A Fateful Lapse

Dear Reader,

This story is an immediate continuation from Chapter 1. I have no idea how it might appear if read in isolation, or in reverse order. Thanks for reading, I hope you find something here you enjoy. Sue.

I was sobbing into the pillow when George joined me in our room a few minutes later. I hadn't got dressed, happy for the cool air to sooth my enflamed buttocks.

"It's over Elizabeth. Come here," said George with tenderness in his voice. I went to him as he retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the bridle. It was such a relief when he lifted the heavy metal casing from my skull. I wiped my mouth and face with my handkerchief and dropped to my knees hugging George's legs as a myriad of questions raced through my mind.

"Oh George, can you ever forgive me? But how could you do that? And in front of our boys. Goodness knows what they must think of me." The events over dinner seemed unreal, I just didn't understand how it could have happened.

"They love you, Elizabeth, they always will, nothing will change that. They learnt a lesson today, and with God's blessing, it will be a lesson they will never forget. We all took a lesson today."

"But what lesson?" I whispered, as painful notions occupied my mind. "Their mother is sinful? Their father is a sadist? Goodness knows what thoughts are corrupting their innocent minds?"

"Oh my sweet darling," George said, "we are all sinful. You must have more faith in our boys. They understand what happened this evening. They will think long and hard before they ever deny the word of God. You made a sacrifice for our boys today, we both did, but trust me my darling, I'm sure we will be repaid ten-fold."

"I pray so much you are right," doubt still raging in my mind.

I was hugging George's legs tightly and gently wiping tears from my face against the front of his breeches. I felt his penis stir against the side of my face and took some comfort from this. Perhaps George has forgiven me and our lives can continue as normal. At least he still wants me after everything I'd done.

"Draw the curtains, please, Elizabeth." And with these words I felt the muscles in my tummy clench tight once more, with greater intensity and yearning than ever I felt in the dining room. This was our routine, his way of asking for me.

And new guilt tormented me, I was being so selfish wallowing in my own self pity, today had been a terrible ordeal for George too. I needed to help him and show how much I loved him. At that moment, I wanted him more than anything in the world.

I hurried around the room pulling the curtains shut while George undressed, neatly arranged his clothes on the bottom of the bed. I unhooked my bodice and let it drop from my shoulders as I watched George step out of his breeches. His beautiful penis sprang free, engorged with blood and pointing proudly at me. More comfort.

I reached around the back of my corset pulling at the strings and George said, "Leave it on." I walked to him, reached up to put my arms around this neck and kissed him warmly on his lips.

The soft texture of his lips and tongue, was replacing any memory of the cold harsh metal that had tortured my mouth all day. His hand reached into the top of my corset and cupped my breast. My puckered nipple so sensitive to his touch and the desperate yearning in my pelvis reached new heights of arousal. He ran soft kisses down the length of my neck to the swell of my breast as I shut my eyes and rocked my head back. His mouth reached my nipple, and more tender kisses fired a new thrill of desire through my body. I reached up to caress George's hair and face and felt my other breast lift free from the confines of my slackened corset.

He stepped back holding me at arm's length. I followed his gaze across my body, smiling shyly, with my breasts heaving over the rhythm of my quickening breath. His eyes descended down my corset and rested on the triangle of hair beneath. The shy secrets my hair was sheltering were now aching for his touch. "What a vision of beauty you are, my darling," he said. His eyes continued lower, down my milky thighs and stockings to my satin shoes.

I turned my back and leant forward to hold the wooden board at the foot of our bed. For the second time this evening I presented my naked bottom to my husband. We had taken our love making to this position with George standing behind me after our boys grew older, because our bed creaked so boisterously when we embraced on top of it.

I felt George's hand caress downwards over the curve of my buttock and between my legs. Shocks of desire ran through my body at his first touch against my labia. His fingers and penis were searching for my entrance. I felt him slowly, gracefully and so lovingly slip inside me, stretching me, and the sinews in my tummy tightened so much, I feared they would snap. With George's penis pulsating inside me, the sensation was overtaking me. What was happening to me? I had never felt such demands from my body before, a fire inside raging in desperate anger. My whole body trembling from his caress and my legs barely able to support my weight . He pulled back and I felt him slipping out of me. No, not now. I wanted him deep, deep inside me and I clenched my pelvis to resist his movement, but I was pushing him out. At this moment, nothing in the world was more important to me that feeling him buried within me, just loving me. Uninhibited lust was enraging every drop of blood in my body and my heart was pumping it to the darkest corners of my soul. As he leant towards me again, I pushed back viciously against him. His penis seemed to swell inside me like a balloon bursting: squeezing, punching and kicking every organ within me.

And I yelped. My body was in spasms. Beyond anything I could control. Such exquisite terror engulfed me. Ferocious fireworks pulsing through my body, again and again and again. Such joyous agony. I must have fallen. I was shaking on the floor. My whole body tingling, and slowly, while I gasped for air, the fog in my head began to clear and my senses returned. I opened my eyes and saw George, concerned etched across his face.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, what's wrong?"

"Oh...," I said. It was all I could manage.

"You screamed. Did I hurt you? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I don't know. I'm not sure. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I don't know. Oh..."

"Elizabeth?"

I took a few breathes, and regained more control. "I think... I was overcome. I think... I'm fine. Perhaps I'm hungry. I haven't eaten today. I think I felt faint."

But I knew. I couldn't possibly explain to George, but I knew.

I hadn't talked much to anyone about the intimate side of married life, either before or after I was wed, but I'd heard stories about women who could ejaculate in a way similar to a man. I thought these were old wife's tales, stories about women of ill repute from the East Indies, who could sometimes acquire these skills after years of specialist training. Yet, here I was... it had come to me, as a gift, and so beautiful. And already I was wondering, could it ever come to me again?

With some care, I stood up and bent forward against the bed-board as before. I shuffled my feet apart, giving me greater confidence in my balance as well as opening my thighs for George's affection, once more.

"We don't need to do this, Elizabeth." George said, "Are you sure? Would you like something to eat?"

"My darling," I said, "I am so sure. Please, just... love me."

I watched George over my shoulder as he positioned himself behind me. I shut my eyes and savoured the delicious feeling of him sliding inside me again. Slowly he pulled away, and pushed back inside, deeper. With each motion, stretching me further open, our bodies rocking together. Aware of my breasts swaying heavily with the motion, I released one hand supporting me on the bed, and placed my forearm across my breasts, cupping one breast in my hand. My nipple was puckered and hard and so sensitive, I couldn't resist rolling it between finger and thumb, pinching it, and smiling with my nerve-ends tingling, while George continued his gentle internal massage of my vagina. I felt the heavenly arousal in my tummy stir again.

"Oh, my."

My vagina was aching, demanding attention, and I gave in to its call. I lowered my hand leaving my breasts to swing free, and with some apprehension in case George reacted, I slipped my hand into the hair between my legs to find my clitoris. My first touch sent more shocks of sensation cascading through my body. I had never felt such cravings like this before today. I had never felt so alive. My body had become its own master and I was a slave to its demands. The skin below my clitoris was stretching back and forth as George slide in and out of me. I delighted in the mischievous nudges I gave his testicles with my knuckles each time he pushed against me. I was longing for George to thrust harder, deeper, faster. Slap my breasts, squeeze my buttocks, just... oh, I don't know the words. But I knew this was not his way.

My body was screaming, greedily for more. I pressed my fingers firmly against my needy clitoris rolling back and forth over its slippery hood. Rubbing faster, harder as George continued to rhythmically stroke his penis inside me. I shut my eyes and my mind wandered back into the dining room. George violently spanking me, his composure lost in a way I so rarely see; sharing my crimson buttocks and wanton vagina with everyone in the room. Mr Byrd grinning at me. Mr Wainwright rubbing himself under the table. William daring to take nervous glances at my nakedness.

My breathing was heaving, I could feel the sweetest tension, building inside me, unstoppable.

"Oh my. Oh sweet lord." It was just like before. I was pushing sharply back against George with each of his forward thrusts, devouring his penis inside me each time. I yearned for a final push over the brink of my euphoria. I rubbed my clitoris with several rapid, angry strokes and abruptly stopped. My body was responding on its own course now. I locked my knees in the hope of steadying myself. I reached behind and pinched a small piece of skin at the base of my buttocks. And nipped it. Hard. Harder. Fingernails biting into me. This sharp sensation radiating across my skin sending a message cascading to every nerve in my body.

"Oh no. Oh yes." My body was in spasms again. Searing shoots of energy bursting within me.

I heard George, frantic under his breath, "Elizabeth! Be quiet..."

I bit my lower lip in an attempt to close my mouth. My nostrils flared with the air rushing in and out of my lungs.

Pulses of emotion were cascading around my body and flooding out through every pore of my skin: all my guilt; my fear; my hated; my anger. My darkened soul was emptying, its contents ejected by wave after wave of exquisite pleasure. Until, with nothing left to give, the waves subsided and the tension relaxed. The methodical thrusts of George in my welcoming vagina returned to my consciousness.

And I felt warm, and protected and utterly, utterly loved. God had forgiven me. Everything today had happened for this sweet blessing, His sweet blessing.

"Oh Elizabeth. Oh my love..." George whispered, and he slowly withdrew his penis away from me. I knew what this meant. I turned and knelt in front of him, holding the shaft of his throbbing penis in my hand. I squeezed it firmly and stretched the skin forward over its angry purple head. I pulled back and forth, up and down his shaft, adopting the same rhythmic timing George had been using inside my vagina a moment ago. I looked up at his face. His eyes were shut. His teeth gritted. His face contorting. He was taking short sharp breathes of air. His thighs stiffened and tensed and I felt such yearning love for him, and such adoration for the marvels of his body and his penis. I placed my handkerchief over the tip of his penis and watched as his body rocked with involuntary lunges. For the first time in my life I could imagine what he was feeling. He placed a hand softly on my head, and I eased the pace of my hand milking his penis. His body was relaxing. His breathes becoming more shallow. I tightened my hand holding the handkerchief around the head of his penis and eased it over the tip, cleaning away the sticky white fluid he'd just emitted. I leant forward and gave his penis a gentle, loving kiss. There was no doubt in my mind, I loved every part of this man.

A sudden thought occurred and I looked down to my vagina. My lips were swollen and glistening from their excitement, but with some relief, no white sticky mess that I could see.

..............

Later that evening, in bed, as I rested my head on George's chest. I broached a subject that had been playing on my mind since our love making.

"George, did you notice Mr Byrd when you were..., when I was..., when we were eating dessert tonight?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't think I feel comfortable with him as our man-servant anymore. Not after what happened. It was the way he looked at me. There was no sympathy. Honestly, he seemed to be taking pleasure from my penance."

"I didn't see that, Elizabeth. Are you sure? I think you must be mistaken. I can't believe Mr Byrd is like that. You'll think differently in the morning." He said.

"I won't, George. I know it. Things will never be the same. I just won't be able to relax around him anymore. I just don't want him in our home anymore."

"I can't just dismiss him, Elizabeth. None of this is his fault, after all. You're being silly. If you are feeling unsettled, this is God's will. Perhaps He wants us to remember and this is His way."

"Oh George, this isn't about God's will. Not anymore. I don't ask much from you. I know it's been a difficult day for both of us, but can't you just do this for me." I had raised my head from his chest, now, and was looking into his eyes.

"Elizabeth, no. I can't. Just, go to sleep, it will all feel different tomorrow."

"You can't? Of course you can, George. It will be better for all of us, perhaps even for Mr Byrd. Can't you just do this for me?"

There was irritation in George's face and his voice now. "Hush, Elizabeth. He's not going and I don't want to hear anything more about this."

I was doubting him, now. "George? What is it?"

"Go to sleep, Elizabeth." He said.

.........................

But the extraordinary events of this day were not yet over. I was restless after George fell asleep, and I went downstairs for a drink of water. Not expecting anyone else to be awake, I was in bare feet wearing only my white linen nightgown. As I entered the kitchen, my heart sank when I saw Mr Byrd, carrying a candle, and making to leave the room. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, but as he brushed past me I thought I heard him mutter under his breath, "...dirty whore..."

I stopped and turned. "What did you say?" I asked, surely I misheard him. He came closer and lent forward to whisper in my ear, and very slowly and quietly, but equally clearly he said, "You. Dirty. Whore." And in the next instant he had reached up and roughly squeezed my breast through the thin nightgown.

I stepped back and slapped him, hard, across his face. "How dare you!" I hissed. "Don't you dare talk to me, like that!" And even more outraged, "Don't you dare touch me!" I was stunned.

"M'lady...", he said with exaggerated sarcasm in his voice, whispering harshly "you think you are so high and mighty, so much better than us, but you're just the same. In fact, worse. You pretend to be different, that you are above any carnal desire, you deny it, but it tortures you all the more. I saw your eyes at dinner. It was the look of every girl I've fucked, every whore I've used. You were screaming 'fuck me' louder than if it came from your mouth." No. Surely not. He's completely wrong. Oh sweet lord is that what he thought? Is that what William was thinking?

"Mr Byrd, have you taken leave of your senses, what has possessed you? You cannot speak to me like this. Wait until I tell my husband."

"And what will the good Reverend do... exactly... M'lady?" The sarcasm again and this time with the same smirk he showed me at dinner.

"He'll have you...," but what would he do?

I composed myself, and speaking in the calmest voice I could manage, said "Mr Byrd, you are no longer welcome in my house. You will leave tomorrow morning. I do not expect to see you before you go. You will not be getting a reference."

Mr Byrd put the candle down on the kitchen table and I stepped back into the wall behind as he moved menacingly towards me. "M'lady, I will leave when the Reverend asks me, not on some whim of his cock-loving whore." His hand shot up to my throat, pinning me up against the wall and forcing me onto the tips of my toes. I felt his other hand at the front of my nightgown and I was frozen. His hand worked its way under the shirt and was fumbling at the top of my legs.

"In the meantime... M'lady...I shall look forward to the day you are knelt in front of me begging to take my cock in your mouth. Be quick, M'lady, I'm not prepared to wait long."

His hand had found its goal and I could feel fingers slipping between my labia. "Let's see what your body wants, shall we?", and with a start he roughly forced his fingers into me, pushing hard and deep. Not for the first time today, I felt a sickening rush of confused emotion within me. Even I was doubting if I could trust my body anymore. What was becoming of me.

"So fucking wet," he said, "it seems this dirty whore can't bear to wait another moment for her next cock." Oh please, no. But I couldn't voice the words with his hand clamped around my throat. I closed my eyes in revulsion, and made a silent prayer.

His fingers below pushing in and out of me, slowly and deliberately, in time with his words. "Such a slippery. Hungry. Nobel. Cunt."

As if to prove his point, he withdrew his hand from under my gown and I could see two fingers glistening in the candlelight a few inches from my eyes. Then he was licking my juices from them, savouring the taste, smiling. He could have been Henry, grinning mischievously, as he licked his fingers clean of the leftover cake mixture I'd prepared for his birthday.

Oh, my goodness.

He relaxed his grip around my neck and stepped back. "Sleep well, M'lady," and he actually bowed his head.

I pushed passed him and felt a hard swipe of his hand slapping my buttocks, and his laughter behind, as I hurried up the stairs, clutching my breasts tightly to my chest.

.....................

So now, as I sit in my bedroom writing these notes, my mind is in a whirl. What if Mr Byrd is right? Does my body betray my true desires? There is no doubt, I have never felt yearning from inside me, like I felt today. Even now, I wish George was awake and loving me once more. I have an ache between my legs that is nagging me. I feel such a need to touch that ache, to relieve its demands, but I daren't believe that is possible.

I am reminded of my wedding night. George was so fearful of hurting me. Such tentative movement as he toiled to tear my hymen. And such concern: am I alright, does it hurt? I cried afterwards and George comforted me. At the time, I thought I was crying because my childhood was over, but now I wonder if I cried from apprehension of my life to come. I lost my virginity to the man I love, but without romance, and without passion. Could he truly love me the way I loved him, yet somehow not want me?

And the despicable Mr Byrd: it's hard to imagine the man could love his own mother, yet he's driven to such unspeakable acts of passion. When I tell George, Mr Byrd will no doubt lose his job and probably his entire livelihood, all because of something he mistakenly saw in my eyes. Can he really believe I'm going to beg for his love? And in my mouth!? I'm married. It's unthinkable. Impossible.