The Wicked Confessions of Lady Cecelia Stanton (3 page)

I remembered the fierce fullness of my husband’s manhood locked betwixt my thighs and shuddered. ‘I think pleasure from that act is a fanciful dream, and not one likely to be realised – not in my marriage bed at least.’

Again Bess clicked her tongue at me, as one may at a horse or dairy cow. ‘Silly girl, I shall prove you wrong,’ she laughed, then continued her ministrations.

Her finger brushed past that particularly sensitive part at the apex of my womanhood and I gasped once more. I had thought to tell her to cease clicking at me, but I found myself speechless.

Rhythmically now, her fingers brushed over that sweet sensitive spot, and I felt something spark to life deep in my womb.

For a time, words were impossible, but as her rhythm quickened, I found my body once more plundered, however, this time by Bess’s fingers.

I cried, my voice keening. Her invasion was sharp, but sweetly so. I could feel my body tense, as if some uncontrolled part of me was climbing to an elusive and unknown pinnacle. I writhed, struggling to find my breath. What was she doing to me? How was she doing this? I could find no cogent words to ask, and her fingers continued to dance their magical dance in the damp nest between my legs.

Then it happened. My body broke with the sheer sweetness of her caresses. I had never known such pleasure, not from food nor wine, and I fell into exquisite rapture. If heaven had been a place on this mortal earth, I believe I found it that night under Bess’s knowing hands.

I do not know how long I lay there with my maid’s hands entwined between my damp thighs, but eventually I roused. Intense feelings of guilt and shame replaced the delights of passion.

‘Bess,’ I began to speak, but she must have read my face.

‘Milady, I will leave you now.’

I moved swiftly however, and gripped her hand. I was disturbed to feel my own body’s slickness coating her rough fingers, and released her just as fast.

‘I must know, how did you do it? Did Carter teach you these things?’ I asked, holding her gentle gaze steady. Bess was much more worldly than I, and I knew at that moment, she’d had more men that merely horse-toothed Carter.

She smiled shamelessly at me then, as Bess often did. ‘Whatever gave you that notion?’ she asked. ‘Men will not teach you what a woman needs in the bed. Only a woman can teach you this. Milady, have you never touched yourself there?’

‘Clearly not,’ I replied and hesitated. ‘At least, not in the same manner.’ I felt exposed by the turn in the conversation pulled a blanket across my nakedness.

Bess’s eyes lingered on me, a heady, long moment and I found myself wondering if she expected the same ministrations from me. The thought made me nervous, though I cannot quite explain why.

Bess smiled again, and I felt at ease once more. ‘Do not look so concerned. You have been a good mistress and friend to me, always. I wish you happiness and satisfaction in your marriage. With my help, I can teach you things that will please you and your husband alike.’

When she had said such a thing earlier in the evening, I did not believe her and though she had shown me her words could be true, something sat ill with me.

‘Do not take me for a fool, Bess Miller,’ I said. ‘You have been my closest friend for such a long time.’

Her face grew puzzled. ‘I have never taken you for a fool.’

Yet I continued to worry. If word of this moment ever were found, it would shame my family and prove to society my marriage was farcical. Perhaps I have a worrisome nature, but an insane fear struck me. If I allowed Bess to instruct me in pleasurable arts, I would be giving her license to blackmail.

‘To offer me education in these matters would require something in return. What is it that you wish of me?’ I asked.

I am a woman who prides herself on an almost masculine practical-mindedness. So I was under no illusions that Bess must wish something in return for her favours.

‘Nothing,’ she replied simply. ‘You mistake me for a man, for I wish nothing in return.’

‘Nothing?’ I repeated like a simpleton. ‘Not money? Jewels? Reciprocal affection?’

It was Bess who hesitated then. ‘Perhaps in time, if you wished to offer reciprocal affection I would receive it gladly. If you do not, then all I wish is to retain my station as your maid. I could not hope for a better position.’

‘Bess,’ I chided, ‘you do not have to this to keep your employ secure. Not now, nor ever.’

As I spoke the words, I realised their truth.

She smiled. ‘And it is this kindness that makes me wish to be your instructor in these matters. There are no ladies quite so deserving of this pleasure than you.’

I understood her words, but my doubts did not sway. I was torn and unsure whether to believe her.

‘If you speak truth, then I thank you,’ I began, ‘but if ever…’ My words were left incomplete. Instead, I reached and caressed the line of her lips. Her eyes closed at the simple touch. My chest tightened, and I leaned forward replacing my hand with my lips. I kissed her lightly and closed my eyes, relishing the soft, sweetness of her lips against mine. I never realised until that moment how very long I’d wished to kiss her.

I felt her lips curl with a smile and I pulled away, feeling heat stain my cheeks. I opened my eyes and saw her shake her head gently. I took comfort in the fact that Bess had never shown me any enmity; in fact, she had always been my most stalwart friend. Guilt plagued me. Was I a terrible person to have suspected her of foul play?

‘I will leave you now, my lady,’ she whispered, and her hand gently patted my thigh. ‘Goodnight. And if your husband returns to you this evening, relax and allow him access. Nothing good ever comes of a wife denying her husband his rights.’ Her face turned hard, and I realised with some conviction that she did not look well upon my rakish husband.

I nodded, thankful that after Bess’s ministrations the terror of having my husband once more, no longer seemed so great and overwhelming.

‘Thank you, goodnight,’ I murmured, as Bess gathered her skirts and backed from the room.

I lay awake for many hours after. My husband’s parting words had lead me to expect him to visit once more, but as the candles burned to piteous stubs, my room fell to darkness and sleep swiftly overcame me.

I awoke to the chambermaid having opened the curtains and a meal waiting on a silver tray. I was perplexed.

‘Does my husband not wish to break his fast downstairs with me?’ I asked, for in my family home, the morning fast was always broken as a family in the dining room.

The maid, a fresh, ruddy-cheeked woman, looked at me surprised perhaps that I had spoken.

‘Forgive me, milady, I’m not privy to his lordship’s mornin’ habits. I’m only the chambermaid.’

I could feel my brow wrinkle and watched her for another moment. The skirts of her uniform rustled as she moved, and I noticed her ears were inordinately pink.

‘What is your name?’ I asked as I sat up in the bed, and the maid placed the tray upon my knees.

‘Daisy, if it pleases you,’ she replied, her blue eyes noticeably avoiding my own.

Strange girl. I disliked her immediately. Then felt bad for my negative musings.

‘You may leave,’ I said and she hurried to obey.

When the door closed, I looked down at my tray. The ornate silver platter displayed sliced fruit, tea and bread. I had little appetite. My body, unaccustomed to the ravages of conjugal duties, was uncomfortable and I seemed to be plagued by a dull pulsing from my most intimate place.

I picked at the fruit a nibbled at the buttered bread. The latter, I found particularly pleasing so consumed it all.

It was just as I finished my cup of tea that there was a knock on my door.

‘Yes?’ I called leaning to my left and placing the tray on the small bedside table.

The door opened and I found myself greeted by my husband’s mischievous smile.

‘Good morning, my dear. I hope you find breakfast to your liking.’

I inclined my head. ‘Good morning. I do.’

He hesitated and closed the door behind him, his smile faltered very briefly. ‘My dear,’ he began and walked towards me. ‘I come this morning to, ah…’ He paused and rubbed his chin in a gesture of awkwardness. ‘To see how you have faired after the events in this room last night.’

To say I was surprised by this enquiry would be an understatement. My husband is a known rake, and yet to show such consideration for my wellbeing left me feeling absurdly touched. ‘I am tender,’ I responded. ‘As any maiden would be after her wedding night.’

‘Quite,’ he agreed, and I dare say I saw a blush stain his shaven cheeks.

Perhaps it is absurd, but it was this that first began to endear him to me. I started to wonder if he was not quite the scoundrel many have taken him for.

I hesitated then. ‘Is there any more you wish of me?’

He laughed then, and threw his head back. His teeth flashed white in the sunlight from the open curtains. ‘My sweet, there is very much more I wish of you.’

It was my turn to blush and he stepped closer to the bed, sinking down on the soft mattress beside me.

My heart hammered and my breasts tightened beneath my nightdress. His eyes traced the lines of my throat and lingered at the hollow there. His gaze had weight. My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed, my throat dry with fear or anticipation or a blend of both.

‘With your permission, may I?’ he asked.

I had thoughts of how improper it was to partake in the conjugal act with the sun bright in the sky. It was unseemly, wicked even, yet the look in my husband’s eyes told me it was also very much
wanted.

I nodded and he bent forwards to kiss me.

I knew kissing as something generally reserved for cheeks, and formal occasions, but William’s kiss was neither.

His lips met mine. They were warm, and he smelled like the tea he’d clearly just consumed. He pressed in and urged my mouth open. I heard my own gasp of surprise and a reciprocal chuckle echo within William’s chest. The sensation was exquisite. The deep coiling presence that Bess’s fingers had managed to elicit between my legs with her fingers was miraculously reignited by my husband’s mouth upon mine.

He pulled away, and smiled at me – a devilish smile that tugged at the corners of his moistened mouth.

‘I sense my wife likes to be kissed.’

‘She does,’ I agreed, and this time I dared to bring a hand up and stroke his sun-bronzed cheek with my hand. I loved the touch of his roughened cheek, such a contrast to the softness of Bess. Where she was day, he was night.

He sighed, and closed his eyes, clearly relishing my touch.

I let my hand fall to the bed, and his eyes opened. I believe it was all the invitation my husband required. Without further preamble, he moved atop me, pushing aside the blankets with careless enthusiasm.

I was held immobile then, by his weight and a sudden paroxysm of fear.

William’s eyes caught mine. ‘This act will not cause you much discomfort, I pray,’ he said. ‘You have been broken in, and your maidenhead can tear but once.’

I hoped his words were true, and that the terrible consuming pain of our initial conjugal act would not be repeated. Yet my nether region was still raw and tender. Why, not yet a day had passed since he had first come upon me.

My husband is, and has since remained, a man of substantial appetite.

William’s hand came between us and for a long moment, it wrestled with the ties and buttons of his breeches. There was little else I could do but aid him and part my legs for ease of access to my sex.

His hand then found my quim, wet with dew. He dipped a gentle finger there and brought it back to his mouth, tasting me.

The gesture made that peculiar longing heat thickened there betwixt my thighs. His eyes met mine – they were knowing.

‘You’re ready for me?’ he asked.

I could do naught but nod, as the thick, hot head of his staff nudged at my swollen gates. I remembered Bess’s wicked ministrations and that heat flared once more in my womb. I was surprised to find myself anticipating, with eagerness rather than fear, my husband’s attentions.

William must have seen something in my eyes, as he gave a smug smile before lunging forth and impaling me on his staff. The gesture fair knocked the wind from my chest. It hurt, I cannot deny it. My womanhood had not recovered, and although his movements were slick and more considerate on this occasion, my body was unable to welcome them. Each forward lunge grated the tender flesh surrounding my sex, and I found myself enduring with difficulty the act I had hoped to receive pleasure from.

William must have noticed, and for a brief moment I could see disappointment glisten in his eyes, before his face knotted in concentration and his lip gripped between his teeth as he worked furiously above me. He wanted to please me, I knew that implicitly, yet I could find no pleasure in his thrusting. I tried to relax and welcome his enthusiastic invasion but I confess here and now, I found myself wishing his staff was Bess’s fingers, and his groans of pleasure, my own.

Our marital relations continued as such on a nightly basis. Afterwards, William would often leave my rooms to retire to the library, or his own rooms. When he did, almost always, Bess would return to me.

I would speak at length with her about my husband’s activities and we would laugh about his robust attentions. Then Bess with her wicked hands and devilish lips strove to educate me to take pleasure from them. I feel I must state here that after those first few tender days, my womanhood became used to the girth of his staff and the enthusiastic manner with which he wielded it. I believe I took well to my conjugal duties to him, and eventually found a great deal of pleasure in them. Though, it is to my shame I admit that initially his cock was unable to satisfy and bring me to completion in the manner Bess’s skilful fingers did. And so her tutelage in the erotic arts continued. After William left my rooms sated, I would will Bess’s arrival, to await my own education and receive some satisfaction.

I grew to love William in my own way during this time. He is a man with a rich sense of humour, though it often tends towards the vulgar. He is attentive, kind and generous to a fault. Quick to laugh, he was always ready and willing to cheer me when I found myself overwhelmed by my new, and at times, daunting status of lady of the house.