Angeline is getting more daring. She has met some servants of the house out in the woods, where they wouldn't be discovered; now she's awaiting the servants' visit in her bedchamber. She will pretend to be asleep, and they will come in and take advantage of her. What could be nicer?

Unfortunately her husband has also remembered the pleasure he used to take in Angeline's company, and has chosen this night to join her unexpectedly in her bedchamber. How will Angeline sort this all out, while keeping her marriage intact, and still getting a good, regular screwing as well?

WARNING: This 7000-word erotic interlude is Part IV of the Serving At Her Pleasure series. It includes explicity depictions of MM, MMF, and MMMF intimacy, including oral sex and multiple penetrations of numerous orifices, male and female. It takes place in a setting reminiscent of Downton Abbey.

Excerpt:

A knock at the door.

No, her husband, no no no--

The door opened and there was much shouting, and Angeline could hardly make sense of all the noise and light, and worst of all there were no cocks inside her now and she had been so close, so close...

"Ravishing my wife! In my very home!" her husband was declaring. "I shall call the police--no, I shall get my shotgun." He turned and made to leave the room.

"My sweet, please," Angeline called out. "Come here. It is all my fault."

He rushed to her side, and took her naked body in his arms. "My love," he said. "I can't think properly--of course--let me take you from these, these horrible men--assaulting you, in your own bed--why--"

She clung to him, still needing and wanting these men's bodies pressed close to her. She placed a hand on her husband's cheek to calm him a little. "Please," she said. "Just listen for a moment."

He stopped, and looked at her. "You don't mean--"

"It is my fault," she said. "I invited them to my room earlier. I did not expect you to come to me tonight, and by the time I got up her, it was--well--"

His face was white, and his mouth hung open. "A cuckold?" he breathed softly.

"I was alone," Angeline admitted, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. "I felt that you didn't--wouldn't care to--"

A sob choked off her thought. That it had come to this--

She sat down on the bed, feeling the air cold on the lather of sweat--hers and the men's--that coated her skin. She did not look up but her husband's shadow fell across her as he loomed over her.

"Look up at me," he ordered.

Angeline took a deep, quiet breath, and raised her head.

He was licking his lips, and seemed to be without the towering rage that she feared would have possessed him by now. "Your--friends, here," he growled. "They are--servants?"

"They are," she agreed.

"I see." He scanned them, each of them standing naked, bent with shame, at the edges of the chamber. "And you appear to enjoy their--intimacy--with each other?" He spoke with what sounded like great consideration and some labour.

She could not deny this, despite the great humiliation is caused her. "I do," she confessed quietly.

"You there," Lord Shottsford ordered, pointing at Anderson, "come here."

Anderson loped over uncertainly, seeming to shy away as though he might be struck at any moment.

The peer looked him up and down for a moment, then reached to his belt. "Kneel," he ordered.

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