Every now and then a Celestial would implant their life force into a human vessel. They would choose whichever male or female who struck their fancy, and would sink into their fleshy bodies and live out their lives for a few days as an established mortal. Both Saphara and Makala had several mortal identities that they “jumped into” every now and then. The mortal soul would not leave its body, but would slide over and allowed for the Divine intrusion. Sometimes these mortals could feel their bodies being drained and boarded, but these conduits were usually unaware. The Celestials would not change or use their magic in the bodies of these people but instead preferred to live simply as a mortal, with mortal needs and pains. Makala sat half reclining half laying on her cloud lounger. She parted the floor of her palace by swiping and elegant hand and looked down at all the planes of the earth. Makala chuckled. It was time, she thought. With a deep sigh she pushed herself off her lounger, and tumbled down to the earth into the body of one of her favorite conduits.
Lady Honoria Pendleton was the epitome of a British Lady. She was incredibly beautiful and sophisticated, and she was also wealthy and powerful. She sat high upon London’s social hierarchy. She had a smidgeon of royal blood, and she would not let anyone forget it. Naturally, she was a complete bitch; Honoria was haughty and overly proud. She had never known anything less than what she demanded. On this particular Friday morning, Honoria went for a ride through the pastures that surrounded her decadent country manor. Her husband, who with the exception of his money and family, was an utter disappointment. Being raised in an era where sex and the body were considered sinful, Lord Joseph Pendleton would only go as far as sex for procreative purposes. Never had he seen his wife of 10 years completely naked, he simply visited her side of the bed to produce heirs for the Pendleton family. Honoria’s lush body quickened three times and she bore two strong sons and one daughter. Honoria did not believe that sex was a sin, perhaps that was the drop or two of gypsy blood she had in her as well, (although she would deny it, nothing could take away from her nearly perfect pedigree!). She had such high expectations; she had even tried to fall in love with her husband when she had met him at the ripe age of 14. They were married just before she turned 1; Joseph was already 30 at the time. Joseph was a handsome man, but despite his sweet nature, he was cold and proper. Everything had its time and place and manners were second to God. This did not bode well with a woman who was used to freedom and love. On their wedding night, Joseph wouldn’t touch her. Honoria tried to tempt him by revealing an elegant leg bedecked in silk Parisian stockings. Joseph instead flipped her around and spanked her for her callous and sinful error. With tears of indignation, Honoria fought her husband. She was both heartbroken and humiliated, who wouldn’t want the body of the most beautiful woman in all of London, especially the man who wrote her poems of his love and devotion to her? Honoria was not a stupid woman and even though she was innocent in the carnal arts, she knew that the struggle she was engaging with her husband was arousing his lust. She felt it rise against her thigh as he held down her flailing fists. Joseph roared at her for she was being most unladylike. He lifted her night gown and held it up to her rapidly beating chest. Joseph pulled out his member, it was thin and was a dark purple in color, (Honoria always thought it looked like the tongue of a hairy beast). With a clumsy stroke, Joseph tried to breach her maidenhead, but missed. He tried again and again, and was getting progressively frustrated. He finally took one hand off of her and took ahold of his cock. With his other hand he spread her dry and quivering petals and spread her harshly. Joseph thrust into her halfway, meeting the barrier of her virginity. Honoria cried out in pain, but was too weak to fight him off. Joseph pushed himself all the way in and groaned. Honoria screamed as she felt her tender flesh rip and strain against his member. It was at that moment that Honoria changed forever; love was an illusion and men were animals. Joseph had never loved her, he was wanted her status, her money, and the power her family had. As Joseph flopped and groaned Honoria fell silent, she focused on the burning flame of a single candled that flickered on the nightstand. When it was over, Joseph slumped over her body and released his slime into her dry, bleeding, and abused sex. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear after a time, “but you sinned and you needed to be punished. Tomorrow we will both visit the church and will pray for your sins.” Honoria turned her head and looked into her husband’s eyes with her clear blue ones. “My sin, husband?” she sneered in contempt, “Get out of my bed. GET OUT.” Joseph looked at her in bewilderment. “Need I punish you again, harlot?” His voice quavered, he was actually a bit frightened by the cool glare in her eyes. Honoria made a hissing noise that expressed her deep anger and hatred. Joseph, who didn’t know if leaving his wife made him wise or cowardly, fled the chamber. Honoria bolted up from her bed and immediately fell to the ground clutching her middle section. With a deep breath she blinked back tears and stood up. She ignored the pains and marched to the door where she locked it shut. She slumped against it but would not sink down to the floor. Blood was visible though her ripped garment, and it trickled down her inner thighs and stained her fancy stockings. Slowly, Honoria crossed the room to her marriage bed and looked at the remains. The sheets were soaked in his smelly perspiration and there was a deep splattering of blood. Her tears wetted the pillow where her pretty head thrashed. She stripped off her clothes and then removed the sheets and pillow case. In a large bundle Honoria walked over to the hearth which she let lit. One by one she tossed the linens into the fire and watched them burn. She could care less of the ancient tradition of viewing the bloody sheets. Surely everyone in all of England had heard her screams of pain and humiliation, but no one would ever see the evidence of her degradation. Honoria Brimbleloe was no more, she was Lady Honoria Pendleton and she would be damned if she was weak. With dry eyes she burned away the beginning of a new life.
These were the thoughts that Honoria Pendleton had, seldom as they were for she had forbidden herself from reflecting upon the rough circumstances of her past. From that day on, Honoria had built a brick wall around her; she was cold, sharp, harsh, and commanding. She would never forgive her husband for deceiving her love and slaking his lust upon her. Joseph, who was actually intimidated by the brisk change in his wife’s demeanor, let her vent. She got everything she wanted, and, for Honoria was not stupid, acted like the model British wife. She went to church, participated in social events as a proper married matron, gave birth to three children, and respected the word of her husband. But when they were alone, she would not speak to him. In fact, she would not even let him sleep with her. Unbeknownst to everyone in the house and friend circle, Honoria allowed her husband to sleep on the floor on a small pallet that was tucked away and hidden beneath the floor boards. She told him that it would be proper this way, lest they be tempted by sin. And as she was so fragile as a woman, her body would not be able to adjust to the rough floor. So, Joseph slept on the floor for ten years. He did love his wife, but to his dismay, he did not understand her. He chose to love her at a distance, allow her unlimited shopping funds, and kept from her bed except for a few nights here and there to seed her with his children.
It would be untrue to say that Honoria did not love. Her three children, Magnus, Jasper, and Velvet, were loved with all her heart. Only with them was she able to show them her sweet and kind self. She was an excellent mother and did her best to raise them properly. She swore that her lovely little daughter Velvet would never go through what she went through with Joseph.
Her horse walked slowly through the pasture. Honoria wore a cool gown of yellow lawn. Lace covered her bosom to her neck and a string of pearls hung down. Her gloves were a very fashionable white leather, as were her shoes. Her hat was skewed at an angle and her dark golden tresses were coifed in a matronly bun. Honoria, at 26, was as gorgeous as she was if not more than in her “youth”. With childbirth her frame swelled nicely, her breasts were enormous and overflowed her corsets. Her ass and thighs were a plump white but her waist remained small and petite. Her husband admired her beauty but had a hard time looking at her. He loved her but he knew that she did not, but he could not fathom why.
Honoria was not alone in this walk. She was accompanied by a stable groomsman and one of her personal female servants, for it would be entirely improper to be alone with a man who was not her husband, especially a lowly groomsman. “Clyde,” voiced Honoria gently yet firmly, “Take me to the meadow.”
“Yes, my Lady.” Replied Clyde. He was a handsome young man around the age of 20. He was an Irish lad; his tight black curls hung down over deep violet blue eyes. His skin was tanned and he had an easy smile. Emily, Honoria’s lady servant, was several years older than Honoria herself. She lived a simple life, and she understood Honoria as no one else could. Having taken care of her since she had first arrived at Pendleton Manor, Emily saw that Honoria was distraught. She was miserable, and Emily had seen the effects of love intermeshing with social order and propriety one to many times. No one knew better than Emily did about these sort of things. Love was beautiful, and yet men of this era loved only their wealth, status, and order. She had been involved in several affairs with noble lords and after one too many heartbreaks, she moved to the country, adopted a new name, and came into the service of Lady Honoria. Only Honoria knew Emily’s story and she kept it hidden within.
What Emily understood what others did not about Honoria; Honoria, for all intents and purposes, was horny. And why not? She was young and beautiful and was built for pleasures. Emily had intruded upon a bath one time in which Honoria was touching herself and moaning. Shocked, Honoria threw a bar of soap at poor Emily, who only came in to give her towels. This was one of the few times that Honoria allowed herself to cry. Emily covered the sobbing girl with a fresh towel and held her as she cried. Emily felt a true attachment to Honoria, and Honoria returned the feelings. Perhaps Emily was the only one besides her children that she actually loved and cared for. Emily soothed her and when she had finally quieted down she say, “Lady, you need a man. “
“What?” gasped Honoria, “I am a married woman!”
“Aye, but your husband does not please you, does he?” Emily looked into her mistresses red rimmed eyes. “I hear your cries at night, my Lady. No one should have to go through with that, even if the Church says it is alright. It is wrong, and I would burn at the stake for that belief to be abolished. Pleasures are natural and a joy that God gave to all of us to share.” Emily was silent for a moment. “Would you like me to pleasure you?”
Honoria’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “But, that is not wrong?” she was not even surprised at this conversation. The fact that the servant had the audacity to hold her, soothe her, and to offer Sapphic love was grounds for a whipping followed by a termination, but strangely, Honoria was not offended. Instead, Honoria said, “Pleasure me, Emily. Serve my body as you serve me.” Honoria took the woman’s face into her hands and kissed her upon the lips. Emily returned the kiss with her large and sensuous lips. Emily may not have been considered fashionably beautiful in London for her eyes were as black as her hair, and her skin was a light olive color. Her face was covered in dark freckles. She was tall and willowy and walked with a grace that not even a high Lady such as Honoria could attempt. Whenever Emily spoke, traces of an accent could be heard, she was French but had worked hard to overcome that. Only with Honoria would she speak her native tongue, it was too painful to remember the days where she was once loved and treated like a lady only to be beaten out by a jealous wife. The two caressed each other, and Emily was even astounded at Honoria’s bold movements. Emily kissed the side of Honoria’s neck and breathed in the lavender fragrance. Honoria sighed and shuddered at the contact, Joseph never kissed her like this. Honoria started to remove Emily’s clothes until both her naked. She looked at Emily’s large breasts and began to suck upon her dark nipples. She nibbled on the gently eliciting a small gasp from Emily. The two held hands and walked slowly across to the stone ledge that lined the wall of the room dedicated to baths. Honoria laid on her back and Emily straddled her, slowly rubbing her smooth and bare sex along Honoria’s faintly fuzzy one. Emily kissed her torso and licked down her belly button all the way down to Honoria’s light pink petals. She spread them with her finger tips and fished out her tongue. Honoria’s body violently jolted at the intimate touch. “My love,” whispered Emily, “Do not fight it.” Emily returned and gently flicked her tongue on Honoria’s love jewel until her essence seeped down and pooled on the marble ledge. Emily lapped up the juice starting at the base of the perineum and then delved her tongue deep into Honoria’s vagina and began to mimic a thrusting power. Honoria sighed and moaned and thrashed. As her pleasure began to build Emily placed her palms onto her stomach and held her in place. Honoria felt all of her energy locate itself in her vagina. Time seemed to stop and she could nearly hear the buzzing power of her orgasm charging up. With a burst of bliss, Honoria erupted with sensations of glorious achievement as her inner walls began to contract powerfully. Emily continued to lick as she thrust in two thin fingers and pumped into her lover, prolonging the pleasure. When Honoria regained her senses, she noticed that she was being held my Emily who was gently caressing her head. Honoria turned her face and kissed her. “Thank you, Emily.” She said. “May I pleasure you?”
Emily chuckled at her eagerness. Her voice was deep and warm. “Only if you want, mon petite chou.” Honoria positioned herself to recline within Emily’s thighs. For a few moments she just looked at it. Honoria, being taught all her life that this was wrong, stared amazed at the beauty of the vagina. Emily looked like a rose, a dark rose dripping with fresh dew. Honoria lowered her golden head and gently kissed her nether lips and licked the moisture off with her tongue. She could not believe it, Emily tasted just like apples! “It has a taste?”
“Yes, everyone has a taste, my dear. Taste yourself, you are quite delicious.” Emily rolled up and plunged finger into Honoria’s sex. She withdrew her finger and offered it for Honoria to taste. Honoria suckled it. She tasted of a tangy yet sweet spice that was intoxicating. Overcome with lust, Honoria pushed Emily back down and bent and bit the inside of her thighs. Emily swooned and made little raspy noises in the back of her throat. Honoria, with a curious tongue, darted back and forth between her petals, and lapped. “Honoria, my love,” said Emily, “This is my jewel, I would like for you to taste me there.” Emily parted her lips and revealed a small knotted nub. Honoria pointed her tongue and stabbed it. In no time at all Emily was climaxing and her juices spewed forth between her thighs. Honoria laid her head down on her thigh and almost fell asleep, never had she been so relaxed in her life. Was it perverse what she had done? No, she thought, she served my body and I served hers. We both have needs and never will I go without pleasure again.
Honoria and Emily met and pleasured each other every day, with the exception of their menses. Emily caressed and soothed Honoria’s tender flesh after the nights when her husband felt the need to carry on the family line. Emily helped to teach Honoria the carnal arts of Sapphic love. The two became best friends and vowed not to let their stations in life get in the way of their pleasures. So far they had done a very good job. They confided in each other everything. Emily even told her about her male lovers.
“You take male lovers as well?” asked Honoria? She felt a small wave a jealously but then blinked it back. For she loved Emily, it was not romantic, Honoria did not believe in romantic love.
“Yes, my love, I take male lovers. Does this upset you?” asked Emily with bright eyes.
“No, actually. It does not. It pleases me that you get so much pleasure, I wish I could know the pleasures of a man. My self-righteous animal of a husband does not understand that I have needs as well.”
“My dear! We can remedy this.” And from that moment on, Emily suggested that Honoria take a male lover, and she did. The son of the baker was a young man around her age whose cock was impressive yet he was sterile. Emily knew this for she seemed to know just about everything. She had arranged for secret clandestine meetings between her mistress and the baker’s son. Honoria learned the pleasures of man and enjoyed them just as much as pleasures of woman.
These were the other thoughts that Honoria reflected upon during her ride. Finally, after several minutes, the trio had reached the meadow. Clyde helped his mistress down of the horse and then tied the animal to a tree. Then he joined hands with Emily and Honoria and walked to where they had hidden a small pavilion. In this meadow, social order was forgotten. There were no names, no titles, no responsibilities, only pleasures. At the pavilion, Emily helped Honoria out of her riding attire. She undid her corset until she was naked, save for her lacy garters and stockings. Emily was then helped by Honoria as Clyde undressed himself. In no time at all the trio was naked. Clyde reached to grab and squeeze the cheeks of the women he was with. He loved the dark taut ass of Emily as he loved the dimpled white ass of Honoria. The two woman began to kiss each other, and Clyde began to stroke his manhood. Honoria broke from the kiss and knelt down on her knees. She took Clyde’s burgeoning manhood deep into her mouth and suckled him until he was hard. Emily lowered herself and spread Honoria’s white cheeks and flicked her warm tongue on her rosy fundament. Her tongue traced the crack back and forth and was able to sample her already flowing juices. Clyde took command of the situation and told both women to lay down on their backs. He kissed both and made sure that they were both flowing. He thrust three fingers of one hand into Emily, and three of his other hand into Honoria and began to pump them until they were both squirming with their need. He stopped and fell in the middle of them. They all began to kiss and lick and suck one another. Their sighs of mutual satisfaction mixed with the sounds of the wind blowing in the trees and the birds chirping. Emily’s sensuous lips enclosed upon his manhood and got him all damp. He then took his cock and drove it into Emily, slowly and deeply. Honoria positioned herself so that her nether lips dripped upon Emily’s face as she began to lick and suck the tangy fluid. Clyde then withdrew and pulled Honoria to her knees. She and Emily had reversed in a way and now Honoria was licking Emily’s apply juices. Clyde took his cock that was bathed in Emily’s juices and guided it into Honoria’s rosy fundament. He enjoyed the pleasures that could be obtained in her Portal of Sodom. He grabbed hold of her white cheeks and luxuriated in the feeling of her warm tightness of her most secret of pleasure gardens. One of his hands reached around to stroke her love jewel. The pace of the trio began to heat up as their impending climaxes refused to be put off. All three reached heaven at the same time; Clyde unleashed his boiling juices into Honoria’s tight ass, Honoria buckled and sighed as her love jewel quivered and bounced, and Emily emptied her apply nectar all over Honoria’s face. The trio slumped over, well satisfied. Clyde positioned himself in the middle with an arm around each woman. Honoria held Emily’s hand and felt the love around her. Even though she did not believe in romantic love, in this secret pavilion, Honoria loved with all her heart both Clyde and Emily, for they loved her back. The Celestial that resided within her kept her strong from the Falling, but in mortal terms, kept her from falling in love. The third God, the strongest of all, was the God of Love, and to Fall in love was the greatest blessing of all. Though it came at a deep cost for Celestials, mortals paid as well. She had yet to find that person yet, and that was okay, because for now, she didn’t have to be in love to enjoy the joys bestowed by the God of Love.