A Perfectly Brought Up Young Lady

Chapter 1.

Charlotte was the product of a system that had produced wives and mothers for the elite for centuries. That elite had changed from the aristocracy, the army and clergy, to corporate lawyers, Hedge Fund managers and bankers, but the system hadn't changed, it didn't need to, because it worked perfectly and was adaptable to the changes in British society. She was the second daughter of a country doctor, but he was part of an ancient Hampshire family, with land. That land is what mattered, not titles, money even, though money helped. You were accepted or not according to rules, an outsider found hard to understand, or adapt to. It was the land and how long you had owned it, that mattered, the longer the better, centuries at least. So you couldn't buy acceptance in society, you were born with it or you weren't. Things were changing, you married out of the magic circle, you had to, for money, but you were still part of the family and marrying into it, only bought grudging acceptance, often barely concealed contempt. The flood of American heiresses into Edwardian England had found that out. Their money was grudgingly accepted to keep aristocratic houses going, to pay death duties, keep up the entertaining expected of the great families, but the women weren't really accepted in the magic circle.

Not the brightest of her fathers five children, Charlotte had gone to the right school, which tried teaching academic studies, but cooking, the skills needed to run a large house, raise more children, that was more important. A hundred years ago, she might just have been accepted in the Debutante's season, the White Ball, presentation at the Palace and so on. Competition had been fierce back then, with an engagement ring from the right sort of man, as the only measure of success. That was long gone now of course, as was the brief era of the Swiss Finishing School. Now it was the right London Secretarial college and a Cordon Bleu cookery course in France.

Charlotte had done both and got a job in the Kitchen of a Merchant Bank, producing daily Director's Lunches. For three months in the Winter, she was a chalet girl in Verbier, again cooking cleaning, improving her skiing, but above all, meeting the right sort of man. Who was the right man? Well ideally the first son of an aristocrat of course, but only the first, second sons didn't inherit. Even in this day and age, a title was a home run. Otherwise, the navy or army, the right regiments of course, only the Guards or Horse Guards. Those boys would move seamlessly into the right job on completion of their commission, through the right contacts of course. Nothing really changed, only the work, it was still who you knew, who you went to school with, maybe fought with in Iraq, Afghanistan.

She might not have been the brightest, but she was witty, charming, spoke with the right accent and above everything, she was a stunner. Tall, slim, but with all the right curves, including long, shapely legs. Her hair was jet black, eyes a deep blue or violet, depending on the light, eyes you could drown in, if you weren't careful. She had a long, beautiful face, with high cheekbones, full lips and the palest of pale skin, so white, it looked translucent. If her hair had been red, she could have come straight out of a Pre Raphaelite painting. Oh, Charlotte was beautiful alright, used to the brief stop in conversation and dumbstruck look of any man she met for the first time. Most men would have given anything to have her and she had been involved from time to time, enjoying and needing sex, as much as any girl. She new though, to be careful, to avoid the reputation of being easy. Even in the 21st century, such things mattered to catch the right man who could give her the things she needed, the life she deserved.

At the age of 23, in her prime, having lost the teenage innocence and puppy fat, learned how the world worked, she had found the right man. Charles had got a first at Cambridge and was in his fourth year in a small, but up and coming Hedge Fund. He had been part of a skiing party and everyone had said, straight away, what a match they were. He was tall, dark haired and very handsome, in a saturnine, slightly sinister way. Obviously intelligent and funny, he had paid discreet court to her, not tried treating her as an on demand supplier of sex, as most men did. That was what chalet girls are for, wasn't it? They had both played it cool, but interested, matching each other's wary interest. Kissed of course and she had accepted the roaming hands and was gratified by the swelling in his groin, as he cupped her ass. "A bum man," she thought. Now most men were fixated on her breasts, so it was a refreshing change, of sorts.

At the end of his holiday, they exchanged telephone numbers and she told him when her Verbier contract ended, without much hope he would follow it up. Rich and very handsome, he must have numerous, gasping female acquaintances, who would snap him up, before she got back. So she was surprised to get his call, a few days back in London. Her heart skipped a beat, when she heard his deep creamy voice.

"Charlie, it's your skiing buddy here, missed me sweetheart?"

"Oh, you know, I threw myself into my work, trying to forget," she shot back.

"Yeh, Yeh, I'm sure you consoled yourself with some of those Grenadier guardsman, the place was infested with. Why all Grenadiers?"

"No, promise, I kept myself chaste and virginal, just for you, but you're right, the place was crawling with them."

"Chaste and virginal, forgive me a snigger, in this day and age love?" Charles replied.

So the banter went on for a few more minutes, till they agreed to meet for a drink in a well known bar, two days later. Charlie took care dressing, a casual cashmere sweater and slacks, but weapons grade lingerie. Her favourite white bra and pants set, edged with pale pink lace and pink holdups. It wasn't quite pornographic, but the scraps of cloth struggled to hide what was on offer. Arriving fashionably late, Charles was already nursing a drink, after a peck on the cheek, she accepted a champagne cocktail. Conversation was a little stilted initially, evidently this evening was more important to both of them, than the casual chat suggested. A couple of drinks turned into a delicious meal in a quiet Italian restaurant.

They took a taxi back to the flat Charlotte shared with a friend, luckily, she was with her boyfriend that night. He accepted the invitation for a nightcap of course and followed her up the two flights of stairs. Swaying her hips more than strictly necessary, he was transfixed by her gorgeous ass and had to restrain the impulse to grab her buttocks, but his cock was already stiffening. Once in the door, he grabbed her and they kissed with real passion for the first time. Pulling her into his groin, she enjoyed the feel of his growing erection. Switching to her tits, he cupped them, then gently rolled her swelling nipples between his fingers. How did he know? Her head fell back and she groaned, cheeks beginning to flush.

Charlotte pulled away and pushed him down in a chair, avoiding his eager hands. Turning round, she started swaying her hips, dancing without music. Pulling the clips from her hair and shaking out the tresses, she smiled over her shoulder and pulled the sweater over her head, then turned and leant forward. Her breasts were struggling to escape, the hard nipples pushing against the thin material. Pulling away again and laughing, she unbuttoned her slacks and slowly pushed them over her hips, then stepped out of them, continuing to sway her half covered buttocks. Reaching behind her back she unclipped and removed her bra, turned to face him, but covered her chest. She noticed he was flushed now, his pupils dilated, eyes roaming over the most perfect body he had ever seen. Turning half back, she dropped her hands to her pants, showing her breast in profile, large and firm, just slightly sagging under the delightful weight. Slowly pushing her pants over her buttocks and onto the floor, she stood still now, legs slightly spread, hands on hips, in hold ups and heels. He was a dead man walking already.

"God Charlie, you should be a Playboy Centrefold, that body..." He whispered.

Ignoring him, she bent down to touch the palms of her hands on the floor, to show her moist sex and hanging breasts. Turning to face him, he drank in what was on offer, the slightly curved abdomen, the neatly trimmed black bush, perfectly proportioned, flared hips and long, very long legs. Walking over to the chair she sat astride his legs, held his head and kissed him, before whispering,

"Now nice gentlemen like you, don't usually date porn models, do they? Fuck them, yes of course, but date them?

My turn, let's open my present. She started unbuttoning his shirt as his hands came up under her breasts, feeling their weight and firmness, then running his thumbs over her nipples.

"Mmm stop it, not fair.

But you're ripped, chest like iron, how does a banker get a body like that?"

She said, running her hands over his bare chest.

"I've told you sweetheart, I'm not a Banker, I'm a Hedge Fund manager, but moving all that money around all day, it's heavy you know."

"Yeh, Yeh, I'm not that stupid, you've got a flunkey to move the money for you.

Why are we talking, sorry to be unlady like, but I need a good seeing to, right now"

Charles picked her up and dropped her on the bed, quickly taking off his shoes trousers and pants.

"My, but you are pleased to see me, is that all for me?" She said.

He was quite large, 7 or 8 inches and thick, but it looked lovely, straight and unblemished. Sitting up quickly, she swallowed him whole, taking in most of his length in the first gulp, before bobbing up and down, as he groaned, holding her head lightly. Charles didn't give her long, but pulled out, to a mew of disappointment.

"Sorry love, but I'm not coming the first time in your mouth."

He dropped to his knees, put both hands under her buttocks, lifting her off the bed, to attack her cunt. He buried his tongue between the pretty lips and sucked hard. It was her turn to groan,

"Oh Jees that's, oh please don't," She pleaded, not knowing if she meant don't stop or carry on, but within a minute she shuddered, groaned and a little gush of sweet fluid bathed his face.

"Please no more now, just do it, hard please, really hard," Charlotte whispered.

With a deep groan of lust, he put her calves over his shoulder, pushed off his knees and over her body. Thrusting in hard, her pupils widened and she whimpered. In fact, she wasn't that large down there and the first thrust filled her with three quarters of his erection.

"OHhh.. that's sooo, God Charles, you're huge," She whispered, pulling his face down to kiss him as her legs were forced down further and further, by his weight. She was flexible from dance practice and her knees were either side of her face.

He grinned, pulled out and dropped down harder, easily burying his cock this time. Eyes widened again, her breath was forced out in a hiss, as he withdrew and thrust again. He wanted this to last, she built quite quickly to a second orgasm, shuddering and shaking under him, but he didn't break the steady rhythm. She gazed into his face as he grunted with the effort, beads of sweat standing out. He in turn looked into her eyes, as they lost focus and she whimpered again. Her beautiful face was streaming with sweat and her cheeks flushed, as she threw her head back and grimaced with another orgasm. That was his cue to pick up the pace, speed and force. He drove into her for another minute, before growling and grinding into her pelvis, shuddering a little as he released each jet into the depths of her cunt. After she'd finished coming again, she pulled his head down to kiss him, stroking his hair.

"That was awesome darling, I've never, just never..." She trailed off.

"I know, I've never had sex like it, you witch, just incredible. I'll have to take you back to my flat and chain you naked to the bed." He said, half joking.

"Oh yes please, any chance of another fuck first?"

"Have a heart woman, you've half killed me already."

With that he rolled off her and sat on the floor, back against the bed, struggling to catch his breath. Sliding down beside him, she kissed him hard and murmured,

"Mind if I finish the job?"

With that, Charlotte dropped her head to his groin and sucked his flaccid penis, licking it clean. Then she sucked in each testicle, gently masturbating him, before bobbing up and down on his thickening cock.

Groaning, he whispered, "You're merciless, where did you learn to do that, you're an artist?"

"We aim to please, it's just a natural talent," She said, stopping for a moment.

"Now do you want to come in my throat, I know how much you boys love that?"

He could only groan and nod, helplessly.

Hooked, landed and ready for the pot, she grinned to herself, as she increased her pace, finally take in his whole length, into her throat. Stopping to lick and suck his balls, she adjusted, to keep him on the edge, for five minutes. Finally sensing he was close, she sank down to the base of his cock and sucked hard, gulping and choking as he emptied into her. Almost in pain, he shook with each jet he released, as she swallowed greedily. When he finished she slowly withdrew, sucking at the meatus to remove any last cum.

She sat up breathing hard, grinning at him, cum, dripping off her chin onto those magnificent tits. Exuding raw sexuality, hair clumped and sweaty, a flush over her face, neck and chest. Much more intelligent than her, he was still helpless now, imprinted, branded, hers if she wanted him. Charlotte did want him, no love yet, but that would come. He was just what she looked for and she'd make him a good, dutiful wife, he was a lucky man.

She bent forward and whispered,

"Do you mind?"

As she kissed him open mouthed to share the fluids in her mouth. Finally pulling away, she said,

"Now I'll go and run a nice warm bath for us to share, you can play with these," She said, lifting her tits.

"Then we'll see if you have any energy left, OK?"

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Chapter 2

So that was it, a done deal, Charlotte moved into his nice Mayfair flat within a month, a beautiful ring from Mappin and Webb, three months later and the wedding booked a year after that. It was arranged back in the village she came from, the local church then back to a marque in the family home.

Two months before the wedding, a family disaster, her father had died suddenly in the middle of a Monday morning surgery. No melodramatics, typical of him, so self effacing, in the middle of a consultation, he had looked puzzled, put a hand on his chest and slumped in the chair. His partner and the ambulance crew had tried, but couldn't resuscitate him. Charlotte had been so close to him, she was inconsolable, but Charles was supportive and she came to love him more. There was a long family conference and it was agreed to go ahead with the wedding, that's what her Dad would have wanted.

Over the months, Charlotte got to know her fiancé better. In truth, this only went so far, there was a reserve to him, she couldn't penetrate. No secrets she felt, no skeletons, just a part he kept hidden. She was a little frightened of him, so intelligent and controlling. He wasn't jealous or possessive, quite the opposite, he liked to show her off, his possession. When they went out with friends, he insisted on short skirts and plunging necklines, quietly watching the men transfixed by her. He was an enthusiastic lover, they still made love most days, unable to keep their hands off each other. Still, there was a cruel streak too. Quite early on, he had insisted on anal sex and seemed to enjoy her pain and distress. She accepted it, in her world, a woman must obey, keep her man happy. Fifty years behind the times, but it was the world she'd grown up in.

The wedding itself went off perfectly. They managed to enjoy themselves, despite the empty chair and early in the evening, they left the party, still in full swing and went in the house to change. They were going to stay in a hotel at Heathrow that night and fly off to St Lucia next day, for the honeymoon.

Charlotte was still in her beautiful white wedding dress and Charles stroked her ass as she went upstairs to the bedroom.

"Much longer and I've have had to fuck you in the middle of the wedding cake. I'm bursting, it's been three days."

She turned and kissed him on the stairs.

"Poor boy, Charlie will sort it out, my job now. It will be worth the wait, promise."

Breaking away, she took his hand and rushed up to the bedroom, falling into his arms as the door closed.

"It's so decadent, I've got to fuck you in that virginal white dress," Charles croaked.

There was a knock at the door and Philip, his best man walked straight in without waiting. Her dress was pulled up at the back, showing her stocking tops. Flushing, she tried to pull away and let the skirt drop.

"Don't worry darling, it's only Phil doing his best man duties, making sure we have everything we need. Now where were we?"

Charles pulled her back in his arms, pulling the skirt higher and reaching under the yards of Tule to cup her ass.

She tried to push away,

"Please Charles, not in front of, not now, please," She finished pleading.

"Come on sweetheart, Phil has done so much for us and he broke up with Jemima two months ago, have a heart."

"No, No, stop it, Phil, will you leave now, please?"

But he didn't, he stood there, silently, his groin visibly swelling. Charles, pushed her over to the large dressing table and then bent her over it. He lifted the skirt right up and over her back. Her buttocks were partly covered by white knickers and the beautiful legs were framed by pretty pink lace at the top of her stockings. There was a flash as someone took a picture on their phone, she hoped it was Charles.

He reached and quickly pulled her pants down

She really did have a magnificent ass, everyone else commented on her tits, but for Charles, it was her ass, the ultimate. She stood there, her face covered by the skirt, shaking with shock and fear, not knowing what to say or do. He pushed roughly on the inside of her right high heel.

"Spread you're legs."

"Charles please," She begged from under the skirt, crying now.

"Do it."

She did as she was told.

"Now arch your back and stand on your toes."

That opened up her groin and both men drank in her vulval lips, framed by her thighs. Still she could see nothing, but sensed someone move between her legs, fingers probing and spreading her, then a hot penis at her entrance. Please God, let it be Charles, it was. He pushed up hard into the dry vagina, ignoring her squeals, then pulled back and forced in again, a little further. Thankfully, despite her terror and humiliation, the membranes moistened, making it less painful. After a couple of minutes of thrusting, the man withdrew and someone else replaced him, pushing straight in and lifting her on her toes. Was this Philip? Who knew? it made no difference, they were both going to have her anyway. Crying quietly, Charlotte endured it, no feeling of pleasure at all, no familiar tingle. What had she done, did she know her husband at all, how could he so casually humiliate her? All these thoughts ran through her head as she gritted her teeth and endured the abuse. They continued, turn and turn about, to prolong her suffering, on and on, so she lost track of time or which man was which.

It would end soon, but what if someone came looking for them, wondering why they didn't reappear, Charlotte went cold with fear.

"Please finish, just finish, someone will come," She sobbed.

"OK, the finale then." She recognised Charles's voice, as whoever was in her withdrew.