Chapter 6 #2
Edward pulled Charlotte’s cheeks apart to take in the wet, grasping delight that awaited him. In the audience, a man rose from his seat, hoping to see the baroness’s quim, before the men behind him protested.
“They want to see your cunt, baroness,” intoned Edward as he opened her further. There was no way all the men in the audience could see that ripe cunny, but if he was in this intolerable position, he’d tease all involved with a show to fire the senses.
“I’m so ready for you,” she gasped, the tiny spasms at her entrance suggesting she was no liar.
And this is where he had to make a choice. It was his usual preference, for the comfort of the lady and the sake of his tailoring, to remove and fold his clothes carefully before engaging in potentially messy activities.
But part of him resented this intrusion into his business. And he simply did not want to show his naked back to a roomful of men; it shouldn’t have been an issue after years in the army, but it felt as wrong as sleeping without a blanket when a perfectly good one was available.
So Lord Edward remained clothed. He pulled at the buttons on his finely crafted falls with brutal efficiency and let the front land with a thwack so Charlotte would hear it.
She moaned softly, her thighs widening as she prepared to take him. He could see her intimate hair more clearly from this view. As he took his cock out of his smallclothes roughly, Edward stroked that little pelt and teased Charlotte’s pouting cunny lips from behind.
“Are you going to take all of this cock I’ve got for you? And give your husband an heir?” he asked, his voice carrying. Maybe this scheme of the Dalpoles wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“Please, please,” she begged.
Oh, that was the stuff, he thought, smiling as he slapped his cock up against those puffy, spread lips.
“Please what?”
“Please breed me,” she whined.
Life was good for Edward each time he slid into a wet cunt, and this time was no exception. The position let him slide deep into that hot clasp that constricted his shaft until he thought he might expire of pleasure.
Before him, Charlotte let out a wail of ecstasy that seemed to come from deep within rather than a need to perform for those seated men now adjusting their trousers.
“You keep that up and you’re going to have an entire line of men eager to breed you, Baroness.”
She cried out, and her cunt fluttered around him.
“You like the idea of that? One man after another emptying himself inside of you — as your cuckold husband watches?”
Charlotte’s arms wobbled, and she lowered to her elbows while taking Edward’s thrusts.
“Why, as a matter of fact, we rather do,” she said, casting the baron a heated look.
For his part, the baron was staring at her swaying breasts and belly like he couldn’t tear his eyes away, his hand working his clothed cock with increasing rapidity.
Edward let himself ride the baroness like a man possessed, holding her hips as he shoved in and out, all the while summoning the sweetest little whines and moans from Charlotte.
He pulled out slowly and watched the baroness’s inner lips grip his wet shaft before slamming it back in just to hear her cry out in pleasure again.
At the outset, Lord Edward wanted to conclude this farce quickly and go back to Mrs. Chaffinch’s boarding house for some milk. Now he just wanted to let Charlotte Dalpole milk his cock until he exploded inside her.
“Do you let your husband fuck you like this, Baroness? Let him mount you?”
“My husband is a gentleman!” she huffed, all while said gentleman sat among other lords working himself into a lather at the sight of his wife taking Edward so well while swollen with child.
“Seems there’s an opening the lady’s husband might fill,” said one of the younger men across the room, who half stood to shout his suggestion before he got swatted by his friends nearby.
The room was quiet save Edward’s pants and Charlotte’s mewls, the squeaks from men shifting to accommodate fattened cocks having ceased as they waited to see what the hosts would do.
Baron Dalpole stood as if under the spell of a spiritualist. “This young scholar is right. Why didn’t I see it before? The position selected for breeding offers certain opportunities for a husband looking to take part.”
He walked to the tea table, where Charlotte’s mouth hung open as she panted from being ridden by Edward. “If the lady does not object, the husband could have a very enjoyable interlude.”
The baron placed a hand on Charlotte’s cheek lovingly. Then he slid his thumb into her mouth, pulling it to the side so he could peer in.
“A very enjoyable interlude indeed,” he said darkly while fumbling for his falls.
Edward gentled his thrusts so the Dalpoles could enjoy their moment but wished he could dump his load like a cart full of dirt and leave.
He’d given them too much leeway on account of the baron’s status as a hero and his own as a disgrace, but if the road back to the ton’s approval lay through a series of ambushes like this one, he could stay on the outskirts of society.
All around the room, the bounds of propriety were breaking. Men who had been discreetly stroking themselves over their breeches now had their cocks out, flagrantly working them while watching Charlotte kiss the head of her husband’s cock as she took another man from behind in her cunny.
A few men were giving each other a hand. One libertine — damn the law and polite society — mimicked everything Charlotte was doing to her husband on the cock of a handsome lord who looked well satisfied with the turn of events.
Ahh, if he were to stop now, there’d likely be a riot and decent men might lose their cocks, given that the things were mostly out and in use now. In another life, he’d have been one of those stroking lordlings watching the show. Best to carry on and give the men Dick Stone’s finest performance.
“So you see,” said Edward, his voice carrying, “where husbandly breeding is impossible or undesirable, a stud might step in. But it should not just be any old cock of the walk!”
Ever mindful of the niche he’d carved out for himself, Edward needed to impress upon the audience the requirement of a professional, else any old man could step in and undercut his business. Why, many of these blokes would do it at no charge at all!
“What has not been shared before now, but is essential for scientific, modern breeding, is the pleasure of a woman. The lady must experience paroxysm at least once before the seed is deposited, or the breeding will be less likely to work.”
The gentlemen exchanged glances, some of them likely struggling to recall a time they’d brought a woman to pleasure. Fools.
Edward reached down to stroke Charlotte’s nub as she struggled to take her husband’s cock in her mouth. Never let it be said that the baroness allowed her husband’s war wounds to dampen her ardor; that cunt was wetter than ever as Edward stroked in and out.
“Are you enjoying your breeding, madam?” asked Edward solicitously.
He’d forgotten that she had her mouth full of the baron’s dalpole, and she made noises in response as the baron tested her mouth a little deeper.
“Oh, Charlotte, Charlotte, you angel!” the baron cried as he lost himself in his wife’s throat.
Edward gave the couple a moment to exchange their coos of love and devotion before he pushed himself in deeper and stroked Charlotte’s cunny with more ruthless skill.
“Would you like to show these men a breeding paroxysm? Demonstrate the force of pleasure needed to fully receive a stud’s seed?”
From the cupboards at the side of the room, the spectators had removed chamber pots, and they were rushing to empty their sacks into those porcelain receptacles as the scene before them became more than their untried cocks could bear.
Good. Let those lads show their status as amateurs while a true bull worked a lady to motherhood.
Or in the case of the already-bred Charlotte Dalpole, an orgasm the likes of which these fools had never seen on account of their lack of skill.
“You see those chamber pots full of seed?” asked Edward, hoping to bring this evening to its conclusion.
The baroness looked up from the table, where she was bracing against his thrusts, and moaned.
“Those men want to pour all of that into your wet, waiting cunny.”
She cried out, and he felt the first flutters of her orgasm. Good.
“But you will not let them in there, will you?” he asked, noting that the Baron had resumed his seat with a sated, contented expression on his face.
Such was the comfortable life of a hero after winning the war.
But who was Lord Edward to begrudge him his spoils?
Edward had merely lost his honor, while the baron nearly gave his cock.
“No, no, not them. Not all of them.”
“That’s right, Charlotte,” he said soothingly, trailing a hand down her back and making her shiver. “Not when your cunt is getting wrecked and filled by the only real stud in town. Now, if you want this seed, tell everyone who is fucking this wet hole until it’s properly bred.”
“Dick Stone,” she whimpered.
“That’s not enough to get you bred, my dear. Tell these men: who is fucking an heir into you?”
“Dick Stone!” she yelled, exasperation and arousal mingling in her voice.
At that, he gently pinched her nub and sent her orgasm cascading down her body until she shrieked and tried to grip the table harder, say nothing of Edward’s cock.
He let that cunt draw forth his plentiful spend, pressing it in and in as ropes poured from him. The job may have been done months ago, but never let it be said that Dick Stone wouldn’t paint a womb.
When he pulled his cock out of that still-tight cunny, Edward arranged Charlotte on the table with her arse and well-used puss on display for the crowd.
“Please do not disturb the seed within the lady’s channel; it must remain in order for the breeding to be successful. But observe the copious amount of spend currently deposited within, all to make an heir,” said Edward as he tucked himself back into his breeches and turned to leave.
Charlotte found the strength to bend deeper so she might show off Edward’s breeding prowess.
Thus, his position at the top of the small industry was secured.
He’d be receiving calls at Mr. Rymer’s barbershop forthwith.
Hopefully, the men would have the sense not to share more than only the most essential details.
On the way out, the baron caught him in the foyer, just as he was about to depart.
“I can’t thank you enough for your gracious participation tonight,” said the baron, shifting on his feet. “You’ve given my wife quite a thrill.”
His wife, himself, and half of the bucks in London.
Dalpole handed him a packet clearly containing a stack of banknotes. “Something to support scientific inquiry,” said the baron with a wink.
Edward bowed and crossed the threshold.
“Can we expect you again at the house?”
“I’m needed elsewhere.”