Venus in the Country

Chapter sixteen

Discovering that she had enjoyed herself no wit less than if she had arranged all matters herself, Lady Bromley turned upon a different tack in order to rid herself of Pamela, whom she saw not so much as meddlesome as a menace. For it was perfectly obvious after the lubricious scenes in which both she and her husband had taken part, that Sir Richard had now developed a decided taste for younger females.

This, of course, is often the case with gentlemen of middle years, and Lady Bromley decided to work upon it. The pair cohabited but little, yet the good dame saw no reason why she should not put a little sauce in their bed, and that by the name of Mary Waterhouse, with whom we have so far made only brief acquaintance.

This little angel, if such she can be called, was, as is known, the offspring of Lady Waterhouse and had already been warmly fondled by Captain Dancer and Belinda in concert whilst-unknown to them-she had also been put through preliminary trials by her uncle, though without final effect. Lady Waterhouse herself having come upon the flushed pair, and knowing her brother Roger all too well, had virtually led him upstairs by his cock to conclude his business with her instead.

Thus was the cherubic Mary left somewhat abandoned and frustrated, particularly as she had surreptitiously spied upon what had followed in her dear Mama's boudoir, where otherwise a state of grass widowhood reigned. When then the nice Lady Bromley invited Mary and her mother for a weekend, the daughter was as pleased to accept as the mother. Not being able to invite Mary without her Mama, Belinda Bromley decided upon a ruse whereby maternal suspicions could be stilled while Mary was installed between herself and Richard.

Not having encountered the young charmer in question, Sir Richard was not unpleased to receive a glowing description of her from his wife and of the pleasures that would undoubtedly follow if she could but be bedded. Indeed, so taken was he with the idea that he quite failed to mention it to Pamela, despite his promise that she would know all that was going on. Perhaps he thought she might be jealous. Whatever the cause, he kept his counsel. And so it transpired that Lady Waterhouse and Mary arrived one Friday evening, to the surprise of Pamela, who suspected that something was afoot.

No one could deny the claims to beauty of either of the visitors and, since they were unaccompanied by Lord Waterhouse-who appropriately enough was then taking the waters in Bath-Pamela gave herself up to some pensive thoughts.

Lavender Waterhouse had just attained her thirty-ninth year, but was no less attractive for that. The firmness of her form, her bewitching eyes, and the general embonpoint of her curves gave even the impression of fewer years. As for her offspring, who shortly would attain her sixteenth year, she was as perfect a pet as ever Fragonard or Watteau might have painted. Delicious indeed was the chubby roundness of her bottom and the melons of her breasts whose snow-white surfaces were adorned by rosebud nipples. Neither tall nor short, she was, in a phrase, a little Venus and by now not entirely unconscious of the fact. Had her Uncle Roger but rogered her, and her Mama not interrupted the proceedings, she might have come even better prepared for the delights that awaited her.

Having observed and measured up both during dinner, Pamela decided that there was definitely something afoot. Not failing to notice the gleam in Sir Richard's eyes whenever he cast them upon Mary, Pamela noticed also that he was not averse to measuring the more mature charms of her mother. Of course, Pamela knew nothing of that lady's recent descent into sin and might have hesitated in her future acts if she had done so, knowing well how the lubricious nature of the female could be stirred by such acts.

So it happened that evening-in her comparative state of innocence-that Pamela was all agog to hear a whispered conversation between her employers, from which she deduced that Lady Waterhouse was to have a sleeping draught put into her coffee, whereafter the deed of seduction would be able to proceed without fear of interruption.

Not unnaturally our heroine's ire rose at this, for while she did not object to Mary receiving an injection from the virile knight, she would rather have been a party to the proceedings and thus felt herself-as indeed she was-to be cut out. That Lady Bromley was the instigator, she had no doubt, but since one culprit could not be separated from the other on such an occasion, Pamela considered that she had no choice but to undo their plot.

Evincing total innocence, therefore, Pamela elected to assist in serving coffee, well aware that Lady Bromley hovered over her guest's cup and emptied the contents of a tiny phial into it. Valiantly did Pamela keep her eye on the particular cup, but to her dismay Lady Bromley was doing so as well and firmly saw to it that it was received into Lady Waterhouse's hand.

A helpless bystander, Pamela could only wonder at the perfidy of the world when, ten minutes later, a drowsy Lady Waterhouse announced that she must sleep immediately. Being assisted up to her room by Pamela, the latter strove in vain to make her understand what was happening, but the drowsy lady merely slumped and murmured, quite unable to absorb what was being said. Only with the greatest difficulty did Pamela assist in undressing her, whereat the lady- resplendent in her nudity-waved away all offers of a nightgown and immediately began to snore.

Leaving her thus, while not having failed to admire the supremely voluptuous figure the lady presented, Pamela retired to her room to await events, fearing that she might otherwise be suspected of knowing something.

Events were not long in commencing.

“Your dear Mama having been taken so tired, you must sleep in with us,” declared Lady Bromley, who could not wait to taste the sweet young thing's pretty lips again.

The idea made Mary blush exceedingly, which Sir Richard considered a most fetching sight. However, the maiden could not but acquiesce and was thereupon led upstairs for the sacrifice with Sir Richard's hand helpfully guiding her beneath her bottom. By the time he had reached the bedroom with Belinda and Mary, in fact, he had a full cockstand, which the girl could not fail to notice, so much did his breeches protrude.

“Oh! Is he not naughty!” declared Belinda, who at once commenced undressing. “Come, dear, take all your clothes off, for we all sleep in a state of Nature here,” she went on. Having dressed-or undressed- for the occasion, Belinda had but to cast off her gown to present herself most alluringly in black-patterned stockings and shoes. The latter being rapidly removed, in turn, she then assisted a blushing Mary in unveiling herself until in turn the dazzling whiteness and appealing curves of her luscious form were revealed.

“Oh, Richard, darling, put the light out for she has seen your wicked thing,” declared his wife gaily and thereupon drew Mary into the bed so that the desirable little minx would lie between them. In so doing, she drew the girl's face between her voluminous breasts and so allowed her to inhale the scent and softness there. Sir Richard meanwhile, having climbed in naked from the other side, presented the throbbing eminence of his cock to Mary's bottom.

Not being minded yet to insert it there until she had otherwise been breached, he contented himself with pressing it in the groove between the chubby warm cushions and-passing his hands to the front- commenced fondling and caressing the swelling melons of Mary's breasts.

Between the licentious pair, Mary all but swooned with pleasure. A wicked big thing such as her uncle had, and which her Mama had entertained, was pressed against her bottom whilst knowing fingers were agitating her nipples. At the same time, Belinda had passed her fingers down between Mary's thighs and was pleasurably fondling the sweet pink slit which nested in a froth of curls.

“Kiss me goodnight, my pet,” Belinda breathed.

All sweetness and softness and honey, Mary could not but obey. With swimming head, she felt the lips of her cunny grow moist and sticky as it was teased. Drawing the girl's upper leg over her hip, the better to present a first target for her husband, Belinda commenced to coo and whisper to her whilst dipping her forefinger up in Mary's oozing lovepot and sliding her tongue in and out of the girl's mouth.

In turn, Sir Richard's own hand sought the dell of pleasure. Adjusting his imperious prick more tightly upright into Mary's groove, he caressed her bottom fervently and then joined his fingers with his wife's in exciting the girl into a veritable frenzy so that it was but a moment later that, rolled wide-eyed on to her back, Mary found her nest presented to the cock.

A sigh of deep desire issued from Sir Richard as, under the glowing eyes of his spouse, he lowered himself slowly onto Mary's belly and nudged the glowing crest of his penis against her slit.

“Do you want to be fucked, my pet?” he asked, only to delay but a few seconds more the delicious moment of entry. Therewith Belinda bent over the flushed prey and kissed her softly while passing agile fingers over her erected nipples.

“You must always say, Mary. Ask him to fuck you.”

Clutching instinctively at Sir Richard's arms and feeling the increasing pressure of his knob, Mary could only moan. She did want it, she knew she wanted it, and she knew she must have it. It merely seemed terribly naughty of Lady Bromley to be watching but this- Mary decided hazily-was perhaps what all grown-ups did.

“Y… y… y…yes! Oh, yes! What a big one!” Mary stammered unguardedly, for she had already sat upon her Uncle Roger's after he had spanked her bottom and just before they were interrupted.

“You must say the magic words,” Belinda insisted lewdly. “Then you must put your tongue in my mouth and hold it there while it goes in you.”

“F… f…f…” stammered Mary, but at that moment of time she never got the words out for an impatient Sir Richard-desiring to be fully upon her and in her-had already begun to insert his pounding pestle in her silken sheath and with a suitable groan was already halfway in when Mary uttered the shrill cry, “F… f… fuck me-yes-OOOOH!”

It was then that Pamela, with her door ajar, leapt up. She had heard distinctly the wicked words and could no longer bear to remain discarded. Virtually leaping into Lady Waterhouse's room, she shook her so vigourously that the lady was roused from her dreams.

“Wh… wh… wh… whaaaat?” she stuttered, making little head or tail of the words that Pamela was tumbling into her ears.

Thereupon two other events occurred which were each in their own way if not to turn the tide, then at least to divert it a little. From the boudoir along the corridor was heard a mingling of moans and cries as the three occupants of the bed entered with abandon into the throes of desire. Pumping slowly, Sir Richard had cupped Mary's pert bottom on his palms and was slewing in and out gently whilst, in a delirium of pleasure the wanton miss coiled tongues with Belinda and even passionately caressed her pussy. Simultaneously a loud knocking was heard at the entrance and-the servants being abed-'twas Pamela who in much frustration hastened down to answer it.

Opening the big door, she found herself facing a gentleman unknown to her who quickly introduced himself as Lord Waterhouse. He had been informed, he said, that his wife and daughter were here and so had come to join them.

“Oh, sir!” declared Pamela all a-fluster and somewhat aware that his eyes were all about her night-gowned figure which showed its slim curves to perfection, so fine and clinging was the material about her limbs. “They… they… they are upstairs,” she stammered.

Quite entranced by the allure of Pamela's thinly clad bottom preceding him, a certain excitement arose in the good lord that he might even have a more entertaining night if he could find out where the girl's room was. Somewhat intrigued, then, as he was guided to the upper floor, he found the door of a bedroom open and his dear wife lying quite naked upon it.

“She is a… a… asleep, sir,” stuttered Pamela, who knew now not what to do or say.

“Indeed she is,” observed Lord Waterhouse. “Close the door, my dear, lest we disturb her. And my daughter is well settled?” he asked hopefully, observing with a twitching of his cock the proud standing of Pamela's breasts beneath the cotton of her nightdress.

“S… s… sir, she is c… conversing with Sir Richard and his wife-in there,” Pamela said, nodding hopefully toward the bedroom door from behind which some joyous sounds and the singing of bedsprings could be heard.

“Conversing?” exclaimed Lord Waterhouse in bemusement, “What an extraordinary thing to be doing, and what curious sounds. Really, I suppose I had best let them know of my presence.”

“Oh, no, sir-that is, I mean… oh!”

For too late, the intrigued visitor was already striding toward the door, even as Pamela stretched out a delaying hand. As in a dream, she saw him open it. There ensued then a gasp, for though the lamps within had been doused, the kindly moon shone its light upon the proceedings in a manner which no eyes could deny. In fact, several sounds were heard, including not a few fretful groans, for at that moment Sir Richard was climbing to his peak and, as for Mary, her tummy and pussy seemed to be melting with bliss.

Staggering back against the wall and quite unmindful of the fact that she had devoutly wished such a denouement in order to uncover the proceedings, Pamela awaited the eruption that must surely come. Instead, however, amid the quite inexpressible sounds from Mary and her lusting mount, there came Belinda's astonished cry, “Oh! Harry!”

Indeed there came many.

“Belinda!”

“P… P… Papa!”

“Richard!”

“H… H… H… Harry!”

“C… c… c… close the door!”

The door closed, and such a momentary silence enfolded the night that Pamela somewhat dizzily allowed herself to believe she had imagined the entire affair, though she much fretted with herself afterward for ever having entertained such a thought. Then to her ears issued more cries.

“Oh! Harry! Oh, you naughty man-yes, do!”

“Ah, Belinda!”

“Oh, Papa!”

Pamela could hear no more. It was a much more wicked world than she had ever brought herself to think-particularly as she had not arranged this unexpected melee. Quite put out at facing her first defeat, she retired to her room praying only that her two charges, Helen and Miranda, had not been awakened by such licentious behaviour. Then in but a few moments her agile mind and unconquerable spirit came once more to the fore. Returning to Lady Waterhouse's room, she entered, removed the key, and locked the door from the outside without disturbing its resident.

Going then boldly forward to the main bedroom, where the four were now ensconced, she knocked and entered.

More cries! More alarms! Both Mary and Lady Bromley would have sat up-had they been able.

“Oh, pray forgive me-I do beg your pardon-I was looking for Lady Waterhouse,” said Pamela in her most dulcet tones while her eyes ranged blandly over the enlaced couples.

“Ah!” shrieked Belinda.

“Oh!” gasped Mary.

By then Pamela had stepped neatly without and retired once more to her room. She had not long to wait, as she expected, for in but two minutes an extremely ruffled Lord Waterhouse appeared in hastily drawn on trousers and crumpled shirt.

Upon his appearance-she having left her oil lamp lit-Pamela sat up in her bed with every semblance of alarm.

“Oh, sir, would you assault me, in turn?” she gasped.

“My dear, good heavens, no. It has all been a mistake,” puffed the gentleman, whose concealed erection evinced all signs of excitement. A sombre expression of anxiety then passed across his features. He made to sit upon the bed, but Pamela gave such a start that he desisted. “Why sought you Lady Waterhouse?” he asked.

“She awoke, sir. Naturally I gave her the tidings of your arrival. Her wonderment that you had not joined her was great. I believed her to have gone in search of you. Then I apprised her of your whereabouts and she locked herself in her room, saying that on no account would she speak to anyone.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the good lord in doleful tones. “In entering the bedroom in the dark, I fell, you see, upon the bed, and…”

His voice trailed off wistfully. His eyes sought help, but Pamela's gave him none.

“Yes, sir,” she replied distantly. “May I sleep now? I, too, have been over-disturbed.”

“Herrumph! Why, yes-but of course, I mean-why, that is to say-well…”

Unable to find further words, he retired ungracefully, leaving a pleased Pamela to douse her lamp and compose herself for slumber. Sir Richard and Lady Bromley would now both be put out beyond repair, but that could not be helped. The comedy that must ensue in the morning would be well worth attending.

Arising first that morn, Pamela made haste to silently unlock the door to Lady Waterhouse's room. She had debated with herself whether to apprise the lady of the night's events, but it seemed clearly better to let all confusion proceed. And thus it was-tedious though it would be to recount all the conversations that proceeded.

Lady Waterhouse's surprise that her husband had been present all night was naturally great, and a considerable upheaval at the breakfast table ensued.

“Where were you, Harry? You had no nightshirt,” declared Lady Waterhouse with impenetrable logic.

“I-er-my dear, I could not open your door. It s… s… seemed to be stuck.”

“Really? I found no difficulty with it this morning, Harry. As to you, Mary, you were to have slept with me, I thought.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“The poor little dear fell asleep upon the sofa, so we put her elsewhere,” interjected Lady Bromley, whose husband merely sat looking frightfully uncomfortable. Indeed, being crestfallen and experiencing shades of guilt over the entire matter, he succeeded in bringing a light flush to his cheeks which the perfectly able Lady Waterhouse's eyes did not miss.

“And where did you sleep, Miss?” she asked Mary without a moment's pause.

“Mama, in the-er-”

“Really? A most interesting place to sleep, I am sure,” her Mama observed cuttingly, for being given to peccadilloes herself she was ever conscious of their possibility in others and already-it will be recalled-had discovered her daughter and brother in a situation of what might be called flagante delicto. “Come, Mary, I wish to speak to you,” Lady Waterhouse declared. Ignoring the polite conventions, she swept from the table taking Mary with her, that maiden casting a wild-eyed and blushing look behind her as she did so.

“Ah…,” said Lord Waterhouse, “frightfully sorry-just remembered a most pressing appointment.”

Therewith he scuttled off in the opposite direction. Within moments the heavy slamming of the front door was heard.

“It was all Lady Waterhouse's fault, of course. She insisted last night in knowing where her husband was, for she awoke unexpectedly,” Pamela said sweetly, where she remained at table with Sir Richard and Belinda.

Sir Richard stared glassily. Lady Bromley's colour was high. In so excusing herself, Pamela had quite cut the ground even farther from under their feet.

“I say, my dear, were we not to have departed for Paris today?” Sir Richard squeaked to his spouse.

“Indeed, I have just remembered the same. The Ambassador is expecting us, is he not? Oh, how foolish of you to have forgotten, Richard. We must make haste. Is there not a packet to France today?”

“I b… b… believe there is,” said her husband, who was not normally given to stuttering. “Let us pack without delay, for with luck we shall reach Dover by afternoon and thus be able to embarque.”