Lady Constance's Lover

[More vanilla than most of my stories. A bit of a weakness of mine is posh people, especially women, talking dirty in a refined way. This is a bit of a Lady Chatterley's Lover rip-off that allows me to scratch that particular itch. Many thanks to rahatingt at Blue Moon for working on this with me.]

*****

It all began because Lady Constance De Coverlet had had a disturbed night.

Staying at the home of Lady Sarah Montague, her sister-in-law - Constance had married Sarah's brother many years ago - she had not been able to sleep in a strange bed, and had awoken early. Finding the house empty and still with an empty hour or more before one might expect breakfast, she had dressed and decided to take a walk about the house and its grounds. Though dawn had broken, the household had not yet risen, and she had the run of the long, echoing corridors and wood-panelled dining rooms and drawing rooms. She had dallied a while in the library, not because of the books, but instead admiring her own reflection in the looking glass; her fine, aristocratic features, her auburn hair ringleted and piled upon her head, her swelling bosom confined by the tight corset and bodice of her silver-grey satin dress and the creamy white skin of her neck above it with a golden locket strung on a black ribbon.

Her narcissistic contemplation had however been distracted by sounds coming from one of the rear corridors of the great house, towards the servants' quarters.

Thinking that this must be one of the servants already risen, Lady Constance made towards the sound, long silken skirts swishing, to investigate, and perhaps to secure for herself a little tea and toast. But the sounds were not the usual noises of someone moving crockery and tableware. Instead there was a rhythmic grunting interspersed with little feminine cries, as if of a woman in distress. Constance was about to call out when she was stopped dead in her tracks by voices.

"Look at you, you fucking whore," the deeper, guttural male voice said. "Your cunt is about to bite your arse it's so swollen and needy!"

Constance flushed at such disgraceful language, but what she heard next shocked her still further. A woman's voice answered, and it was unmistakeably a refined, cut-glass accent, clearly that of Lady Sarah, her friend and sister-in-law.

"Oh yes! Marcus, it needs you so badly! Please, spear me harder I implore you!"

Ashen faced, Constance could not help herself reach the scullery doorway from which the depraved sounds were issuing - beneath the human grunts and moans she could now, she was sure, hear a wet, rhythmic squelching and a slapping as of flesh against flesh. Her eye darted around the doorway, and there, on the floor, was Lady Sarah, on her hands and knees, her back to the doorway, her rich red velvet skirts gathered around her waist, exposing her creamy white buttocks and black stockings. Behind her, a menial - probably the gardener from the look of his muddy boots and trousers, the latter pulled down to his knees - was vigorously coupling with her, his muscular torso bare and glistening with sweat, his taut bottom moving rapidly backwards and forwards. He had reached forward and taken hold of Sarah's long, luxurious black hair, pulling it loose from its confining coiffure, holding her with it almost as a rider might hold a horse's reins, pulling back her head and forcing her to arch her back. Both participants' faces were contorted with raw, animalistic passion as he mounted her like a stallion and rutted there on the dirty tiles.

Constance stood there, transfixed by the sight, horrified yet unable to look away. Spittle flecked the gardener's lips as his mouth continued to spew a stream of the filthiest language that Lady Constance had ever heard.

"That's it, take it deep, you cunt, like the bitch in heat that you are. That's why you come to me, isn't it? To rut like a bitch in heat! Say it! Say it, you fucking whore!"

"Ah! Oh! Ah! Ah! Yes! Yes, it is! Oh please, Marcus, I cannot stand it! I... I am... going... to..."

Whether Constance let out a gasp at that, or flinched involuntarily, she could not say, but her presence was abruptly noticed. Not by Lady Sarah, who was twisting and bucking with complete abandon in the throes of some unseemly spasm, eyes tightly clenched, but by the beefy figure of the gardener, who suddenly glanced over his shoulder and saw Constance standing there. Constance put a hand to her mouth as the man stared lewdly at her, and then, slowly winked, and raised a finger to his lips to indicate silence, before turning and returning to his work with renewed vigour.

Constance turned and fled, desperate to escape this debauched scene as quickly as possible.

---

It was some hours later, in the drawing room, when the two ladies finally met after breakfast for a cup of tea. Both were immaculately dressed - from the look of Lady Sarah, there was no sign of her earlier exertions, except perhaps for a warm glow to her cheeks, as if of a brisk morning's ride in the grounds, and an expression of contentment. Constance, however, could barely bring herself to look at her sister-in-law, and spoke distractedly, unable to erase the image of earlier, and Sarah's vile display.

"My dear, you do not look at all well," said Lady Sarah, apparently solicitously, but with a slight smirk playing about her feline features. "May I ring for Peters to bring you a tot of brandy for that tea? It will perk you up no end, I promise you."

"It's nothing, truly," Lady Constance said, "please do not trouble yourself... I think perhaps I had a restless night."

"You are thinking of what you saw this morning, are you not?" asked Lady Sarah, watching her sister-in-law's face carefully.

Lady Constance jumped as if scalded. "I... I beg your pardon? I... I don't know what you mean..."

"Please, Constance," Sarah said. "We have known each other for twenty years or more now, ever since you married my brother the Duke. We need have no secrets between us. You tarried in that doorway for ten minutes or more. I cannot believe that in all that time you were not privy to a single sensible sight or sound."

Lady Constance blushed as scarlet as the dress she wore. "Forgive me, Sarah," she stammered. "I did not mean to spy upon you. It is none of my business."

"I did not expect you to be up and about so early," Sarah admitted. "But come now - surely you did not expect me to wear my widow's weeds indefinitely? It has been two years now since Arthur's death, and a woman has needs."

"Oh, but Sarah!" protested Constance, finally stung into anger. "With a servant! And a menial at that, still dirty from his exertions! How *could* you?"

"That is what makes it all the more delicious," purred Sarah, arching her back as she leaned back in the well-stuffed armchair. "He is of the lowest class, barely educated, with no trace of refinement or polish. But that makes him closer to his true nature, do you not see? Like the most savage tribesman of New Guinea, he is untouched by the deadening effects of civilisation. Instead, he is in intimate contact with his animal passions," her voice had lowered thickened as she spoke, her breast heaving. "He treats me as no gentleman would ever dare to, and when I am with him, I know that I am no lady, but rather that I am a *woman*."

"But..." Constance was scandalised. "The things he said to you! The language he used!"

"I know..." Sarah gasped. "Vile! Unspeakable! And yet, words have power. Can you confess that they did not touch something in your innermost core - your deepest, darkest interior? Were you not... stimulated?"

"His... rough talk was affecting," Constance admitted somewhat unwillingly. "But the way he treated you! Like a..."

"Like a common whore?" breathed Sarah. "Worse, perhaps. Under his tutelage I have performed acts that even the vilest streetwalker of Whitechapel would not dream to undertake. But to be under the control of such a man, to be bent to his every perverse desire... has given me such pleasures that I cannot even begin to describe to you. Constance, I tell you in all seriousness that I would rather be the whore of such a man than the grandest lady in England."

"Oh this is madness!" Constance exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "You have lost your mind, Sarah. Can you not see what you have become? Merely an animal, dependent purely upon the pleasures of the senses, fornicating in the fields, careless of who might see. To act in such a way is to become one with the beasts. We are better than this!"

Lady Sarah sighed, and leant forward again. "I am sorry, Constance," she said. "I have shocked you, I can see. You are quite flushed now. Come, let us take some fresh air. Walk with me..."

Arm in arm, the two ladies left the house and began to walk in the grounds, Lady Sarah smiling secretly to herself as she drew Constance ever closer towards where the gardener would now be working.

---

They came upon him unexpectedly, rounding a corner of ornamental hedge. Constance gasped and raised a dainty white-gloved hand to her mouth, as she had at her last sight of the man.

"Ah, there you are," Lady Sarah said. "I wanted to introduce you to my good friend, Lady Constance de Coverlet. Constance, this is Marcus..."

Marcus stood up from his work and bowed slightly to the Duchess, "My lady. It is a pleasure", his tone and demeanour were polite for a moment as he played the part of a servant meeting a lady for the first time.

Initially, Constance relaxed slightly at the man's deferential air. This was the ordered, respectable world that she understood, where every person knew their place. However, this brief moment of relief soon vanished as she saw him staring frankly at her, looking her up and down in an appraising way, while giving her that insolent smirk. Lady Constance found herself bristling at his brazen manner, as though her breeding, her title meant nothing. Constance found herself drawing her shawl more tightly across her shoulders and decolletage, very conscious of the man's lecherous eyes upon her. She looked across at Sarah to reprimand the man for his roving eye, but as she did so she saw that Sarah intended to take no action, that she was mesmerised by this rough man.

Marcus for his part enjoyed Constance's shocked, embarrassed look and chuckled to Lady Sarah; "My Lady, I see that you have talked with Lady Constance. No doubt she is shocked. That is to be expected I guess. A lady like her wouldn't had much experience with seeing a man and a woman fucking - rutting like animals", he continued, before suddenly stepping forward and slipping his hand into Sarah's tightly-coiffed hair and pulling her head towards him. Sarah moaned as his lips met hers and she felt the rough stubble of his unshaven face on her delicate porcelain skin. Her lips parted automatically, allowing his tongue to ravish her mouth and she could feel herself melting once more, feeling his rough hands upon her, her womanhood moistening with excitement and anticipation. This morning, being caught in such a compromising situation by Constance, had been a mortifying experience for Sarah, but she had slowly discovered over her months with Marcus that the more she was humiliated and demeaned, the more she felt under his spell, and the more perverse pleasure she took in each further degradation. Now he had provided her with the ultimate humiliation - for her own weaknesses and lusts to be exposed to her own sister-in-law. But she knew that worse was to come. It had been Marcus' suggestion to bring Constance out to the garden this afternoon, and Sarah knew that he intended to do the same to her as he had to Sarah. Sarah was torn between guilt at what she was about to perpetrate on Constance and lust at what was surely to come, but in any event she had been unable to refuse Marcus, as she was now unable to refuse him anything.

As for Lady Constance, she gasped out loud at the vile language of the man. To swear like a sailor in front of a titled lady! She was about to upbraid him for his coarseness when he simply grabbed her friend and began kissing her, in full view of Constance and whoever else might be watching! Constance stood open mouthed, speechless at such shamelessness! But at the back of her mind, his words were working upon Constance. It was true, she reflected, that this morning had indeed been the first time she had ever seen a man and a woman engaged in the physical act of love. Although she had been married for 20 years, and had borne a daughter of her own, the Duke had always insisted upon strict propriety in the bedroom. Lamps and candles were extinguished, and all happened beneath the concealing sheets. As much as she had - at least in the early days - enjoyed their couplings, and as much as she was no stranger to the sensation of a male member within her sex, she had never actually seen a man's organ with her own eyes before today.

"M-mind your tongue!" she managed to stammer. "If I were a man I should horsewhip you for your damned impudence!"

Marcus left Sarah panting as he broke the kiss and grabbed her hand, still staring at Constance as he pulled Sarah's hand to his crotch area, rubbing it against the bulge in his trousers, showing both ladies that despite his early morning fornication he was supremely aroused still.

"Why don't you show Lady Constance what makes you do it, My Lady," he said. "Show her the cock that makes you be my wanton whore."

Sarah closed her eyes in shame as her hand moved over the bulge of stiff cock jutting at the crotch of Marcus' trousers.

"Sarah!" Constance wailed. "Do not do this, I implore you!"

"Forgive me, Constance," Sarah whispered, blushing. "But I must..."

Sarah could not look at her friend in her shame, but concentrated instead upon letting her delicate gloved fingers undo the buttons of Marcus' trousers, pulling apart the flies and reaching down to gently caress his stiff, engorged member as it jutted proudly free and rampant. She stroked it softly, eyes misty with desire. The knowledge that she was being watched by a scandalised Lady Constance just feet away was merely an additional layer of embarrassment that acted as an aphrodisiac in its own right.

"See it, Constance," Sarah breathed in a kind of wonder, eyes fixed upon Marcus' cock. "He is a man of marble, is he not? Did Michelangelo himself ever sculpt such a wondrous form?"

Lady Constance gazed in horrified fascination, as a rabbit might at a snake. She thought back to this morning, of seeing Sarah, her clothes disarranged, on all fours with this... thing pumping in and out of her, and heard her friend's screams of ecstasy. She remembered how she had grown flushed with her own desire, until... until Marcus had seen her in the mirror, and smiled. Constance closed her eyes at the memory and turned her face away from this carnal sight. She knew she ought to run, but something between fear and curiosity rooted her to the spot.

"I... I should go now..." she said weakly.

Marcus couldn't help but gasp as Sarah freed him, the pale gloved fingers so delicate was such a lewd contrast against the darker skin of his thick proud arousal. Marcus knew how lewd and powerful it looked. It was thick, promising an impossibly snug fit, veins bulging as the engorged shaft jutted out proudly, the fat dark purple flared knob glistening with pre-cum as another fat clear drop slowly oozed out as Sarah squeezed it. Marcus gave a low groan and took a couple of steps forward, towards Lady Constance. Before the scandlised noblewoman realized what was happening, he had taken her right hand in his hands and grabbed her glove at the finger and tugged it free, dropping it on the grass below, then guided her delicate soft fingers towards the scalding hot arousal of the most wicked man she had ever met.

Constance started as she felt Marcus' strong hand take her own, and pull her long glove from her fingers. She looked at him, amazed, aware of his sheer physical presence now that he stood close beside her, of his strong, masculine body next to hers. She was completely helpless as he moved her now bare hand to touch his jutting, rock hard member, merely letting out a little; "Aah!" of shock and surprise as her dainty white fingers closed around his rigid fleshy bar. His own fingers circled her own, trapping hers in place. Constance's mouth worked soundlessly, like a fish out of water.

"I think you should see for yourself what if feels like, my lady," Marcus told Constance, "so that you can judge if Lady Sarah is right in wanting it so much, or whether she is just wicked."

His put his fingers over hers and made her stroke him up and down, groaning at the sensation. Constance looked down, amazed, to see her dainty hand around Marcus' cock, feel it stimulating his shaft as he moved her hand up and down. Glistening drops oozed from the slit at the tip of the purple head, running down over Constance's fingers, coating them with watery slime.

"Oh!" Lady Constance moaned in disgust at the sensation, but still her increasingly slick and slimy fingers moved up and down, up and down. There was a strong smell now of sex, and Constance's senses swam. She felt light-headed, almost faint, and she tottered on her heels. Her corset felt very tight and constricting.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"It's called a cock my lady," he replied. "It is the first cock you are seeing isn't it?", he asked with a hungry smile. "A cock's supposed to be like this for a real man, large and fat and drooling for its lady".

"I am a married woman!" Lady Constance managed to gasp, unable to take her eyes from her hand stroking this prodigious monstrosity.

"It does not care," Lady Sarah moaned, sinking to her knees in a position of adoration, almost worship of Marcus' hardness, hurriedly pulling her own white gloves from her hands and reaching out in supplication to caress the man's balls, and the root of his shaft. "It is beyond petty moralities and social conventions. It craves only its consummation in the soft flesh of a woman. Any woman, Constance. And she craves only its firm thrusting boldness within her. Anywhere..." She was almost desperate to close her soft lips around it, but for the moment it was obscured by Marcus's and Constance's hand, and Sarah had to content herself with licking her lips and continuing her manual ministrations.

Constance let out a cry of despair, and bit upon her free hand, but she knew that on some level Sarah was right, that she could feel within herself an answering softness to the hardness that she was now involuntarily stroking. She felt the familiar heat that she had felt this morning, and knew that beneath the embroidered red silk dress and her petticoats and silken pantaloons her most secret parts were already flushed with arousal and glistening with her own moisture.

"I must not!" she cried out, but she knew that she was already lost.

Marcus' hand suddenly left hers and Lady Constance yelped in shock and surprise as the gardener grabbed her by her hair. She was helpless against his physical strength as he forced her head downwards, to stare at the neatly manicured hand that was stroking his erect penis. Her own hand, and, she dimly began to realise, that his hand was no longer holding hers in place, that she was stroking it apparently of her own accord, watching as more of the milky liquid oozed from the slit at the end, slowly tricking over her delicate fingers. It was the most obscene, perverse thing she had ever seen. But as her hand trembled and she began to consider moving it away, Sarah's hands came up to join hers, and the two women continued to slowly, lovingly stroke the fat member in front of them.

"It is so wrong isn't it? But that's why it feels so good, doesn't it?", Marcus asked her with a knowing gaze. "That's why it makes you clench your thighs as the need makes you moist with desire, doesn't it my Lady?" His grip tightened and he tugged her face to look at him once again. "Tell me - have I made you moist my lady? Your pussy wet with need for a fat cock?" His words were the lewdest and most crass she ever heard, words she didn't imagine existed before this day. Yet he wasn't done still as he held her gaze and asked, "Don't you want to be tight and wet and needy for me?", he hissed.