Sally

Part 11

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright 2024 greyscribbler@yahoo.com

Archived on the Read Only Mind web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

“Amelia!” Charlotte exclaimed, taking her friend by the hands as the blonde entered her room. She would have loved to do more than that, but they weren’t alone. Sally was there, of course, but that didn’t matter. But Clara was standing outside the door. She couldn’t let Clara know what they did. What she wanted to do. Grab Amelia. Kiss that neck. Rip those fine clothes off her. Throw her onto the bed.

She could see the same desperate need in Amelia’s eyes.

They both wanted to be fucked.

“Do you need anything else, Miss?” Clara asked with a delightfully little curtsy.

The girl was pretty, all rosy cheeks and limpid eyes. What would it be like to take her? What would it feel like to lock her lips around the maid’s nipples? What did that place between her legs taste like? Why should it be only the male servants she fucked? “No!” Charlotte cried, half to herself. Clara’s startled expression brought her back to herself. “No,” she repeated, much more properly. “Thank you, Clara. That will be all.”

“I thought she’d never leave,” Amelia grinned, her arms loosely over Charlotte’s shoulders as she leant in for a kiss, their tongues dancing. “God, I’ve missed you!”

“It was only yesterday!” Charlotte laughed.

“Still.” Amelia dipped her chin, her eyes downcast, one finger tracing the neckline of her frilly dress.

Charlotte thought she could die at the way her friend swung her hips, half-innocent ingenue, half-evil temptress. Even so, she made herself step back as Amelia reached for the first of the fastenings on Charlotte’s dress. “I’ve something to show you first.”

“Really?” Amelia frowned. Such a pretty frown. “It had better be good. Better than…”

“Fucking?” Charlotte whispered in her friend’s ear, rolling the word like some delicious morsel.

“Yes, that,” Amelia giggled. “Well, I suppose it won’t be, will it? But I will indulge you.” With an imperious tilt of her chin, the blonde offered Charlotte her hand.

Charlotte led her friend over to her dressing table. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it. But she had to. 
Amelia frowned as Charlotte picked up the brush.

“Sally has been teaching me some of her arts,” Charlotte reassured her friend, taking the pins out of Amelia’s long hair, Charlotte running her fingers through the silky locks, the touch sending delicious tingles through her. An image sprung to her mind, that hair spread around Amelia’s head like a halo, her friend lying underneath her. Naked. Both of them naked. Charlotte took a deep breath, just holding her friend’s hair for a moment, before she picked up the brush.

“But why?” Amelia frowned.

“Look in the mirror,” Sally ordered from where she’d appeared at Charlotte’s side. Sally, who had been so silent and watchful as Charlotte guided Amelia to the chair. “Look at who is brushing your hair. It looks like me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Charlotte’s friend agreed. She sounded so like herself, but there was something about her eyes, wide and ever so slightly empty.

“Slower,” Sally whispered, her hot breath on Charlotte’s ear. “Gently.” Her hand was on Charlotte’s, directing her. Showing her just what to do. Charlotte knew that she was learning. She’d know how to do this again. Sally taught her so many wonderful things. 
The servant leant down, her words pouring into Amelia’s ear. “You know what happens when someone that looks like me brushes your hair. Tell me what happens.”

“I go down and down and down.” Amelia’s voice was so empty now. Like her eyes.

Charlotte kept brushing her friend’s hair. But there was something not right about this. Amelia shouldn’t sound like that. Shouldn’t look like that, like her head was empty of anything approaching thought.

“Everything is as it should be.” This whisper was for her, Sally’s hand on her arm as she drew the brush through Amelia’s hair. “There is nothing to be concerned about.” She knew that. This was right and proper. She was brushing her friend’s hair. It had to happen. Had Sally told her that? It must have been.

She trusted Sally.

She kept drawing the brush through Amelia’s hair.

Sally was speaking to Amelia again. “Whenever someone who looks like me brushes your hair, you will go down and down and down. Sally, Charlotte. It does not matter. All your thoughts will drain away, leaving your mind so empty. What will happen if Charlotte brushes your hair?”

“I go down and down and down.” Amelia’s voice was so empty.

“And?” Sally asked, as if she was speaking to child caught where she shouldn’t be.

“All my thoughts drain away.” Amelia’s eyes were just as empty as her voice. Nothing there. Charlotte almost thought that there was something wrong with that. Almost wondered if the same thing happened to her when Sally brushed her hair. It didn’t matter if it did. It was what Sally wanted.

She trusted Sally.

Sally was whispering to Amelia again. Leaning in so close that she could lick the curve of Amelia’s ear as Charlotte’s friend stared so vacantly into the mirror. “And when you are so far down? When there are no thoughts in your head? When you hear my voice?”

“I believe your voice.”

“Charlotte’s voice sounds like my voice. You will believe it, too.” Sally glanced at Charlotte, a wicked smile on her lips. She straightened up, sauntered over to Charlotte’s bed, arranging herself on it as if it was her own. “You know what to do.”

Charlotte did. She didn’t know how. But she did. There were words she had to say. She didn’t know where they came from. It didn’t matter. “So far down. So deep. So empty. Listening to my voice. Believing what I say. You love to fuck. Say that.”

“I love to fuck,” Amelia repeated, in that flat empty voice. But there was just a little heave to her chest, a ghost of a blush on her cheeks.

“I want to fuck Sally.”

“I-I want to f-fuck S-Sally.”

Charlotte frowned at the hitches in her friend’s voice. “Say it again. Say it until you believe it.”

“I want to f-fuck S-Sally.”

“I want to fuck S-Sally."

“I want to fuck Sally.”

All the while, Charlotte drew the bush through her friend’s hair. Were her eyes as empty as Amelia’s? She could have looked, simply glanced up at the image in the mirror. What would it have shown? Two friends, one brushing the other’s hair? Something so innocent. Someone just seeing the image in the mirror wouldn’t have heard Amelia’s words. But what would they have made of eyes so vacant of thought, wide and empty?

“I want to fuck as many people as I can.” Why shouldn’t Amelia want that? Charlotte did. Perhaps she hadn’t realised it until that very moment, but she did. She wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck. Why shouldn’t Amelia?

“I want to f-f-fuck as m-many p-people as I can.”

“Say it again,” Charlotte whispered. “Say it until you believe it.” Like I do. She was doing something to her friend. And maybe it was wrong and wicked and sinful. But that didn’t matter. It was right. She had to do it. The delicious warmth, hot and wet and needy, that leaked through her body, down her legs, told her that it was right. She had to do this. She wanted to do this. “Tell me that you want to fuck as many people as you can.”

Amelia did. Over and over and over, the hesitations slowly disappearing. Charlotte knew that the words were seeping into her friend’s mind. Taking hold. Planting themselves where they would never disappear.

“I think you can stop now,” Sally declared at last, from where she lay languidly on Charlotte’s bed. There was more her servant said, but Charlotte didn’t register what. It didn’t matter.

She had things to say to Amelia.

“You won’t remember what we said while I was brushing your hair. You won’t question any changes.” More words that she knew to say without knowing how. More words that she didn’t question, just as she was telling Amelia not to question. More words that she knew were right. More words that she knew that she had to say. “Wake up now.”

“Oh, ah,” Amelia blinked, looked around. “I. That was.”

“What do you want to do?” Charlotte asked gently, interrupting her friend’s ramblings.

Amelia’s eyes widened, some of that emptiness returning. “I want to fuck Sally. I want to fuck as many people as I can.” She blinked again. “Oh. That is to say. Oh well, I’ve said it now. And it’s true. You don’t mind, do you?”

Why would Charlotte mind? It was what had to happen.

“Well, I’m over here,” Sally laughed. The servant was almost undressed now, just her chemise and corset. Amelia almost flew out of the chair, hurrying over to the bed.

“She can’t hear us now,” Sally commented, as the blonde threw herself between the servant’s legs. “Oh God, that tongue. I’d almost forgotten. Men are all very well, but a woman does know. Fuck! Yes!” Sally’s chest heaved, blinking a few times as Amelia worked away. “Do you remember how many times I had to put her under to convince her of the joys of sapphic bliss? She really was rather resistant. You wouldn’t know it now, would you? Fuck! Yes, just there, you eager little tart.” Sally gripped Amelia’s hair, forcing the blonde aristocrat deeper between her lewdly spread legs. “Almost as many as you. Actually, to be honest. Oh God,” her hips bucked, but that did nothing to dissuade Amelia from attentions. “I can’t remember which of you took longer. And you won’t remember this. Not until you have to. And by then… Oh God, yes!” the servant’s head threw back, her eyes half-closing as her crest swept over her. “I have waited far too long for that. Now,” her eyes fixed on Charlotte. “You just stand there like a good girl while I fuck your friend like the strumpet she is. Oh don’t worry,” Sally laughed. “You’ll get your turn. Between the two of us I imagine dear Amelia will hardly be able to walk by the time she leaves.”

It was indeed a very unsteady Lady Amelia St. Clair who departed Charlotte’s room quite some time later. She had to lean on Charlotte’s arm, tottering as they descended the stairs. “A walk now?” Charlotte suggested. “I think the air would do you good. I shall send for the carriage.”

“Yes, ah, whatever you say,” Amelia managed. Charlotte’s breath caught at the flush on her friend’s cheeks. She wanted more. She wanted to drag Amelia back up the stairs.

But Sally had said they should go for a walk.

“And how was your little outing?” Charlotte’s servant asked after she returned.

“Quite refreshing, thank you,” Charlotte replied. “Hyde Park is wonderful this time of year. Although Amelia did spend much of the time pointing out all the people she’d like to fuck.”

“Oh?” Sally raised an eyebrow sardonically. “And how many was that?”

“Most of them, really.” Charlotte could hardly argue. She felt the same. But one had to keep up some appearances with the servants. Even with one she’d seen buried between the legs of one’s best friend. As said friend returned the attentions.

“Oh, I expect so,” Sally laughed. Did she sound like herself? Or like Charlotte? Did it matter? “But she can’t, can she? Poor thing. Why, the scandal. And you. There’s only Amelia and Wilson and Evans. Hardly a feast.”

“Yes, well.” Even with all that had happened, a servant really shouldn’t say such things. Even if she did sound just like Charlotte.

“I am sure that I could persuade Clara to make herself available,” Sally mused. “I did see the way you looked at her earlier. Would you like that? ‘Yes miss. Whatever you need miss. Would miss like me to give her a good licking now?’ Oh yes, I am certain that Clara would be very eager to oblige.”

“What?” Charlotte spluttered. “No!”

“No?” Sally scoffed. “No? You don’t mean that. We both know you just want to fuck.”

Sally was looming over her now. Charlotte wasn’t sure how that could be. They were the same height, the same size. But it was true. Somehow, Sally was so much larger, filling the room with her presence and…

The servant retreated, smiling. “So, shall I arrange that? Ensure that Clara is willing to service you whenever you call? It would give you something to do while Amelia and I amuse ourselves.”

“If you could,” Charlotte waved nonchalantly. Clara was pretty. Not as beautiful as Sally or Amelia, but even so. It was such a sensible idea. She would never have objected to it.

She never had.

“I shall then,” Sally replied primly, as if they were discussing something as simple as pressing one of Charlotte’s dresses. “But that still will only leave you four. Amelia, Clara, Evans, Wilson.”

Charlotte smiled, remembering how Wilson had fucked her, her skirts hiked up around her waist, his width filling her.

Sally’s smile widened. “Who was it last night? Wilson? Evans? Ah well, what does it matter? One one night, the other another. But is that enough?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Charlotte asked, suddenly unsure again. “Are you saying I should be you more nights?” She would get fucked more that way.

“God, no,” Sally laughed, then cocked her head to one side. “What makes you think you get all of them? You really do have more do learn, don’t you? There’s still something innocent about you.” Charlotte wasn’t sure how that could be true, Sally’s face holding that unreadable expression again. “No,” her maid continued. “I meant, is two cocks enough?”

Charlotte stared at her servant, speechless. More than that? Well, that would be. Heavenly, a little voice told her. But who? More of the servants. Maybe even Hastings, their butler? But surely Sally couldn’t be… Not with Hastings, of all people. That was absurd.

“No,” the heiress exclaimed at last. She couldn’t risk any more. What she was doing was enough. More than enough. The more there were, the more risk. And if anyone ever found out what she did with the servants… Even if they never realised it was her, Sally would be gone and that would be the end of it. She wouldn’t be getting fucked anymore. Well, there’d still be Amelia. And maybe Clara. But she needed cocks. “No. Two is, is quite sufficient, thank you. They’re not the same, and, well…”

Sally raised an eyebrow at her. “Only two? There’s a whole world of cocks out there.”

Charlotte’s eyes shot wide. Her servant couldn’t mean someone outside the house. She felt so faint that she had to sit on her bed. “No, no,” she muttered, suddenly weak. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Sally exclaimed kindly, appearing at Charlotte’s side. “I know just what you need. Let me.” She offered an arm, helping Charlotte off the bed and over to her chair. “You just sit here,” the servant continued, reaching for the brush.

Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the brush to the image in the mirror. Sally was going to brush her hair. She knew that. Sally was standing behind her, holding the brush and Charlotte was just sitting there, eyes wide and empty. Is that what she wanted? Just to let her servant brush her hair? Let the brush take away all her thoughts. Sit there open and empty. Maybe it was easier that way. Just let Sally do what she wanted. She could protest. Stand up. Maybe that was better. Decide for herself.

Gently, Sally pulled the brush through Charlotte’s hair, dissolving any thoughts of resisting.

“You know what happens now,” Sally whispered.

“I go down and down and down,” Charlotte said, her voice so empty.

“Yes, you do,” the servant smiled, one hand holding the brush as it stroked Charlotte’s hair, the other gently trailing through mistress’ locks. “And what happens to your thoughts?”

“There are no thoughts in my head.”

“That’s right. No thoughts at all. Just my voice. Telling you what you need to know. You trust me. You can always trust me.”

Charlotte did.

---

“So,” her servant asked sometime later. Had Sally been brushing her hair? Charlotte couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. “Are two cocks enough?”

That was right. They’d been talking about whether she was satisfied with just having two cocks fuck her. They were different, Wilson longer, so wonderfully long, thrusting so deep into her. And Evans was thicker, she felt split so wide when entered her.

“There is dear Amelia as well.” What her friend could do with her tongue was simply magical. “And you said you could persuade Clara.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. Two isn’t enough. How could two ever be enough?” That was right. The servants were fun, but how could she ever be satisfied with just them? When there were so many more cocks in the world.

“It’s time for that, isn’t it?” Sally mused, cocking her head to one side as she regarded her mistress. “I think it is. You just wait until tonight.”

Sally refused to answer any of Charlotte’s questions. No matter how much the heiress demanded. In the end, Sally told her to sit down. So her hair could be brushed.

Charlotte didn’t ask any questions after that. But she was still on edge, the whole day, waiting.

“Put these on,” Sally ordered, dumping a pile of clothes on Charlotte’s bed. It was after dinner, most of the house retired for the evening. Charlotte frowned. They looked like they might be Sally’s clothes. They certainly weren’t fine enough to be hers. But they didn’t look like a uniform. And anyway, Sally never brought extra clothes for her to put on, they just swapped what they were wearing.

To add to the mystery, the servant wasn’t wearing one of her uniforms. She was wearing a long dark blue skirt and light blue blouse. Nothing fancy at all. Just what a servant would wear when she was out of uniform. The clothes on the bed were the same sort of cut, the skirt a lighter grey, the blouse an off-white. The fabric coarse. Charlotte wasn’t sure she’d ever worn anything so common. Even Sally’s uniforms were made from something finer.

“Come on,” Sally huffed. “I haven’t got time to hang around.” She was carrying two coats as well. Were they going somewhere?
Still not understanding, Charlotte changed into the clothes her servants had brought. Then let herself be led by the hand, out of the house, creeping through the darkened hallways. Onto the fog-bound streets. Sally hailed a cab, Charlotte not saying a word. She knew that she didn’t have to say a word. Didn’t have to do anything. Sally would take care of it all. She knew that Sally had given the driver an address. She hadn’t taken it in. Sally must know what she was doing.

She trusted Sally.

(To be continued)