Memoirs of Lady Catherine Pt. 05

I must confess that my pussy remained sopping wet for the remainder of the day after what I'd seen the crystal ball at the midwives' place. Images of Richard du Luxure, the 9th Earl du Chatmangre, filled my mind's theatre: Tall, handsome, strong. The optimal vision of a robust, muscular and forthrightly virile form of pious Christian manhood.

Properly equipped, too.

Of course, other images filled my mind, as well: A voluptuous blonde and a curvy brunette lapping at each other's sensitive bits. Both women driven mad by cock: Cocks in their mouths, their pussies, up their asses. Recalling how they'd both fallen apart under the rendering heat of extreme pleasure made me desire similar treatment..

How I wished to be one of them -- semen gushing into my mouth as another cock exploded deep inside my rump.

But it was my imagination of that final, forbidden pleasure -- a penis penetrating my vagina and filling it -- that drove me wild. In the days since my return from the convent, I'd been introduced to the wonders of sucking, being sucked, and taking it up the tight route. But the divinely intact state of my precious hymen precluded penetration by even so much as my pinky.

As soon as I retired for the evening I fell straight away to rubbing my pleasure bulb, And with nothing to do, all alone in the midst of a long winter's night, not only did I bring one one petit morte, but soon another after that. I only fell asleep after I'd sodomized my own ass with the handle of my hairbrush while furiously rubbing my buzzing clit into blissful oblivion. Three in one night.

I felt I had the capacity for much more.

That night I dreamed I was back in the convent, except I was utterly, radiantly, glorious nude. So perfectly, serenely, erotically naked that I floated hither and yon like a divine mist, without my feet touching the floor, bourne up by a cloud, bathed in a heavenly, golden light, smiling beatifically at my former Sisters of Christ, who bustled about with their daily chores.

"I suppose this is your job now?" Mother Superior demanded of my ethereal self. "Floating about all beautifully, sinfully naked?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," I mused back to her.

"There's more to life than sex, you know," she scolded.

"How would you know that?" I replied.

I woke after sunrise, an event so rare that I sat bolt upright in bed. There was no sign that my chambermaid had even paid me a visit. Not only was the sun up, but it had already climbed above the ridge east of Norman Hall.

Downstairs I found Mother seated, alone, at the dining table, while servants scrubbed down its wooden surface and swept the stone floor. It was a sharply angled, sunny morning, bright enough to cut the hall's usual gloom.

Mother motioned to one of the maids upon seeing me, and indicated that I should come sit beside her.

"I hope you had a good rest," she said.

"Why didn't you wake me as usual?" I asked. "I've slept through breakfast."

"You've got a big night ahead," she said, sipping her herbal tea. "In fact, after I feed you a good lunch, I'm going to give you a sleepy brew and put you down for another nap."

"Does this have something to do with Faerie Rock? That place the midwives mentioned yesterday?"

"It does indeed," Mother replied, directing a servant via gestures. Moments later, the girl returned and placed a tray of steaming tea and some fragrant buns before me. Mother waited until the maid completed her task and then sent all the servants out of the room.

"You're going to be the centerpiece of a witches' esbat dear. Last New Moon of the year before the Solstice. Quite auspicious."

I'd only been beyond the convent walls for a few days, but I'd quickly passed the point of fainting at each of Mother's new announcements. Once I accepted her premise that the Church was nothing more than a necessary device for social control, her other lessons came with comparative ease. Even learning that midwives were witches -- actual witches -- was more or less a shrug at this point.

But the thought of being the centerpiece of one of their ceremonies?

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Mother?"

"LANGUAGE!" she said, slapping my wrist.

We sat there in still silence, both of us sipping our tea. When she didn't reply, I pressed ahead.

"Are you, in fact, a witch, Mother?"

She giggled brightly.

"Oh heavens, no, Catherine. Witching is far too much work. When I need magic done, I hire it. Appearances must still be met, you know."

"As I'm beginning to learn."

"Good for you, dear."

"So then what does a 'witches' esbat' entail?" I asked.

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. There's a fire and a circle and everyone wears robes. There's some chanting and whatnot, some lovely little cakes and ale, and then the priest and priestess of the coven conduct some business, yada yada yada, and then everyone shakes hands like after church and they all go home."

"And you're not skipping anything?" I pressed.

"Nothing important," she said, avoiding my eyes.

Staring at her was all it took to get my answer.

"Alright, fine," she confessed. "A heathen wearing stag antlers is going to take your virginity tonight in a rather public way. And please don't faint again. It's tiresome."

"But ... my maidenhead... " I began.

"Is paramount to our plans," she interrupted. "Just trust me on this."

"But why?" I asked.

"Because I owe the coven a few favors," Mother said. "And a virgin of your quality has the potential to unleash a tremendous amount of magical power. Some of which, per my agreement with the midwives..."

"Witches," I interjected.

"Correct," she continued. "Point being, any magical balance above and beyond my debt and the needs of the circle will be applied to a luck dividend for you, personally."

"How does that work?"

"Don't fret about it dear," Mother said.

But I couldn't stop myself. No matter what distractions I attempted, I soon found myself fantasizing about Mother's evening plans, imagining myself at the center of a witches' ritual as an enormous man in stag antlers approached me. When Mother stopped by my room after lunch to see if her sleepy brew had kicked in, she found me wide awake. And I immediately confessed the truth.

"I'm too excited to sleep."

"Fine," Mother said. "Wait here."

I lay in my bed, fingers sliding atop my wet slit beneath the blankets, awaiting her return. But when the door opened, it was Herbert -- father's 18-year-old page -- who poked his head in.

"Lady Catherine?" he whispered.

"Herbert?"

"May I enter?"

"Please."

The young man closed the door quietly behind him, then turned to bow before me.

"The mistress of the house has instructed me to render unto you the sin of the mouth," he said directly, though his eyes were on the ceiling.

"She wants me to suck you again?" I asked, recalling Mother's first class in the erotic arts, Oral Sodomy 101, for which she supplied Herbert as an instructional aid.

"No my lady," he replied. "She wants me to perform a similar act upon you, and to stay with you until you fall asleep. Says you need your rest."

"You... you know how to do such things?"

"It would be my pleasure to show you what I know how to do," Herbert said.

As wildly charged as I felt at that moment, I required no further negotiations. I flung back the bedclothes to reveal myself, dressed only in a thin cotton shift, with no further undergarments. I'd already drawn up the gown to touch myself, and when he beheld my dewey cunt, framed between my bare, smooth, perfectly curved thighs, poor Herbert practically dove onto the mattress.

A wild fumbling ensued, so poorly coordinated yet earnestly desired that it could not help but succeed despite our utter incompetence. Herbert quite clearly wanted to lick my pussy, an act he performed with surprising expertise. But I also wanted his cock in my mouth, and more than that, I wished to consume every drop of his gushing semen production this time. Mother had denied that to me the first time. I would have it now, in my frenzy.

Coordinating this involved the dropping of boots, the removing of pants, the reorienting of bodies, and the spreading of legs, but soon we were, each of us, attached by the mouth to the other's genitalia: He lay on his back, with my thighs on either side of his head and his tongue lapping at my dangling bulb. I lay atop him, madly grinding my hips into his face as I sucked and stroked his cock.

Two things worked in my favor: First, Mother had previously instructed me in the techniques of pleasuring the male sexual organ; and second, Herbert was a young man with no shortage of jism. Within less than a minute of aggressively, wantonly kissing and licking and sucking his cock, I felt a change: The young page, who had previously sought to please me, now became possessed by his own desire.

Suddenly, instead of passively receiving my mouth, Herbert's cock began pursuing it, thrusting into my lips. I opened my mouth wider and stuck out my tongue, giving his aroused organ even more of the contact it so clearly craved. Within seconds the pace and intensity increased, his hips rising off the bed as he fucked my face.

And meanwhile, as he licked, I felt a wet finger slip right up my bum. It sent a jolt through my body and I flinched -- in the same moment that I tasted his first, preparatory spurt of semen.

My joy was immense. This was what I'd desired since my original initiation with him, and to receive it so sincerely felt dazzling. A thrust, a spurt: Salty goo filled my mouth. Another thrust, another burst: Warm fluid drooled from my lips and down his hard shaft. And so it went: Hard spasm, liquid, receding, then another spasm, a little less liquid, and so on.

"That was fun," I said, wiping his juice from my mouth and chin.

"Thank you, my lady," the boy replied, his voice muffled between my thighs as he returned to lapping at my fully engorged clitoris.

For the next few minutes, I was quite engaged in what was happening between my legs. But as I felt my climax drawing closer, I became aware that the penis I'd been casually fondling had recovered the stiffness it had lost after Herbert's orgasm. I opened my eyes to find it staring at me, fully erect and needy.

And as I began sucking him and grinding my hips on his face, I felt a need of my own: I wanted that cock inside me.

I wanted it right then. And I didn't care if it ruined my hymen.

"What are you doing?" Herbert asked in confusion as I pulled away from him and spun about.

"Just shut up and put it in me," I demanded, throwing a leg over his hip.

"I can't do that!" he protested.

"Oh, I think you can," I asserted. "I think you are about to." My cunt was sopping wet, his cock was hard as a diamond, and I could feel its engorged tip spreading my pussy lips.

"I can't!" he hissed, pushing me off of him. "It's forbidden by you Mother!"

We were kneeling on the mattress, facing each other, mad with arousal, panting.

"What now?" I asked. "Can you cum again?"

"Yes," he replied. "Are you close?"

"So close. One more lick could set me off."

"Then let me lick you," he said, breathless and insistent.

"But I want to be fucked," I cooed. "I want to feel that cock moving inside me."

"Jesus Mary and Joseph!" he exclaimed. "I can't do that!"

I leaned over and gave his cock one sudden, swift, lascivious lick.

"Come on, page," I teased. "Just slip it in me."

I spun around to present him my behind. My wet and ready pussy called his cock like a siren calls a sailor. I pushed my butt back and almost engulfed his cock in a surprise attack, but instead of taking him into me, it merely slid along my lubricated exterior. He moaned. I laughed.

An evil, wicked laugh.

I'd lost my mind. There was no other explanation for it.

And then he lost his mind, too.

"Enough!" he hissed as he pushed my head into the pillow. He'd taken his engorged cock in his fist, and he was flicking the head along and between my labia, driving me wild. "You want to be fucked? Then fucked you shall be!"

I braced for the loss of my virginity. I could feel the tip of his cock spreading my lips, perfectly aligned to take me in a single thrust.

"Do it!" I insisted. "Stop teasing me!"

He pulled away. I could hear him panting.

"Do it! I said, my voice now commanding. "Fuck me hard!"

And that finally broke his resistance. I felt his hands grasp my hips and hold them still, then one of his hands took his cock, dragging it up so that it brushed my throbbing clit, split my yearning labia...

... And plunged -- righteously, ardently -- into my asshole.

The details of that assfucking elude me. Instead what I remember is the pain quickly receding and the joy of feeling sweet young Herbert inside me. I wanted him in my forbidden pussy, and that madness had taken us both to the very brink, but now we were young and alone and wild for each other. Each jarring thrust made me more desperate: I slammed myself back into him, wanting it, needing that unknowable connection.

I remember his lips and his teeth on my neck and my back. Kisses. Bites. Gasps.

And his fingers, furiously and inexpertly rubbing my clit.

It hardly mattered. It didn't matter that he couldn't rub me as well as I could. It didn't matter that he'd taken my ass instead of my pussy. What mattered was that we were freely together, that our desire was mutual and apparent, and that we were fucking.

Oh, and that's a pleasure they don't talk about.

My petite morte triggered his, but not immediately For at least ten seconds my collapsing ecstasy desired only to escape his urgent thrusting, but as the tension released and my pleasure exploded, I wanted nothing more.

And how he railed me! Pressing me down, slamming me, riding my ass.

Then that gurgling sound in his throat, as if the boy were being strangled. The lurch. The spasm. Fingertips digging into the flesh of my rump.

After a while his still-hard, cum-slicked cock slipped out of my happy yet weary ass, His body -- drained not only of semen, but vigor -- fell onto the bed like a shovelful of earth.

Then our fingers intertwined.

"You gave me a petite morte," I whispered in his ear. "It was quite nice."

"I wanted to do what you wanted," he said. "But your mother made me promise."

"What did she tell you to do?" I asked.

"Told me to come in here and lick you until you fell asleep. Said you need your rest for tonight."

"Then stay here with me," I said, and cuddled into Herbert's thin little chest. He was a miniature man compared to Brother Mannhaft, and though he lacked the bawdy knight's reassuring strength, I felt a sincere sweetness in our embrace.

That's how we fell asleep.

And how we woke just before sunset. He licked me to climax in minutes. I stroked him into oblivion with just my hands.

Mother arrived just after I finished and shooed Herbert away before the chambermaid arrived with a wooden bucket of warm, soapy water.

"Clean her well," Mother instructed. "It's going to be a big night."