The Baroness

Authors note: this tale is a companion story to my other stories 'The Maid's Tale' and 'Further Adventures of the Maid', and is probably best read in conjunction with them. The topic arose from feedback comments from readers who wanted to know more about the Baroness, and felt that she needed a story of her own to render her less two-dimensional. This is for Mike, who likes his aristocrats!

The girl who would grow up to be the wife of Phillip, Baron Rothsmere, was born in 1843, the same year as the second daughter of Queen Victoria, and was named for her. Little Alice Maud was the firstborn daughter of the Earl of Westershire, and grew up in the company of nannies and governesses, her parents distant.

Her mother had been a lady at court until her marriage, and still maintained her connections, travelling around various country estates and town houses, the guest of her old friends, as was the custom at the time. Alice had older brothers, but they were schooled separately, and she grew up a lonely child, but self-possessed and mature.

When she was 18 years old, she was taken to court and presented to the Queen. She was tall and spare, her figure slender, her breasts barely mature. At the time, the fashion was for fuller figures, curvaceous bosoms and tight waists, and she felt at odds with the other young ladies, chattering in corners, giggling and gossiping behind their fans.

She had a more serious mind, but knew she had to be seen to fit in; she didn't want to be left on the shelf. She forced herself to unbend a little, to socialize with others, but still felt older than her years.

She didn't gain admirers from her season at court, and her mother was displeased. Alice, she thought, had done very little to encourage the attentions of any of the young men, and she chided her daughter for her unfeminine ways. Life slowly returned to normal in the castle on the family estate, and Alice, a few years later at the age of 22, resigned herself to spinsterhood. She watched her brothers marry, watched their wives breed and worked on her embroidery.

Rothsmere was a large country estate that bordered her fathers land. The son and heir, Phillip, had been away to university and then taken a grand tour around Europe; he hadn't been seen on the estate much in the last few years. She had seen him, of course, at gatherings in the county many years ago when he was a child, but hadn't seen him as an adult. He was younger than her, but when she met him at the Christmas gathering of her 22nd year she didn't notice his youth.

He was tall, taller than her, which was unusual. As a child, her mother had been concerned about her height, and had forced her to walk around with a book tied to her head to stop her growth-this seemed to have had the opposite effect, and Alice had grown willowy and delicate, her graceful neck swanlike. But Phillip stood half a head taller than her, and was broad and muscular, a manly figure despite his youth. He had fine sideburns, his hair sleek and dark.

They had danced well together; Phillip appreciated her gracefulness, her height and build complimenting his own, and they made a striking couple. Alice wasn't beautiful, she would be the first to admit that, but she had high cheekbones, a noble nose and warm brown hair; in the candlelit room, her sallow cheeks flushed by the heat, she was almost pretty.

He had seemed to pursue her then, for what reason she knew not, but her father and mother had considered this an excellent match and gave their blessing. She had not known then of Phillips reputation; as a young lady, she had been sheltered, protected, guided by her parents. She had had no close female friends to talk about young men with, no close friends at all really, her interests being solitary and bookish. She wasn't to know that his dalliances were legendary.

At Cambridge, he had nearly been sent down for being found with chambermaids on several occasions, he was a favourite among the local public houses, and there were tales circulating of several ladies of good reputation who had been despoiled. He had chosen Alice precisely for this reason; she didn't know, and the mother of his children must be seen to be pure. He hoped that his past behaviour would be put down to youthful exuberance and that once married, he could carry on with his erotic pursuits in private, his sober and respectable wife belaying suspicion.

Their marriage was arranged for the end of summer, and he spent the previous few months sorting out the estate. His father had died suddenly, and Phillip, young as he was, was in charge. A man of high intelligence, he quickly realized that the estate was in trouble; his father had driven them nearly to bankruptcy, and only Phillip's hard work saved them, that and Alice's dowry.

The only distraction he had was a young maid; she had been working in the dairy when he saw her first, long wheat gold hair tied up in a mob-cap, wispy tendrils escaping which she blew impatiently away from her face. Her cheeks were pink with the exertion of churning the butter, and her sleeves had been pushed up to reveal pale, rounded forearms, the skin translucent in the diffuse, watery light of the dairy.

She was swathed in a huge apron that obscured her figure, but he watched surreptitiously through the window until she finished her task and took it off. She was slim, but rounded, her narrow waist flaring into womanly hips, and he felt the familiar reaction in his loins. His cock hardened, and as he watched, she brushed down her skirts, her hands smoothing over her hips.

He had a sudden vision of her touching herself like this when naked, caressing her smooth skin. He promised himself that this would be his last before marriage; he deserved a treat for all his work. He surprised her as she came out of the dairy, and at the sight of him, she sank into a deep curtsy.

The dairymaids and the kitchen staff didn't often come into contact with the master of the House, and she felt flustered. She became more flustered as she looked up at him and saw the expression on his face. She knew the look; she had seen it often in the faces of the stable men, in Barlow the butler, in the livery men. She was able to brush off their unwanted attentions, but with her Master it was different. Her name was Jenna, and he repeated it after her in a soft, almost inaudible voice, smiling slightly.

She came to his room that night, as ordered. He was head of the household, not yet married, his elderly mother ensconced in her suite in the other wing of the house and he could do as he pleased, but Jenna was nervous: this wasn't her place.

Phillip had no such qualms; she was his servant, and he could use her as he wished. She responded quickly to his commands, undressing and displaying her body for him. Undressed, she was spectacular. Her breasts were full and womanly, rounded bosses of pliant flesh, her nipples large, becoming erect under his intent gaze. He lay back on the bed, his cock jutting out from the folds of his robe, and he touched himself lazily.

He had all night, he didn't want to rush, and he liked to watch them perform for him, enjoying their nerves, sometimes their fear. At his order, she turned around, her arms held high, and he watched her breasts change shape slightly, the firm flesh shifting. His gaze dropped over her buttocks and thighs, rounded and curvaceous, and turning again, she showed him her quim, a tuft of fair gold hair at the base of her stomach. He knew what it covered, and called her over to the bed to explore further.

She lay on her back, her head resting on the pillows, her arms comfortably folded above her head. She seemed at ease, almost confident now, and this disturbed him a little.

Forcing her legs apart, he settled between her knees. Her sex lips were fleshy, the outer lips covered by fair hair, the inner tucked neatly inside, pale pink in colour. He inhaled her scent, the musky smell of a mature woman. He wanted to taste her, and to his surprise, her hands came down and she pulled back her lips to allow him access to her, pulling back the hood of her pleasure bud so that he could lick and suck at it, nuzzling the core of her sex and dipping his tongue into her juices.

He felt her rock her pelvis, grinding her sex onto his face, and knew that he had found a woman who wanted this as much as he did. He probed her slick tunnel with a finger and she growled, begging him for more. He did as she asked, and roughly rammed his throbbing cock into her, pushing in deeply and urgently. He held her legs spread wide apart, and plunged into her, all finesse gone.

But she wanted it, and urged him on, her hands playing with her own body, pulling at her own nipples, rubbing at her erect sex-bud. He erupted quickly, the seed bursting from him suddenly and unexpectedly: he hadn't reached his crisis as quickly as this for many a year, but he hadn't had a woman who had demanded sex from him as voraciously before. He looked forward to the rest of the summer then, knowing that his desires would be well-satisfied.

Jenna had stayed around for a month or two, and then she disappeared suddenly. Barlow, the butler on whom Phillip relied for information of all the below-stairs goings-on, had no idea of where she had gone, or why. Phillip, shrugged, dismissed her from his mind, and returned to the task of organizing his wedding and running the estate.

Alice, on her wedding day, went to her husband as unknowledgeable of a man's needs as the day she was born. When he demanded that she remove her night gown on their first night together as man and wife, she hesitated, shocked at this suggestion. He was impatient, he was young, his methods not subtle and he was used to women who were compliant. Even those women of his own class that he had seduced hadn't been virgins, and in truth, he wasn't sure what to do with her.

The combination of his impatience and her fear was disastrous. He had ripped the nightdress from her, the fine lawn fabric tearing, all her months of embroidery ruined beyond repair. Her body, exposed to a man's eyes for the first time, trembled like a tall lily in the wind.

She was slim; her breasts barely there but tipped with large brown nipples, the areolas puckering. She tried to cover herself with her hands, tears starting to fall, and knew that this annoyed him further. When he undressed himself, she could barely drag her eyes away from his body. She had never seen anything like it, and this frightened her. He was muscular, his chest covered in fine brown hair that tapered to a thin line over his flat belly, then ended in an explosion of curls at the base. Rising there was an obscene stalk of flesh, growing as she watched it, jutting out from the hair. She gasped, and he took the thing in his hand, stroking it slowly, and it grew ever bigger and firmer.

He came over to her to hold her, and she cringed from him, not wanting to be touched by him or that thing, and he lost his temper with her timidity. He pushed her over to the bed, and she lay face down, burying her head in the pillows. She felt his hands between her legs, insistently burrowing there, and he pushed them up inside her. His other hand came down hard on her buttocks, slapping her.

She began to cry in earnest; she didn't know which was the most painful, his fingers deep inside her, tearing at her flesh, or the stinging slaps, but then she felt another pain that beat them both. He had pushed into her with his thick rod, stretching her virgin entrance. She was dry, unaroused, and although he was enjoying the friction, every stroke for her was painful. She endured this, praying that he would soon stop, desperate not to anger him further by crying out. She felt a strange sensation inside her; she was wet, and he was pumping harder, his breath now coming in short bursts. Then she felt the blissful sensation of him pulling out from her, leaving her abused flesh.

He rolled off her, and picking up her tattered nightgown, he wiped himself with it, staining the delicate fabric with a mixture of blood and juices. She lay there, stunned, not daring to move until he had left her, headed for his suite of rooms, leaving without a word. Alice reached gingerly between her legs, wincing a little at the movement, and felt moisture there. Lifting her fingers to her face, she took in the rank male smell of him, and the iron tinge of her virgin blood.

Their marriage did not improve. Sex for Phillip was as essential as eating and breathing: for Alice it was something to be feared and endured. After their first night together, he had the intelligence and sensibility to realize that he could have approached her differently, but his efforts to make sex pleasurable for her were in vain. She did not respond to his caresses, and he grew weary of her cringing and terror.

More often than not, he lost patience, and their coupling was a re-enactment of their first night. He found it easier to take her from behind, ramming in his cock into her without having to look at her scared face. In his mind, he could substitute the face of a more willing woman, someone who welcomed his ravaging cock and his seed. And then Alice became pregnant; thankfully she banned him from her bed, and this was supported by the doctor, who warned of all sorts of birth defects should Phillip continue to claim his husbandly rights.

Phillip left her alone after that; he could find what he needed elsewhere. Alice, for her part, found that he could be a charming husband when sex wasn't the issue; he was a good host and had many friends, all of whom came calling. She learnt to enjoy company, Philip was unfailingly attentive to her in the presence of others, and between them the façade of a happy marriage was maintained; her quick pregnancy only served to strengthen the impression in everybody's mind that this was a successful love match.

She gave birth to their daughter at the end of spring; Alice worried that Phillip might reject the baby on account of its sex, but the baby, conceived in fear, was instantly adored by him. Alice, unable to provide milk for her own child, was pushed out of the ring of nannies and wet nurses that Phillip had employed to care for little Victoria.

Their life together continued, an uneasy truce between them. Phillip had tried to take her in the weeks after the birth, but she had suffered the same paralyzing fear of his cock, and this had seemed the end of it, until a warm afternoon in early summer.

Alice had been sitting alone in the small reading room, embroidering a salver cloth for the dining room, when she was taken by a headache. The weather was close and humid, and she needed to lie down.

Phillip, meanwhile, was occupying himself with the baby's nanny. She was a plump girl from the local village, not beautiful, but she was eager for the attentions of her master, and he was pleasuring her in her mistress's room. Phillip got a perverse sort of pleasure himself from riding his women here, on his wife's bed.

The girl was partially dressed: her pantaloons were off, but her petticoats and dress pushed up. Phillip had simply eased his cock from his britches, taking her fully clothed. She was on her back, her legs spread and he was pumping into her vigorously when the door opened.

Alice stood there, taking in the tableau before her. A wave of fury sparked through her; this was her room, her bed, her husband. This was the woman who had parted her from the baby, who was able to provide what Alice could not. She stood still, her hand on the door knob not knowing what to do. Phillip ordered her over to the bed, and in a daze she came. The maid was trying to push him from her, trying to cover herself, embarrassed and scared, but he held her legs apart, holding her firmly.

He pulled out from her, and grabbed his wife's hand. Forcing her hand down, he shoved her fingers into the maid.

'There-that's what a real woman feels like,' he snapped at her, 'that's what I want to fuck.'

Alice was shocked at his crudeness, shocked at seeing her fingers being forced to touch the young maid, but unable to resist him. She felt the warmth between the girl's legs, the heat deeper inside, and the sticky moisture that rose from her. Above all there was the musky scent that spoke silently and eloquently of arousal, of sex.

The fury rose over Alice again, and she wanted to hurt this girl, to hurt her in the way that she had been hurt, and she viciously rammed her fingers inside her. Phillip had hurt her like this, taking her without regard for her feelings, and Alice, lost now in a blaze of anger and humiliation, rammed her fingers into the maid mechanically, her eyes fixed on them slamming into her again and again.

Alice had slender hands, and she had bunched up her fingers-all four of them could fit, stretching the girls tunnel, and Alice twisted her fingers inside her, feeling the muscular walls of the girls sex, wanting to pump into her harder and harder until the girl cried out in the pain that Alice had felt. She was so naïve about sex, so uneducated by her husband that she didn't realize what she was doing; the maid, shocked by this sudden turn, was quickly becoming aroused, and began to rock her pelvis, a low moan rising to her lips.

She reached down to touch herself, to play with her sex-bud, but Alice, thinking that the girl was trying to escape from her invading fingers, slapped the exploring hand away. The slap fell directly on the girls bud, and she whimpered in pleasure at the stinging sensation. Alice, thinking that she had caused pain, slapped her again and again, quick flicks with her fingertips skimming the erect tissue and the stretched lips of the girls sex.

Phillip was overcome by his wife's action. He watched the two women, the intent look on his wife's face as she finger-fucked the maid, unknowingly bringing her to her crisis, believing that she was hurting the girl. His cock was hard, standing erect against his belly, and he stroked it slowly, smoothing his fingertips over the bulbous head, smearing the clear juices that had begun to flow from him.

The girl had come; she was begging her mistress to stop, saying she could take no more, and Alice slowly stopped. She had wanted to hurt her, and believed that she had done.

Satisfaction flooded her body; for the first time she had done something she needed to do, not caring about society's rules of behaviour, and she had a sensation of warmth inside her. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at the maid's body, her legs still parted, her body exhausted. The girl's sex was reddened and swollen, and Alice could see the oily juices oozing from her. Then Alice felt her husband's hands on her; he pushed her over the end of the bed, her face almost into the girl's sex, so close that Alice could breathe in deeply the scent of arousal and sweat emanating from her.

He pushed Alice's skirts above her waist, and dipped his fingers inside her underclothes. For the first time, his wife's sex was wet, and her pleasure bud was erect. Alice struggled against this intrusion, but he was soon inside her, forcing his thick cock deep, for the first time sticky with her juices. He had been so stimulated by her behaviour that he soon came, pumping inside her, leaving her dripping with his seed.

The maid dressed quickly, and dropping a brief curtsy, excused herself, leaving the couple staring at each other in the Baroness's bedroom. He was excited, now knowing what aroused his wife: she was humiliated, still feeling his warm come oozing from her, smelling the strong maleness of it, so angry that she resolved never to let him near her again.

She rushed over to her dressing room, slamming the door shut and leaned against it, trying to fight away the tears of shame that threatened to flow. Below this, another feeling emerged, an unfamiliar feeling, a disturbing sensation in her belly. Stripping off her clothes, she rang for her maid, and demanding that a bath was drawn for her, trying to wash away all that had happened.