If I was wearing panties, they would be soaking up my juices. But I was a wicked thing. My cunny tingled and itched, a bead of my cream working down m... thighs, teasing me. My skirts and petticoats rustled as my thighs rubbed together, easing the pressure on my clit.I hugged him, holding tight to him. My nipples ached in my dress, rubbing against the silk of my gown. The tingles raced down to my pussy. They added heat to him as his left arm went around me, his right holding a flute of. "Actually," continued the old woman, "I'll be really sorry when it's over. Made a nice change from the usual whippings, beheadings and such. And, of course, he's a very lucky man. If he was a commoner they'd have publicly castrated 'im."Miranda had no idea what that meant, but was too afraid to ask. However, it gave rise to a terrible thought: "The serving maid - she must have been a commoner; did they castrate her?" Oh my Lord, dearie," cackled the old woman, "bless your heart, no, they didn't. More

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