Free The Surrender of Lady Charlotte by Lizbeth Dusseau Page B

without you, mindless to thought lest you advise her, and bereft of feeling but what you supply the feeling for her to feel.” He stopped speaking and took a breath before continuing. “Slave, have you heard your part in this marriage? Rise and say so.”
    Charlotte pulled out of her low crouch, gladly resting her ass against her feet, and while keeping her eyes dutifully lowered, said, “I have, sir.”
    “Proof of her virginity can be made this day?” the priest spoke again to Mountbane.
    “It can. We have protected it these long months.”
    Only then did the holy man smile. “Reveal this now, then.”
    Reaching for her hand, Mountbane pulled Charlotte to her feet and led her to a hefty stone altar some three feet off the ground. “In the arch,” he commanded, whereupon his wife laid back against the cool stone, bent her knees, tucked her parted feet to her ass while raising her hips. Her arms rested above her head.
    Mountbane pushed back the flowing robes and bared her vulva for inspection while the tension in the steamy grotto began to heighten as the final act of marriage was about to unfold before the anxious eyes of the crowd. The Lord’s hands were dear to her in that teeming moment, skirting the skin of her thighs and moving downward as though they were caressing the flesh in a prelude to sex. Not only did this delicate touch quicken the loins of the humble slave, the act quickly stirred Mountbane’s cock, his member rising to press against the leather of his pants. His anticipation increased as it headed toward a finish he believed he’d paid for a thousand times over in careful restraint.
    With his hand finally arriving at the center of Charlotte’s sexual home, two fingers parted her thick labia and opened the cleft for the inspection of the priest. A tiny gasp crossed Charlotte’s lips as her belly spasmed with pre-cum tremors. Then she held her breath as the two men examined her and finally divulged their findings to the audience.
    “The slave is indeed a virgin,” the priest declared. A wave of hushed whispers swept through the crowd then instantly died down. “Take her now.”
    This might have been a triumphant moment with a jubilant Mountbane cheerily taking his bride with the swift thrust of his manhood spilling her blood. Instead, however, and befitting of the occasion, this was a steadied and focused act—not without a degree of affection new to this troubled relationship. Pulling Charlotte’s splayed cunt forward, the master stared his bride in the eye while opening his britches; then with one hand to steer his cock, and the other grasping her hip, he made the first thrust.
    As her hymen was torn asunder, a pained grimace appeared on the slave’s fair face. Then a sigh of release fell softly across her brow as her husband boldly pummeled the once well-hidden treasure. The slave’s eyes stayed focused on her husband’s face, until the pulse of his speedy exploit began to loosen the anxious knot of fear inside her belly. Then, her sexual juices poured forth, bathing him with her warm nectar and her channel began to clench. Her arousal seemed to crash through the valleys and tributaries of her body even as she thrashed back and forth on her bed of stone. She clutched at him, drew him into her with the muscles of her cunt begging for more with each rude stroke of his mighty organ.
    The couple kept their witnesses in awe, none stirred, none said a word, not a whisper, cough or shuffle of feet; not, at least, until they suddenly heard Charlotte’s faint cry, and then Mountbane’s as his seed was spilled, joining with the fragrant liquid inside this fertile virgin cunt.
    Charlotte collapsed as her Lord withdrew, cum still dripping from the tip of his cock. As Mountbane restored himself, he sat down beside her on the altar and kissed her lips, while with tender ministrations he began to discard her robes.
    “What tribute does this woman give today?” the priest inquired of Lord