With her stepson now wed to the daughter of her lifelong friend and fellow schemer, Lady Fenton, Agatha Smythe was now impatient to complete their devious plan. Only two days after returning home with her daughter, she could wait no longer, and telephoned the Fairview Sanatorium.

"Yes, Charles, thank you. Everything went like clockwork. How is Sir Michael? A little improved you say? But you told me that a removal of sustenance would bring about a satisfactory conclusion! Nothing to worry about! Really, Charles, I can see that you need a second opinion.......My opinion! I'll come over to visit him, tomorrow, at 2.30 PM."

After a somewhat restless night, Lady Agatha bathed and dressed carefully, then drove herself, in the Bentley, the 40 miles to Fairview House, an exclusive, secluded 'depository' for the unfortunate 'mentally ill', of the upper-classes.

After sharing some tea with Senior Psychiatrist, Charles, she was conducted to her husband's private room.

"Leave us alone, Charles. I'd like to spend some time alone, with Sir Michael."

"Very well, Agatha. Press that bell on the wall, when you want me to collect you."

Sir Michael was lying prostrate on his hospital bed, strapped rigidly in place and attached to several catheters and fluid tubes. She stood and took in the scene for a few moments, before removing her silver fox fur coat and hanging it on a peg. She then sat down gently, on the side of her husband's bed.

"Hello Michael. How are you darling? No, don't move or try to say anything. I've come to tell you that your dear son is now married.....to Sophie Fenton. Isn't that lovely?"

He responds with a rapid flicker of his bloodshot eyes.

Examining his medical drips and connections, she carefully lowers the bedcover and, reaching inside his silk pyjamas, eases out his flaccid penis. She gently removes the catheter and begins to tease his neglected flesh with a practiced hand.

"This is just like old times, darling. I can see that you are glad that I've come to visit. Remember, how I used to wank you, time after time, before leaving your poor cock alone? Remember how you you used to beg me darling? How you would beg to see my knickers and kiss my bottom? I was so cruel to you, wasn't I? You always said that I'd send you to the madhouse......and here you are, with your devoted wife stroking ........oh, look, stroking your very hard penis."

Taking her hand away, she watched as his stiff cock throbbed in frustration. The blue veins, full of excited, hot blood, pulsing; desperate for her touch.

"I remember, that you were a very naughty boy sometimes. Oh, how many occasions did I catch you sniffing my nylons or my panties darling? Of course I had to punish you. What sort of wife would I have been, if I let you get away with such perverted behavior? Yes, you are a pervert, silly. You always liked to see and fondle my lovely feminine lingerie, didn't you, Michael?"

After a few more deliciously teasing, cruel strokes to his member, she stood up, and maintaining eye contact, reached up slowly, beneath her skirt and slowly eased her red satin knickers, down her nyloned legs and off her high-heel shod feet. Holding them up, triumphantly, grinning, she sat down again, on the bed.

"Red was always your favorite, wasn't it darling. Red satin, with black lace, from Rigby and Peller? So hard to remove those nasty sperm stains though. I've been wearing this pair for two days now, darling. They must stink!"

She held the delicate garment to her nose, feigning disgust.

"Yuk. They smell of fresh cunt, Michael. Would you like to smell? Yes, I know you would. Here, let me just drape these over you face."

She gently rubbed the panties over his nose and mouth. There were now groans. She increased the pace of her hand strokes to his erection, which now seemed harder than she had ever seen it.

"Isn't this wonderful, Michael? A man and his wife sharing intimate, exciting moments together, even at the end?"

She began to press her panties more forcefully over his nose and mouth, whilst simultaneously bringing him closer and closer to a climax.

"Sniff them for me Michael! Let yourself go. Show me how much you love me......and my pretty panties!"

Finally, through struggling to breath through her panties, he let out an anguished cry, and with a few more of his wife's vigorous strokes, his body arched violently upwards, against the restraints and he ejaculated a copious quantity of sperm over his pyjamas, then slumped, lifeless. Agatha continued to hold the panties in place for several more minutes, until she could see that his breathing had slowed, almost to nothing. She stood and tidied herself, then pressed the bell to call for Charles.

"Oh Agatha, has he gone?"

Removing the red panties from her husband's dead face and using them to wipe up some of his sperm, Agatha then held them up and calmly replied:

"I'm not sure Charles, I think the poor dear may have........"

The consultant checked for signs of life with his stethoscope and found none.

"A heart attack, I think. My deepest sympathies, Agatha. He went quite stiff in the end!"

"It's the way he would have wanted to go..........Oh god Charles. Fuck me. Fuck me here, now!"

He bent her over the deceased's bed, lifted her skirt and quickly, extracting his large erection, plunged it into her hot wet open vagina. Agatha met his thrusts like a deranged animal on heat.

"You dirty bitch!" he whispered to her, as he flooded her quim with hot sperm.

That evening, Lady Agatha telephoned her friend, Lady Fenton, to convey the sad news of her husband's demise.

"Yes, we'll all miss him Penny. Naturally, I'm distraught. Do you think you could inform Sophie and Justin......or should I say, Sir Justin....."

"So sad, so sad. Yes of course Aggie, and I'll make sure that Justin's title inheritance is advertised discretely, in 'The Times'. There will be no need to wait for the 'Letters Patent' from the Home Office. Justin, and Sophie will now be able to make full use of their titles, following Sir Michael's death."

Justin takes the news from his mother-in-law with some ambivalence, having been shielded from his father's mental 'breakdown' for almost three years. Whilst feeling somewhat 'deserted', he does rather like the idea of being addressed as Sir Justin Henry Fairfax Smythe. Sophie, as his wife, feigns her grief quite beautifully, for the father-in law she only met on one occasion, but is, as might be expected, delighted with her new title of Lady Sophie Margaret Anne Smythe.

Lady Fenton announces that Sophie's grandmother will be coming to stay that very evening. Sophie can't wait to show her beloved relative, her engagement and wedding rings. The Countess, Lady Margaret, (after whom, Sophie received her middle name) is also a widow and mother to Lady Fenton.

Lady Fenton takes her son-in-law to one side:

"Justin darling, we are a little short of good bedrooms at the moment. I couldn't possibly allow the Countess to stay in anything but our best accommodation. Would you mind terribly, giving up your room for me, so that she can have my suite......just for a few nights? We can find somewhere temporary for you, upstairs, in the old servants' quarters."

"Oh, well,,,err...a Countess you say.......I suppose a few nights won't do me any harm..."

"You are so sweet, Justin - acting as a true Knight towards we distressed ladies!" and with that, she gave him a soft wet lingering kiss, full on his lips.

The Countess duly arrived at Fenton Hall, just in time to take afternoon tea. Despite her age, and having borne two children, she was still, incredibly, a very fine looking and well preserved woman who looked nowhere near her 64 years. Indeed, as a girl, in her early prime, it had been rumoured that her flirtation with Prince ** might result in marriage. In the end, she had to settle for a mere Earl.

As she sat, elegantly sipping her Darjeeling from the best china, she was greeted by her favourite, (now Lady) Sophie and was shown her extravagant wedding rings; one of which she had once worn herself.

"So sorry I couldn't be at the ceremony, Sophie darling. Such short notice! You look radiant. And, I am supposing that this is your young man!?"

"Yes, Grandmother, may I introduce Sir Justin Smythe."

The Countess held out her gloved hand and Justin instinctively brushed it with his lips.

"I have heard so much about you, Justin. Come here and sit next to me."

Justin scuttled over to Lady Margaret's side and sat in awed silence as the three women conversed. He had been taken aback to see that his wife's grandparent was quite so glamorous. He was by no means a connoisseur, but as a 'healthy' young man he quickly surmised her petite, svelte figure, tiny waist and stylish outfit.

As she held a cigarette to her full red glossy lips, he took every opportunity to peek at her tight, belted, calf-length grey skirt suit in clinging, jersey wool fabric. More peeks revealed sheer black nylon stockings and the highest shiny black stiletto heels he had ever seen. Despite himself, inside his chastity device there was a stirring.

As she was talking to her daughter, Lady Fenton, the Countess casually placed her hand, high up on Justin's thigh. The gentle touch of warm leather fingers over the thin material of his (now always long!) casual trousers was almost too much to bear, as his young cock strained madly against its metal confines. It was a great relief when the tea party came to a close.

Before having any opportunity to decide his next course of action, he was met by the butler, Tompkins who led him up three flights of stairs to his new, temporary room. Left alone in what was effectively a garret, just below the attic, our knightly hero looked about in despondency: A single iron bedstead with a thin mattress and few bedclothes, chair, and table, supporting a basin and jug, containing cold water, his shaving equipment and a comb. The butler had arranged a change of clothes on the chair for the evening. On a shelf, somehow, that book, 'Venus in furs' had made its reappearance. He took it down and with little else to occupy himself until dinner, began to read the femdom classic.

His mother, Lady Agatha was at home in the study, busily telephoning the family solicitors and accountants to establish Justin's new status, arrange an early probate of the will and have her ex-husband's liquid assets transferred to the newly created joint bank account of Sir Justin and Lady Smythe......
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Pub: Jan 11 2021 10:15 UTC
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