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“You have been very quiet recently Mrs Collins, are you so out of spirits?”
Charlotte Collins started at Lady Catherine’s voice, booming across the antechamber.
“No indeed, Lady Catherine- I have simply been focusing on my sewing. I hope to make a blanket for Henrietta’s baby when it arrives”
That seemed to placate Lady Catherine, not before she spoke at length about the appropriateness of needlework for a humble clergyman’s wife, and the disgrace to which certain gentle women bring their families, having forgone taking up the skill entirely.
Charlotte let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and went back to staring at her lap. In truth, she had been distracted, maybe even out of spirits. Which in itself was unlike her.
Her dear friend Lizzy had visited her a sen’night ago- an event that usually brought much welcomed change and excitement to her otherwise monotonous life. As Charlotte had been quite overwhelmed with the duties that came with the title of a Clergyman’s wife, Lizzy had made it a point to visit her as often as she was able in the last few years, bringing her updates about their mutual friends in Hertfordshire, her husband and child, and, occasionally, gossip (the comings and goings of the ton, she is told, far surpassed even the most raucous of Mrs Bennet’s dinners).
Only this time something had been different.
Ever since her marriage, Lizzy had seemed almost unnaturally reserved about the more private aspects of her and Mr Darcy’s relationship. Whether that be by some mutual agreement, or an uncharacteristic shyness Charlotte could never have predicted from her friend, all the new Mrs Collins could deduce about what happened behind Pemberley’s closed doors would come in the form of a blush, and a vaguely coded message she couldn’t even begin to decipher. That was, of course, until her friend’s most recent visit.
It had been Charlotte’s fault, really. Having not been blessed with a baby of her own, she had been admittedly curious about Lizzy’s experience. Mr Collins, being a rather timid and absent husband- the latter by Charlotte’s design- had never deemed it appropriate to educate his wife about the marriage bed, beyond the basics. Indeed, she was starting to doubt whether he himself knew as much as he claimed to. Perhaps it was this earnest confusion that had finally driven Lizzy to open up to her.
That is how Charlotte had found herself a sen’night ago, eyes wide and face burning, listening as Lizzy had outlined, in eye watering detail, acts Charlotte had not even conceived possible before then.
“Why would a man… put his mouth on you?”
“Why- because it feels good, of course. What is the point of any of it if you are not to be pleased?” Lizzy had smirked, before regarding her friend more seriously, “I presume Mr Collins hasn’t… done that for you?”
Charlotte shook her head “Not precisely”.
The rest of the visit had gone by uneventfully. Lizzy, perhaps sensing the weight behind her friend’s confession, had not brought up the subject again, yet that did not stop Charlotte from thinking about it, days after the Darcy carriage and its finely liveried footmen came to collect their mistress.
Fitzwilliam once drove me to completion four times in so many hours. I confess I was scarcely able to walk the next morning.
I mean- we almost got caught in the carriage once, but in the end I don’t think anyone questioned why Fitzwilliam’s knees were scuffed- or why his mouth was all wet when he first came out!
We do tend to move about quite a lot, if I just so happen to end up on top? And if that suits the both of us well? Well then, who is to judge us?
Oh! I had completely forgotten about this cravat- for the life of me I do not know how it managed to sneak itself amongst my luggage. Oh no, I thank you, but I do not think it would be fit to go around someone’s neck again, even with a thorough washing. Although maybe on someone’s wrists-
He did take me once against the wall of the art gallery- yes indeed, completely took my weight and all. I must admit it was phenomenal, though he always is.
Though he always is.
Her whole life, Charlotte had known exactly what was expected of her, and what to expect herself. She was a tradesman’s daughter. No matter the pomp and affair her father’s knighthood may have brought them in Meryton, she knew very well that no genteel family would risk their reputation by forever binding themselves to such little breeding. Particularly not for someone such as herself.
Charlotte was plain. She enjoyed reading, tending to her garden, and was not accomplished at all in activities other ladies had been learning since early childhood. Only a child herself, she had been aware of these facts, but she had taken comfort in her calm little life, with her small circle of friends, her little sister, and her brothers. Lizzy had always encouraged her to be less cynical, particularly as they grew older and that sense of content dissipated, to be replaced with a somewhat panicky feeling of her life slipping through her fingers the older she got, and the more aware she became of how the world treated plain, unmarried tradesmen’s daughters like her. She loved her to death, but Lizzy had not understood. She was always so vivacious, argumentative, assertive, things Charlotte secretly admired her for but understood she could never be.
Would it ever be her turn? Was it wrong to long for things so far out of her reach? Her husband did not abuse her, gave her a comfortable home, and a respectable position. So why did she suddenly wonder, more keenly than ever before, whether she had made a terrible mistake?
Charlotte tamped down on the Myraid complicated feelings rabbiting through her chest and resolutely returned to her sewing. This is the life she had chosen for herself, and she was content. She was.
6 Months Later
Mr William Collins stood at the back of Rosing Park’s 9th reception area, his back as straight as can be in a show of respect to his esteemed patroness, as Lady Catherine bid goodbye to Colonel Fitzwilliam and the Darcys.
“I must admit I will never warm to Mrs Darcy, for all that she may play at nobility her manners are still quite country-like, but she has managed to deliver a most promising daughter into the family. Darcy must have had something to do with it I am sure, for I know he is the sort of man to be involved in such matters.”
Everyone in the room bowed their acquiescence to this, Mr collins making sure to catch the great lady’s glance from beneath his eyelids before he deemed it fit to rise.
“I must send an invitation to the girl to visit once she is old enough, for surely any tutelage she receives by Darcy’s governesses is sure to be negated by her wild mother eventually. Yes indeed I shall. I must confess, it would do me good to have some children in this house again”
He watched Charlotte perk up at this, an expression on her face that often caused him anxiety in the presence of Lady Catherine.
“Indeed, madam?”
Lady Catherine turned to Mrs Collins, taking a moment to evaluate her face, and Mr collins braced himself to intervene, when Lady Catherine smiled.
“Oh yes, ever since my Anne grew into her own and spends more and more time with Mrs Jenkins, god only knows when she considers her duty to her mother, I have longed to have someone under my expert tutelage again. I have always admired the vigour children possess, which could only be properly brought out by someone with as much experience as myself.”
The conversation continued thusly for some time, allowing Mr Collins to relax, having been assured his wife had not offended her Ladyship, well-meaning as he was sure she was.
“You have been married for some time, it is most unusual that you have not yet conceived a child. Pray tell, is something the matter?” Lady Catherine turned to him, almost accusatory. Mr Collins let his mouth fall open, stumbling for the words to apologise.
Charlotte, as always, had a measured explanation way before his gears had stopped turning, “We have simply been so busy looking after the tenants, and Mr Collins has had so many duties at the clergy we have not had time for other…. productive activities.”
Lady Catherine seemed to consider this, hands perched on her waist, looking back and forth between the pair and raising an eyebrow. Finally, apparently satisfied with her appraisal, she turned back to Charlotte.
“Yes,” she began slowly, “it is true the tenants have been unusually troublesome these past few years. One would think we do not feed them, the way they are constantly complaining! Nevertheless, it is no excuse to neglect your godly family duties, and if you require assistance I shall be most amiable to offer my advice. Indeed, I insist upon it! Three years married and no heir- no child! It is a most unbecoming example to set the rest of your parish. Yes indeed, you shall come back tomorrow Mrs Collins, so that I may assist you.”
Seemingly done with the conversation, Lady Catherine rose and called for her footmen to escort her to her chambers, leaving Mr Collins and his wife standing in the empty room, a million thoughts spinning through their minds.
He had displeased her. Mr Collins could not get beyond this simple fact. And worst of all, it was on account of some personal failing he had not been aware he had possessed. Her Ladyship had not taken issue with his wife- and indeed how could she, for Charlotte was all that was lovely and good, hard-working and practical, and well aware of her place on God’s earth. He had to find a way to alleviate this at once- but where to begin? Going to her Ladyship for advice would often be his first point of call, but she had been so furious.
Thankfully, she had called Charlotte to see her tomorrow. Surely, that meant there was still something to be done about this great evil he had committed? He had much to consider indeed.
The Next Day
"Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord."*
Mr Collins looked out at the congregation sat before him, his eyes instantly seeking out his wife, who gave him a genteel smile and a small wave. He perked up, nodding his head to her as was proper for a man of his station. As he continued reciting the word of God with practiced ease, his gaze turned towards the de Bourgh box next. Lady Catherine, her daughter, Mrs Jenkins, and a few close family he recognised were sat at the very front, followed by any guests or visitors behind. The object of his musings, and his trepidation, sat imperiously in the very front, grim and proper as was to be expected of such a great Lady, and regarded him with some consideration. Charlotte had been summoned to Rosings that morning, presumably to be recipient of Lady Catherine’s invaluable counsel as had been discussed the day before. Mr Collins was a man of God, had dedicated his life to honour, worship, and discipline, but even he had to confess that ever since his wife left their abode early that morning, his focus had been elsewhere. What had Lady Catherine’s judgement been?
The lilting words of his sermon finally rolled to a stop. He quickly wiped his moist brow, saying his final thanks to the congregation, before exiting the stage through the little door that would lead him out onto the Parish’s green.
He thanked and shook the hand of every man, woman, and child exiting the church, hanging back to ensure everyone had departed satisfied, and sought out his wife. To his surprise, her and Lady Catherine, who must have also waited for the congregation to take their leave, were deep in conversation. More curiously, Charlotte appeared to be blushing.
“I shall like to make it known, Mrs Collins, I shall not go through anything without an explicit agreement from both yourself and Mr Collins” he overheard as he approached the pair.
“And what if we refuse?”
Lady Catherine replied instantly, “Then I shall say no more about it, and bid you heed my advice yourself. I believe Mr Collins requires instruction, and I am confident this is the best way to achieve our mutual goal.”
He saw Charlotte blush again, even more deeply than before. “I- I must confess I am amenable to your proposal,” quietly, almost panicked, “but I do not know whether Mr Collins would agree.”
“You shall leave that with me” Lady Catherine boomed, and then winked- winked!- at his wife just as he took his last few strides, coming to a stop between the two women.
“Mr Collins” Lady Catherine greeted, “I will speak with you”, with a pointed glance toward his wife, who gave him a shy, almost embarrassed smile before mumbling something about waiting for him in her tea room. He could only nod, fixated as he was on his patroness’ expectant gaze.
“But of course, your Ladyship” he bowed, and followed on her heels, watching her call for her servants to take them back to Rosings.
ooOoo
Charlotte sat in her favourite chair in her tea room, tapping her foot. Then stood up. Then sat down again. Then, deciding the chair was no longer comfortable, moved to a settee by the door.
Mr Collins, her husband, had an audience with Lady Catherine at the moment, where she was, one would presume, going over her proposal with him. A proposal Charlotte knew about in excruciating detail, and which had stirred such feelings in her as she had never known before in her life. Not least of which, was the feeling that she had not a Mickey’s what had made her agree with Lady Catherine.
It is perfectly normal for a woman and her husband to be having difficulties in the marriage bed, particularly after years of marriage, she had said, with an unusual softness in her voice.
My husband and I went through several years where we would hardly speak to each other, and his inclination to visit my chambers had all but disappeared.
I take my duties very seriously, Mrs Collins, as you will hear everyone in Rosings tell you, so I could not let this go unaddressed.
A dear friend, sadly gone now, introduced me to a way to make a husband attend to his duties, as well as his wife, and I have not been the same since.
Vaguely, embarrassingly, Charlotte recalled leaning in and enquiring for more.
She recalled Lady Catherine explaining the act of oral sex to her, in what must have been a fugue state. Words similar to what Lizzy had said, so many months ago now.
So it is not just for the man to receive you see, but to achieve mutual pleasure through your satisfaction as well. It is your duty to remind your husband of this equality in the holy Union, for what good is he if he cannot honour his wife as she honours him?
Lady Catherine was a noble woman of genteel breeding, someone who would not have given someone like Charlotte a second glance a few short years ago. To be the subject of such intimate conversation with her now made Charlotte ‘s head spin. Even more strangely, she found herself rather… aroused. It was as if she had inhaled snuff, and could not bring herself to pull away from the temptation of consuming more. She hung onto her Ladyship’s every word, even shared some of her own, things she had only ever admitted to Lizzy. Perhaps the high of finally speaking to Lady Catherine on even ground was loosening her tongue, which was not something she was prepared to examine.
I’m afraid… Mr Collins does not know how. He makes all these boasts, but all he ever does is kiss me
It is indeed as I had suspected, the man requires instruction. My late honoured friend faced this problem as well, and I must confess her solution was rather inspired. This is where my proposal is to begin-
Charlotte had listened, for the next half hour, as Lady Catherine explained things to her she had never thought possible, things that felt scandalising, outrageous, surely blasphemous. Things she had only ever briefly overheard her brothers discussing before one or the other made a show of protecting her ladylike sensibilities. And now, having been denied so many opportunities in her life, the thought of these novel prospects had thrilled her, exhilarated her, had made her rub her legs together and pray Lady Catherine did not notice the way her thighs were shaking. The pang Charlotte had felt at the possibility of her finding out was another thing she had filed away for later examination.
Her mouth had agreed before the more rational part of her brain could even speak up. Lady Catherine had dismissed her then, citing her need to get ready for church, and Charlotte decidedly did not dwell on the mild disappointment the conclusion of their tête-a-tête had induced. She had had enough food for thought as it was. Occupying herself during the hour she sat waiting for her husband to finish his sermon had not proved a challenge at all, particularly with the distracting slipperiness between her legs.
Now she sat in a similar state, gnawing her lip with worry, mind racing, excitement to trepidation to outright fear.
Would Mr Collins agree to all those things? Would he see it as his duty, or would he reject her in disgust? Would he enjoy himself? That was more important to Charlotte than anything. As silly as it may seem, this truly felt like something which could rejuvenate her marriage, maybe achieve the peaks Lizzy had been talking about. Charlotte had grown up always preparing for and expecting the worst- surely the universe owed her this?
An hour passed before she moved to the sitting room. One more passed before she thought to pick up her needlework. She stopped keeping track after that, the minutes ticking away as her trembling hands poked more and more holes into her fingers, and noticeably none through her sewing. At one point, she even wished for a piano, so that she may practice her childhood tunes.
After what must’ve been an age spent in this manner, the front bell finally put her out of her misery. Her husband however, as always, did nothing to ease her agitation.
“My dear!” He gasped, out of breath- had he ran home?- “I must speak to you at once!” He stumbled into the sitting room.
“O- of course dear” Charlotte said, more timid than usual.
“Oh my dear,” he continued breathing heavily, adjusting his cloak as she pulled out a chair for him to flop onto, “I am so terribly sorry. Please forgive me. I have been neglecting you. Lady Catherine she- she explained it all- my duty-“
Not quite knowing what to say, Charlotte went to fetch him some water.
“She… explained it all to you then” she began tentatively as she came back and handed him a glass.
Mr Collins gulped greedily, smacking his lips as he finished drinking, “Oh yes, her Ladyship explained everything. I did not- I did not know! But she has graciously decided to deign upon us her assistance, so that we may be proper spouses to each other. It is the way of the nobler classes, I understand.”
Was she relieved? She had certainly never seen her husband so animated regarding their marital duties before.
“Lady Catherine said,” he continued after another big swig of his water, “that you have agreed already?”
“I-“ Charlotte stuttered, unused to her husband’s gaze so open, so anticipating, “yes, I have. Do you know… when it is to be arranged?”
“Oh yes indeed my dear! Lady Catherine’s guests are to leave this evening, so it is to be the following sen’night, on the Friday when I usually come for her consultation on my sermon. You are to accompany me. For her Ladyship possesses such unrivalled skill, such subtlety as only she could plan everything so meticulously- and all to help us! Aren’t we truly blessed to have her as our patroness?”
Charlotte smiled to herself, shaking her head. “Indeed we are, my dear.” For once, she could whole-heartedly agree.
Five Days Later
The days came and went faster than anticipated, occupied by housekeeping, tenant visits, and the occasional farm dispute. Before she knew it, Friday morning was upon them. And that particular morning found her fussing over the buttons of her coat, the fifth one she had tried on so far, her reflection in the mirror shaking her head, equally as exasperated with her mistress’ indecisiveness.
Was there a protocol for these things? How did one dress when one was accompanying one’s husband to their patroness’ fine estate, to engage in sexual relations with said husband and patroness? Charlotte appraised her meagre coat collection once more, and finally chose the one that was most comfortable. At the end of the day, she imagined it would not stay on for very long.
The rest of the preparations seemed almost mundane, familiar, as if she had been going for any old trip to Rosings. Mr Collins’ books and sermons, some sewing for her, some food the tenants had wished to gift to the estate in lieu of rent. Only in her head she was preparing to step across a threshold past which there was no returning. And she was about to do it with a lot more excitement than she would have ever expected from herself.
When Mr Collins arrived at the doorstep, in his finest apparel, as was custom for his trips to Rosings, he did not hesitate to hold her hand, his large, meaty fingers encircling hers and providing a natural warmth. She did not recall the last time she had held her husband’s hand, if ever.
Despite the surrealness of the morning, by the time liveried footmen were taking their overcoats, Charlotte’s nerves were at it again, almost freezing her still. Thankfully, the grandiose presence that was Lady Catherine left very little time for her to fixate on her anxieties, as her attention was always otherwise occupied, speaking to Mrs Jenkins or assisting in table setting plans for the Parish fete. By the time they were done, it was late afternoon, and everyone but themselves, Lady Catherine, and two footmen, had taken their leave.
Everything was done. There was nothing left to draw her attention. Only the plunge into deep waters that was ahead of her, imminent. She tried discreetly looking at Lady Catherine, hoping for some kind of direction, but only saw her Ladyship petitely pressing one hand to her mouth to suppress a yawn. What now?
“I am feeling rather tired, I believe I shall retire to rejuvenate myself. Clarence, if you would prepare one of the west wing guest chambers please. Hopkins, attend to Mr and Mrs Collins. I shall see myself upstairs.”
Charlotte from 3 years ago might have been confused by what just unfolded. But the current Charlotte, wiser, understanding of things she was sure some other ladies could not begin to imagine, had a suspicion as to exactly what was happening.
She let herself be led up the grand staircase by Mr Hopkins, taking a moment to appreciate the parts of the estate she never had the opportunity to see. The room they were shown into, west wing, near the end of the corridor, discreetly out of the way, was just as lavishly decorated as the route there had suggested it would be. A large four poster bed acted as the centre-piece, with a fine oak and pine lined writing desk, and an intricately carved chest deposited at the wall facing the bed. On the other side of the room stood an armchair, a large door, presumably a connecting dressing room, next to it. Charlotte took a quick glance around. Empty.
With a quick nod, the footman shut the door and left them alone.
She took a moment to compose herself, breathing out of her nose, in disbelief that this was actually happening. She turned to her husband, taking his hand in hers again.
“My dear… are you still certain?” She asked.
“Yes, of course… are you?”
She found herself nodding. She consulted the wetness that had begun pooling in her drawers, and nodded even more fervently. She was. Somehow, she was.
They stood there for a moment, neither of them saying anything. Charlotte made a silent pact with herself to be as true to herself as she could tonight. This would either end in disaster, or would be a turning point in her life, and she was determined to face either as her fullest self.
She was brought out of her musings when the door to the dressing room swung open, revealing Lady Catherine. Her hair was down, swinging in loose, soft curls at her back. She was dressed in a banyan which concealed a silken night robe, short enough to reveal her stockinged feet. She strutted to them with her head held high, holding every ounce of authority Charlotte had watched her take delight in ever since she’d met her. Charlotte thought she looked radiant.
“Before we begin,” Lady Catherine said, considering them both, hands still joined, “does anyone wish to voice any objections, or wish to withdraw?”
Charlotte looked at Mr Collins, and he looked at her, holding each others gazes for a moment, before shaking their heads simultaneously. Lady Catherine seemed pleased at this, but not overly relieved, as if she had already known what their answer would be.
“Excellent. Now, both of you, coats off”
Charlotte’s body seemed to move without her conscious control, registering the command on some deeper, baser level, where all her most secret urges were stored. Currently, said urges were being yanked off their weathered shelves all at once.
On a hunch, she decided to let her hair loose from its trappings, letting it cascade down her back the way she’d so admired Lady Catherine’s for doing. She glanced at her husband, now dressed in only his shirt and clergyman’s trousers. He was looking at her like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. She turned to her other side, and saw Lady Catherine looking pleased. A warmth began to settle in Charlotte’s chest. She felt wanted, desired, sexy. That did something to her. Quite without her awareness, she realised she had been drooling onto her undergarments for quite some time, embarrassingly aroused at the very thought.
“Good. You will show me how you please each other, so that I may identify the problem” Lady Catherine concluded, sitting herself on the arm chair, facing the bed.
Just as Charlotte started to hesitate, it was Mr Collins who rubbed her shoulders, nudging her over to the incredibly large bed. “Come, my dear, let us lie down” so gentle, considerate.
So she did. She lay down on the soft, feathered sheets, clinging on to her husband, a man she still felt she understood as well as she had on their wedding day, 2 weeks afer they had met, yet who was being so gentle with her right now, caressing her everywhere. Who was laying gentle kisses on and around her mouth, helping her shed the last of her clothing as he worked on undoing his shirt.
Charlotte watched as the last few buttons came loose and the shirt fell from her husband’s shoulders, revealing his sweaty, hairy chest. Charlotte did not know whether all men looked like this- she had nothing to compare it to. Perhaps it was the observation, the thought of exhibiting themselves in front of someone else, that had made every little thing affect her twice as strongly as it normally would. Mr Collins’ half nakedness was strangely attractive, and importantly also made her far less conscious of being as naked as the day she was born in front of the two people in the room.
As was wont with her life, things took a turn from there. Mr Collins quickly got carried away, deepening their kisses, and although it was doing enough to fan the flames that had begun to simmer in her pelvis, her husband’s skills only extended so far. His upper lip bumped her nose, while the rest of his mouth opened as if he was trying to lick clean the very bottom of a bowl of soup. The familiar combination, on any other day, would have quickly had her diverting the attention off herself and focusing elsewhere instead, but before she could do that she heard Lady Catherine’s voice from the corner.
“Enough. I see where the problem lies, just as I had suspected.” She stood up, heading for the bed, “Mr Collins, rise and come here.”
Mr Collins leaped up as if shocked, swirving to face Lady Catherine, apologies hot on his tongue. Before he could get very far, however, she silenced him.
“I shall show you how to kiss your wife properly. You do it like this” Charlotte watched, as if from another body, as Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park kissed her husband, palming at his chest and playing with the hairs there. Charlotte just stood and watched, an unexpected jolt of arousal travelling from her stomach all the way down to her very centre. They had discussed this exact thing, but somehow seeing it in the flesh surpassed anything she could have imagined.
Mr Collins made a noise, between a gasp and a whine, when Charlotte saw Lady Catherine pinch his nipple with her right hand. The other hand cupped his head, tugging on the spare, short hairs and causing him to open his mouth, deepening the kiss. Charlotte haltingly realised that Lady Catherine was showing him how he should kiss her. What would it be like, she wondered, to be kissed by Lady Catherine?
As this unfolded, Mr Collins seemed to animate, clutching at Lady Catherine’s waist, rubbing his crotch toward her, although Charlotte could plainly see Lady Catherine was keeping him frustratingly out of contact. A fact he was clearly not cognizant of.
Eventually, they pulled away for air, Lady Catherine still gripping her husband’s head. “Like this,” she adressed, “do you see it now?”
“Ye- yes ma’am!” Whispered, reverential, almost a moan. Charlotte saw his cock jump in his trousers.
“Good, because you will be practicing it.” Another twitch of his cock at the praise, and Charlotte really was starting to recognise some patterns here. Mr Collins turned himself around, practically collapsing onto her side of the bed, and started making his way up her body, much slower this time, eyes fixated on her lips.
When their lips connected, Mr Collins was much more gentle, open, letting her take the lead and give a good swipe with her tongue, experimentally. She tried repeating what she’d seen Lady Catherine do, and brought her hand to squeeze at his chest, thumb and forefinger catching his nipple. She listened to him moan. Finally, after three years, her husband was on his way to making her properly aroused.
His lips were soft, loose and warm and inviting, and she took her time, enjoying the contact of nerve endings, brief dips of her tongue so as not to be overwhelming, listening to his soft noises, realising she was making some of her own.
“Now, Mr Collins, lower” she heard from somewhere near her. Lady Catherine, now sat on the bed next to her.
Her husband’s brow furrowed, and she heard a scoffing noise escape her Ladyship before she saw a hand reach for Mr Collin’s hair, detaching him from her lips and pushing him down, down, until his nose was poking her soft underbelly.
Charlotte squirmed on the bed, she was wet and eager and desperate, and surely her husband could smell it on her. Surely Lady Catherine could. Their discussion from last week came to mind, and her thighs tensed with anticipation.
“Just like we discussed Mr Collins” she heard Lady Catherine state.
Clearly, it was enough encouragement. Armed with a new kissing technique, and a will to please, Mr Collins parted her folds and ran his lips over their sensitive surface, inside, nose occasionally connecting with her clit. Charlotte let out a moan so loud she was afraid the whole estate would hear it. But Lady Catherine did not admonish her, so when her husband moved his lips up to connect and suck on her clit, she doubled down.
He was clearly not aware where he was, because the brief flicker of pleasure she had received disappeared as he quickly moved on to sucking nearby structures at random. She wanted to bring him back, but wasn’t sure how, bucking into her husband’s face instead and hoping he would get the hint.
Just as she was about to give up, she felt a hand, weathered and fine boned, reach for her own, positioning it on Mr Collins’ head. Of course! Shyly, she tugged, and when she received a moan in response, she tugged again, and again, until he was in position over her clit once more. Mr Collins, for his part, seemed greatly affected as well, hips rutting his clothed cock against the sheets, creating a wet patch she could only imagine was even more pronounced on his crotch.
Charlotte looked up to see Lady Catherine watching them, taking off her banyan and starting on her nightgown. Dizzy from pleasure she’d never before experienced, Charlotte suddenly really wanted to touch her. Could she?
She decided to risk it. “Lady Catherine,” she swallowed over a moan, “could- could you show me… how to kiss?”
Her Ladyship drew her gaze away from Mr Collins to focus on her. Now that she was fully naked, Charlotte could see her breasts, her waist, everything. Even her gaze looked mellowed, less harsh, in the dim light of the candles. It inflamed Charlotte to no end, making her clench around her husband’s lips, which in turn caused him to moan. The vibrations rocked through her like an electric shock, and for a moment she could not speak.
“Why yes, if you so require it” she heard over the buzzing in her ears, an answer to a question she could only vaguely remember asking.
Soft, puckered lips met hers, pressure quickly forcing her mouth open and causing her to gasp when a tongue plunged inside her. Too quickly, it was over, as Lady Catherine sought to get up, and Charlotte already missed it.
She did not miss, however, the objects Lady Catherine was retrieving from the chest on the other side of the room. A glossy, carved wooden phallus, attached to leather straps, and a small vial. Here it was.
“Well done Mr Collins, you have followed my instructions adequately.” Mr Collins moaned, “Now use your tongue while I prepare you.”
Charlotte screamed when she felt her husband’s warm tongue penetrating inside her, wet, yielding, touching every single nerve ending there. It briefly exited her, running all over her soaked slit, before plunging back in. The sensations were so much, too much, her thighs instinctively came around Mr Collins’ head. She was scrambling what little wherewithal she had to apologise, when her husband let out a deep groan between her thighs, rippling through her as his hands held tightly onto the insides of her legs, keeping them there.
Lady Catherine, meanwhile, had attached the harness to herself, walking back to the bed as if a great wooden cock had sprouted from her crotch, faux ballsack and all. In her hand was the vial, now open and poured out on her finger. She knelt behind Mr Collins, where he was still putting his mouth to use on Charlotte, barely pausing to gasp for breath between moans and whines.
“Lift” Said Lady Catherine and Mr Collins did, perching and manoeuvring his hips so that Lady Catherine could slide his trousers and undergarments off. The sight of him did something to Charlotte, despite it all. His cock was fully visible now, flushed pink, almost purple at the crease where the head met the shaft, a small bead of pre-ejaculate decorating his slit and dripping down his curved underside. She knew how it felt inside her, but what would it feel like now, when she was open and sensitive from her husband’s mouth?
“Ready Mr Collins?” Called Lady Catherine, and Mr Collins barely lifted his head from her to shout an elated “Yes!” before he let out a whimper so magnificent Charlotte felt herself approaching orgasm- for the first time ever, in the presence of her husband.
Lady Catherine must have put her first, lubed finger into his hole. Her husband’s back passage. Until recently, that had not occurred to her as something one could do in this life. Now, the very thought of it sent her into the stratosphere.
“Remember Mr Collins, exactly as I’m doing” reminded Lady Catherine, and Charlotte suddenly remembered what she was referring to. They had discussed this as well. For his instruction, once inside him, Mr Collins was to do to her everything Lady Catherine was doing to him. The possibilities, the very thought, sent her mind spiralling, and she could feel herself tighten around her husband even more.
One more lick, another up to her clit, then a gentle suction that made her grab his hair. He moaned, briefly forgetting himself before before promptly pushing a finger inside her. It went in with no resistance at all. Charlotte imagined he could fit as many as he wanted now and she’d still be stretched and willing. The finger, combined with the suction, was heavenly, and she never wanted for it to stop. She could feel her cunt tightening around Mr Collins’ finger even more, approaching an edge, almost there.
The final straw came when her husband suddenly whimpered, jolting so hard his nose rubbed right against her clit, and just as she was wondering what had made him react this way, he curled his finger up, hitting a spot inside her even she had not know existed, and breaking the dam that had been building inside her, pressurised, for quite some time. With a mighty shout she came, body jerking uncontrollably as pleasure flooded her body and her mind. Mr Collins continued his ministrations, working her through it.
With a moan, he soon added a second finger, stretching her, loose and open and sated, as his tongue continued in gentle motions all over her centre. Two soon turned to three, splitting apart, stretching her, milking every ounce of pleasure she had to give. Between her legs, Mr Collins was trembling. Charlotte glanced down and saw his cock was red and angry, forgotten between his soft belly and the sheets, dripping like a faucet, coating his whole shaft in slick fluid which surely must’ve just made the friction worse. Lady Catherine, however, seemed to be ignoring it for now, encouraging him to continue with his mouth, he was doing so well, just as she had instructed. Sat up, Charlotte watched Lady Catherine’s fingers withdraw, Mr Collins choking on a moan around her, muffled.
Mesmerised, quickly working her way to complete arousal once more, Charlotte watched Lady Catherine pick up the vial once again, coating the wooden phallus with the contents. She quickly positioned herself so she was lined up with Mr Collins’ backside, and Charlotte watched in fascination as inch by inch the phallus entered her husband as his cock would enter her. Mr Collins went positively hysterical, his mouth and fingers working on her with renewed vigour, while his other hand sneaked down to palm at his red, swollen cock.
The noises her husband was letting out- the noises she was letting out- were positively obscene. Charlotte had never been more scandalised in her life. She had never been more alive.
Above them, Lady Catherine picked up her tempo, bottoming out before withdrawing all the way, and back in again. She set a brutal rhythm, the sound of skin against skin the only thing Charlotte could hear through the buzz in her ears. With each, powerful thrust, Lady Catherine moved Mr Collins forward on the bed, pressing his face and fingers further inside her. Passed around between the two of them. He was fucking her while Lady Catherine was fucking him. The sheer thought of it, the image, the sounds, were enough. She felt herself fall over the edge before she ever knew she had been approaching it.
Her whole body was shaking. Head to toe exhaustion, even as the rawness in her crotch flared angrily and seemed to demand more. Instead, she carefully extricated herself from her husband’s mouth, settling back against the pillows just to catch the picture him and Lady Catherine painted.
Charlotte could tell even Lady Catherine’s iron control was slipping. She was making soft grunts with each thrust into Mr Collins, who was frantically tugging at his reddened cock, dripping onto the mattress and sobbing inconsolably. Lady Catherine slapped her husband’s hand away, taking up the task herself as she began to grind against his backside.
Ten seconds passed, twenty, before she saw the glorious image of the two of them tensing simultaneously, Lady Catherine’s hand frantically working at Mr Collins’ cock while her hips stuttered off kilter. They were on the precipice. The edge of the cliff. She needed them both to fall over it for her. Now.
One last stroke, cock and arse, and both of them descended into convulsions, trembling beautifully. She couldn’t take her eyes off them, off the thick phallus balls deep into her husband’s arsehole. Off Lady Catherine’s hand, covered in ejaculate and still torturing his cock as she milked him through his release. Two sets of thighs shaking as the pair finally collapsed onto the bed. It was almost enough to make her come a third time, untouched. Almost.
Spent, sated, and exhausted, she pulled the covers over the three of them, feeling like something monumental had happened. Somehow, someway, Mr Collins had, through Lady Catherine, delivered the most memorable, fulfilling sexual experience of her life. She felt like a new woman, because she could finally admit that this was what she wanted. She wanted her husband eating her out for her pleasure, she wanted to stroke him and watch him come undone as pre-ejaculate dripped down his shaft. She wanted to do it all again. Maybe even be the one to wield the wooden phallus.
Charlotte glanced at Lady Catherine. She was lying on her side, back to the both of them, who were splayed on their backs. Charlotte could not deny her Ladyship had played a significant role in her arousal. She wanted to do it again, with her, and everything it entailed. She had spent so much of her life shackled by society, maybe it was finally time to embrace the fact she can never be like that.
All of this, she understood, carried implications that were currently far beyond her grasp. Lady Catherine would, presumably, retreat to her Misstress’ headquarters soon, leaving the two of them to sort themselves out and be escorted out by the footmen.
The footmen are discreet. They have been with me for many years. They know what they are about, and not to disclose any information. They will take care of you before, and show you out after.
Would this ever happen again? Would Lady Catherine want it to? Would she and Mr Collins want to? She did not have the capacity to think about this now. All she knew was that she knew more about herself now than she ever has in her 30 years of life. Even if this never happened again, she could be satisfied knowing that. Knowing what she liked, and that sometimes, maybe sometimes, dear old boring Charlotte didn’t need to be so scared about what society thought- did society ever care about her?
As she started to doze off, next to her husband whom she was starting to know just a little better, 3 years into their marriage, her last thought was that, just for this moment, she truly was content.