Chapter 5

“Joshua Sutherland. How may I help you?”

“Oh, Joshua! It’s Marcus Selwood. How are you keeping?”

“Very well, thank you! How about you?”

“Well enough, thanks, but I have a question you may be able to help me with, if you will.”

“If I can, I will.”

“I got married a few days ago.”

“Congratulations! I know your ex-wife is in the Centre. Did you know I’m associated with the Training Centre?”

“Actually, no I didn’t. But that’s interesting. You have more than one wife, I believe?”

“Indeed. I just married the third who I rescued from ... well, that’s not important. What’s the problem?”

“I have another two, um, concubines, I suppose, and my wife wants me to marry them too, but the Vicar doesn’t want to do it.”

“I think there’s an answer to that. Are you intending to take your ex-wife back into your household?”

“Probably. Almost certainly. Her initial Indenture if is almost up, but right now I’m trying to settle the situation at home.”

“The Chaplain at the Centre is willing to do multiple marriages. In fact he’s done several already. I’d suggest you contact Major Prestwick and arrange a visit.”

“Oh, that’s a thought. I need to take Sally to see Amelia, um, ‘Sixty-one’, to see how she responds. Before I’ll consider having her back in the house, she needs to apologise, sincerely and abjectly, to Sally.”

“Like that, is it? I think you’ll be pleased, but we’ll see.”

“Thank you, Joshua. That’s a help.”

That settled the next task, and I dialled the Training Centre.

“IS Training Centre. Sar’nt-Major Smith speaking. How may I help you?”

“Good morning, Sergeant-Major. It’s Marcus Selwood. I was hoping to speak to Major Prestwick.”

“The Major won’t be in until later, sir. Is there anything I can do?”

“I have a couple of queries, which maybe you can answer. I’ve just been speaking to Joshua Sutherland. Apparently the Chaplain there at the Centre is willing to officiate at multiple marriages.”

“That’s true. He’ll want to talk to the participants beforehand, of course. I can give you a number to call...”

“Thank you. In a moment. Before that, though, I think I need to bring my new wife to speak to Amelia ... Sixty-one, that is.”

“I see. I don’t think there’ll be a problem with that. Visiting is usually at weekends, but as long as the Trainee isn’t scheduled for duties we don’t mind. Would you like to come this afternoon? Just a moment,” silence for a couple of minutes, “yes, as I thought, Sixty-one is due to be milked at about fourteen-hundred. Any time after about fourteen-thirty should be good. Major Prestwick will be in, and I could contact the Chaplain...”

“Thank you, Sergeant-Major. That’s most helpful. I’ll come then.”

I’d barely made a start on work when a knock on the door announced the arrival of Emily.

“Is this a bad time, sir?”

“No, Emily. This is a perfect time.”

She was in her overall, and, with a brilliant smile, she unzipped it and shrugged it off her shoulders to fall in a puddle. She stepped out of that, wearing only a pair of socks. Let me tell you, Emily could be described as ‘built like a brick shithouse’. In other words, solidly built, nicely shaped and perfectly put together. I didn’t actually realise at the time, but she’d got a second Dan black belt in judo, and moved like a dancer. Her C-cup breasts were well-shaped and balanced perfectly with her hips, and her hair, which was cropped short, was a rich, glowing auburn. Sadly, like the other girls, she had no hair below the neck., but at least that meant I could appreciate her prominent mons and compact vulva.

“How would you like me?”

“Emily, I’ll enjoy you any way you like. However, if you straddle me on this chair I think that would be the most comfortable option.” As I spoke I stood and stepped out of my shorts. My appreciation for my chauffeuse was clearly indicated by a solid erection, though goodness knows after the previous night it might have been considered a minor miracle.

Once she was fully impaled, I encouraged her to lean back a little, supporting her back, so I could get my mouth on her nipples. At some point in the past she’d had a lot of nipple stimulation, because they were fat and, when erect, nearly an inch long. Just perfect for suckling on.

It took a while, but I got there, about the time Emily enjoyed her second. At that completion we stayed together until there was a definite leakage. She lifted off, then, holding her hand over her pussy to try to catch any drips. “Thank you, sir.”

“Why on earth are you thanking me? That was wonderful!”

“Oh ... I’m just happy to be in such a safe and satisfying situation.”

I just shook my head. Surrounded by beautiful women in so many different shapes and sizes, and all of them happy to share themselves with me. A wife who not only gave of herself and was a delight in bed, but actually encouraged me to please the other women in our household. Actually encouraging me to add to our marriage.

At lunch, I told Sally, “Darling, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to dress and miss an afternoon’s work in the kitchen.” Turning to Marjory, I apologised, “Marjory, sorry to deprive you of your assistant, but I need her to come with me to the Training Centre.”

“Amelia.” Marjory stated.

“Exactly. I need – we need – to see whether any change is more than skin deep. Besides, I need to see if the Chaplain will marry us to Jane and Fran.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the latter two were blushing, actually blushing. I glanced at them. “That is, if you both want to join Sally and me in marriage.”

“We do!” That was an ill-synchronised chorus, but understandable.

Sally’s breasts had shrunk somewhat since she’d stopped lactating, and the pregnancy hadn’t progressed to the point of enlarging them again. Marjory had procured bras which fit and supported them, and two sun-dresses (I think that’s what they’re called), light, cotton, short-sleeved, calf-length, one in a primrose yellow, the other in pale blue. Sally put on the yellow one, and sandals on her bare feet. I made sure she was wearing her wedding-ring. She had, a couple of times, left it off, trying to remain a ‘slave’, but I think I’d got through to her that I didn’t approve.

Emily drove us to the Horseshoe. I’ve mentioned the ‘stable’ of cars I’d inherited, my father being a classic car enthusiast. On this occasion we used the Daimler DS420, a beautiful (if usually impractical) vehicle in a glowing maroon paint scheme. I’d rarely used it, partly because of the shortage of petrol. However, Emily had contrived to retune it to run on alcohol, and she greatly wanted to drive it.

We left Emily in the car, and went to the door, a heavy old oak thing, and banged on it before I remembered the discreet call button next to the door.

The door swung open as only an old, very heavy door with well maintained hinges can swing. ‘Dusty’ Miller (his real name James, but I doubt if he’d answer to it) waved us in.

“Mister ... excuse me, sir! Captain Selwood. And... Missus Selwood! Congratulations, Ma’am!”

“Thank you...” Sally hesitated.

“It’s ‘Dusty’ Ma’am, or,” he pointed to obviously new stripes on his arm, “Corporal.”

“Thank you, Dusty,” Sally said, quietly.

“Congratulations are in order to you, too, Corporal,” I smiled, holding out my hand. “And I really am just ‘Mister’ these days.”

He took my hand and gave it a squeeze as he shook it. “My stripes are only recognised here, sir, and we consider it correct to offer the courtesy of rank to officers we respect ... Captain.”

He entered our names in the day book and pinned ‘Visitor’ badges on us, then led the way to the Centre. I think Sally was a little intimidated by the security, as he used the palm and retina scanners to admit us.

We had a short chat with Major Prestwick, who sent us next door to talk to his wife, the nursing Sister. She greeted us warmly. “Your ex-wife has made great strides,” she told me, “and,” she glanced at Sally, “has expressed regret and remorse about the way she treated the servants of the house, especially Sally Smith...”

“That was me,” Sally inserted, quietly.

Sister Prestwick smiled. “I thought so. I think you’ll find her attitude much different today. Captain Selwood, if I may suggest...” I nodded, “Don’t be too soft. She actually needs discipline. Not to control or change her, but emotionally. A spanking, for example, would help her to feel forgiven. If, that is, you feel that forgiveness is appropriate.”

“I understand, I think. Thank you, Sister.”

“My pleasure, Captain. Go and see what you make of Sixty-one. She’s in Cell one.” She pointed across the room.

I set off. Sally’s hand crept into mine as she walked a half-pace behind. Amelia was sitting at the counter in her cell with an open laptop in front of her. At the entrance I cleared my throat.

Amelia leapt to her feet and immediately knelt, her knees apart, back straight, wrists crossed in front of her, breasts thrust forward, head up, but eyes down.

“Please enter, sir.”

I encouraged Sally forward, and we stood side by side just inside the cell.

Amelia looked up at me. “Sir, I can’t apologise enough. I was a useless wife and altogether a waste of space. Not to mention denigrating the staff who didn’t deserve it.”

“But you’re changing,” I said. “Major Prestwick, Sister Prestwick, the Sergeant Major, all say you’ve worked hard and that your attitude has been transformed.”

“Thank you for telling me that, sir, but...” she transferred her attention to Sally. “Sa ... Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you, treated you. I’ve realised, being here, how much better, more important, you and the others were than me, though I thought myself better.” She ran her eyes over Sally, and fixed on her left hand. “Oh! You’re married! How wonderful! I’m sure you’re a much better wife than I could ever be!”

Sally, the sweetheart, stepped forward and held out her hands. “Sixty-one. Amelia. Stand for me, please.”

I watched, amazed, as Amelia stood and was embraced by Sally, who whispered something in her ear. Amelia promptly burst into tears and Sally was obviously supporting her. It took a few minutes, but the tears slowly dried up and Amelia pulled herself erect. “Thank you, Ma’am. Thank you. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but thank you.” She turned to me, and I could see the transformation of her body, not that I’d seen it nude except on my one visit to the Centre a few weeks after her admission. She was trim and toned, except for her breasts which were at least two cup sizes bigger than before. They sagged a little, possibly because they’d been drained not long before. “Sir, you should punish me, if you will. At least twenty strokes of the paddle. Please use the paddle, not your hand; I don’t want you to hurt your hand.”

I don’t think there was anything I wanted to do less than beat her rear (which was really beautiful) but I remembered what Sister Prestwick had said. “Excuse me for a moment, then,” I said. “Will you remain here, Sally?”

“Yes, master. I’ll be fine.”

It didn’t take long to obtain a wooden paddle from the office. When I returned to Cell One, Amelia bent over the tall cot and thrust her backside out. It really was a vision of feminine perfection. However I gritted my teeth and determined to satisfy whatever Amelia’s need was. I did not hold back. She actually thanked me for each stroke, even as her rump began to glow.

I finished the twenty strokes, and stood back, but Amelia remained in place. I glanced at Sally.

“You need to fuck her, Master. That will complete what she needs to feel forgiven.”

It’s true that Amelia’s pussy was swollen and glistening with juices. Reluctantly, I freed my prick – despite my dislike of the spanking, it was like an iron bar – and slotted it into Amelia’s tight, but slippery, hot and welcoming vagina. To my amazement, she was obviously orgasming even as I reached my peak and pumped her full. At that point, she turned, fell to her knees and took my wet organ in her mouth. When she was satisfied there was no trace of sexual fluid left on it, she released it and looked up at me.