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Lady Cecelia Ch. 02 Pt. 03 free porn video
Lydia took up her robe, hooded cloak and candle to make her way from Cecelia’s chamber door. Satisfied she was asleep she opened it to find both their handmaidens waiting.
‘Is my Lady asleep?’ she was asked.
‘She is well comforted and sleeping, girl,’ Lydia instructed, closing the door,’ Now go find your bed and rest.’ The girl turned toward the steps and disappeared into the darkness.
‘Come then, Annalette.’ Lydia spoke quietly to the girl who remained and she began leading Annalette to the steps that led down from Cecelia’s solar. Had she noticed something different in her handmaiden’s demeanor?
With each step Lydia trembled. Her knees buckled. Cecelia’s words consumed her thoughts. As passions rose they rang in Lydia’s memory revealing and lustful :
‘What am I to do,’ She had whispered when it was done. The dizzying smell of a woman’s ascension floating in the still air between them was exacerbated by hands which had caused such shameless self-pleasure rising to take her own! Long silken fingers still damp with wetness had intertwined with Lydia’s as she spoke, ‘I cannot keep these shameless hands from my own….cunt. For my cunt, and that is what it most assuredly is…my irresistible gluttonous cock-hungry cunt, god help me…pleads for me to use it this way at its every desirous vision of him….so shameful…so utterly shameful, tempting me ceaselessly with cunning desire. It finds every excuse to be caressed as if I have no control over it! I am no more than a whore to my own depraved womanhood!’
‘There is no shame in this Cecelia,’ Lydia had sworn, ‘That love is itself illicit and humiliating…should therefore such impassioned release be denied? It is well that you should be satisfied dear Cecelia, or fall into madness with desire!’ Lydia had stroked her Lady’s hair, her cheeks, her neck and shoulders until she fell into blissful slumber. Only then had she removed herself from Cecelia’s side.
Yet this unrepulsed tryst shadowed each of Lydia’s steps to her own chambers below. She had found herself fascinated by the pulchritude of warm breast flesh. The recollection of it had Lydia warming beneath her robe even as they walked. How thick nipples peaked above swelling areolas, how Cecelia’s hands had dropped away as Lydia gathered their warmth to manipulate without guidance, how she had hovered over the helpless upthrust hills of them, how her thumbs and forefingers made fattened nipples into stiffened cones, how she had pinched twisting gently at nipple areola and breast until she was milking them to Cecelia’s very core, how Cecelia was entering herself repeatedly wetly noisily , how mature hips thrust when Lydia clamped diligently to those magnificent breasts, how transfixed Cecelia eyes had become at the sight of her mouth sucking and how incredibly it served to hasten a release that became a bounding powerful orgasm, all of these memories and more crowded every other thought from Lydia’s mind. As they descended the staircase the sound, the sight and the passion of what had occurred only moments before became all-consuming and so powerful she felt compelled to hold the bannister for support for reasons she might swoon.
What Cecelia had shared with her in words and in unabated passion, Lydia would never have revealed had their places been reversed. Lydia’s own secret, separate and dark, was a deeply private creature that would appear as unnatural sorcery to any witness who might have mistakenly stumbled upon her in the heat of these compulsions. That no one had, she was certain. No intrigue had revealed anyone’s knowledge otherwise. Her tortures were her own. She loved them that way.
Unknown to Lydia, one who longed in the night just for the stolen exposure to her willful self-possession that was Lydia’s private sin of flesh she diligently sought to keep secret from all the world but herself had been laid bare to other watchful eyes for these many past months.
At the foot of the steps, with candle in hand, Annalette preceded her in the hallway so that she would be first to open her Lady’s door.
‘Are you chilled M’lady, ‘her handmaiden asked, ‘ I can bring wood for your hearth.’
‘Yes,’ she answered absently. Her waif of a handmaiden dressed all in blue with apron and linen coif covering her hair looked to her with upturned hazel eyes. The demeanor at Lydia’s chamber door still had not escaped her pretty face. An arresting thought occurred that Lydia carried scents around her only women possessed. God knew she was wet from this! That and the aroma of flesh laved by saliva combined with the impossible drench between her legs, evaporated, would be unmistakable to a girl beyond pubescence. Her handmaiden’s eyes were cast down respectfully.
‘Annalette, come here and stand before me.’
‘Yes, milady.’ Her handmaiden stepped towards her.
‘What is your age girl?’ Lydia raised her hand and placed it against the girl’s flushed cheek. Eyes closed then gazed slowly back at her.
‘Eighteen years milady,’ then added,’ On the feast of Saint Thomas. Though, if I may say, I am truly ready to make my way in the world milady,’ the girl answered, ‘Through your guidance and the council of my family although they be of low nobility. I much look forward from the days of my youth.’
‘I must find something for you to use besides my title when we speak privately, Annalette’ she said, ‘Suppose you should try and use my given name.’
‘If it pleaseth you, milady.’ She answered
‘It is well that you are of noble blood. Your fairness of face will most certainly garner the attention of a noble in this court and that is how it should be. ‘Lydia said lowering her hand, ‘So be it then. When we are in the privacies of these walls, I shall be Lydia.’
‘Yes milady…’ she stammered, ‘ ….Lydia.’
‘Let us both look forward to the dawn of a new day Annalette,’ Lydia paused for many seconds before taking emphatic hold of her handmaiden’s arm and saying sternly,’ But for this night… mark me well, see to’it that Chamberlain does not hear word of what has passed or anyone in the household. If tales or rumor catches the ear of those who need not know of Lady Cecelia’s distress, I can promise that those who’ve told those tales will be turned out. If not? Should an evening’s secret stay so, then emoluments will be yours for your confidence.’ she added letting go of the girls arm,’ to advantages.’
‘Yes, Lydia.’ Annalette answered gravely.
‘Now bring some wood for the hearth and Annalette,’ Lydia paused,’ some warm water, cloths and soap for the basin. Go now, bring them back to me for I have devotions to attend to.’
And so Annalette turned to her duties. Minor nobles sent their daughters and sons to serve the court as Ladies in Waiting, Handmaidens, scribes and Pages in the hope they would find a husband or wife and thereby help the family gain more power. For someone as young as Annalette the frivolities and carelessness of youth could easily interfere with her charge but these she hid beneath the sense of duty grown in her heart over many months. Her sense of dedication had been secured through service to a Lady who caused both joy and dread in her innocent life for as did the winds sweeping over the English countryside Lydia’s persona twisted like the vane above the ramparts. Pointing south, those breezes were soft and gentle, but pointing north they were cold and brutal. Annalette had been subjected to both.
First to the Castle stores then to the scullery, Annalette instructed their watches that there be wood and a vessel of hot water left at her Lady’s door for her. Both were there when she returned. Annalette knocked softly and was bid entry to find Lydia at her devotional table: a chairless sloped piece at its summit a triptych which opened in three pieces to display the icons of her faith. Within were brilliant painted images applied to the inner surfaces. There she knelt on a cushioned prayer stool. The King James bible
on its sloped surface remained unopened. Annalette had never seen it any other way. Lydia’s elbows on either side brought folded hands to her chin and there she concentrated on the images before her dressed in stockinged coverlets and shrouded by a scarlet cape.
Distracted and impatient, Lydia’s previous expressions of friendliness had disappeared. Without speaking she pointed to the shed nightgown and robe lying on the floor in a jumble. With a ‘yes milady’ Annalette gathered the used clothing, left them outside, brought in the vessel of water and split wood for the hearth placing them onto the glowing embers. She then hastened to leave without the verbal dismissal which would have certainly come angrily and with a condescension which always accompanied nightfall in Lydia’s chambers.
Annalette closed the door behind her. Seconds later the bolt was thrown on the other side and locked. She paused filling her arms with Lydia’s clothing to be washed and as she had so many times before, the girl lingered. Those many nights early in her service found Annalette struggling to find composure through tears caused by her Lady’s unreasonable unwarranted meanness. It seemed that her anger always came at night and leaning against Lydia’s door she would search for reasons why and wait until calmed so she could go on.
But one evening in Spring as she languished sadly against the door closed to her a dawn of realization had come to her. As her ears felt the ringing of bitterly shed tears it was soon replaced with sounds from within the room she had just left. That night Annalette had fallen into silence straining to discern their meaning. The oaken planks which made up the heavy door was gapped near its hinges afforded the smallest slice of observance into her Lady’s chambers and through this she dared look.
There were nights when all was silent darkness within. But there were others when a fire was demanded, ‘devotions’ performed and candlelight flickered wildly between the slats through which Annalette peered, that her Lady performed what Annalette could only call witchcraft. From the darkness of an abandoned hallway the girl stared heart pounding holding her eye to the slip of view within and shamelessly waited for what was to come.
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