punishment triangle and lashed with a knotted whip until the blood flowed and white bone showed while the assembled company howled and bayed. She died.

      In the ensuing days, Peg often thought that the unfortunate girl had been the lucky one, for what happened to her, beginning the day following the end of the party was etched in her brain in images of fire and memories of pain beyond all endurance. She was taken to a neighbouring estate, strapped, face down to a horse and given twelve strokes with a heavy cane wielded by His Lordship himself, using two hands, while Her Ladyship ??" and she alone - watched. Those strokes had taken three hours to administer, one every fifteen minutes, with a brine-soaked cloth applied in between and smelling salts on hand to revive her. After the last, she had been left overnight, with fresh cloths applied every hour until the next morning, when another twelve strokes were applied, though this time it took six hours, because she kept losing consciousness. Then she was left there for three days, brine cloths changed every half-hour and without food or water. On the fifth day she was buggered by ten farm labourers, all of them taking her at least twice and every one wearing a nettle or bristle apron.

      No servant of the hall ??" not even Rington - ever knew the precise details of what had happened to her, though she was absent for a month while recovering from that ordeal. His Lordship saw to it that she lacked nothing to aid her recovery and Her Ladyship was a frequent and solicitous visitor, even applying cooling salves to the ruined flesh. No word was ever said about that punishment; it was as if it had never happened. But it had happened and if she ever doubted it all she had to do was strip as she was now and look at her backside in a mirror: the marks were faint, but they were there. They weren't faint in her mind, though: they blazed there as a constant reminder that nothing like that was ever going to happen to her again, whatever it took to avoid it.

      "No matter how calamitous," he grunted, "it can wait." He saw her eyes and knew what was going through her mind. "Don't worry, my dear Peg, you will not be blamed, I promise."

      She felt a gush of relief so powerful that her knees trembled. "Thank you, My Lord!"

      "Come, show me how good that excellent mouth of yours is. Oh, and Peg..."

      She paused in the act of climbing on to the bed. "Yes, My Lord?"

      He smiled. "If I should fall asleep it is no reflection on you. You may lie beside me until I wake and can give you the attention you deserve."

      "Yes, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord."

      As it happened, he did fall asleep, but not until after she had given the best suck that she was capable of.