Page 27 of Papa's Rules
Her relief was short-lived, however, because Papa gave her breast two quick slaps. “No? Did you just tell your papa no?”
“I would hate for us to be late for our appointment with Mrs. Stilton,” she said, hoping Papa’s penchant for punctuality would ward off further embarrassment.
Papa gave her a stern look. “The carriage moves at the same pace, regardless of whether I am enjoying the bounty of my wife’s body or not.”
Cammie had the squirmies again, but this time for a different reason. That look in Papa’s eyes did not bode well for her backside. And they were having such a lovely outing too. Had she spoiled everything? But, how could a proper lady travel about the city in the middle of the day with her bare breast out where anyone could see? She explained her concerns to Papa. In response, he pulled down the other side of her bodice and gave her other globe two swift slaps before gathering both of her aching breasts in his hands and burying his face between them, his fingers and mouth working her into a frenzy.
Cammie’s head fell back against the upholstered seat, and she buried her hands in his hair. She ought to resist, she told herself, but it felt too good.
While he suckled her right breast, he used his free hand to reach below the skirts of her dress. Cammie gave a half-hearted moan of protest which was met with a slap to her kitty. “Cammie, your objections make me feel as though you do not trust me to know what is best for you,” he said before moving to tug at the peak of her other breast with his teeth.
“B-but, Papa, I do trust you.” Her voice came out ragged, his fingers in her kitty sending pulses of desire through her body.
“Then I would suggest you quit objecting and enjoy the climax Papa is about to give you.”
“No, Papa,” she said, as the waves of desire built and churned through her. “You know I make such loud and unladylike noises when I c-come.” She gasped as his fingers tugged at the nubbin at the top of her kitty.
“I know,” he said, taking one of her hands and pressing it to his cock. “I want you to feel how hard my cock gets when I hear your moans of pleasure.”
Even through the leather of her gloves and the fabric of his trousers, Papa’s desire for her was evident. She licked her lips, remembering the feel of his hard member between her lips.
“Papa,” she said, “I am about to c-climax.” Turning her face, she tried to muffle her sex sounds in the fabric of the carriage seat.
“Cammie,” Papa’s voice was hoarse, “do not turn away. Look at me. I want to watch you come, little wife.”
With a load moan that surely was heard by the footmen and drivers, if not the pedestrians on the sidewalks, Cammie exploded in a climax that left her panting and weak.
“Remember, in public you must address me asLord Cavendish, or simply asmy lord,” Papa said, righting her skirts and bodice. “Perhaps we will take care of my needs on the ride home.” Cammie noticed that his fingers were unsteady at the task and she smiled knowing she affected him as much as he affected her.
Before she could reply, and protest his suggestion that they engage in more carnal activities on the way home, the carriage stopped and a footman sprung into action opening the door for them. Papa exited first and waved the footman out of the way as he offered his hand to his bride and assisted her in descending from the carriage. Cammie’s face flushed and she kept her gaze away from the footmen, certain they had heard her cries of ecstasy.
Papa said a few words to the driver and then escorted his wife into the milliner’s shop.
Cammie gasped. Until this time all of her clothing had been provided for her and selected by others. Before Miss Wickersham, of course, she’d had very little clothing and certainly none of it had ever been made especially for her. Mostly what she wore were scraps and hand-me-downs and rags. When she arrived at Talcott House, there were clothes, but the garments were issued by Miss Wickersham. It was not unusual for them to have been remade from one of the older girls. Cammie was not so foolish or vain as to think Miss Wickersham should have provided a brand new wardrobe for each of her girls. All of that gave her an extra appreciation for the beautiful gowns, day dresses, hats, gloves, capes, boots, stockings and naughty undergarments which her papa had selected especially for her.
And now they had entered the most glorious haven of hats she had ever imagined in her entire life. She couldn’t wait to tell her dear friend Cynny, who had recently written to inform Cammie she would soon have a papa of her very own, all about this marvelous shop in her next letter. Hats of every style and color adorned the walls and an elegant woman rushed toward them. “Hello, Lord Cavendish,” she said. “How pleased I am to see you this morning.”
“Mrs. Stilton,” Papa said, taking Cammie’s hand and drawing her forward. “May I present my new bride, Lady Cavendish.”
Cammie’s heart swelled with pride hearing her papa refer to her as his bride, Lady Cavendish. Mrs. Stilton bobbed a curtsy to Cammie. “Welcome to my shop, Lady Cavendish,” she said. “I am honored to have you here and I hope that I can serve your needs.”
“You have a lovely assortment of hats and other items, Mrs. Stilton,” Papa said. “I think I would like to see Lady Cavendish in something in a pale blue to bring out the color in her eyes. Do you have anything that might suit?”
“Oh, most certainly I do, Lord Cavendish. Please Lord Cavendish, Lady Cavendish, won’t you step this way?” Mrs. Stilton escorted them to an area near the back of the shop with several large mirrors and a cozy padded seat that she pulled away from a dressing table so Cammie could sit down. “If you will simply wait here for just a moment I have several hats I think will be to your liking and I will bring them for you to try on.”
“If you do not mind,” Lord Cavendish said to Mrs. Stilton in a tone Cammie knew meant that whether Lady Stilton minded or not, Lord Cavendish would have his way, “I should like to select the hats myself. Perhaps you can come along and help me to bring them back here while Lady Cavendish waits.”
“Oh yes, of course, of course, Lord Cavendish. I would be happy to assist you in that way.” She rang a bell and a young lady of about Cammie’s age emerged from the back of the shop.
“Priscilla,” she directed, “please see to Lady Cavendish’s needs while I assist Lord Cavendish.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Priscilla acknowledged her employer before turning to Cammie. “My lady, may I bring you a cup of tea or other refreshments?”
It took a moment for Cammie to realize the young woman was talking to her. After years in seclusion at Talcott House, Cammie was unaccustomed to being in a shop and having someone her own age wait upon her.
“No, thank you.” Cammie smiled at Priscilla. She reminded her of Hyacinth and suddenly Cammie felt lonely for a friend. “It must be nice to work in a shop like this.”
Priscilla appeared taken aback. Cammie had likely overstepped a boundary by engaging the employee in chit chat. “Y-yes,” she said, “it is good to have a job, and I am glad I did not have to go into household service.”
