Chapter 6

(Conclusion)

This is the final chapter of the Montague clan. The identical triplet sisters called Faith, Hope and Charity were reasonably restored to a safe and proper existence on their family estate and their lands were productive once again.

The previous entry was thought to be the final word on this unusual family, but fate has demanded that we revisit the sensuous band of well-traveled females with their curious entourage of odd followers.

It is the story of Grace that holds our attention now that all parties are safely home away from the dangers and humiliations of foreign lands. She is now just eighteen after two years of relative calm at the Montague estate. The young girl remains a bit naïve with respect to matters of the heart and other parts of the flesh, but she has a driving interest in discovering all facets of human interaction as quickly as possible. Her identical triplet mother along with her two equally attractive nubile aunts were nocturnally active to the point that she no longer believed the sounds from behind their closed bedroom doors were merely those related to exercise, religious instruction, or educational pursuits. She was certain they all were copulating up a storm with various members of the household and the male members of the estate staff. She was not in the least bit opposed to this informative deduction and merely wanted to understand the nature of their activities so that she might learn from the process.

Grace was a trifle taller than the average young female in civilized society these days and she was not in the least bit skinny because she was a person possessed with a healthy appetite. She was a dedicated horsewoman spending hours each day riding one of the splendid mounts found in the stables behind the main house. The high-spirited stallions were eager to run free through the fields and the narrow roads through the forest with their nostrils flaring with steam in the chilled seasonal air. She spent countless hours tending to the brutes with her brush and joyful hands running her fingers over their muscled shoulders and hindquarters. Sometimes, her thoughts would wander to the chances of a handsome young man attending to her in the same manner. She could picture those sturdy hands running over her heated skin demanding her complete attention and firmly controlling her every movement. She vowed that she would be submissive to the unknown male’s desires allowing him to take her in a way that would make her cross the finish line of feminine satisfaction a winner in every respect.

The maid watched Grace’s hands fluttering absent-mindedly over her aroused bosom like confused butterflies with no compass to give them direction. She smiled because she knew exactly what the virginal eighteen year old girl was harboring in the recesses of her schoolgirl mind.

“Boys!”

It was all too familiar to young girls in these days of hedonistic looseness of conventional restraint. The mores of society were bent in every direction by the urges of the flesh. Of course, the guilt imposed by religious pressures and the scandal of outraged society effectively reduced the overt expression of flexible morals in most fledgling females, but their urges were often encouraged to fruition by sensuous addictive writings of depraved creatures both male and female. This meant that the covert activities of youth flourished under the noses of parents with little understanding of senseless kinkiness in the dead of night.

Young Miss Grace had not as yet been deflowered properly although she had been rolled and spooned fully clothed by male acquaintances in the manners of the time until she experienced that tingle that all her young female friends described as “The Gates of Paradise”. She had enjoyed it thoroughly but still had not actually seen the construction of the hardness that poked her so effectively both fore and aft with determined acceleration in a darkened corner. Her sin-stained heart raced faster and her pulse was erratic to the point of complete frenzy until that ultimate “tingle” hit her feminine core with the power of addictive compulsion driving her to seek it time and again no matter how degrading or humiliating. She grew familiar with the working of the male equipment more from feel through the clothing than from visual exposure. Still, it was more than enough to convince her she needed a handsome young man to furnish her with a steady source of available “tingle” delivery according to her private agenda. Unfortunately, there was a notable dearth of available young men suitable for her mating and she had to make do with the older, less handsome males with their own issues of a private nature.

She made friends with a local girl called Jessica. The girl was more of a companion than a servant because she had no actual duties and merely accompanied Grace on her excursions into the village or riding in the fields on thrilling adventures with their legs wrapped tightly around the sweating muscles of a galloping mount.

It came to pass that Jessica introduced young Grace to the mystery of how to kiss properly. First, it was only on the lips and tongue and they explored the many combinations of sensations that excited them both in regions further south on the anatomy. Then, they mutually agreed to progress to stimulation of the breasts and nipples with their devious tongues. Jessica was quite adroit at this intricate maneuver and she soon had Grace trained to skillful perfection. Finally, they cautiously advanced to below the waistline explorations that left Grace shaking with glorious release of a kind she didn’t think physically possible. When Jessica showed her that even rear door exercises were a source of surprising joy, the girl became somewhat addicted to that region as a target for her talented tongue.

They discussed the use of the long, tapered candle as a method of introducing Grace to the sensation of being filled to the brim with masculine equipment but Grace drew the line and insisted that she would wait until the “real thing” was employed instead.

She did not hesitate to reward her friend Jessica with frequent use of the differently shaped candles watching her face intently to gauge her reaction to both depth of entry and size of the candle in question. They were hot and heavy into one of their sessions totally naked on the wide canopied bed when her aunt walked in on them. Poor Jessica thought it was Grace’s mother Charity, and Grace thought it was her aunt Hope. They were both proven wrong when her aunt Faith declared,

“Dearest Grace, whatever are you doing? You are making your Aunt Faith severely distressed to see you in such notorious concert with a member of your own sex. I am of a mind to tell your mother straightaway and let her punish you with the Reverend’s belt to teach you a lesson of proper behavior for a young woman of society and a member of the Montague family.”

Jessica snickered behind her palm in typical fashion and Grace pushed her thumb a little deeper into her pretty posterior in retaliation for her impudence. Grace was angry at her own inability to tell her Aunt Faith from her other Aunt Hope or even her own mother Charity. When the identical triplets were dressed in similar fashion, it was virtually impossible to tell them apart unless they volunteered some little clue as to their actual identity to prevent a misunderstanding. It was one of the factors of their captivity in the harem of the Rajah that they were able to change their identities when it suited their agenda.