The Wicked Confessions of Lady Cecelia Stanton (6 page)

I was silent, though inwardly I seethed. How dare he question me? Yet as his mouth found my neck, I found myself unable to hold the thought. ‘There has been no other beast,’ I replied.

I spoke the truth didn’t I?
Bess was no beast, and it was Bess who gave me ease, rather than taking it from me.

His hand slipped down my gown and pulled forth a breast.

My nipples were large and dark now, and as the cool air touched it, it pebbled before my husband’s eyes issuing forth a creamy drop of milk.

‘Another question remains. Will you have me again, Ceecee?’ he asked, and licked the milk with a wicked pink tongue.

I shuddered, ‘Of course.’ For I spoke the truth. My nether parts had heated at his caresses and I wanted to feel my husband within me once more.

Was I weak and craven to want my husband’s cock? It had been so long I scarce knew what to expect. After all my body had been through, would he still find it as enchanting? Would I find as much pleasure now from him as I did from Bess?

My heart began to pound so loudly I feared he might hear it.

He took my hand then, and led me into my rooms.

‘Shall I call your maid to disrobe you?’ he asked as I sank onto the bed.

‘No,’ I replied, perhaps too quickly. ‘My husband should to do it.’

‘Should I now?’ he laughed and threw his head back in delight. He did not linger long in laughter, but began swiftly unlacing and unhooking the complex system of ties that closed my gown.

Soon it fell to the floor in a heap. Poor Bess, I knew it would take such time to remove the creases in the morning.

I was left standing in my chemise, which I also allowed him to swiftly remove.

William stepped back to observe me.

‘Your body has ripened, Ceecee. You are a woman true now,’ he commented, his hands running repeated patterns over my still rounded belly. His eyes were fierce and proud. ‘Your breasts feel heavy.’

I felt my throat tighten. ‘I feed our son myself thrice a day. The physician told me that it would be wise to do so.’

‘Remind me to thank him.’ He hefted the breast with his hand and stroked it once more. His touch seemed to arouse my body and I found myself almost panting under his nimble fingers.

He stepped back to admire it in the candlelight.

‘You are changed,’ he commented again.

‘Spending the better part of my confinement alone, and birthing a son whilst my husband philanders in London may have transformative effects on a woman,’ I said, though I did not mean to.

William turned away, clearly stung by my cruelty.

I regretted my words instantly. ‘My apologies, I have forgiven you. It is a wicked thing and an inopportune time to air my grievance again,’ I stammered and drew him back to me. Despite having forgiven the man, I still very much wanted to rebuke and chastise him. Absurdly perhaps, by equal measure, I wanted him between my thighs again. I wanted to feel like a married woman.

He came willingly back into my arms and kissed me.

When he raised his head, he was smiling broadly. ‘On to the bed with you wife,’ he smiled and I obeyed.

Lord William Stanton, as I have oft said, is a man of voracious carnal appetite. I learned in those first few highly educational weeks of our marriage that he is very fond of some unusual acts within the marriage bed.

His preferred position with which to take his marital rights is from behind, a most bestial fashion, I admit. I believe he sometimes imagines himself a beast at these times, such is his enthusiasm for this unseemly position.

This night, I found myself leaning down on my elbows with my rear high up in the air, anticipating my husband’s mounting. Although I do get intense pleasure from Bess’s careful and skilled ministrations, there is an undoubted thrill that I receive from William’s rigorous exercise.

‘Now that,’ he commented, ‘is what I want to see when I come home.’ William laughed, and I could hear him untie his breeches. ‘Ceecee, you look magnificent.’

I imagine that most men praise their wives beauty when bejewelled and dressed for a ball. William, however, finds me most beautiful when unclothed and outrageously undignified in positions for coitus. He truly is quite barbarous, or perhaps I am more barbaric for enjoying it – I cannot tell.

I felt my husband’s hand knead my backside, with firm hard motions. The sharpness sent a spike of pleasure straight towards my most intimate place. I moaned, and he dipped a finger into me. I tightened involuntarily.

‘Relax, dearest,’ he chuckled and began to mimic the motions of bed-play with his finger.

I did relax, and soon found passion mounting in my womb.

‘Are you ready for my cock, Ceecee?’ he asked. ‘Your wet little quim certainly is.’

I moaned my assent, and swiftly I found his finger removed from my throbbing heat. The head of his manhood nudged and pushed at my secret entrance. I worried slightly then that after the trauma of Alexander’s birth my body may not be ready nor willing to accept anything greater than a finger. But I had little time to fret. Within a moment my husband thrust sharply, at the same time gripping my buttocks and pulling me down onto his shaft.

I cried out. It felt as though I were a virgin again, unused to the abuse of my husband’s large and hard staff.

‘Oh, William. Hold still, stop,’ I cried. I had expected him to laugh, but he did not. Instead he stilled immediately releasing only a groan of frustration.

My body felt fit to burst, I scarce dared take breath. The tightness around the mouth of my womanhood burned, so stretched it was.

‘Lord save me,’ William grunted, and I could feel him pulse thickly within me. ‘I cannot hold still much longer.’

‘Please, just one moment,’ I gasped, fighting the urge to pull myself away from him. ‘I must adjust to your size.’

He did laugh then, ‘That’s what a man likes to hear.’

I struggled to make my body relax around him, and at length it did.

He held still a long moment before asking, ‘May I?’

‘You may.’

He began to move then, with steady, solid thrusting. Each motion nearly winded me, such was the force behind them.

Yet that coil of heat that grew in my womb continued to burn, and as my husband’s pace became frantic, and the sound of his thighs slapping my buttocks echoed throughout the room. I felt something deep inside me give.

My body tightened around his pounding staff and I released a high, keening cry. At that same moment, William shuddered above me, roaring and laughing his pleasure.

We collapsed onto the bed. I sank onto the soft mattress and William sank onto me. I could feel his heart racing against my back.

We did not move for quite some time. At length I felt his manhood shrink within me and finally slip free. He rolled off me then, and lay next to me. His bright eyes met mine, and his lips curled in a smile.

‘You please me very well, Ceecee,’ he said softly, and delivered the lightest of kisses on my cheek.

Monday 12
^th
July 1813

The days went quickly with my husband returned. I spent as many hours in the bed as out of it, such was my husband’s appetite.

When William left the house for reasons of commerce, society or hunting, I would seek out Bess. The pretence of tutelage in the pleasurable arts that we had long used to excuse our bed-play had been abandoned.

I confess here and now, I took pleasure in Bess and she took pleasure in me. But our love was not exclusive and we both knew this. If truth be told, I was also under no illusion that she also had male admirers and lovers. Surprisingly perhaps, unlike my discomfort with my husband’s whoring, Bess’s relations with other men did not bestir ill-will. I would not begrudge her male attention. How could I when I so frequently indulged in my husband’s passion? All intrigue aside, I knew one true fact – in William’s absence, Bess had become more to me than just maid or a lover. Her affection for me, and mine for her, extended well beyond illicit meetings, and the perfunctory acts our roles in society had us play. She had in some sense filled the role left empty by my husband, she had become my companion and confidante in all things. Yet it was undeniable that whilst William was in residence, she became more subdued, deferring her position to William and remaining my maid cum lover. At times she seemed no more than a passing shadow in the night. I suspected she found William’s presence in the Hall trying, as I could not accept her so frequently into my bed, nor sleep beside her. Still, my gentle Bess ever guided me, offered sage advice, loved and cherished me when opportunity allowed – and I shall forever adore her for it.

During these times, when I had William and Bess both in residence, I felt most at peace with my lot. Call me wanton or wicked, but to have the love of a man such as William and a woman such as Bess made me rich beyond worldly goods.

Alas my happiness was short-lived, for within four months I found myself with child once more.

Again, my memories of this time are tainted with grinding sickness and the depressing knowledge that my husband would leave me to seek his release with the whores of London. To give William his due, he lasted somewhat longer on this occasion, but by the time I was well into my confinement, he had returned to London.

A pattern damnably repeated with every successive child.

When in the family way for my third and fourth children, I tried most ardently to disabuse William of the misguided notion that his attentions upon me would harm the babe. I knew from the acts I partook in with Bess that no amount of vigorous attention to my sex would cause the child harm. I even tried to convince the physician as such, though he paid me no heed.

‘You are a gentlewoman, Lady Stanton – gently bred women do not partake in the conjugal act during breeding. It is a well-known fact. I believe it is best that your husband retreats to London during this time. He is thus ensuring the safety and wellbeing of your child, milady. Something you would do well to thank him for.’

Odious man.
Had he any notion of what William did while in London?

I found his condescension so disgusting that my confinement malaise struck and I was verily sick upon the carpets as he spoke.

On each and every one of William’s departures, I was disconsolate. Although William, true to his word, did not gamble our fortune away, he still debauched the months away. My feelings could then only be tempered by Bess and the complex business of caring for my ever-increasing brood.

Despite it all, my body craved my husband’s touch, and my heart missed his smile. Over the passing years William and I had grown skilled at pleasuring one another. I no longer balked at the notion of kissing his staff, and I loved and missed the weight of him against me, his heavy-handedness with my body and the sheer brutish passion he gave me. William’s lovemaking was wild and left me breathless and spent, while Bess’s was a slow, coiling pleasure that smouldered for long hours.

Was I blessed or cursed to have these twin passions? Twin loves? It certainly added a level of complication to my life that was not entirely comfortable. Yet, I could not and
did
not want to imagine an existence without them.

So it comes to my confinement with my fifth child. I delayed disclosing the existence of this child for as long as I could, so as to keep William in Stanton Hall with me and away from the whores of London. But I needn’t have bothered.

For soon, everything changed.

One morning, a few months past, Bess entered my rooms to dress me. Circumstances in the household were pleasant and cordial. William had been in fine form and a doting father of our four children, and because he believed I was not with child he was robust in his attentions with me.

This particular morning, I was feeling surprisingly well. The usual sickness had not yet stirred, and thus I greeted Bess warmly when she came to dress me for the day. I reached up and kissed her on the lips.

Sinful aren’t I? But kissing Bess has always been one of my most favourite pastimes. Her mouth parted, allowing my tongue access. She groaned and leaned into me. I raised my hands and ran them down the clothed length of her arms. My hands it seemed were as hungry as my mouth and I found myself kneading the ripe swell of her breasts through the cloth of her uniform. She moaned, and the sound made my body start. I wanted to pleasure her this morning, as much as she had pleasured me the day previous.

‘Bess,’ I murmured as my breath mingled with hers. ‘Remove your dress.’

I wrapped my arms around her, preparing to un-hook the clasps, but she pulled me away, and ran her hands down my face. My body ignited and my nipples hardened. My breasts were swollen with milk, swollen with pregnancy or a little of both. Despite this, I am pleased they have ever remained objects of fascination to William and Bess both. Yet another thing they share in common, though Bess would never deign to admit it.

I kissed her little more savagely. ‘Help me remove your dress,’ I whispered into her neck, kissing the fine arc of flesh. ‘Would that I have you naked next to me, William shall not be back for hours…’ I kissed her again.

She pulled away.

I ignored her with a smile, and stroked the warm mounds of her breasts again. ‘What are you doing?’ I murmured, my hands moving and attempting to unclasp more hooks. ‘Come to bed.’

It was then she spoke the words I had never wanted to hear from her.

‘We must stop.’ Her words bore pain. ‘We cannot continue this.’

I felt my body hesitate for just a brief moment.

‘I disagree,’ I replied, ‘There is no place else I would have you, Bess Miller, than by my side, or betwixt my thighs. Be damned with everything else.’

I do not often speak so crudely, but I had noticed her reticence of late and it perturbed me more than I shall admit.

We both knew it would only be a matter of time before William left for London, once my condition was revealed, and I was not prepared to go through my confinement without Bess
as well
as my husband. I could no more survive her absence than I could withstand the cessation of the beating of my heart.