What My Lady Asks

We had not been traveling long when she asked me. I was taking her to her new husband's home. She was to be Lady William Worthing. A great match. Her parents couldn't be happier.

We had been children together, in those days when all children were simply so much collective noise, so nobody cared that she was a little lady, I the housekeeper's spawn. I had thought her lovely even then, with her rich dark curls and soft, grey-brown eyes. And as she'd grown into an adult she'd gained small, pert breasts and a soft, round ass paired with ample thighs that had featured heavily in my nighttime fantasies. I had her to thank for my realization that I did not like or desire men like the other girls of my age - no, it was my own sex that got me wet between the thighs. I had started experimenting with a dildo strapped to my waist, using it liberally on the daughters of the other servants, much to their delight. Pleasure with no risk of pregnancy was in high demand, it seemed.

So much so that now, my dream of dreams: The woman who haunted my fantasies and taunted my loins - my lady - my lady was asking for a ride herself.

Surely I could not have heard correctly. "I'm sorry, my lady?" I said. My hands tightened on the warm leather of the reins.

Her cheeks had gone an adorable pink. I couldn't help but wonder if her ass cheeks would turn that same color after I'd spanked them a few times. "Annie said - she told me you do it sometimes for the maids so - so it doesn't hurt when their husbands - you know."

"Ah." I had performed such a service for my lady's maid, and a few others. I'd noticed during my experiments that though I had never taken a man, I could accommodate my own strap quite easily when wet enough - no tearing, no bleeding. I'd thought other women might benefit from such instruction. God bless Annie, a busty blonde who'd loved having her hair pulled, for telling her mistress to ask me this.

"My lady," I said, softly, my eyes on the road, "I would be honored to fulfill such a request."

Relief flooded her face and she reached for me, her soft hands on my neck, my chest. I nearly drove the horses off the road.

"Now, my lady?"

"Of course now," she panted, one hand creeping into my shirt, searching for my breast. "We're going to my husband now. There isn't a moment to waste."

I bit the inside of my cheek thoughtfully, trying to ignore my lady's questing fingers under my shirt. We were about to pass a hayfield owned by the man himself, Lord William Worthing. I could see nothing so appropriate nor so delightful as taking his virgin bride behind one of his own haybales. I clicked my tongue and steered the horses towards a nearby copse of trees, intending to hide them and the cart within while my lady and I had our tumble.

Though she spent the entirety of our journey to the haybale trying to tear my shirt from me, once we got to it, when I'd spread my coat on the ground and invited her to sit on it, my lady became strangely shy. She stared at me with wide shocked eyes as I unlaced her bodice and tugged it down, as though she hadn't expected me to expose her breasts like this.

"They're not much," she whispered, one hand twitching instinctively as though to cover them.

I shook my head, guiding her gently onto her back. "They're perfect," I whispered, bending to kiss one. I took the nipple into my mouth, suckling, running my tongue back and forth across its surface. I heard my lady gasp, felt her hand tentatively cup the back of my head. My hand reached for her other breast, cupping it so her nipple slid between my fingers. I tweaked it back and forth until it hardened.

"You have sensitive nipples," I commented, watching them pucker under my touch. Her only answer was a soft whimper, her hips twitching.

"Please," she whispered, her eyes clamped shut, "Touch me."

I needed no other encouragement. I pulled her skirt above her waist. She was naked beneath, as was common then, and soaking wet when I touched her. I slid a finger into her, then another. My thumb massaged her clitoris as my fingers pumped slowly inside her.

"Oh," she moaned, her hands clutching at my shirt. "Is this what it feels like? Is this really what it's going to feel like?"

I couldn't bear to tell her it was unlikely her husband would seek anything other than his own fulfillment from her. I asked instead, "Do you feel good, my lady?"

"It feels so good," she panted, her eyes opening and finding mine. "My belly is all warm and my - where your fingers are - I can feel it building inside me, what you're doing - more and more - oh - I don't think I can hold it in much longer..."

"It's okay, I murmured, my voice scraping out low and rough. "Let it come. It's going to feel delicious, I promise. Do it for me."

Her eyes slid shut at my words, and her grip tightened on my arm. I increased the pace of my stroke inside her. She started to speak, but her words quickly devolved into shapeless moans as I felt her tighten on my fingers, pulsing on me until she collapsed back, exhausted.

As she lay there, breathing hard, I crawled on top of her, unbuttoning my loose brown pants as I did so. I had taken to wearing the strap under my clothes, the member tied down against my thigh to avoid detection. I loosed it and it sprang up, hard and ready. I smeared it with my lady's own juices, rendering it slick and slippery.

My lady awakened from her post-climax fog to the feeling of me positioning the member at her entrance.

"I thought that was it," she said, a little groggily. I chuckled softly, my fingers playing with her clitoris to keep her wet. "No, my lady. This is the main event," I said, and I eased myself into her.

She gasped at the new sensation, larger and harder than my fingers. I stilled inside her, watching her face.

"Is it too big?" I asked.

She shook her head, reaching up with arms and legs alike to wrap around my shoulders, back, waist, ass, pulling me closer, deeper into her. "Move in me," she said, one hand gripping my ass. "F - fuck me. Please."

I can't refuse a lady anything. I obliged. Within moments her moans filled the air around me, deep and involuntary as though I was pushing them out of her with my thrusts. Much as her sounds gave me pleasure, I began to worry about being overheard. I pulled out, rolled her on her side, and entered her from behind, one hand wrapped around her mouth, the other stroking her clitoris as I fucked her. The different sensations played in her eyes in a cacophony of ecstasy as she came.

After that, I told her we ought to get on. It would be dark soon. Her new husband would worry. But she begged and begged for one more ride. She would come fast, she promised. She new I could make her come fast.

And she looked so pretty sitting there - her breasts out and her nipples hard, her face flushed and her lips swollen from where I'd kissed her while we were fucking. I couldn't say no to her.

I put her on all fours and took her from behind this time, hard and deep. I watched her ass bouncing as my hips slapped against it, then glanced across the hayfield. In the dying light of day, I could just see the peaks of William Worthing's house rising above the trees. I sucked in a slow, shaking breath as I pictured him seeing us like this. His bride with her tits and ass out, squealing on a servant woman's cock. I imagined I was fucking her better than he ever would. He would be lucky just to get her wet, and I was about to make her cum for the third time. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes closed, her mouth open in a deep groan of pleasure. Her dark hair flowing across her bare shoulders. Her small breasts jiggling in time with every thrust I made into her. Her ass raised just for me, to accept me into her, flushed slightly pink from the force of my hips slapping against it.

Though I was mostly clothed, though I was experiencing no physical sensation, I could feel my pleasure building nonetheless. The sight of her below me, of the sensations she was experiencing at my hands, was going to send me over the edge. I put my hand beside hers on the ground, curling my body around her. She took my hand and squeezed it. I moaned in her ear. The whole world had become her body and her breath and her smell. It was all too much.

She came, and as she did she pushed her ass back against my hips so I could feel her wetness, and whimpered my name. That was it for me; I came with a deep groan, moments after her, and we collapsed together in the hay, sweaty and exhausted and still joined.