Lady's Maid Ch. 02: The Wedding Night

The wedding went off splendidly, and I was now, to Daddy and Mummy's satisfaction, Lady Cynthia Fortescue-Smythe, though of course everyone continued to call me Pixie.

Archie was tall and quite handsome. As the second son of the Duke of Monmouth he stood to inherit a tidy packet, and with an income of £10,000 a year and homes in Belgravia and Hampshire, was considered a suitable match. The Duke had beamed with happiness and welcomed me into the family. The Duchess, Lady Cecily, had been gracious. At a quiet moment in the reception, she had taken me aside.

"Now, Pixie, as my new daughter I feel you ought to know something about Archie, and it is why we are so delighted he has finally found a wife."

I looked at her, at fifty she was still beautiful, I loved the way her outfit highlighted what was still a gorgeously firm bust, and she was clearly a forceful personality. I was glad she seemed to like me.

"Mama," I said, knowing she would like me calling her that, "it is okay, Archie and I have, erm, talked." I blushed.

"You're a pretty little thing, Pixie, and I'm glad he has told you. Are you alright with that? You can, of course, take lovers."

I blushed, thinking back to when Archie and I first flirted back in May.

We met on four successive occasions, the final one being at Bridgewater House, his family's London base in Mayfair.

After dancing, we sat one out together, under the watchful eye of his Mama.

"Pix," he said, turning to look at me seriously, "I don't suppose you'd do me a favour old girl?"

I looked at him. He was sweet, stammering and nervous; I thought I was the only one like that. Several chaps had passed on to Mama the news that whilst I was a pretty little thing, I was too "nervy" for them. Mama had not been best pleased, and while Papa had consoled me, I knew that I was failing my family. Though my dowry was not bad, the fact was that flat-chested midgets with "nerves" were not at a premium. I really did not want to end up an old maid staying at home with my parents.

"Of course, Archie, just ask."

"Well, old girl, it would be spiffing if you'd agree to marry me!"

I blushed furiously. Golly, I thought, well that would at least solve the "old maid" problem; and if what I had heard about Archie was true, it might solve other problems too.

"Oh, sorry old thing, if, if that's not okay, I understand, you've probably heard the rumours."

I looked puzzled, having no idea what on earth he was talking about.

"What rumours, Archie, and why me, I'm such a flat-chested little squit."

"Silly girl," he teased, "it's what I like about you, you are, well, boyish."

I blushed. At four foot ten my breasts were in proportion to the rest of me.

"But Archie, boys like curves, I know!"

"Well, old girl, I like boys, there, I have been honest with you."

I looked at him.

"What do you mean, you like boys?"

It sounded as though the rumours were true, but I needed him to confess, or at least admit it.

"Well, old thing, some chaps like other chaps, you know, in the bedroom."

I felt confused, but also relieved.

"So why marry me Archie?"

"Three things old girl, first if I don't get married by next year, Pa is going to reduce my allowance. Then there's the fact that he wants me to be an MP, and MPs have to be married. On top of that, if I have to marry anyone, you are a cutie and would not I think be any trouble. But, and here's the thing," he was blushing now, "I won't want your services in the bedroom, is that okay? You can have lovers if you are discreet."

My mind was in a whirl. I was deeply in love with my maid, Annie, and hated the idea of a man having me, so this was manna from Heaven. I looked at his Mama and mine.

"Archie, ask Papa now."

He smiled.

"Really Pix, really and truly!"

He looked as happy as I felt, this was the answer to both our problems.

Archie went to Papa and spoke in private. I saw Ma summoned to the conclave, then the Duke and Duchess. As he came back he was grinning like the cat who had got the cream. He got onto one knee:

"Lady Pixie, will you do the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Of course darling!"

He kissed me on the cheek. And that, as they say was that. So I was honestly able to say to the Duchess that I knew that side of Archie's life.

"So you don't mind that your wedding night won't be consummated?"

I blushed.

"It is your Mama-in-law's job to help guide you darling little one, and I am sorry that he won't be of much use to you in that department. But he's a good chap, and generous. Do remember my darling, that if you want a chap, there are always fellows willing to do a girl a good turn; just be discreet."

I smiled at her (quite unnecessary) concern.

"Oh Mama, you are so kind to me. I am so pleased."

She smiled.

"Not bloody surprised darling after your Ma, quite the tatar isn't she?"

I grinned and blushed.

"Just a bit, Mama, but it's my fault for being so nervy."

She hugged me to her capacious bosom. It was seventh heaven, her perfume, her warmth; I felt myself get damp between my legs.

"It is alright angel, I am not going to be like that with you. I am grateful for you taking Archie and being such a good sport."

It all went off jolly well, and both sets of parents, and the bride and groom had their own reasons to be happy: the Duke and Duchess had married off their troublesome son; my parents had found a suitable match for their runt of a daughter; Archie had found a wife who was not bothered that he would never consummate their marriage; and I had found the perfect husband.

If the wedding day had been conventional enough, he wedding night was, I suppose, unusual. Archie went off to his bedroom with the Best Man, and I retired to mine, where Annie was waiting.

"So, Lady Cyn," she giggled, "a married woman now. Does your husband know you are a slut?"

"No, Miss," I blushed, "only you know that."

"So why are you not on your back with your legs open with your husband's cock in you? Is it because he doesn't fancy you, you little tart?"

Annie knew how to press my buttons.

"He's with a man, Mistress."

Annie grinned.

"And you, my little slut, are with a woman, your `Maid, in fact. Strip!"

Looking up at her, I slipped my gown down my shoulders, exposing my tiny breasts, my pink nipples swollen and aching at her treatment of me. Standing in my stockings, suspender-belt, heels and French knickers, I felt exposed, not least since I could feel the trickle of my own juices down my inner thighs.

"I told you how we were going to mark tonight, so strip naked, slut!"

I undressed and followed her to the bathroom, sitting in the wicker chair, legs apart.

Annie smiled as she poured hot water into a bowl before approaching me with a razor and a cloth. She pulled on my pubic hair, making me gasp.

"This comes off as a sign of your servitude to me. You are my girl now."

As she wet my hair, lathered it and began to shave me, I moaned. The more she teased me there the wetter and stickier I became. She stuck the handle of the shaving brush roughly into my cunt, saying it was "at least good for something."

She was gentle but firm, and when she had finished, I was whimpering, my hips rolling. She brought a mirror and let me look at myself when she had wiped me. I was bald as the day I was born.

"You look like an under-maid now, Pixieslut!"

My cunt was so wet and needy that I groaned loudly.

"Are you a fucking needy slut, Lady Pixie?"

Blushing I confessed:

"Yes, Mistress, I am your fucking needy slut."

"Mistress needs servicing, slut!"

Ignoring my own needs, I got to my knees as Annie lifted her skirts. She was not wearing knickers, and her pubic hair smelt of her arousal. Grasping my head she pushed me into her cunt, and proceeded to grind it into my face, using me as her toy.

Her scent overwhelmed me. My tongue wriggled through her succulent folds, and I lapped her inner lips, scooping her goo to her bud, which I proceeded to lick. She squirmed, pushing me into her cunt further.

"You dirty fucking bitch, finger me you tart!"

My fingers crossed, penetrating her entrance and pushing through her slick, wet, gooeyness; she was soaked.

I finger fucked her and lapped at her clit. Her strong thighs gripped my head. She rubbed against me furiously. I felt her tense, before she drenched my face with her nectar, shaking and moaning. Like the good girl I was I stayed there and cleaned her.

"In the bath, now!"

At Annie's command I lay on my back in the bath, the cold enamel making me shiver.

Taking off her skirt, Annie squatted above me, her hairy cunt inches from my face. I saw her peehole twitch. As she squirted jets of her pee on me, she touched my aching cunt, thrusting two fingers in and rubbing her hand against my aching clit.

"Cum for me you slut!"

As I swallowed her salty pee, I came and came, whimpering with the release of the tension. She wiped herself clean on me. I was still shaking from my orgasm as she wiped; I was drained.

As I lay there, she turned on the taps, and as the waters grew about me, slipped in, holding me tight. I felt her nipples against my back as she cuddled me.

"A wedding night to remember, darling."

And so it had been.