Chapter 28

Once Cynthia had weathered that first orgasm, which actually frightened her initially, she was insatiable.

He only lasted another five minutes before, with a bellow, he filled her as he had dreamed of filling her for years. Now that his shame was banished, he gloried in lifting her into the air as his seed burst into her passage.

After they rested, their second engagement was of a different kind. He took her in the usual way, looming over her and thrusting hard enough to make the bed squeak and knock against the wall. To be honest, she was not as well stimulated in that position, in terms of feeling that amazing, scary feeling that threatened to unhinge her. But she dearly loved being under him. The celerity of his motions, and the enthusiasm with which he pounded into her, communicated clearly to her how excited he was. She had never seen him do anything with this level of animation. The power he displayed and the helplessness she felt were not at all threatening. Rather, she felt like she was safe from any kind of danger while he hovered over her. Nothing could get around him to hurt her, and what his thrusting prick did was make her feel gloriously good. In that moment, she knew deep in her heart there was nothing else he would rather be doing, and that made her feel more special than she had in her entire life.

The third time, she got on top of him and, through pure instinct, fine tuned her ability to lean just so, and rub just so, until that overwhelming wave of ecstasy flooded her body. Because he had jetted in her twice, he was able to remain stiff much longer, and to her delight, she found that if she kept going, that feeling came again and again.

They didn't rise until hunger drove them from the bed with the sun directly overhead. Mostly that was because they didn't fall limp and sleep until a band of light on the horizon announced dawn was close behind.

He had only the food from the provisions he took with him on his patrol. He had not had time to stock the larder. But neither cared that their breakfast was hard tack and dried meat. They shared a turnip, biting into it like an apple, and then shared an apple the same way. A drip that fell to her breast urged him to lick there, and he remembered Jack biting and sucking at the mistress' fat nipples. When he did the same to Cynthia, she dragged him right back to bed.

Neither of them was seen by anyone in the manor for three days.

It was, in many ways, a honeymoon of sorts. They were not wed, nor did they travel to some idyllic spot to celebrate their legal joining. They simply had as much sex as they could, simulating how a new bride and groom would act.

It wasn't all sex, of course. There were long hours when, either sitting apart and relaxing, or entwined in each other's arms, they talked of the future, and what it must look like. More than once, as he filled her womb with his taboo sperm, he thought of what that sperm might produce. He spoke of it to her in a sort of warning, even though he knew she would ignore the danger.

She not only ignored it, she implored him to put life in her belly.

He hoped with all his heart that she would like this boy named Louis, and that they would be a good match.

He knew he could not stop mounting his daughter, even if it caused her belly to flower and grow.

On the fourth day they emerged, walking side by side up the path that led to the manor. They did not walk hand in hand. In days past, they might have, but now they were already acting the parts of father and adult daughter, having discussed her future and made decisions upon which she would begin to act as soon as possible. While a grown daughter might hold her father's hand occasionally, they do not do so habitually.

Cynthia wanted people to think she was being pressed into this arrangement, to prevent her from becoming an old maid. Those who saw her rubicund visage that day, however, saw a girl who looked healthier and happier than she ever had before.

Having read the previous passages, you must remember that, at that point in time, I was not aware of all that had transpired in the forest warden's cottage. My imagination had been active, of course, but I did not know then what you know now.

So you can imagine my interest when next Lady Penelope sent word that Cynthia was to be sent to her chambers. That interest drove me to my spy hole again.

It was amazing how willing the servants were to adopt a completely inappropriate level of familiarity with their noble lady. Once she had debauched them, they fawned on her. True, when anyone not in the cabal was around, they were scrupulously proper in both their behavior and address of her. But behind closed doors, they behaved scandalously. I do not refer to the sex, in this instance. I refer to something much more insidious than that.

I will use Cynthia's reunion with her lady as an example.

She did not knock when she arrived at my lady's chambers. She did not announce herself, or request permission to enter. She simply burst through the door, ran across the room and, in front of both Sally and Jenny... hugged The Countess of Haversham as a bear might hug its intended dinner!

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," she sobbed, no doubt wetting the valuable lace around Her Ladyship's bodice with her common tears.

Penny, as befitted the damaged nobility she was, returned the embrace, encouraging the unacceptable behavior her servant had just engaged in.

"Are you well?" she asked, patting the girl on the back.

"I have never been so happy," sighed Cynthia, who finally released her ladyship and stepped back. At least she had the manners to look at the floor after such embarrassing behavior.

"A level of happiness I hope will only rise," said Penny. "May I assume you have decided to seek a husband?"

"I will do anything you ask," said Cynthia, dropping into a deep curtsy. "I will marry any boy and endure any unhappiness he brings to my life, if only I can continue to love my father."

Her face froze, and then went white as snow. Only her eyes told me what she was thinking, as they flitted first toward Jenny, and then to Sally's form. She realized she had just ruined her life, and her prospects for happiness, by revealing her secret.

Jenny must have known what she was thinking too. She stepped forward immediately and pulled Cynthia into another embrace.

"I have lain with Jack," she whispered. "I know exactly how you feel."

Sally appeared at her elbow, but did not disturb Jenny's embrace.

"And I will be sister to you, if you marry my brother. I hope you can forgive me for learning how to love a man, by learning how to love him."

"We have few secrets in this house," said Penny, gently. "It gives us a level of freedom that is seldom enjoyed by those in the culture in which we live."

"You told them?" asked Cynthia, trembling in Jenny's arms.

"No," said the lady. "You did. But they would have found out in any case, and their reaction would have been the same. So will that of anyone else who finds out." Her brow furrowed gently. "Save His Lordship, Mrs. Hennesey and Cook. We will not inform them of why we are all so happy."

Cynthia finally found the courage to look into Jenny's face.

"You do not think me twisted?"

"Do you think me twisted?" replied Jenny. "I confess I have also rutted in abandonment with Louis ... and while Sally watched us!"

"My Louis?" asked Cynthia. I realized the import of what her two peers had said was just now penetrating her full consciousness.

"Yes," said Jenny. "Do you hate me?"

"Of course not," said Cynthia. "He was not mine when you did that."

"But he is now?" asked Penny.

Cynthia looked over at her.

"My words were true," she said. "I will do anything if I can live with my father."

"If your father can live with you," corrected Lady Penny. "You will be the wife, and Louis will be the husband, and it will be in your cottage that the forest warden rests his weary bones between his patrols."

Cynthia's face lit up, and her shame and embarrassment fled, as if they had never existed.

"Yes!" she yipped.

Then Jenny released her, and Sally got her hug, though that was a bit tentative at first.

"Welcome, sister," said Sally.

The tentativeness in their embrace vanished, then. I expected Sally to kiss her, but perhaps she wanted to save that perversion for later, because she did not.

Then it was all giggles and blushes as they acted like hens, celebrating the laying of an egg or some such.

"When will I meet him?" Cynthia finally asked.

"We'll plan a party," said Sally.

"A party? I have nothing to wear to something like that," moaned Cynthia.

"This will be a private party," said Jenny. "One to which only certain people will be invited ... people who will understand your needs, as we do. And you won't need a costume for this party."

Sally grinned and touched her new friend's arm.

"In fact, you won't need to wear anything at all."

Alas ... I confess that when I heard that, Mister John Thomas leapt in his confinement. To my shame, I must also confess that I wished to be invited to that party.

But only for a moment. I somehow dragged myself back to reality.

I would be at the party.

Or at least my eye would, as I gazed upon the event through the hole in her wall.

Her Ladyship's grip on Geoffrey Flagman meant that all she had to do was send me to the mill and tell him, "Louis's presence is required at the manor this Friday evening, so he may meet his intended at a chaperoned event."

Geoffrey blinked. There was nothing he could do. He tried anyway.

"I shall bring him myself," he said. "I'll wait for him, and bring him back home as well."

"That won't be necessary," I said, calmly. "A room is being prepared for him to rest in after the event. The carriage will return him to the mill on Saturday."

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Penelope, Mistress of the Manor

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