Chapter 4

It was a simple service, taken by the local Vicar in our small, ancient parish church. Sally wore a fitted linen dress with simple lines, and looked precious. Little white flowers circled her head and she held a posy of them in her hands. The vows made no mention of limiting us, only that we would ‘love, honour and cherish’ for the rest of our lives. It took place four weeks after the completion of Sally’s emancipation and she was attended by Frances and Jane, who formed a slightly incongruous picture with about eight inches difference in height. I was assured that neither Denise nor Emily minded Sally’s choice and they sat with Marjory Boothroyd on the bride’s side.

My side of the church was equally thin. Bruce, and a few from the Company. Rory and his assistant sat behind Marjory and the girls. We were lucky that the organist, an elderly woman, was very good and managed ‘The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ as Sally walked down the aisle to stand with me, but transferred to the piano to play ‘Wedding Day at Troldhaugen’ as we left.

Honeymoon? No. I discussed it with my bride, of course. “Why go somewhere else, stay with people we don’t know, with all the problems of travelling ... when we can be with our family. Perhaps we could go out for a drive? Take a picnic?” As to the ‘reception’, that was in the house, food prepared by Marjory, everyone seated in the big dining-room I hadn’t used since returning from the War. Our guests were all who’d been present in the church including the Vicar and organist. Old Rory and Helen Penwithern, his assistant, dressed up, and looking a little uncomfortable.

Marjory had procured a goose, and there was plenty there for all of us. Locally grown vegetables, of course, followed by a fruit crumble. To drink, a selection of locally produced wine, cider and beer. The wine made from gooseberries, not grapes.

The formalities were over by late afternoon and Sally and I changed into casual clothes. Holding hands, we wandered around the garden where Rory and Helen, back in the more customary work attire, were, in Rory’s case harvesting vegetables and in Helen’s, weeding a border. They didn’t look up as we ambled around.

“It’s a dream,” Sally sighed.

“My dear?”

“When I was little, I dreamed of being married to a kind, handsome man, living in a little house with a garden, having his babies. Then the war came. My family all died, and after a few years of foster homes I took a Minor’s Indenture, and the dreams died. There was no kind, handsome man to fall in love with me and want to marry me – in fact, I was so plain that none of the few men that were around even wanted to fuck me. Because of these...” she hefted her breasts, “all they wanted to do was turn me into a cow. Perhaps that was an excuse for them to play with the only interesting feature of my body...”

“Hmmm.” I steered her back towards the more formal part of the garden behind the house, where there was a pond containing koi, and a little fountain. The garden is private, and I undressed and laid my clothes on one of the benches. “Undress for me, Sally”. I sat, and she stood uncertainly for a few moments before doing as I’d asked. As I watched her body slowly revealed, my penis rose to display my response, and her eyes were on it. “Stand in front of me, please.”

As she did so, I reached out to cup my hands on the points of her pelvis, and bent forwards to kiss her tummy where she was beginning to swell in her pregnancy.

“Sally, in a way, you’re right. You are not obviously spectacularly noticeable. I was guilty of dismissing you from my attention. But there’s something more important. What’s in here,” I pressed a hand on her chest between her breasts, “and here,” I touched her head, “is absolutely beautiful. You are in every way that matters to me, very, very sexy. I asked you to marry me because I love you.”

“You ... love me?” Her voice was very small.

“I really do.”

It was like watching a sunrise as her smile grew. Do you know? As she smiled, she really was beautiful.

She lowered herself carefully into my lap and snuggled into my embrace. “I love you, master. I loved you from the first time I saw you, even though you hardly noticed me.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘master’, I whispered in her ear, “or ‘sir’. You’re my wife. I’m Marcus, or even ‘Mark’.”

She snuggled closer and ... yes, that was a giggle. “No, master. You will always be master to me. I will try to call you ‘Marcus’ in public, but I might fail to remember.”

“Sally, you’re the Lady of the house, now.”

“I suppose I am,” she sighed, “but I think that means I decide how things should be, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes.”

“So I can say...” she paused, pulled away far enough to meet my eyes, then snuggled back. “I think you should ask the other girls to marry you. I don’t mind sharing, and they’ve always been nice to me. It wouldn’t be fair to cut them off. If they don’t want to marry you, though I couldn’t understand that, I don’t mind if you ... fuck them, sometimes. As long as you sleep with me and any other wives you get.”

“Oh! I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking ‘one wife’.”

“But we didn’t promise that. ‘Love, honour and cherish’ remember?”

I was silent, then, thinking over what she was saying. “Tomorrow, then,” I said after a while, “you need to say how you want things to be. Tell them you expect me to marry more and that you don’t mind me ‘scratching their itches’ if they don’t want to marry.”

“Mmmm.”

We sat there until I was shifting in my seat because of my growing discomfort under her shapely rear end. “Let’s go indoors.”

“Oooh, yes!” She stood immediately and held out her hand to take mine, and we walked in together. I can’t say she exactly ‘led the way’, in the sense of being ahead of me, but somehow her hand communicated an urgent desire to be somewhere specific. We entered the kitchen en route to wherever.

“Master Marcus,” Marjory was there, clearly gathering refreshments. “There are still guests in the dining room. She looked us up and down. “You might want to dress, or take a back route to wherever you’re going.”

I looked down at Sally, who was a little pink in the face and lower too. “Did you have an aim in mind, darling?”

The pink intensified, but she smiled at the endearment. “Bedroom,” she said, simply.

Good enough. We took the narrow servant’s stair from the kitchen upstairs and a back passage to the master bedroom, which had, since Amelia’s Indenture, been redecorated. No pink, and no frills. Just pastel shades complementing matching maroon curtains and carpet. I flipped the covers back, turned and scooped Sally into my arms in order to place her in the middle of the bed. A kiss on her lips had an effect that was almost electric along with a hum in her throat. I don’t know how long that kiss was and I don’t care, but when our lips separated I proceeded to kiss and lick every inch of her that was accessible, producing a selection of sighs, squeaks and groans as I continued. I bypassed her pussy in favour of her legs. While I didn’t rush, I did arrive at my destination to savour her flavour and, incidentally, bring her to a very rapid climax. While she was still shuddering, I thrust in to the root and held there. Still, that is, until her hips jerked to suggest it was time to move.

I cannot explain what happened. Previously, I’d hardly noticed Sally. She was far from my ideal, physically. But ... my whole understanding of her was transformed. We’d joined physically. We were joined legally. But now ... there was something spiritual, something powerful, holding us together. I don’t mean the physical joining – we’d separate in that way. The legal bond could be severed. But we were now, forever, something more than we had been. We climbed a mountain of pleasure together until the completion of our joining threw us off to float together...

When I woke, Sally was draped half over me, the covers of the bed a mess. I felt ... complete. At peace. I stroked her hair, and she wriggled and hummed in her throat.

“I love you, master...” she murmured against my chest.

Well, there was no need to leap out of bed, was there?

Sally:

My husband. My husband! called a meeting of the household (not including the gardeners for reasons which will be obvious) for the middle of the morning. We walked in together, naked, the others in white blouse and black skirts, eyes widened as they saw us.

He sat, but I remained standing. “My husband ... tells me I need to become the Lady of the House. I’m not sure if I can do that. You have all been kind to me. I don’t want to rule over you, to be a tyrant. But there are a few things I want to say.

Firstly, this will be a clothing optional house except when we have visitors. We’ll have to work out how that works. No-one is forced to be naked, but if you wish to go nude, you may.

Secondly, I will not be selfish. Anyone who wishes is free to continue to have sex with my ... with ... Marcus.

Thirdly, I will be continuing to work in the kitchen. That is my wish, at least until my pregnancy makes it necessary to stop.” I turned to my husband. “Master?” and sat next to him.

He stood. “Just to confirm. No one is required to be naked or have sex with me. Everyone has a place here, a job here, as long as they wish. Uniforms are required when we have visitors or guests. But Sally is now my wife and the Lady of the house.” He glanced down. “Sally? I’m going to my office for a while...”

I smiled warmly. “I’ll see you shortly.” He left. I looked round. “Does anyone have any questions?”

The looked at each other, then Denise stood and began to shed clothes. She actually had a bra and panties under her uniform blouse and skirt. Before she’d removed her undies, the others began to follow suit except Missus Boothroyd, who came to me and embraced me. “Well done, Sally. Mistress,” she whispered. “I need to get on in the kitchen. We’ll talk later, okay?”

She left and I stood, and suddenly the others were crowding round me, holding me, squeezing me. Two, Jane and Fran, had tears trickling down their cheeks. “Are you sure you don’t mind us being with your husband?” Jane asked.

“No, I don’t mind. In fact, I expect him to take at least one more wife. My only requirement is that I am in bed with him at night. That doesn’t mean I object to company. It’s a big bed, big enough for three.” Two pairs of eyes widened – Jane’s, and Fran’s. “Look everyone, I just want everyone to be happy. Right now, I think I need to talk to Missus Boothroyd.”

As I left, I was aware that Denise was moving and followed me out, but headed for Master’s office. I just made my way to the kitchen where Missus Boothroyd ... Marjory, as she then insisted I call her ... was preparing lunch. Actually, at the moment I entered the kitchen, she was kneading bread-dough.

“Hello, Mistress,” she said, smiling.

“I’m still Sally,” I said, “Missus Boothroyd.”

“If you want me to call you Sally, I insist you call me Marjory,” she rejoined, placing the dough in a bowl with a cover over it, then putting it in the warm cupboard to rise.

“It’s going to take a lot of getting used to,” I said, “Marjory...” then, “If Master ... Marcus ... wanted to marry you, I would approve.”

“Thank you, Sally. He did ask me, but I said no. I’d love to lie with him every week or so, but I’m not suitable to be a wife – I’m too old, and I can’t give him children. You, you are perfect. You’re pregnant already, you’re young, and you’re sweet. I could see this morning that the two of you are even more perfect for each other than I thought. He’ll talk to you before taking another wife, but he will take another wife, or more than one. Even then, he will love you first, I think.”

“What about the others ... Marjory?”

She dumped potatoes into a bowl of water and put it on the table. “If you want to still work in the kitchen, will you peel these for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“The others? I think, maybe, there will be two, but it’ll be interesting to see.”

“Only two?” I was surprised.

“I think so. And I think Amelia will be the fourth.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“You will be if it happens. Marcus won’t force you against your will. I think you’ll make the choice, not him.”

I settled down to preparing vegetables.

Marcus:

I wasn’t really immersed in work when there was a knock on the door, followed by Denise entering. I would have taken odds of two to one on it being Denise. She’d always been the one to initiate, at least after consulting with Marjory. She was completely naked, and clean shaven. She held her shoulders back, which thrust her tits forward, emphasising their taut firmness. She stopped a few feet in front of the desk so I could admire her tapered legs and the pronounced gap at the top.