The Erotic Destiny of Lady Perstone

"I've seen how you look at him," I replied honestly. "And as far as I know, my Lord, he is a man who finds his pleasure in the arms of women. However, I am determined to have your seed inside me, and if it takes Trent's presence in our bedchamber to achieve that, I will find a way to arrange it."

Primly, I did not mention the fact that it would be no sacrifice at all for me to attempt to seduce our footman, but my husband was watching me searchingly and when he suddenly flashed me a knowing grin I had the unnerving sensation he had read my thoughts.

"Very well, Lady Perstone," he said resignedly. "It would seem I have married a most extraordinarily resourceful and rather wonderfully _depraved_ young wife. Put your plan in motion. I would fear for the safety of anyone who tried to stop you."

I gathered up my discarded clothes in my arms with as much dignity as I could muster, then looked into his face for a long moment. "You do not want to stop me," I announced simply, "You want me to succeed. And don't worry, my Lord. I am going to."

Chapter THREE

I spent one whole week plotting out the approach I would take with Trent. The whole thing had to be so delicately handled. I tried to be as pragmatic as I could be as I weighed up various scenarios against the manservant's many possible reactions, but I could not help the undercurrent of excitement I felt at the idea of suddenly being granted permission to seduce the object of my secret fantasies.

Much depended on Trent's feelings towards Men Who Fucked Other Men. From what I had gleaned from gossiping friends and from Lord Perstone's fear I would be repulsed by his confession, I inferred it was not a universally accepted proclivity. If Trent was disgusted by his role, which would at the heart of the matter be inspiring arousal in another man, all was lost.

I tried to think of ways we might trick him. I was by no means above such deceptions. Perhaps if the lamps were turned out... but no. The whole point was to put on a show for my husband. Fumbling in the dark would hardly serve the purpose. But what if only Trent was in the dark? Surely I could convince him to accept a blind fold, then Lord Perstone could ... involve himself on the periphery?

I indulged for some time in a very enjoyable fantasy in which I convinced my handsome manservant to submit to being tied to a chair and with his eyes covered by a black silk cravat. I could then toy with his manhood - my salacious new friends would be delighted to advise me on how to make sure it stood up nice and tall - while my husband watched. Hopefully he would be sufficiently aroused by the sight to fuck me from behind while I bent over his crush's straining cock.

What were the other options? My husband could watch in secret as I seduced the footman, and then join me once I sent him on his way, but I very much feared that on my own I would never be able to bring about Lord Perstone's climax.

Or I could very subtly try to tease out of Trent his feelings on the subject of Ganymedes (as I had heard them called). Perhaps, in exchange for my sexual favours, he might be prepared to accept the involvement of a second man? His Lord and Master no less? Perhaps the very idea might even arouse him? I thought of the lustful dreams I had had about the naughty Duchess. I didn't consider myself a Disciple of Sappho but I was certainly open to the idea of finding pleasure in the bed of another woman. Perhaps Trent would turn out to have a similarly 'inclusive' view of the pursuit of sexual pleasure?

No plan was without its risks.

I decided to proceed by testing the waters.

I began slowly. One of Trent's duties was to ride on the outside of my carriage whenever I travelled anywhere, and to leap down and hand me out of it once we arrived. I started to make a habit of leaning over further than was strictly necessary as I disembarked, making sure my generous white breasts were invitingly displayed. Just another half inch of incline and they would surely come tumbling out! But I was not such an amateur. I would then meet his smouldering gaze as I gave him my gloved hand, and hold it for a moment too long, consciously conveying both maidenly shyness and coy invitation. Not easy to do, but as I have said, I prided myself on my skill in this kind of exchange. I knew from experience this look drove men wild. I always dropped my gaze after the space of two or three thudding heartbeats, and I was always gratified to note an unmistakeable bulge in his tight footman's breeches.

So far so good.

I grew bolder. I decided to put on a little play. One morning I retired for an hour to my sitting room, then summoned Trent to my presence.

He came at once, and stood stiffly before me, fixing his gaze above my head, his professional mask firmly in place.

"Yes my Lady?"

I was wearing my prettiest morning gown, and I deliberately stood with the sunshine pouring in behind me, as I knew this would turn my chestnut curls into a veritable halo. Sadly morning gowns are never as revealing as ball gowns, but it was time to move beyond flashing my cleavage.

"Trent, I need to you take this letter to Lady Charmagne. It's quite urgent. There's no one in this house I trust more than you."

He flicked a curious glance at my face, but only said, "Very good, my lady," and held out his hand for the letter.

I hesitated. "Trent," I said, "Tell me something. Truthfully. Do you - do you find me beautiful?"

Now I really had surprised him. His intelligent dark eyes fixed on mine. Suddenly the game was on.

"Of course, my Lady," he answered smoothly, "But it is not a matter of opinion."

It was my turn to be ever so slightly startled. "Why do you say that?"

"Lord Perstone chose you for his bride. It is well known that Lord Perstone likes to surround himself with only the most beautiful things that money can buy."

And just like that we were onto the tastes of Lord Perstone. Uncanny. It occurred to me all of a sudden that all our servants were in fact in possession of above-average looks. I suppose I had thought it was mere co incidence, but it struck me now as perfectly logical that my fastidious husband would only choose to populate his beautiful homes with beautiful people.

"The most beautiful things that money can buy? Are you saying that he bought me?" I said archly.

"Didn't he?" Trent replied bluntly.

Such insolence! But I was by no means about to discourage it. A servile reticence on his part would get me nowhere.

"Then I suppose he bought you too."

"I prefer think of it as more of a rental arrangement , my Lady," he said blandly.

I looked sharply at him. The Ton loved to speak in double entendres and hidden meanings. I must be careful not to read too much into the things this man said. He was not a fool, certainly, but only a servant, after all?

"And what the terms of this rental?"

"Nothing out of the common way, my Lady. I perform my footman's duties and I look good as I go."

"You are very sure of your appeal."

"I trade shamelessly on my appearance. Neither you or I are the sort to let an asset go unexploited."

I had originally planned on building up to some high melodrama but I couldn't help the grin that flashed across my face. I quashed it quickly.

"It's true. The world finds me beautiful and most of the men I meet want to take me to bed. But not," I went on, tragically, "Not my own husband. I was wondering if you, as a ... man of the world... could tell me what I need to do to secure my husband's ... baser affections?"

His lovely dark blue eyes studied me closely. I sensed I had perplexed him. "I don't think it is my place to advise you on such matters, my Lady," he said at last.

"You disappoint me, Trent," I responded softly. "I had imagined that you of all people would have vast experience to draw upon when it came to pleasing a partner. Are you really saying you can't help me at all?"

He was still watching me. I knew he suspected me of playing a deeper game and I knew that he was trying to guess what it might be. The whole thing was indescribably thrilling.

My voice became a little husky, and it was by no means all an act. "Sometimes when you look at me I feel sure you desire me. I feel your gaze on my breasts so acutely it almost burns me. I dream at night of how it might feel if I let you touch them... I know it would give me so much pleasure... But how would I return that pleasure? I feel sure you could teach me that... You could teach me what a man enjoys..."

As I spoke I moved slowly, hesitantly towards him. He seemed rooted to the spot as I approached, but as I reached out my hand he grabbed me roughly by the wrist, arresting my advance. "So then you could show your husband what you had learned?" He ground out, "Is that how it is to work?"

I was not in the least frightened by his hint of violence. It quite excited me.

"I'd be a very good pupil, Trent," I breathed softly, not looking away from his face.

He growled, he actually growled deep in his throat before thrusting me away, but I could tell the action cost him.

"You are not a fool, Lady Perstone. You must know what your husband is."

I nearly gasped, but concealed it well. "Do you know what he is, sir?"

"Of course I do. All his servants know. We live every day with the man, serve his meals, launder his linen, carry his mail, take him to his assignations. He is not as mysterious as he likes to believe. Very little can be hidden from attentive serving staff."

I thought about this for a moment, then said quietly, "Then you all must know he has never come to my bed."

Trent's gaze softened a little, and was almost pitying when he replied, "Yes, that is certainly known."

I frowned, and pouted. The idea did not sit well with me.

"I want a baby, Trent," I announced suddenly, surprising him yet again. "I want to give Lord Perstone an heir. But as things stand, he is impotent in my presence." I could not help the taint of desperation that had crept into my voice.

"Lady Perstone," Trent answered gently, "There is nothing I can teach you to do that he would be interested in. He's not one of those who can change what he is."

"I think you're right that he can't change. But you're wrong about there being nothing we can do together than he'd be interested in."

His wariness was back. "What is it you're plotting now?"

I decided to cast my cards before him. "I know you want me Trent. I've toyed with you and perhaps that was wrong of me, but I want you too. Desperately. But I can't indulge in extramarital affairs until I'm safely carrying my husband's child. I owe him that. I owe the title, I owe myself that. But..." my voice dropped, and slowed, "Once I am... Once I am, what's to stop you coming to my rooms at night? Slipping into my bed, slipping into my wet and welcoming pussy, and afterward falling asleep with your head on my breasts? We could spend days in bed if we wanted to. I was serious about you teaching me. I want to know how to pleasure you. And I want you to pleasure me. I want you to take everything you ever learned from every chambermaid and bar girl you ever fucked and apply it to me. I want to - "

He kissed me then. It was as though he was helpless to do anything else. He gave a low growl - God I was learning to love those growls - and grabbed me by the waist and dragged me against him, crushing his mouth against mine. I returned the kiss with equal passion, glorying in it, anticipating what was to come.

We were both flushed and breathing heavily when he released me.

"Very well you scheming minx," he panted, "What do you want from me? How am I going to help you seduce your husband so that I can ultimately fuck your beautiful body all day and night with impunity?"

"Oh Trent," I practically purred in his arms. "I'm so glad you asked..."

Chapter FOUR

As ever, I laid my plans carefully.

I set a time, I set a date, I set a place, and I made some discreet but essential enquiries.

The sun set on the appointed day, and a sickle moon rose. I stood by the window of my room in my silk dressing gown, nursing a small glass of scotch whiskey. Not a traditional lady's drink, but of course today I would not be playing the traditional lady's role.

I heard a soft knock, and a moment later my husband entered. He had taken a similar approach to mine, and was clad only in his heavy brocade dressing gown. I gave a slight smile of welcome and gestured to a chair without leaving my post by the window. He bowed shallowly to me and took the chair. He looked grave, but undeniably alert, and alive with anticipation.

A minute later a second soft knock sounded. "Come in," I called.

Trent entered, still wearing his full footman's garb. Without being asked, he softly closed and locked the door behind him.

I had wondered if he might behave nervously, but I should have known better. He crossed the room with the grace of a tiger, and took the seat opposite Lord Perstone. He too seemed primed, excited, but not uncomfortable.

He nodded to Lord Perstone. "My Lord."

My husband's gaze flared, but his voice was even. "Trent."

I straightened, and put down my drink on a small tray, where two more glasses were already positioned. It made a small clink, and I sensed rather than saw that both men turned their gaze toward the sound.

This was my moment. With a theatrical shrug, I let the silk of the dressing gown slip down over my shoulders, and drop to the floor. Completely naked now, I carefully picked up the tray, and sashayed forward.

I served Lord Perstone first, gravely bending at the waist to offer the tray, and enjoying both the cool admiration in his eyes as he took a glass, as well as the reaction I imagined was taking place behind me, in the trousers of the footman who had just had his mistress's naked round arse thrust in his face.

I turned and offered the next glass to Trent. His gaze fixed on my swaying breasts before lifting to meet mine. "Thank you, Lady Perstone."

I took my own glass and discarded the tray. "To us," I toasted huskily.

When we all lowered our glasses once more, I got down to business. As is my wont.

"I appreciate your presence here, gentlemen. I know you are both going to have a delightful evening. The reason I know this is because I intend to make very sure that you do. For example, Trent, I have learned though some discreet investigation that you are a particular fan of fellatio. And if having your cock sucked is what you like then that is what you shall get. And Lord Perstone, I now know that your tastes run particularly to anal penetration, which it will be my pleasure to supply. The ultimate object, as we are all aware, is to have Lord Perstone ejaculate in my pussy, but -"

"Ahem," my husband cleared his throat, quite softly, but such was his aura of command I found my voice failed instantly.

All eyes turned to him.

"This sounds like a delicious regime, it truly does. But, my dear Lady Perstone, I fear you are forgetting someone. Do not forget that in spite of your... considerable technical knowledge you are still, in fact, a virgin. I can't help but feel - in fact, I must insist - that we consider your enjoyment of this act."

"But I thought -"

"Lord Perstone is quite right, Lady Perstone," interrupted Trent smoothly, "We appreciate your elaborate choreography, but proper arousal of the lady is actually a critical part of proceedings."

Before I knew it they were both on their feet and advancing in an almost predatory way. I felt my heart beat accelerate, though I stood my ground. "The thing is, gentlemen - "

"Will you do the honours, Trent?"

"Glad to, my Lord."

And with that Trent swept me bodily off my feet and in a few steps deposited my naked form on top of the coverlet of my own expansive bed. For the first time, I felt a little shy, and tried to cover by breasts, but he laughed at me.

"Come now, my Lady, you must let us look. I don't know what you let your husband see but you have tormented me quite long enough." I dropped my arms.

"Good girl," murmured my husband, standing on the other side of the bed.

He looked to Trent. "Go ahead," he added, "Make her wet."

Trent grinned, in no way abashed, and began pulling at his cravat, tugging it free before shrugging out of his waistcoat. Dressed now in white cotton shirt and breeches, he knelt over me in the bed. His broad, work roughened hand reached out as if to grasp my exposed breast, but then hesitated. I held my breath, then gasped as instead of closing his hand around my breast he applied a single finger to the tip. My nipple hardened immediately. He began to trace around and around, then started to do the same on the other side. Within a minute I was squirming slightly, pressing my thighs together.

"Beautiful," murmured my husband. I was dimly aware he was gently, almost casually rubbing the front of his gown.

Trent grunted in some kind of agreement and lowered his head. His mouth closed over my areola and I began to squirm in earnest, releasing tiny moans of surprised pleasure. He only paused for a moment, which he used to practical effect, whipping his white shirt off over his head then returning his attentions to by breasts.

Lord Perstone and I both made involuntary noises of appreciation. Trent's broad frame etched with firm muscles was even more beautiful than I had imagined.

Trent was now running those slightly calloused hands over my waist and hips, stroking up and down, working closer and closer to the throbbing centre between my legs. When he reached it there was no hesitation. His fingers touched the wetness there and kept on stroking, up and down, deeper and deeper.

I was gasping in earnest now, and thrusting upward against his hand. I had expected to enjoy sex but I could never have expected this. Just a few touches and he had me thrumming like a stringed instrument.

I watched delightedly as the scene apparently moved my husband sufficiently to make him drop his dressing gown. A long, slim cock bobbed free. I had never seen Lord Perstone naked in all the weeks and months we had been married. His figure was not as broad as Trent's but it was firm and well made. A light dusting of fine blonde hair covered his chest, and was echoed at the base of his penis.

His long elegant fingers took hold of his cock as I watched, and slowly, almost casually, began to slide up and down it. I found it an incredibly erotic sight. Trent lifted his head, and I knew he had seen it too. I wondered for a moment if the sight would offend him somehow, but it did not seem to.

Instead he went on pumping my wet and slippery pussy with his fingers, adjusting his rhythm with expertise, until I felt an orgasm building with frightening and overwhelming speed. It was not my first, I had taught myself pleasure years before. But it was certainly the most intense of my life so far.

As I lay gasping and panting on my back in the wake of the tremendous wave, he lay back with a casual ease that was almost insulting.

He waited until I was sentient again, then gestured nonchalantly to his breeches buttons.

"I wonder if you might see fit to help me with these, Lady Perstone?"

I was on my knees on the bed in an instant, and plucking at that button with undignified eagerness. I got it undone and peeled back the breeches to reveal his cock. I gasped and shot a coy look over my shoulder at my husband, who was watching with intense concentration, moving his hand up and down rather faster than before. The footman's cock was most impressive, almost as thick as my wrist and at least as long as my husband's. Like my husband's it was only sparsely haired at the base, but the hair was dark and curly where his was fine and blonde. I found both utterly fascinating.

I looked up at Trent, hesitating. He grinned. "Don't worry, my Lady. All the girls find it a shock at first, but you'll get used to it. Now do you need me to tell you what to do? Let me tell you, we'll both enjoy that. First, you open up that sweet little mouth of yours. That's the way, good girl. Now start at the base and run your wet tongue all the way up to the top." I revelled in his sharp intake of breath as I followed his instructions to the letter.