Natalie leaned the redheaded beauty against the bookcase and stood before her, pausing and measuring her. Both of them wore formal gowns that exposed their shoulders and swung loosely around their hips and legs. The redhead, Lady Katelyn Dunmore, was wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline that put on display her impressive bosom. Her face had the kind of imperious beauty that made people stare at her from a distance rather than talk to her. Her red hair was in tight natural curls that stopped short of her bare shoulders. She was the young wife of the local estate owner and they were fighting in the living room of the husband’s estate. The room they were in, where she and her husband preferred to spend their evenings, was large enough to hold some thirty people for a dinner party. It was full of couches, the walls were lined with bookcases like the one she was presently leaning against, and there was a staircase at the far end that led up to their private bedroom suite. Their audience, two couples of roughly the Dunmores’ age, were her dinner guests for the evening, stood against the wall, careful to stay out of range. Outside, a thunderstorm was washing away the last dirty snow of the winter. Lightning flashed and it felt as if the entire room were charged by it. The guests watching the two women compete against each other felt the energy of the night, the spark that connected the two women and the passion that drove them to strain against each other. Katelyn stumbled and putting her arm up to support herself she spilled books onto the floor.
Nat putting her hand on the redhead’s shoulder held her against the bookcase and the two women stared into each other’s eyes. Nat was about six or seven years younger, a blonde beauty with an energy and love of life that never left her face. She had the kind of blue eyes and round cheeks that men and women both wanted to connect to and to partake in. She wore a red dress that displayed her spectacular figure to an even greater effect as Katelyn’s. Despite her youth, Nat’s bosom was the more developed of the two and the feminine curves swelled up in the most tantalizing fashion. Her hair hung down in loose curls around her face as if she had been an angel in some previous life that she scarcely remembered and now clung to her like a skin. And underneath that skin was a young woman who had discovered that, most than anything else, she enjoyed mastering other women. Controlling them. Her fight against the brunette Gabriela had not been her first but it had been the first of that type. And in the time since then she had yearned for more. And now she was getting it.
Two weeks before this, Natalie had been invited to a dinner party being thrown by one of the older families of the region. She had heard that there was a couple, older than she but still rather young, who had recently introduced themselves to the social scene and was making a large impression. Nat herself had had her debutante ball a year before. As she sat before her mirror, studying her eyebrows and the blush on her cheeks, she thought back to that night. She had worn a white dress that revealed just a bit more of herself than the society ladies thought proper, and she’d stood at the top of the stairs as she was introduced by her father and inhaled the stares of her guests. The men had all wanted her and the women had all known that the men wanted her, and Nat had enjoyed every second of it and had wanted to draw it out. They were all studying her hair, her face, her body, and the men would all think about her that night while they fucked their wives. And their wives, they would be talking about her the next day over hot tea and they would know deep down that their husbands had been thinking about her while they were fucking them the night before. This new couple, everyone was saying, were both shockingly attractive as well as witty and wealthy. As Nat finished her eyebrows, she could not help but wonder if those other men and women were thinking about this new lady rather than her. She rose, studying her dress. It was a blue off-the-shoulder gown that put her large bosom and shapely hips on display quite effectively. She told herself that she would be the most beautiful woman at the dance and resisted the urge to change into another dress.
At the dinner party, the crowd was tastefully sized, small enough that the guests felt blessed for the invitation but large enough they could blend in. Natalie did not like to blend in. She arrived alone, as she always did at these events, as she felt that it made the other women more wary of her and what she might do to them, socially. Older men smiled at her and said hello in a way that bordered on inappropriate, and their wives hugged her and said that they wished her father still came to these dances. Nat always smiled back at the older men and told their wives that her father was spending more and more of his time managing their properties—which was partly true. Drinking whiskey all day made it more difficult to keep the books balanced. It also meant you were paying less and less attention to your now-of-age daughter’s inappropriate and barely secret proclivities. As she moved farther into the house, the crowd became younger and the competition more intense. The ladies’ dresses were more expensive, more fashionable, and more revealing now, and the men were more aware of them.
At last, Natalie spotted Lord Thomas Dunmore, one half of the new couple. He was in his late 20s, tall, with full dark hair that hung down toward his eyes, and he had a handsome face that seemed to always obscure his thoughts. Natalie was attracted to him immediately. So were a few other girls, she saw. Lord Dunmore was surrounded by attractive girls of her own age, girls who had like her recently been made part of her society and were eager to show themselves off and elbow their way onto the social stage. All of them wore expensive gowns of loud colors, and all of them were exhibiting a degree of décolletage that the hostess would probably call imprudent but secretly approve of. There were three of them, a blonde and two brunettes, and Natalie thought they were of little opposition for her. She brushed her way through them in a way intended to indicate she was only pretending to be innocuous but was actually signaling to the other girls that they could not hope to stand with her.
“Lord Dunmore, I take it?” Natalie asked, offering her hand.
He took it with an appreciative and obvious look up and down her body. “Indeed, I am. But I’m afraid that I don’t know your name. An oversight that I must apologize for.”
“Natalie Caldwell, if you please, my lord.”
“Oh stop with this lord nonsense. I’m simply Thomas to you. Although it is most certainly my pleasure,” he added at the end. Natalie pretended to blush, and she could feel the other girls’ rolling their eyes behind her.
The five of them continued their small talk until the moment Natalie had truly been waiting for, the arrival of Lady Dunmore. She was wearing a bold green dress that complemented her well-developed body, and her tastefully applied makeup accented her beauty. Her face had narrow, almost tight features that made her look as if she slightly disapproved of everything she saw; but, at this moment her disapproval at the sight of her husband holding Natalie’s hand, his continuing to hold her hand for long after the necessary period had gone by, was anything but slight. With a smile that was anything but genuine, she maneuvered herself to stand alongside Lord Dunmore so that he and Natalie were forced to disengage. She sipped from her wine glass and eyed the younger woman up and down.
“You’re Miss Natalie Caldwell, are you not?” she asked with a carefully managed hint of disdain.
“I am indeed,” Natalie answered. She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and arched her back slightly, turning her eyes from Lord to Lady. “I’m so thankful to finally meet the two of you. Everyone has been just gushing over the impression you’ve made here.”
“Well, thank you. I’m sure that one day they will say the same about you,” she added with a devilish smile.
“It’s true that it’s harder for younger women, as we haven’t had as much of an opportunity. But we do make the most of what we have.”
The two women were now staring directly into each other’s eyes. The intensity of the situation had grown to the point that even Lord Dunmore had noticed it, and he steered his wife away, saying that they had other friends they needed to see. But as he turned, she reached out and touched his upper arm, saying that she hoped that she would have the opportunity to see him again. She said it in a loud enough voice that the Lady, who was now facing away and could not turn to respond with creating a true scene, could not have missed it.
Two weeks after the dance where she had made contact with the Dunmores, Natalie heard that they were having a dinner party for a small group of friends. She was not invited, and she had no expectation that she would have been after their first meeting. Not receiving an invitation would not stop her from attending, of course, and in fact it would add to the effect she wanted to achieve. The dress she had worn then was satisfactory for then, but for tonight she would need something more—or less, as it were, she thought as she eyed her wardrobe. All of the fabrics so soft, the cut of each designed to fit her exactly, some for more conservative occasions and others for less. But for tonight she would pull out that red dress. It was tighter across the stomach and hips than was considered tactful at the time, and while the neckline would be revealing on a woman like Lady Dunmore, on Nat it was positively scandalous. She slid on her underwear and stood before her mirror admiring herself, thinking of how she would like be revealed in this or even less that evening. And then she put on the dress and scrutinized every aspect of her appearance, both looking for any weakness and satisfied that she would trump the good Lady. Her blonde hair luxurious, her makeup what the men would consider gorgeous and the women sluttish, her bosom firm for all its majestic heft and barely contained by the dress. She was everything she could have hoped to be. She stopped by her father’s study and then, finding him asleep in his chair, left home for the evening.
Raindrops thudded dully on the roof of the carriage as she rode to the Dunmore estate, and Natalie thought of her time at the Abertheen School for Ladies and her first proper fight. Her mother had died when she was young, and her father hired a tutor to instruct her on poetry, poise, and all the other things young proper ladies were supposed to care about. The tutor soon gave up on her, and another was hired, and then another. Her childhood and teenage years she had spent under the charge of increasingly strict tutors and also, not unrelated, in a series of conflicts with the other young ladies from the other wealthy families of Galloway. Such conflicts were limited to verbal spats, disagreements over boys or dresses or who had been invited to what. And over the years, Natalie had realized that she enjoyed these conflicts more and more. Finally, soon after she turned eighteen, she had manipulated a dimwitted brunette, whose popularity had been as large as her mind was small, into insulting her in front of a group of girls at a tea ceremony so that she could slap her across the face. The brunette had been taller and heavier but with one strike Nat had put her on her ass, crying and bewildered. But, the brunette’s family had been one of the few in Galloway who had more money than Natalie’s father, and she had been sent away to a girl’s school to “polish the rough edges away,” as her father’s advisor had put it.
The Abertheen School for Ladies, it turned out, had been influenced more by the troubled rich girls who were sent there than the other way around. Natalie had spent one year there. After a month she had taken her first bath with another girl; she had been a slender redhead who’d introduced Nat to wine and scented oils and how those oils could be applied to the female body in joyous ways after consuming enough wine. But the real fun had started when two girls from her etiquette class had escalated their feud from snide comments about clothes to dirty looks and then an exchange of threats. Nat had been in the small crowd who’d followed the two girls behind the groundskeeper’s shed one evening to watch them to settle things between themselves. The Head of the School, a grey-haired woman who called the girls by random first names but always knew their family name, either did not know or did not care that her charges were beating each other senseless in their spare time. The fight itself was relatively benign, but as Nat watched she found herself wondering what it would feel like to be the girl on top, your opponent stuck beneath you, making her feel inferior and forcing her to admit as much, to do with her as you wanted.
After watching the two girls from etiquette class, Nat had wasted no time, and weeks later she had her first catfight behind the groundkeeper’s shed. By the end of her first semester at Abertheen, Nat had humiliated the most aggressive girl at the school in a wild brawl in a rainstorm that lasted several minutes. The other girl had been a year older and a few inches taller, and she’d gotten in a few good slaps at the beginning. But after that, Nat had taken her down into the mud and wore her down, ending the fight sitting on her stomach and slapping her beautiful face until she’d started crying uncontrollably. And after that, no one else would challenge her. She’d spent the rest of her time there dating a submissive redhead who let her do whatever she wanted in their room in the cold nights, under the blankets—the bribe to get her new girlfriend reassigned to her room had been less than she’d been expecting and left enough to secure a line of quality wine as well. And Nat had returned to Galloway a young lady who knew a great deal more about herself and how to satisfy her needs than when she had left.
The Dumores’ doorman was too enchanted to prevent her entry, after she had smiled her damnedest at him and touched his arm while explaining that she had not been invited only because she had expected to be away, but then at the last instant her father had been detained on urgent business here and so she had decided to come, even though she looked the devil. The poor man had looked her up and down one last time, swallowed painfully, and let her inside. The manor was large, and Natalie had to admit that it was nicer than her own family home. The house had been newly remodeled and Katelyn had good taste, refined and elegant. Natalie ran her hand across the breastplate of an exquisite suit of armor that stood as if on guard over the entryway. The other guests had taken notice of her, and as there were only a few of them Natalie was confident than someone would be getting word to the host and hostess that she had crashed their party. One of the husbands approached her with a smile and offered her a glass of wine. Natalie accepted the wine and downed it in one gulp and handed the empty glass back to him, and she was nearly sorry when his wife materialized and led him away with a sharp pull on his elbow. Natalie only smiled and moved on to the cavernous living room, where the Dunmores would entertain. The other guests were here, talking in pairs, and all the heads turned when she entered the room.
“Natalie, what an unexpected and welcome surprise,” Lord Thomas Dunmore said from across the room. He hurried over and gently shook her hand, and she curtsied in response.
“Why, I am so glad to hear you say that,” Natalie responded. “I was worried, after my invitation did not arrive.”
“An oversight on my wife’s part, no doubt.”
“It certainly was not,” Lady Katelyn said, suddenly appearing at her husband’s side. She was wearing a black dress that showed off her impressive bust well, and her red hair hung in tight curls around her beautiful face. She and Nat eyed each other warily, and they drew themselves up straighter, emphasizing the swell of their bosoms as accentuated by their well-tailored dresses, and Nat pushed a string of her blonde hair behind her ear as she grinned mischievously at Lord Thomas. Katelyn mirrored her, brushing her own red hair back as well.
“Well why on earth not,” asked Katelyn’s husband.
“Because she is not welcome here,” Katelyn answered. She and Nat were now beginning to lean toward each other, their breathing increasing.
“It seems to me that Lord Dunmore would like for me to stay,” Nat said.
“And why would he want that?”
“Oh, I’ve seen the way your husband looks at me,” Nat responded.
Katelyn had narrowed her eyes and stared hard at her, then kicked off her shoes. Nat did the same. “Don’t interfere, no matter what happens,” Katelyn said. “I’m going to throw this little girl out of my house.” And they had circled each other and then began catfighting.
The redhead Katelyn was still leaning against the bookcase, gasping for air in an effort to regain her strength. Nat slapped her across the face and held her in place, digging her hand into her bare shoulder with a strength that was difficult to square with her brief stature and the innocent appearance of her face when she was not in conflict with another woman. Then she pushed Katelyn’s face up by the chin and brought her other hand down in a vicious slap on the top of the woman’s cleavage. The redhead yelped in pain. The sound was hard and loud and was the only sound in the room but for the gasping of the two women. In a burst of energy Katelyn broke free and went stumbling across the room. She somehow kept her feet, her dress spinning in the air as she came around and met the charging Nat. They collided chest to chest, their hair flying in the air around them in the violence of their movements, and women instantly threw arms around each other as they fell to the floor. They struggled against each other mindlessly, churning back and forth, pulling hair, gripping and slapping at each other’s backs, their beautiful faces and bodies pressed together. Some in the audience inhaled sharply at the sight of the two women and at the hellish shrieks they emitted as they fought.
They both rose and immediately grabbed each other by the hair again, pulling down so that they were both bent at the waist and turning in a circle. They spun again and again until at last Nat reached out and pulled Katelyn’s large breast out of her dress, which offered very little protection from the appreciative eyes of their audience and none at all from her dangerous fingers. Then she gripped it horizontally, like an udder, and began squeezing and pulling. Immediately Katelyn began howling and stamping her foot on the ground. She let go of Nat’s blonde locks and pulled herself free of the attack. The front of her dress was torn open now and she looked down at herself and the audience could see the rage growing in her face. Smiling, Nat slapped her across the face with a right and a left. But this time Katelyn took the blows and gave them back, a right and left of her own to the beautiful face of the younger blonde. And now they exploded, a fury of slaps to the face, sending each other stumbling around the room. Members of their audience were sent scrambling out of the way as one fighter and then the other was sent against a wall by the force of the below, always rallying and coming back to the center to begin again. At the beginning, the spurt of rage and power gave Katelyn the advantage, but soon enough Nat had endured and asserted herself. She was hitting Katelyn twice or three times for every blow she took in return, and Katelyn’s entire face was a deep reddish purple on both sides. At one pass, as they came close, Katelyn took hold of the front of Nat’s dress with one hand and struck her hard on the cheek with the palm of her other, repaying the insult done to her own clothing. In the end, their energy ebbed, and they came in together close. They stood leaning on each other, hands in hair, chests pressed together and chins on each other’s shoulders. Then, suddenly, Nat bent her head and bit into Katelyn’s shoulder. It was almost more in play than an attempt to seriously injure, but Katelyn hopped to life and twisting herself threw Nat to the ground. But the blonde held on and pulled the redhead down with her.
After fighting on the ground again, they came to their feet and spun across the room like a whirling dervish, pulling at blonde or red hair, and then they collided with the couch and landed lengthwise on it and their momentum tipped the couch over and they spilled onto the floor behind it. Katelyn pulled herself to her feet and went stumbling along the wall and then Nat rose behind her and with a snarl she gripped her beautiful dress from behind and tore it open, completing the destruction their fighting had well progressed. Katelyn seemed to barely notice and she was now crawling along the ground on her hands and knees, in her panties and her stockings that were nearly shredded, her large breasts swaying under her. Nat herself caught her balance with one hand on the wall and stood gasping and staring wild-eyed at her, as beautiful as ever in her own nearly ruined dress and now as much a devil as an angel. And then as her opponent came back to her feet Nat ripped apart what was left of her own dress. She stood topless in her own ruined stockings and her red panties, her majestic breasts standing out firmly on her chest. Katelyn stood and faced her, both women panting hard and glaring at each other and then they began circling, bent at the waist, their fingers curled, like two gorgeous jungle cats.
Still circling slowly, they came back into the middle of the room. Their breasts rose and fell as they gasped for air. Nat lunged forward with her hands out, going for Katelyn’s hair, but the redhead somehow leaned back and simultaneously popped her on the cheek with quick slap. Nat was stunned for an instant and then they began circling again, a smile creeping across Katelyn’s face, then when Nat came at her again Katelyn dodged to the side and delivered another strike, this time to the side of Nat’s large bust. But this time rather than resetting and circling with her again Nat flung herself through the air and crashed into Katelyn. Chest to chest they strained against each other but Katelyn was off balance and Nat began driving her strong legs and soon enough Katelyn was crashing into the wall behind her. And then as the redhead stood dazed, her head now leaning against Nat’s, Nat twisted her hips and shoulders and put her down on the ground. The older woman still had some fight in her and the two churned over each other, pulling hair and slapping at each other as best they could. At one point, Katelyn was sitting atop the buxom blonde and rained slaps on her face but Nat blocked them with her forearms held over her face and bucked her hips trying to roll her off. But instead Katelyn came back down atop her again and ended up lying across her, perpendicular. Katelyn was covering her face with her torso and pulling at her hair with one hand and punching and slapping at her side with the other. It looked like a turning point until Nat bit into her breast. Katelyn hopped up, kneeling and checking her bosom for bite marks and then Nat crashed into her and they fell longways again. At another, they were lying side by side, cheeks pressed together, and instinctively both women began pinching each other’s large breasts. Both women shrieked and squealed in pain and then Nat was able to get hold of her nipple and twisted it back and forth and in a panic Katelyn gave up her own grip and pried the hand away. They were again pulling at each other’s hair, rolling and straining against each other.
But then Nat just wore Katelyn down. She was lying on top of her and Katelyn got a punch into the side of Nat’s breast, which welled out to the side as the two women were pressed together. Nat rolled off, clutching at herself, and Katelyn got to her hands and knees and started crawling away. Her hair hung down over her face and she seemed only dimly aware, awash in fatigue and pain. Nat regained herself and then was on her. She pulled Katelyn’s head up by the hair and pulled her all the way over backwards onto herself, so that she was behind her and then she clamped her legs around her midsection. And now she had her trapped and both women and their audience all knew it. As Nat arched her back and pulled on her curly red hair she made eye contact with Katelyn’s husband and she saw the lust in his eyes as he watched the blonde beauty finish off his wife. She held Katelyn like that, stretching out her body and she lay moaning between her legs, atop her. At last Katelyn started working to free herself, first prying at Nat’s feet to unlock them and trying to reach behind her head to grasp Nat’s hair. But she could find no relief with either approach and soon enough she was slapping ineffectually at Nat’s thighs. And then her situation worsened as Nat reached around her and grabbed her breasts. She was pulling and squeezing at her large firm chest, sometimes pinching and twisting her nipples and other times digging her fingers in and mauling her, and she leaned forward and put her cheek against Katelyn’s.
“Your husband is getting off on watching me whip you,” she whispered in the older woman’s ear.
The taunting gave Katelyn the energy for one last try. The women scrambled on the floor but in the end Nat was sitting on Katelyn’s chest. They handfought for a few seconds and then Nat walloped her across the face with a vicious slap that echoed in the luxurious room. The redhead went limp under her and Nat slowly, methodically, positioned herself so that Katelyn’s arms were pinned under her legs and she was sitting on her diaphragm so that Katelyn’s large breasts and her face were framed under her in the V of her lap. She then sat up, her hands on her hips, her blonde hair in a mess that still somehow framed her beautiful face perfectly, her raw and battered bosom rising and falling with her harsh breathing. She surveyed the room and then stared down at the woman who lay helpless under her. Then she slowly traced the outline of her jawline with her forefinger, dragging it down her neck to her collarbone and then horizontally across the swell of her breasts. Katelyn was still dazed but she stared up at her, at the woman who had beaten her and now sat atop her and could do to her as she pleased in front of her husband. And Nat continued to run her fingers over her features, her face and her neck and her shoulders and her breasts. She hit her with light slaps to the face and to her breasts, just hard enough to agitate her but not enough to hurt her. Both ladies and their audience as well knew the outcome of their struggle.
“Do you submit?” Nat asked her, tapping her on the forehead as she spoke. Katelyn nodded.
“Can I stay for dinner?”
Katelyn hesitated, and then she nodded.
“You need to say it,” Nat prodded, but Katelyn shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. “Say it or I’ll hurt you. Hurt that pretty face of yours,” Nat said, putting her hand gently on Katelyn’s cheek and then fingering her red hair.
“Please stay for dinner,” Katelyn gasped, finally.
And so half an hour later Natalie was seated at their dinner table. A butler found one of Katelyn’s dresses for her to wear, and the smaller cut left her falling out of the top of it, but she did not care. She was sitting to Lord Thomas’s left and Katelyn was to his right. She was also wearing a new dress. The faces of both young beauties were still flush, and even the slightest exertion caused them to start breathing heavily again. It took all of their energy to begin eating their roast duck, and even that caused beads of sweat to pop out on their foreheads. Natalie could see the guests’ trying to steal glances at her and at Katelyn and she ignored them. She did lock eyes with Lord Thomas whenever the opportunity presented itself, however. Katelyn was staring down at her plate, sometimes eating and sometimes not. Nat wondered if she was thinking of how to get her revenge, feeling shame at having lost, or simply feeling the exhaustion. Probably all three.
The guests ate silently until the desert arrived. As they were eating their lemon cakes, one of the guests, a very pretty young woman whose husband kept stealing glances at both Natalie and Katelyn, spoke up. “We’ve heard about the events at the Murrell estate. We all have, right?”
“It seems to me that that sort of thing wouldn’t have happened in my father’s time,” said the tight-faced man sitting next to Natalie.
“Oh we all know that it was happening,” relied the pretty young woman. She was a brunette with a slender figure and short hair. “All sorts of things have always happened in Galloway. It just seems to me that they’re starting to happen more,” and here she paused, “in the open.”
“Maybe those things should stay hidden,” said the tight-faced man.
Natalie spoke for the first time since she’d been seated at the table by their butler—who had given her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he did, which no one else had noticed. “I think it’s healthier to be open about who you are and what you enjoy,” she said, making eye contact with the slender brunette at the end. And so at the end of the dinner, the tight-faced man and his silent wife left, and the other couple, the pretty brunette and her husband who had been glancing at Katelyn and Natalie, stayed the evening. And they had a very enjoyable night together, although less so for Katelyn.
The master bedroom was larger than Natalie’s father’s room and multiple times the size of her own. The private bedroom of an estate was seen as a symbol of the private lives of the owners, unlike servants and less important family members, who only stood in relation to the owners of the estate and could never embody the family itself. There were white and pink lilies in vases on the tables and nightstands around the room. Natalie picked one and sniffed it, watching Katelyn, who stood scowling at her, then she gathered all of them up and scattered them on the bed. Then she pulled Thomas over to the bed and first she slowly disrobed him, pulling off his dinner jacket and then his shirt and his pants, and then she gently pushed him over backwards onto the bed. Then she slowly, teasingly pulled off her own dress—or rather Katelyn’s—to leave herself only in her panties. As she stood there, topless, swaying her hips in some unheard rhythm, she pointed at Katelyn and then at a chair nearby. When Katelyn didn’t move, the pretty brunette took her by the arm and led her to the chair and drawing the chair up to sit before her marriage she pressed Katelyn down into it. Then, smiling, knowing that the wife was watching, Natalie pulled Thomas’s pants down and pulled out his rigid cock and sucked him off. And then after that she pulled down her panties and mounted him. She thrust herself up and down on his cock, her large breasts and her beautiful face glistening with sweat and desire, the consummation of her fight with Katelyn and the desire it had stirred in her.
After she was done with Thomas, Natalie made Katelyn stand and then she tore off her dress and her panties. She made the redhead get on the bed with her and for Thomas to take the chair, to watch as his wife massaged Natalie’s breasts, kissed her nipples and her lips and stroked her hair and told her how beautiful she was, how stunning her young womanly body was, how every man desired her. Then she led Katelyn over the husband of the pretty brunette and made her pull out his cock and lick it, slowly. And while Katelyn did that Natalie kissed the pretty brunette and gently pulled off her dress and they touched each other’s nipples and kissed each other in front of Lord Thomas and Katelyn had finished off the husband Natalie made her turn and watch her husband as he watched, his cock as hard as ever, as she and the pretty brunette slowly kissed and touched each other and their bodies fell into rhythm as they rocked and swayed together. And then when they were done, the brunette and her husband left and Natalie slept the night in Katelyn’s bed with her husband while the beaten redhead sat glaring at her in the chair.
