Lydia took up her robe, hooded cloak and candle to make her way from Cecelia's chamber door. Satisfied she was asleep she opened it to find both their handmaidens waiting.
"Is my Lady asleep?" she was asked.
"She is well comforted and sleeping, girl," Lydia instructed, closing the door," Now go find your bed and rest." The girl turned toward the steps and disappeared into the darkness.
"Come then, Annalette." Lydia spoke quietly to the girl who remained and she began leading Annalette to the steps that led down from Cecelia's solar. Had she noticed something different in her handmaiden's demeanor?
With each step Lydia trembled. Her knees buckled. Cecelia's words consumed her thoughts. As passions rose they rang in Lydia's memory revealing and lustful :
"What am I to do," She had whispered when it was done. The dizzying smell of a woman's ascension floating in the still air between them was exacerbated by hands which had caused such shameless self-pleasure rising to take her own! Long silken fingers still damp with wetness had intertwined with Lydia's as she spoke, "I cannot keep these shameless hands from my own....cunt. For my cunt, and that is what it most assuredly is...my irresistible gluttonous cock-hungry cunt, god help me...pleads for me to use it this way at its every desirous vision of him....so shameful...so utterly shameful, tempting me ceaselessly with cunning desire. It finds every excuse to be caressed as if I have no control over it! I am no more than a whore to my own depraved womanhood!"
"There is no shame in this Cecelia," Lydia had sworn, "That love is itself illicit and humiliating...should therefore such impassioned release be denied? It is well that you should be satisfied dear Cecelia, or fall into madness with desire!" Lydia had stroked her Lady's hair, her cheeks, her neck and shoulders until she fell into blissful slumber. Only then had she removed herself from Cecelia's side.
Yet this unrepulsed tryst shadowed each of Lydia's steps to her own chambers below. She had found herself fascinated by the pulchritude of warm breast flesh. The recollection of it had Lydia warming beneath her robe even as they walked. How thick nipples peaked above swelling areolas, how Cecelia's hands had dropped away as Lydia gathered their warmth to manipulate without guidance, how she had hovered over the helpless upthrust hills of them, how her thumbs and forefingers made fattened nipples into stiffened cones, how she had pinched twisting gently at nipple areola and breast until she was milking them to Cecelia's very core, how Cecelia was entering herself repeatedly wetly noisily , how mature hips thrust when Lydia clamped diligently to those magnificent breasts, how transfixed Cecelia eyes had become at the sight of her mouth sucking and how incredibly it served to hasten a release that became a bounding powerful orgasm; all of these memories and more crowded every other thought from Lydia's mind. As they descended the staircase the sound, the sight and the passion of what had occurred only moments before became all-consuming and so powerful she felt compelled to hold the bannister for support for reasons she might swoon.
What Cecelia had shared with her in words and in unabated passion, Lydia would never have revealed had their places been reversed. Lydia's own secret, separate and dark, was a deeply private creature that would appear as unnatural sorcery to any witness who might have mistakenly stumbled upon her in the heat of these compulsions. That no one had, she was certain. No intrigue had revealed anyone's knowledge otherwise. Her tortures were her own. She loved them that way.
Unknown to Lydia; one who longed in the night just for the stolen exposure to her willful self-possession that was Lydia's private sin of flesh she diligently sought to keep secret from all the world but herself had been laid bare to other watchful eyes for these many past months.
