Sally

Part 15

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 2025 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.

“I have a confession to make,” Charlotte said, swallowing nervously. “Well, several really.”

“And what would this confession be?’ her friend Amelia asked. The blonde’s tone was light, almost innocent but Charlotte had trouble taking that seriously, as they were both naked, lying in Charlotte’s bed. Amelia was propped on her side, one hand supporting her head while the index finger of her other hand trailed slowly around Charlotte’s very erect nipple.

If that wasn’t enough, there was what they had done. Lady Amelia St. Clair was turning out to be quite the talented pussy-licker.

Charlotte didn’t think that she lost anything to her friend in that regard.

“Perhaps your confession is that I’m a most devoted and attentive lover?” the blonde smiled airily as that finger continued to circle. “Or that you find me devastatingly attractive? Ah! I know! You’re insanely jealous whenever dear Sally entertains me.”

From the grin on Amelia’s face, Charlotte knew that her friend was not being entirely serious. Even so, she thought that her urge to hit the blonde with a pillow was understandable.

“I’m sorry,” Ameia apologised, the look on her friend’s face making it impossible for Charlote to be angry with her. “ I can tell that you are serious. You do know that whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure about that. There was so much that had happened lately. But she had to tell someone, it all bubbling around inside her, impossible to keep in. Sally knew, of course. But she didn’t count. Even with everything, she was still a servant.

“I, um,” Charlotte stumbled, not knowing where to begin. “I love to fuck.”

“That is a hardly a confession,” her friend smiled. “I think we have the evidence before us. Although if this is a roundabout way of asking for us to continue, well…” Amelia’s hand was slipping down Charlotte’s side, creeping towards her centre. It would feel so good to have Amelia’s fingers inside her. Again. Her crest was already building. It was so tempting…

“No,” Charlotte declared firmly, taking Amelia’s hand in both of hers. If she gave in now, she didn’t know if she’d find the courage again. “I love to fuck. Not just you, but men. I love their cocks.”

“Don’t we all?” Amelia sighed. “I am insanely jealous of you, you know? I so want a cock inside me, but I have not found the courage. And you have had two.”

Charlotte gazed into her friend’s blue eyes. They were so beautiful, especially now, a distant, dreamy look about them, edged with lust. Charlotte just wanted to kiss her friend, bury herself in her.

No, she told herself. At least, not yet.

“Yes, well,” Charlotte sighed, unable to keep looking at her friend. “About that. Um, Sally. Sally took me somewhere the other night. There were men there. Um, quite a few. And I, well.”

“Oh!” Amelia cried excitedly. “You didn’t? You must have! You must tell me! How many? Where they any good? How big were their cocks?”

“Um, four,” Charlotte confessed. “They were, quite good. Oh, it was heavenly to be filled.”

“Oh, you lucky thing!” Amelia cried, hugging Charlotte to her. “That makes six you have had! I am quite envious.”

“That wasn’t all of it,” Charlotte continued, unable to stop herself now. “The place. Well. There was money. They were paying.” Even so, she couldn’t quite finish what she was saying.

“Ah,” Amelia nodded. “A house of ill-repute then. You must have had quite the adventure.”

Confusion whirled in Charlotte. “You don’t… mind then? I’m a, or was, or. A whore. A common strumpet.”

“There is nothing at all common about you,” Amelia observed, tapping Charlotte lightly on the nose. “Never think that there is. And why should I think the less of you? What an easy place to get as much cock as you want? It was quite clever of you to think of it.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Charlotte confessed quietly. “It was Sally’s.”

“I see,” Amelia nodded. “Of course it was. She has such wonderful ideas.”

That was true. Sally did have wonderful ideas. Like brushing Amelia’s hair when Charlotte’s friend had arrived this morning. That had seemed to take a while. Charlotte couldn’t remember. She did remember Sally whispering things into Amelia’s ear. Amelia hadn’t seemed to like them at first, but that had passed. That didn’t surprise Charlotte.

They both trusted Sally.

“Why,” Amelia continued, kissing Charlotte on the cheek. “Perhaps you could introduce me to the establishment.”

“What?” Charlotte cried, jerking back and staring at her friend. “Are you serious? The scandal!”
What she’d done was bad enough, but was her friend as well?

“Well,” Amelia sighed, her chest heaving. Charlotte’s eyes fell to those orbs, the temptation to look her lips around a nipple, to lose herself in them, so strong. “I do so want some cock. I love to be fucked.” The blonde paused for a moment, staring into the distance. “So perhaps we shall be strumpets together. Wouldn’t that be such a delicious little adventure?”

“You couldn’t!” Charlotte spluttered. Was Lady Amelia St. Clair seriously wanting to be a whore herself? Her friend would be ruined if even the merest whiff of the idea was known.

“I could,” her friend replied, her chin tilted up defiantly. “Why should I not? You have. And you were just telling me how delightful it was. But we shall talk about this later. You said you had confessions. Plural. And that was only one.”

“Perhaps I should show you,” Charlotte decided. She wasn’t sure where the idea had come from. But she knew it was the right one.
Sally had brushed her hair this morning, before Amelia arrived.

Rising from her bed, she threw a robe on, before pulling the cord that summoned a servant.

“Oh,” Amelia cried. “Should I get dressed? Perhaps I shall just hide under the covers.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her friend. There was soon a gentle knock at the door. Charlotte cautiously opened it, peering out. Quickly she waved Clara inside after determining that the servant was alone.

“Good morning, miss,” Clara said, curtsying daintily.

“Good morning, Clara,” Charlotte smiled “You can come out now, Amelia.” Her friend had indeed hidden under the covers.

“What?” the blonde frowned, only emerging enough to show her head. “Who? Oh. Oh dear. This isn’t. Oh.”

“Good morning, Lady Amelia,” Clara didn’t seem bothered at all, giving another perfect curtsy. Although there was a pink flush to her cheeks. Charotte didn’t think that had anything to do with embarrassment or surprise.

“Clara,” Charlotte declared, circling around behind the girl and laying her hands on the servant’s shoulders, “has proved quite a dear. And well.” Her certainty suddenly deserted her. “Um. We. Well, perhaps the best way…” She began undoing the buttons on the back of the servant’s dress. “Clara, I would like you to do for Lady Amelia what you have been doing for me.”

“Yes, miss,” the girl replied submissively as Charlotte undressed her.

“Oh! What?” Amelia cried; her eyes fixed on the servant. “You? And her? Oh! And you want her and I to? Well, I do like to fuck. I want to fuck.” There was a distant, dreamy edge to the blonde’s voice, almost as if her mind was somewhere else.
Charlotte paid no attention to that, ridding the servant of the last of her clothes. “Off you go,” she ordered.

Clara did exactly was she was told, hurrying over to the bed and climbing in, the servant and the aristocrat embracing. Sounds of passions soon drifted around the room, and not just from the pair in the bed, Charlotte having seated herself in her chair, slipping one hand inside her robe, finding its way into her centre.

“Oh!” Amelia cried, her back arching, a hand on Clara’s head where it was buried between the blonde’s thighs. “Oh, yes. She is quite good. Just there, you little trollop. Yes!”

Charlotte’s eyes were fixed on the spectacle before her. She felt no jealousy, not even surprise at its lack. Her friend did love to fuck. And watching was almost as good as fucking.

“Those were quite the confessions,” Amelia laughed as she snuggled with the servant. “Do you have any more?”

“No,” Charlotte admitted. “Well, not at the moment.”

“If you do, you know that you can always confide in me,” her friend declared seriously. “Even if they are not as amusing as these ones. But how ever did you find that this one was quite so agreeable? Oh yes, just like that!”

Clara’s lips had fixed around one of Amelia’s nipples.

“It was Sally.”

“Of course, it was,” Amelia said, her breath catching as her back arched, offering her breasts to Clara’s attentions. I wish I had servants that were as attentive and attractive as you do. You are quite-. Oh, yes. Quite fortunate.”

Another knock on the door had two sets of eyes darting to it. Clara remained fixed on her task.

Charlotte hurried over to the door, opening it a crack. Relieved, she saw that it was Sally.

“I do not wish to disturb you,” Charlotte’s maid declared drolly, once she’d entered the door and Charlotte had closed it. “But Miss does need to prepare for dinner at some point.”

“Dinner?” Amelia laughed, shooing Clara away. “It’s not even lunch time yet. What’s so special about dinner?”

“The colonel will be attending,” Charlotte replied, shooting a look at her servant. Was she to be her? Or was Sally? It was so confusing at times.

“Ah,” Amelia nodded. “The colonel. Hardly the way one should refer to one’s intended. Terribly formal. Do you even know what his first name is? Shoo girl”, she waved, the order directed at Clara. “This is important.”

“I most certainly do know his name,” Charlotte harrumphed. “It’s George.”

“Of course it is,” Amelia tittered. Charlotte unable to stop herself joining in. “But have you quite decided on him?”

“I,” Charlotte began, then drew a deep breath. “I don’t know.” He was quite handsome. And it would be a good match. Of course, if he ever found out about her … escapades, it would never happen.

“What was you it said, Lady Amelia?” Sally interposed, her air of innocence not convincing Charlotte at all. “There is not just the heart to consider. One’s companion for life should be a good sort who makes you laugh.”

“Indeed!” the blonde beamed. “I can be quite wise sometimes. A good sort. Like me. And who makes you laugh. Which I do. Hah! Charlotte! If I was man, I’d offer to marry you. The colonel would have some competition.”

Amelia leapt from the bed and struck a martial pose, hands on hips. Stark naked, Charlotte didn’t think it had quite the effect her friend was aiming for. It did make Charlotte laugh, Amelia joining in.

“See?” the blonde smiled. “We do make each other laugh. But I am just being silly. And as it is not lunchtime yet we must find some way to amuse ourselves until then. Shall I take Sally and you can have Clara? Then we can have a little time by ourselves before they help us dress.”

Heat rose in Charlotte as her eyes roamed over her servant, Clara sitting naked on the bed, her knees tightly together and her hands clasped in her lap. “What an excellent plan,” she smiled, sauntering over to the girl and using one finger to tilt Clara’s chin up. Her hand slipped down as she sank into a kiss, teasing at the girl’s breasts, a moan escaping Clara’s lips.

How can I be so forward? The idea swirled in Charlotte’s head, confusing her, even as her hands roamed freely over Clara’s body, the girl quivering in need. Was this what Sally meant when she said Charlotte needed to learn? But who was she being now? Sally never seemed uncertain. Was she being Sally? Or Charlotte? Was this who she was supposed to be? It was her turn to moan as Clara’s hand found its way inside her robe. Had Sally told her something while her servant brushed her hair that morning? About whom she should be? Charlotte was sure her servant had said something. Sally took so long brushing her hair. It couldn’t be silence the whole time, could it? Sally must have said something.

It didn’t matter; Charlotte trusted Sally. Whatever Sally said was right.

Especially when it felt so good.

It was just as well, Charlotte decided later, that they’d taken their chance in the morning. Her mother had kept them occupied the whole afternoon. Charlotte had wanted nothing more than to sweep Amelia away and rip her friend’s clothes off. Again. Or one of the servants. Or well, anyone really. But her mother had insisted on dragging them out to a dress shop. Where Amelia had teased Charlotte merciless by oh-so-carefully examining the underthings on display, running her hands over them and exclaiming how delicate they felt. All the while shooting knowing glances at the brunette heiress.

She was in quite the state by the time Sally was helping her dress for dinner.

“Could we send for Clara?” Charlotte pleaded. “Just a few moments.”

“There really isn’t time,” Sally admonished her.

“Or perhaps Evans? Or Wilson?” She could hardly contain herself, need burning inside.

“If there isn’t time for Clara,” Sally pointed out. “How is there time for you to dress in my clothes, dally with one of them and then get back here and dress again?”

“Oh,” Charlotte sighed. “You could take my place! And then I…”

“You’d be expected to help me dress,” Sally reminded her. “And then there would be the servant’s dinner. It would be quite some time before you could fuck. Besides, I want my turn with them. And do you want me to be you that much?”

“No,” Charlotte conceded, deflating. “I suppose not.”

“Indeed,” Sally acknowledged, standing in front of her mistress and tugging at the sleeves of Charlotte’s dress to ensure that they were even. “Don’t you look the picture. The colonel should be most impressed.”

The colonel! He was coming. And he had a cock. Perhaps they could…

It was impossible. That would have to wait until they were married. If they were married.

She’d just have to make it through dinner somehow. Then she could have Clara see to her needs. If Sally insisted on being Sally.

Hours later, the meal still in progress, Charlotte was doubting her resolve. She was seated next to the colonel. She was so ware of him. His presence. Just a short space separated them. So close. If she wanted to, it would be so easy to move her leg, brush against his. She knew where it was. And what lay between his legs.

She wanted it so much.

Charlotte pressed her thighs together in a vain attempt to control the need roiling insider her.

Even so, she thought she’d done well. She’d done all the little thing she’d seen Sally do. Batted her eyelids and made all the right noises. Little touches, even as she wanted so much more, a finger lightly on the back of his hand, a brush of his upper arm. She could tell that’s he had his attention. Was he thinking the same thing that she was? Did he wanted to take her, fill her? Was his cock erect, matching the wet need at her centre? Did he just want to rip her clothes off and ravish her?

“Oh yes!” Charlotte cried, her fingers playing lightly at his forearm before withdrawing, “Do tell us about your day!”

It was so hard, containing herself. He had to know that she wanted him. Like she’d made the men at, at … that place think she did. Not just think. She had wanted them. Wanted them inside her. Like she wanted the colonel inside her. Wanted to be taken, fucked. Fucked so hard.

“Oh! You are so bold!” It didn’t matter what he’d said. She just had to make the right responses. She wished he was bolder still. Would stand up, drag her away. Throw her on a bed and just fuck her.

It wasn’t going to happen.

“Ah, I wish I had been there to hear your speech.”

“You could visit the public gallery some time,” the colonel replied.

She could, but it wasn’t things that happened in public that occupied Charlotte’s mind.

She had to hold her left hand behind her back, her fingers wrapped tightly into a fist, to stop from shaking by the time the colonel departed.

“It was so lovely seeing you again,” she smiled. She wasn’t sure she believed that. It was all so confusing.

“Come on then,” Sally declared brusquely, grabbing Charlotte’s arm as the heiress made her way back to her room. “We have to hurry.”

“What?” Charlotte frowned. She shook herself free of her servant, glaring at the girl. What is the matter? Have you set up a rendezvous for me with Evans or Wilson? If so, I can see what the rush is.”

Sally stopped and turned to look at her. For a moment there was almost a look of ager in the servant’s eyes. Then she smiled. “You are learning to be me, are you not? The old Charlotte would never have been so direct.”

“Oh, well,” Charlotte stumbled. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Was she supposed to act like Sally? Or the old Charlotte. Perhaps some new version of herself. The thoughts whirled in her head. But Sally had seemed pleased at her show of defiance. “No. Tell me what you are about.”

“We have to hurry to get you to Margaret’s.”

“Oh. Oh!” Margaret’s was the, the. <i>House of ill-repute.</i> She could think that much. It didn’t matter what it was called. There would be men there. Who could fuck her.

Picking up her skirts, Charlotte hurried to other room. A set of Sally’s clothes was laid out on the bed. She changed as quickly as she could. Then frowned as Sally started putting on her clothes.

“You think your mother won’t want to talk to you? Point out all the little things you did wrong? Even if there weren’t any? Which would you rather, have that conversation or get fucked?”

When Sally put it like that, there was no choice at all.

And really, it was so easy. Taking the carriage ride. Knocking at the door, even if her heart was in her mouth. Margaret gave no sign that she thought it was anyone other than Sally in front of her.

And maybe it was. Charlotte was wearing Sally’s clothes. Doing what Sally would do. Heading to that room, changing into clothes just as fine as she’d worn earlier in the evening. But they weren’t the same. The skirt didn’t quite reach the floor. The neckline was lower. So little different, but so much.

It was what Sally would wear.

It was so easy to be Sally.

And then she was downstairs. In that room. With the other whores. Like pretty flowers, waiting to be picked.

A group of men entered the room. Still, it was less than the number of girls. She had to do her best if she was going to be one of those chosen. So she preened, and batted her eyelids, arching her back just so and waving her fan.

One of them men approached her anticipation tightening her throat. Just as other things, low and deep within her, tightened. Her need was a living thing. Her eyes were lowered, fixed on his crotch.

“Good evening, Miss…” the man said. There was something about that voice.

“Emily.” She replied. That was the name she used. That Sally used. But she was being Sally. Was she even Charlotte anymore?

“Of course.” She could hear a smile in the man’s voice as he bent down took her hand.

She dragged her eyes up, to look into his face. The colonel’s face.

“But I know who you really are,” he said.

(To be continued)