Corrupting Colette Ch. 01

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The cold wind whistled through the snowy field; drifting and swirling, lifting and falling. It was Colette could do not to shiver. She was warm in her coach, a thick mink blanket drawn around her and door drawn tight. Were she more conscientious, she would have offered her blanket to the coachman sitting atop his perch in the cold, but she had entreated into the recesses of her memories and imagination. Was it really only four days ago that she had given herself to him, and in such a manner?


Lady Colette Montgomery, of the London Montgomery’s, was a treasure. She was charitable, kind, and of course beautiful. She dressed in the latest fashions, but had no qualms about donating her old clothing to her maids and their families. She was generous with her inheritance, and surprisingly quite good at picking the right cargo’s to import and export. She ran her home with a frugal thumb, but gifted lavishly to her staff.

At least, this is what the outside world saw.

Internally, Lady Colette Montgomery was a bundle of nerves, doubts, and cynicism. From the moment she woke up until the moment she laid her head to sleep, she was constantly having inside battles with her conscience and intelligence. She worked hard to keep the calm and collected image outside, hoping that she would never have to show just how not in control she was. Her stomach was constantly in knots, causing her to rarely eat anything aside from dry toast and weak tea. This waifish appearance was not a good look for her, but there was nothing she could do. Her parents had left her their fortune, but no wisdom as to how to deal with it. They left her a staff of hundreds, but without an inkling as to what they were paid or what they were worth.

Her parents decided to create a new life in the colonies, but keep their children in England until they could send for them. Colette cursed their impulse each day that went by.

Today was no different, as she drifted slowly out of sleep and stretched. She ran her hands up her legs, hips, stomach, and breasts, taking a tally of her current physique. Frowning, she felt her breasts again.

Shit, she thought, I’m losing weight again.

Letting out a sorry sigh, she sat up and raked her hands through her hair. Of all the beautiful things about Colette, her hair was her glory. Thick and full, it was a curling mass of glossy golden blonde that tumbled down her back to nearly the top of her derriere. Women envied it, men wanted to wrap it around their fists as they took her to new heights of passion. Not that she knew the latter, of course.

A maid bustled in, carrying a tray of food that Colette would inevitably send back untouched, aside from the toast and tea, and a stack of letters. Colette sighed.

“More people wanting things from me, Ingrid? I thought we dealt with it all yesterday,” she teased, throwing back the covers and taking the robe the other maid, Glenda, offered. Ingrid smiled at her mistress, making sure not to hold eye contact for too long or make an offhand remark, and set the tray and letters down at the small table beside the window. She bobbed a curtsy and exited the room, saying nothing. Belting the robe, Colette raised an eyebrow at Glenda.

“Was it something I said?” she asked, slipping her feet into the heeled slippers beside her bed and crossing to the table. Glenda chuckled.

“She’s not used to a mistress who teases or talks to staff. Things are different in Europe,” Glenda said, opening the curtains and allowing the light to come in. Winter was setting in, the snow falling softly and romantically in big fat flakes.

“I do hope that someday she will talk with me. I’ve heard her speaking before; she has a lovely, musical voice,” Colette replied lightly, seating herself at the breakfast table and pouring her tea. In truth, Colette had heard Ingrid being intimate with one of the footmen and downstairs maids, and wanted to hear more about it.

This was another part of her life that the public didn’t know about, her secret fantasies. In truth, she was as experienced as a newborn baby, but she found herself titillated by watching others fucking without their knowing. She knew which maids were sleeping with which men, be it in her household or in town, and she liked to watch. She had never gone so far as to interrupt or to touch herself around them, but she knew that day was coming soon. After seeing and hearing Ingrid with the footman and the maid, she throbbed in places that a proper lady doesn’t admit to even being in possession of.

“I could have words with her, milady, if she is being a nuisance,” Glenda suggested, snapping Colette out of her erotic reverie. Colette sipped her tea and shook her head.

“No no, dear Glenda, the time will come soon enough. What do we have scheduled for today?” she said, nibbling at her toast as she stood up and walked over to her wardrobe. She opened the doors, pondering what she would wear for the day. Glenda joined her, pulling dresses avcılar grup yapan escort out slightly to help Colette decide.

“This morning is for answering the correspondence Ingrid brought in, as well as checking up on the staff in the kitchen. This afternoon, we have a gentleman coming in to see about some of your father’s horses, and this evening is the party at the Winfield’s” she pulled a deep plum dress out from behind a rather hideous yellow one, and at Colette’s brief nod, took it out of the wardrobe.

“Ahh yes, a Lord Wyatt Browning, correct?” Colette asked, lifting her nightgown from her body and replacing it with the undergarments the dress required. Glenda bit her tongue at seeing Colette’s protruding ribs, knowing that she would have to cinch the dress in even further for it to stay up. At least she wouldn’t need a corset.

“Yes, milady. Lord Browning will be by shortly after luncheon, but you needn’t speak with him. Paul will be able to give him all of the information required,” Glenda buttoned up the back of the dress and tied the sash as tight as it would go. The dress, only worn twice before, was already too big. Glenda sighed and turned Colette to face her.

“You really need to eat more,” Glenda said, her hands on Colette’s shoulders. She could feel the bones of her shoulders. Colette cast her eyes downward, embarrassed.

“I know this, Glenda, but my stomach is in knots. I can’t keep down anything more, nor do I have an appetite for it,” she said, lifting Glenda’s hands from her and walking away. One quick look in the mirror confirmed Glenda’s diagnosis. Where Colette was once voluptuous and ample, she now looked like an impoverished maid playing dress-up in her mistress’ clothing. Narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, she turned to the side. She no longer had an enviable bustline, or a pert derriere bump. She no longer found herself attractive, and knew that no one else would either. Coming to this realization, she also came to another. She was starving.

“Glenda, call for Ingrid again. Tell her to set out breakfast for me at the main table. All of it,”


Lord Wyatt Browning was having an awful day. His father, still in control of the family’s estate and more importantly financials, was having a moment of sanity and didn’t wish to purchase yet another horse for their stables. It didn’t matter that this particular horse had won races and was a prime stud; he was hemming and hawing over it. And Wyatt didn’t like that one bit. He had begged, pleaded, and coerced his way into getting his father to purchase it, all for that dream to come tumbling down. He paced the hallway outside of his father’s study, trying to come up with any words to express his frustrations. James Browning looked up from his desk, a small smile on his face.

“For God’s sake, Wyatt, it’s just a horse,” he called out. Wyatt stopped pacing and stared at his father.

“It’s not just a horse, Father. It would sire many thoroughbred horses that we could in turn race or sell for a high profit. It’s not just ‘another horse’, it would make us money,” Wyatt stated earnestly, walking into the study and gripping the back of the leather chair in front of the desk. James simply shrugged and went back to examining the expenses. He had no intention of denying Wyatt this purchase, he just wanted him to realize that money wasn’t something to be squandered on a whim. He had read up on the Montgomery stables himself, researching the specific horse and calling on the stable hand himself to answer specifics. Wyatt had chosen a winner, and James was not going to let it go to someone else.

“Alright, Wyatt. You may purchase this horse. But it will be the last one for awhile, at least until some of the colts are born and sold,” James stated, looking up at the last minute to catch the surprised grin on Wyatt’s face. Wyatt carefully composed himself, embarrassed for having been caught in a moment of sheer disbelief and happiness.

“Yes, Father. I shall be going to the Montgomery estate this afternoon to purchase it,” he said.

And, he thought, getting a glimpse at the beautiful lady it belongs to.

He had heard stories of Lady Colette Montgomery, the beautiful daughter of two rather plain-looking parents. The men he spent time with were lavish with their praise, and randy with their words. He recalled one fellow saying she had “the tits you could bury your face and die a happy man in”. Indeed, he was looking forward to this visit.


The journey to the Montgomery estate was a short and peaceful one, as there were side roads that went directly from the Browning household to there. Wyatt stared out the window at the drifts of snow, his mind switching between being eager for the horse he was about to purchase and being eager to see this fuckable lady. Who, to the best of his knowledge, had not yet been fucked. Of all avcılar masöz escort the women he had been with, he had never taken a virgin to his bed. Certainly, there were some who claimed that they were, but once they had gotten to the point where he dropped his trousers and they stared at his cock, he knew that they were not. One such lady even said that, her tongue coming out to lick her lips, he had the most beautiful cock that she had ever seen. No virgin said things like that.

They pulled to a stop in front of a rather nondescript brownstone building, its entry-way cleared of snow and cheerfully decorated despite the bleak weather. Wyatt climbed out of the carriage with a wave to the coachman and all but skipped up the stairs to rap on the door. A buxom maid in her early twenties opened the door, her eyes quickly raking down his body, before asking the age-old question of “Yes?”

Oh yes, Wyatt thought as he looked at her from feet to face, that is what you’ll be saying. He smiled at the maid, and from the twinkle in her eye knew that she was thinking the same thing.

“I am Lord Wyatt Browning, here to speak with Lady Colette about the horse,”

The maid opened the door further, allowing him to come inside, and closed it behind him. She stood slightly closer than society normally allowed, but didn’t make any motion to step away.

“Certainly, Lord Browning. I shall let her know that you are here,” she spoke with an accent that hinted at Eastern European descent. She certainly looked it. Wyatt caught her wrist before she could scurry away to tell her mistress.

“Tell me your name,” he said softly, pulling her in closer to him. She fluttered her eyelashes up at him, but he could see the desire building.

“Ingrid, milord. My name is Ingrid,” she was starting to breathe heavier, her ample bosom rising and falling rapidly. His eyes were drawn there, and all at once he wished that he could have met her at a more opportune time.

“Ingrid, I will be needing you to fetch your mistress,” he let go of her wrist and nearly laughed out loud at her crestfallen expression “But don’t look sad, pet. I shall seek you out before I depart,” Ingrid nodded and leaned slightly forward.

“I shall meet you in the stable,” she said. “The room where the stable hand sleeps”

And with that, she bobbed a curtsey and flew up the stairs to her mistress. Wyatt took a few deep breaths to clear his mind before being escorted, with a wink, to the stables by a footman. He reached the stall of the beautiful horse in question and his desire for Ingrid was forgotten. This was a beauty of a horse, tall and muscular, with a glossy black goat and hair that fell like rain. He was lost in the glory of the horse, and didn’t hear anyone approaching.

“Lord Browning?” the husky voice snapped him out of his daze. He looked to his right to see an extremely thin blonde in a purple dress, her hands clasped and her green eyes wide. He raised an eyebrow, hoping that this wasn’t the Lady Colette Montgomery that everyone had been raving about. She was almost disgustingly thin, her cheekbones sunken and her renowned tits almost non-existent.

“That is I, Lord Wyatt Browning,” he made the slight formal bow as she curtsied.

“Lady Colette Montgomery. I understand you’re here to purchase our stud,” her voice threw him off. The voice of a siren and the body of a boy.

“Yes, Lady Montgomery. That is, if he is still for sale,” He was going to have a serious talk with the gentlemen at his club about this.

“Of course it is, Lord Browning. I understand that you have met Paul, the stable hand, and your father has also met with him. He assures me that your stables and men attending to them are second to none. I only wished to meet you myself, so I would know who he was going to,” she smiled brilliantly and Wyatt was taken aback. There was the beauty she was renowned for, but it was hiding underneath a fairly awful shell. He bowed again, and she curtsied, taking her leave and walking back to the house. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Ingrid walking towards a back room, her ample derriere winking as she walked. He shook hands with Paul, and made the arrangements to get the horse back to his estate, before walking to the room he saw Ingrid go into.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of a partially naked Ingrid, currently in the process of removing her stockings. He shut the door behind him, never once taking his eyes from her delicious curves. She was bent over at the waist, her chemise gaping at the breast. Wyatt unbuttoned his jacket and waistcoat, untying his cravat and slipping from his shoes. Ingrid smiled wickedly, straightening up and walking towards him, slipping the straps of her chemise from her shoulders as she came closer.

“How do you wa-“Ingrid began to ask, but Wyatt shushed her with his finger.

“No words,” he said huskily. He let his hands run over her plump shoulders, down her back to grip her ass, and avcılar otele gelen escort up her hips to rest on her glorious tits. It was a blast of heat to the groin that had him ripping the chemise down and sucking on one nipple as his other hand kneaded the other. Ingrid’s head fell back as a moan escaped her lips, holding onto Wyatt’s shoulders as he continued to torment her. Switching from one breast to the other, Wyatt slowly moved her back to the bed in the corner, waiting until her knees hit and she lay down before detaching himself and removing the rest of his clothing. Ingrid lay back, her eyes going wide and greedy as she took in his nakedness. He wasn’t over-endowed, but from what he’d heard it was a treat to see a great looking cock. Ingrid’s legs widened and she began running a hand from the inside of her thigh up towards the junction, slowly and tantalizingly. Wyatt stood there, feeling his cock getting harder the more she teased him. Her nipples jutted out, her breasts full and soft, and she saw the desire in his eyes as she continued to move closer and closer to her cunt. Slowly she moved her hand over her mound and closed her eyes with a pleasure-filled moan and stroked her slit, gathering moisture the whole way up.

Wyatt couldn’t believe his luck. Most of the maids that he had encountered were good for a standing fuck, quick and easy. This one was doing her best to make it an enjoyable experience for the both of them.

Her legs opened wider and he could see her stroking herself even better, still not entering her cunt or playing with her clit. Her other hand moved to her breast, palming her nipple and squeezing it occasionally. Finally, her hand stopped at the top of her slit, her middle finger circling the little button of pleasure, and her legs began to shake. She started to moan, her head tipped back and her finger moving faster. Wyatt could take no more of this exquisite torture, and lay down on the bed beside her. He took her nipple into his mouth hard and began to suckle, moving her hand from her mound to his throbbing cock, and using his fingers to play with her.

Ingrid was sopping wet and ready to fuck. She wrapped her hands around his cock, enjoying its hard and pulsing strength. Wyatt groaned and slipped two fingers into Ingrid’s cunt. Her hips rose up to meet his hand, a small moan coming out of her mouth as she stroked Wyatt’s hard cock.

Enough of this, Wyatt thought, pushing hands aside and turning Ingrid over. She turned to look at him for just a moment before Wyatt slammed his cock into her cunt, relishing in its wetness. Ingrid let her neck fall, the pleasure was so great. Wyatt reached underneath her to grope her breasts, pumping wave after wave of heat. Ingrid moved her hand down to her clit and circled it rapidly, feeling the beginning tremors of her orgasm come rushing forth. Wyatt felt her cunt pulsing around his cock, and began pumping harder, leaning back and grasping her hips to get a deeper penetration. He slapped her ass once, twice, three times, getting harder each time. She was moaning and grinding herself back onto his cock, when finally she came. Never had a woman came so violently after such a short period of fucking, at least in Wyatt’s arms. Her screams of passion, not to mention the burst of wetness, triggered his orgasm, which he promptly withdrew and let explode on her back. He stepped back and reached for the cloth hanging over by the wash basin. Cleaning himself up, he tossed the cloth to Ingrid, who laid face-down on the bed, her breath heaving and her back glistening.

Wyatt pulled up his trousers and set about getting dressed again. As he slipped his shoes on, he flipped a coin to Ingrid.

“Thanks, pet. That was fun,” he said as he opened the door “May want to lay off for a bit, though. You’re a bit wide for my tastes” Ingrid throwing her shoe at him slammed the door closed, and he whistled as he walked away.

“Bastard!” was screamed after him, but Wyatt didn’t care. If anything he was just trying to bestow a little honesty on her.

Now to head home and show Father the horse, Wyatt thought happily, walking to the front of the house and jumping into his carriage.


Colette’s breathing slowed as she crouched in her hiding space, the second room at the back of the stable. She had seen Ingrid walk into Paul’s bedroom, rolling her hips and staring at Wyatt without a care as to who saw her. After she had walked away from the stable, she ran around the side and into the second room, finding the knot-hole that she could use to watch. Never before had she seen such a performance, on either Ingrid or a man’s part. She was breathless and incredibly aroused, having seen the raw power that Wyatt exuded in the act of fucking. The sounds they made, the smell of their secretions, even the slapping of Ingrid’s ass were almost too much for Colette. Her sex throbbed with arousal, and she felt the inside of her thighs get wet. She was to the point of almost taking care of it when Wyatt had finished, spraying his semen across Ingrid’s back and cleaning himself off. The comment he made about her cunt being too wide made Colette smile, and the angry and embarrassed look on Ingrid’s face almost made her laugh out loud, but did nothing to detract from her throbbing sex. She had no idea what to do about it, but she knew that Ingrid did.

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