Lady Pixie's War Ch. 06: Mated

They called it the "Phoney War," but for me that started in March 1939 not September. I trusted Edward Halifax to keep the ineffable Chamberlain to the red line of the guarantees to Poland and others. It was clear enough that was the last thing Neville intended to do. Archie himself, told me more than once, that Neville had done it to appease Halifax and to head off demands for a declaration of war. Finally, even Churchill and I were in agreement.

It must have been at Duff Cooper's constituency Spring bash that "Winston" cornered me. Lady Diana, radiant as ever, commanded the love and lust of every man there, and Duff was in fine form with his two current mistresses present. Diana once said to me, knowing the situation with Archie and myself, that she was happy enough for Duffie to go sow his wild oats where he liked, as she was rather bored by sex. It worked for them, as our arrangement did for Archie and me.

I was sipping a glass of Dom Perignon with Violet Bonham-Carter when Winston hove into view, looking for all the world like a cross between an overweight baby and a bulldog. Wafting great clouds of cigar smoke and nursing a very large brandy and soda, he greeted his old friend Violet and then fixed his gaze on me.

"Unlike your bloody husband, you are on the right side of history, Lady Fortescue."

Thanking him, I asked him to call me "Lady Pixie," as everyone else did.

Oddly, given we both moved in the same circles, this was the first time we had spoken except in passing. There was no denying that the man had a charisma. He seemed to me old and a little out of sorts, but there was still a fire smouldering there.

"You do know, Lady Pixie that war is coming? That rat Neville will seek to squirm out of his guarantees, but WE must not let him. Can I rely on your support for that in the Lords; or is it too hard given Archie's position?"

He was not that much taller than me, but he seemed to grow as he spoke.

"Always. You and I have disagreed on so much, but on this, Winston, we are one. We cannot live in peace with Hitler except of terms of abject surrender."

"There, Violet!" He said, turning to Lady Bonham-Carter, "she has the right stuff in her. Lady Pixie, the time is on us when we must all pull together, regardless of our past disagreements. You are, I am told, 'in' with Mr Attlee?"

"He and I talk regularly."

"Well, tell him this from me. The time is coming when we shall need a real National Government, and I shall lead it. It is my destiny."

Even as he spoke, Churchill seemed to lose ten years and the tiredness. What he was saying sounded absurd then, but somehow, I knew he was right.

"Winston, I shall endeavour to help in any way. I shall talk with Clem about this, and I promise you that no past disagreements will cloud cooperation. Upon what we do next, I believe the whole of our civilisation depends!"

"By George, Lady Pixie, you are made of the right stuff! That is spot on. Yes, I must use that in a speech - if of course you do not mind?"

"You will, Oscar," I said, quoting a friend who had made a bon mot he knew Oscar Wilde would steal. Still, given where Churchill used that phrase, I am, I suppose, honoured.

A memoir of the sort the young historian would want would detail the way in which we prepared for war, and would, like all history writing, distort the reality by knowing what happened next. The whole point, as I keep telling the dear boy is that we did not know what was coming next, and even those like Churchill and myself, who were sure war was coming, did not know the hows, whys and wherefores of it.

So yes, I talked with Clem Attlee about Churchill, and he gave me one of his gnomic looks as though to say he had filed it away should it ever be needed. When it was, he was kind enough to thank me for, as he put it, "easing the pain." His later admiration for Churchill was just that - a later phenomenon.

I kept Churchill informed about Labour plans, and Archie, finally breaking the omertà of the Foreign Office, told me about what he was up to. He remained convinced up to and beyond the last moment, that "Musso" would help Neville pull off another "Munich." To those, like me, who thought that had been a disaster, that was no consolation.

That came only in the shape of Beccy. Being a sensible middle-aged woman approaching forty, I knew better than to be clingy or needy. Beccy had a husband she loved, but she needed what I gave her, and our love was of a different, complementary order. Had anyone asked me to explain, I should have struggled.

I loved Archie, in my own fashion, even if he had been pressed, he might have said he loved me. That meant we were comfortable in each other's company - absent any discussion of appeasement, of course. I should no more have dreamed of suing him for divorce than he would me. Love, the Bard said, is not love if it alters when it alteration finds, and our love was, in its fashion, of that sort.

But what the Greeks called "eros" - sexual love - does, and must change. For Beccy I felt a passion I had not hitherto felt. I could say of her what Bryon had in his poem, "She walks in beauty":

"And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!"

And that was it.

There was in Beccy no sense of shame or guilt. She loved with an innocent heart. She gave herself to me fully, and yet she did the same to Jack. She expected us to accept that, and so we did. What was remarkable was not simply that not once was our relationship smeared with the verdigris of jealousy, but that it produced a friendship between Jack and myself.

Jack could no more help flirting with a woman than Duff Cooper could help seducing them, or Churchill could help boring them to death. He loved what he called my "grace notes" in response to his flirting. Beccy was highly amused and would say, occasionally, that we really ought to get together as a threesome, but accepted that for me that was not possible. She never once sought to change my mind, neither was she disappointed. It was what it was: she loved me, I loved her; she loved Jack, Jack loved her. What more could she want?

The death of Archie's father, the Duke, had allowed us the funds to move to Carlton House Terrace. It had one other major effect, that of freeing up the big house in Suffolk. So, just after Easter, we sold the Sussex "cottage" and moved our main residence to Suffolk. I can't pretend that I was not relieved to be away from the south coast. Archie, seeing my happiness, put it down to the fact that the house was larger, older and had a wonderful garden and a wood. All of that was welcome, but, as I told him:

"Sussex is too close to the battlefield if the Hun invades, Archie. I am glad to put a bit of room between us and Hitler."

Archie huffed and puffed; but I was right.

As a hot May turned into an even hotter June, Archie and I decided to decamp to Suffolk, and he was happy to accept my suggestion that we invited Jack and Beccy to join us. Inevitably, with Jack away, "on duty," that meant Beccy and I had lots of time to explore. Since Archie usually spent Friday nights in town and the staff had the weekend off, it gave Beccy and I a chance to play.

Settling down in the garden after a light supper, I could sense that Beccy was needy.

"What is it my darling?"

"I don't know I can tell you Mama, it's a bit naughty!"

"Oh really?" I said, with mock surprise, "why am I not amazed?"

"Cos you know I am a dirty girl, Mama!"

"True, precious, but why don't you come here and tell Mama?"

I patted the lawn next to my chair, and Beccy happily settled there, her head on my lap. I stroked her hair.

"So, squirty Beccy, what is it?"

"Oh Mama, you make me so squirmy when you call me that!"

"What?" I smiled, "squirty Beccy because when you cum you spray everywhere?"

"Oh Mama, you are bad! Yes, it makes my pussy so wet."

"Well my darling, why not stand up and get out of that frock?"

"At once, Mama," she said, her actions as good as her words.

I never tired of watching that beautiful body unveiled as she stripped.

"Bra too, but leave your knickers on!"

As her "girls" came into view, she shook them for me. Her nipples, dark pink, hardened, so I ordered her to tease them, which she did, moaning as she did so.

I slid a hand between her thighs, opening them, and, as I had expected, her knickers were already wet.

"So," I said, "looking up at her, "what's been making squirty Beccy wet?"

"Ooh Mama, do I have to tell you?"

She loved being made to tell me her fantasies, quite as much as I loved hearing them, and acting them out with her, and from the way she was pushing herself onto my hand, this was one that would be interesting.

"It's just if Jack was here Mama, I, I'd get him to, well, to erm, treat me like a bitch!"

"What?" I said.

She never ceased to amaze me.

"And," I said, deliberately aiming to cause her the maximum embarrassment she wanted, "might that involve?"

"Oh golly!" She blushed. "I, erm, I like to be taken hard from behind."

"You mean," I said, turning the screw, "that you want to be mounted like a human bitch in heat?"

"Oh gosh! That made me so wet Mama. Yes, yes, I want to be mounted and fucked hard, please fuck me!"

"Get those knickers off then and assume the position!"

"Here, on the lawn?"

"Well, the staff are off duty and shouldn't pop out here, Archie is away, so yes, present yourself. I will just get the harness. I expect you in position when I return."

"Yes, Mama!"

I looked behind me, and even before I had gone in through the French windows, her knickers were off and Beccy was in position.

I took my time, disrobing and fitting the harness. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I wondered what my former maid, Annie, would have made of the transformation of her "pixieslut" into a Mistress? To be sure, I was not quite certain I knew myself, but what I did know was that I loved Beccy and wanted to have her the way she needed.

She had positioned herself perfectly. I could not resist pushing the "bitch" part, and so knelt and sniffed her arousal. I pushed my nose against her swollen lips, causing her to shiver and moan. Then I gave myself the exquisite pleasure of tasting her, running the tip of my tongue against her swollen lips.

"Oh Mama!"

I loved the way her backside wobbled for me, becoming taut again as she pushed herself back.

"Does my bitch need mating?"

"Oh gosh, Mama, yes, yes, mount meeee!"

There was no refusing.

I managed to position the head of the girl-cock against her wetness, opening her glistening inner lips. She pushed back at once, clearly needing it inside her urgently. So I teased her by rolling it around the entrance.

"Oh Mama, that's NOT fair!"

I gave her smooth, firm arse cheeks two swift spanks, loving the sound and sight.

"Did anyone ask your opinion, bitch?"

"No, no Mama, sorry Mama, I am a bad girl!"

Upon that acknowledgement, and seeing her juices welling out, I gripped her hips firmly and, adjusting the angle, thrust in deep and hard. Her reaction was all I could have wanted. She let out a deep guttural moan, almost a keening sound.

"Oh yes, yes, fill me, mount me!"

She pushed back, and I pushed in. So hard were her thrusts back that I had extreme difficulty maintaining position; she forgot I did not have the muscle strength of Jack. But once stabilised, I began to plough into her with firm thrusts, in and out fast and hard, and then, when she was moaning loudly, I'd press in deep and hold myself there. I presumed she was gripping the strappy; she was certainly leaking copiously.

Slamming in deep, adjusting the angle and taking her hard and fast again made her moan loud and low, her words becoming nothing more coherent than a verbal expression of the lust which had overcome her.

"Does my bitch need to cum?"

"Oh gosh Mama, yes, can I touch myself?"

"As long as you can stay on all fours, bitch!"

"Yes, yes Mama!"

"But you know you need to ask permission before you can cum!"

That took her to new heights of ecstasy, and her hand was on her clit immediately, and I marvelled at her skill in maintaining her desired position. Practice had made perfect.

It was not long before the incoherence had to find words such as:

"Can I cum, Mama, please, please, pretty please!"

Her squeals became more and more like barks, and then I gave my permission, with one big thrust.

She came hard and deep, my mound pressed against that perfect arse.

I stayed there while her body went into spasms of erotic ecstasy. Once the aftershocks had ceased, I gently fucked her some more, making her moan.

"Oh Mama, yes, fuck your bitch. Girl cocks don't need a rest!"

At that we both giggled, and I fucked her for another half an hour until she needed to cum again. It was only after a third orgasm that I left off and allowed her to rest.

She turned, lying back on the lawn, allowing me to lie between her matchless thighs. I kissed her.

"Oh Mama, that was so bad, fucking on the lawn! What if the staff had seen us?"

"You are incorrigible!" I told her. "Don't tell me you are an exhibitionist too?"

"No, Mama, but I like the idea," she giggled.

Then she shifted uneasily.

"Oh Mama, I need to go pee pee!"

I looked into her eyes.

"And where do bitches go pee pee?"

"Oh Mama, no, you can't want me to pee on the lawn!"

"No, against the apple tree will do!" I giggled.

"Yes Mama!"

And like a good girl, she crawled to the tree and peed for me.

"Oh Mama, that is so dirty! You make me such a bad girl!"

"My darling, your own imagination and libido does that, and yes, you are my dirty bitch."

That became part of our repertoire.

That weekend in Suffolk sticks in my memory for Beccy's libido being at record new heights, and even when Archie was back on Sunday, Beccy needed me to fuck her - even though, to her regret, the lawn was out.

Bless the darling, she offered to "please" me, but I was aware of something changing. My periods, never the most regular of things, began to trail off, and I was aware of an unaccustomed dryness in the vaginal area. My libido, on and off for some time, seemed to go almost into abeyance. The medics said it was an early menopause, not, apparently, uncommon with women of my stature.

I assured Beccy that I got a huge amount of pleasure from being with her, and that she was not to worry. If I needed to orgasm, I knew where to go.

"Oh Mama, you are so good to me," she told me a few weeks later.

"That might be because I love you to bits!"

"As I do you Mama."

That weekend, too, her libido was on fire.

"Sorry Mama, but unless Jack comes back soon, I shall have to live in your bedroom full time, I seem so randy all the time."

"I noticed my darling. I have noticed something else. When was your last period Beccy?"

"Not sure Mama. Let's see, we're in May now... oh! Mama, it was in February, you, you don't think?"

"What, that my sexy bitch is with child after her mating?"

"Oh golly! Jack and I were rather active that Valentine's weekend, and I may have forgotten my precautions. Oh Mama!"

I went to Bury with her on Monday morning to consult my doctor. He did some tests and announced:

"I am pleased to say, Lady Rebecca, that you and his Lordship are expecting an heir. The child will be due, I think in November. Many congratulations!"

We went for a celebratory lunch, and sent Jack a telegram with the good news. Lady Ethel and Lord Robert were delighted, and as Jack got some leave, we had a thoroughly wonderful weekend, celebrating the news.

In the back of my mind I was worried. I was sure war was coming. London was not safe, so Jack and I talked.

"Is it true," he asked, "that it was you who thought the darling might be pregnant?"

"It was, she was wearing me out Jack!"

"Me too," he giggled, "but I guess she is off limits now?"

"If you think that, Jack, you will be disappointed. The hormonal changes make some women even keener for sex, I guess Beccy is one of them!"

"Damn the army! Good job she has you my dear!"

We both laughed. It was so good that Jack took that view.

I mentioned my fears to him, suggesting that as they only had a short lease on their London place, they might give it up and live with us until the situation became clearer. They were both, of course, welcome in Suffolk, and I would be able to help Beccy with the baby.

And so it was agreed.

At the beginning of July, with Jack posted to Paris, Beccy moved in with us. By then she was showing.

"Mama, did you tell Jack that he should carry on taking me?"

"I did, my darling, why?"

"Because he's treating me like a china doll. You will still fuck me won't you Mama?"

I promised I would - and kept that promise.

But as July faded into August, the international situation suddenly darkened.

For some time Hitler had been making threatening noises about Danzig, internationalised by the Peace Settlement of 1919. by July the tension was ratcheted up. Belatedly, Chamberlain sent a delegation to Moscow to see if any agreement with the Soviets was possible. We got the answer in late August when the Soviets announced they had come to a deal with Nazis.

Pressed hard by Halifax, Chamberlain came to an agreement to defend Poland as part of our response to the Nazi-Soviet pact. When the Germans attacked Poland on 1 September, Chamberlain's response was to try to claim, to the Cabinet, that as Danzig was not really Polish, the attack on it did not count.

I was not the only politician to see Halifax and tell him that if Neville tried to weasel his way out, there would be a vote in the Commons on the issue.

Edward Halifax was as good as his word, and in the early hours of 3 September 1939, a message came to Archie, as a Government Minister, that Chamberlain would announce that we were at war with Germany later that morning.

Like the rest of the country, Beccy, Archie and myself, with the staff, sat by the radio as Chamberlain made the announcement. A moment later a telegram came to Archie.

"God! It's serious!"

"What is?" Beccy and I asked in unison.

"Neville is making Winston First Lord of the Admiralty! Bloody hell! He'll live to regret that."

Beccy hugged me.

"Mama, will we be safe?"

"Safer here than London or Sussex. But Archie and I have to go up to town for the House to meet. Darling, you will be safe here, you and the babe."

I said it with more confidence that I felt.

But at least the wait was over. Little did I know!