Sally

Part 3

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.

“Now tell me,” Sally smiled, slowly drawing the brush through her mistress’ hair, “have you been playing with yourself?”

“Yes,” Charlotte replied, her eyes wide as she stared into the mirror, her voice empty.

“Every night?”

“Yes,” the heiress repeated. If she could think, she’d have remembered how wonderful it felt, her breasts and thighs aching in need, the warm, wet bliss that flooded her body, her world exploding she pressed down just there.

If she could think she’d be dying of embarrassment, talking about such things to her servant.

Charlotte couldn’t think. There wasn’t a thought in her head. Sally was brushing her hair.

“Such a naughty, naughty girl,” Sally tasked, amusement twinkling in her eyes as she slowly pulled the brush through her mistress’ hair. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

“No,” Charlotte replied. Sally had expected that reply. She’d told her mistress it was the right answer, so many times.

“There’s something else you need. Something you want. Something that will be even better than your own hands. But you don’t know what it is. Who do you trust?”

“You,” the heiress stated, her voice still so flat and lifeless.

“Yes, you do,” Sally mused, her eyes narrowing as she teased out a persistent knot. “And, whatever it is, you want it so very badly. But it’s not something you just bring up in conversation, now is it? No, it’s not.” She smiled at the unintended pun as the knot in Charlotte’s hair gave way. “So we’ll have to find a way. Ah! I know. Listen to me.”

---

Charlotte sat in front of her dressing table, glancing impatiently between the mirror and the door to her room. Where is she? Sally should have made an appearance by now. It was most unlike her to be late. The girl was always prompt. There exactly when she was needed. But not this morning.

Charlotte could ring for her. Or for another of the servants. Ask what was going on. That’s what her mother would do, if her lady’s maid was late. Except her mother wouldn’t just ask. Eleanor would demand. Charlotte didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to get Sally in trouble.

She trusted Sally.

Even so, where was the girl? It wasn’t as if Charlotte could do anything until Sally arrived and helped her get ready for the day. She needed help with her corset, not to mention the corset cover and dress that would go over it. And her underskirts, and… She could pick up a book and read it. She could always do that when she was bored or at a loose end. But she didn’t feel like that this morning. She was too restless to read. She needed something else. She…

Charlotte’s eyes shot wide as she jerked her hand back. She hadn’t realised how it had crept under the hem of her nightgown. She couldn’t do that.

Not in the morning anyway. That was something she did, alone, at night, in the dark. In her bed. That thing she did, that made her body sing, that felt so wonderful, as red-hot bliss sizzled through her.

She couldn’t do that now.

Could she?

Charlotte watched as her hand crept back towards the edge of her nightgown. Was she moving her hand? Or was it something possessed, moving of its own accord? Charlotte wasn’t certain.

What she was certain of was how wonderful it felt, her hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, slowly, just the barest hint of fingernails leaving invisible trails across her sensitive skin. Trails that sent sparks running through her body, the hand gliding higher and higher. Towards her waiting, aching centre. Need thrummed through the young heiress.

Almost unnoticed, her other hand had pulled down the neck of her nightgown, exposing a breast. That hand was kneading at that breast, a low moan escaping Charlotte’s lips. She could barely think, the sensations so wonderful. Slowly her fingers traced the edge of her lower lips, a quiver running through her body. Up and down, teasing herself, just as she’d learnt her body liked. A few more strokes and she’d be ready to touch that spot, that little nub at her centre, that would-

“Good morning, miss. Oh.”

Charlotte’s hands shot from within her nightgown at the sound of Sally’s voice. She didn’t know what to think. Could barely form a thought. Embarrassment flooded her, washing away her arousal. Maybe she’d been quick enough? Maybe Sally hadn’t noticed what she’d been doing? Maybe everything would be alright. She’d been so foolish, playing with herself while waiting for her maid. But she had removed her hands very quickly.

Sally hadn’t said anything.

Nervously, Charlotte risked meeting her maid’s eyes.

And realised that Sally was silently regarding the breast that still lay free of her nightgown.

“Does miss need a few moments to finish?” Sally enquired politely.

“Uh, ah,” was all Charlotte could manage. This was beyond mortifying. It was humiliating.

“It’s quite alright,” Sally continued, her tone light and breezy, as if nothing important was being discussed. “You trust me, don’t you?

Charlotte simply nodded. Even though she hadn’t done a thing about her dishevelled state, that breast still exposed, the embarrassment was slowly ebbing away. In its place the hot, wet need, was flowing back. She hadn’t finished, and her body wanted it so much. And she did trust Sally.

“You just go ahead. I’ll wait right here.”

Charlotte swallowed nervously. She wasn’t sure that she could. But Sally had said she should do it. And she needed it so very badly.

Hesitantly, the young heiress’ hand sought her breast, slowly caressed it before lightly pinching the oh-so-erect nipple. Something like fire shot through her. God, she needed this. Wanted it. So much. There was something so wrong about doing this in front of her servant. Somehow, that made it even better. To touch herself, to expose herself, in front of her servant. To draw her finger along her sopping wet opening in front of Sally. To mewl and moan as her hands played over her body. Her body was almost at its peak again, need thrumming through it. She just needed a little pressure on her nub. Could she do that? Peak in front of her servant?

It wasn’t even a question, the palm of Charlotte’s hand pressing down, her hips jerking as bliss flooded her.

“There,” Sally smiled, pulling the neckline of Charlotte’s night gown up while being very careful not to actually touch her mistress. “Doesn’t that feel so much better?”

Charlotte simply nodded again. Words, for the moment, were beyond her.

“Imagine,” her lady’s maid tutted. “Having gone all day denying yourself that. Being on edge, all needy and distracted. Actually, that can be fun too, but you’re not quite ready for that.”

Charlotte frowned. There was something wrong about her servant talking to her like that. But she couldn’t work out what it was.

Sally pulled the hem of Charlotte’s nightgown down, covering her still glistening centre. “But even though it was fun, it wasn’t everything you wanted, was it? There’s still something you need, isn’t there?”

Charlotte looked away. How could Sally know what she was feeling? Her crest had been so wonderful. But Sally was right. There was something missing about it. Something she needed.

“Would you like to find out what that is?”

“Yes,” Charlotte finding her voice at last, but it was breathless, strained. “Please.”

“You’ll have to wait,” Sally replied. “Until tonight. Then I can show you.”

Charlotte was tempted to demand that Sally reveal whatever it was right now. The girl was only her servant. Charlotte was the one in charge here. Whatever Sally had just seen. It was more than her position was worth to breathe a word of what she’d seen Charlotte doing. She could just order Sally to show her what Charlotte was missing.

She trusted Sally.

Charlotte didn’t say a word.

Instead, she spent the whole day anxiously watching the time, willing the minutes and hours to tick away. She wanted the night to come. Needed it. Even with the crest she’d managed in the morning, that wonderful, blissful feeling that lasted only moments but stretched out in her memory, she wasn’t satisfied. Her body wasn’t satisfied. She needed whatever it was Sally was going to show her.

“Well,” Charlotte demanded that night, arms crossed and glaring at her servant. The day had been a torment. “What do you have to show me?”

“That’s better,” Sally smiled thinly. “You wouldn’t have asked like that when I first came.”

Charlotte’s eyes shot wide. Sally was right. She’d been rude. Demanding. Like her mother.

“Oh, uh,’ she stammered. “I’m sorry. I just.”

“Don’t be sorry,” her servant reassured her. “A little backbone never hurt anyone. And you’ll need it. If only just for a few minutes for now.”

Sally had no idea what her servant was talking about. Or what the bundle under Sally’s left arm was.

“Now, may I help you out of your clothes?”

That seemed right. If Sally was going to show her something about her body, she’d probably need to be out of her clothes. And anyway, that was what a lady’s maid should be doing, helping her mistress change.

Charlotte’s certainty disappeared as Sally stepped back after removing Charlotte’s outer garments, Charlotte’ corset and chemise and drawers still in place. “Now put this on,” the servant directed, returning to the bundle she’d held, which she’d placed on Charlotte’s bed. The bundle which was now revealed to be the twin of the dress Sally was wearing.

“What?” Charlotte’s brow creased in confusion. “Why do I need to wear that?”

“It wouldn’t do for you to be seen coming to my room. But with this on, anyone will think you’re me. Just remember to answer if anyone calls you Sally.”

“But why can’t you show me whatever it is here?” This wasn’t making any sense to Charlotte.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Sally smiled winningly. “So we need to get you into this. Then wait a few minutes after I leave. Don’t want anyone seeing both of us. Then head to my room. You do know where it is, don’t you?”

Charlotte knew that. She’d visited the room when it was Elsie’s. Not often. It just wasn’t done. But she’d been curious.

This was different. Then, she’d gone as herself, Charlotte, the Honourable Charlotte Rothermere. Now she’d be going as Sally. Sally Price, lady’s maid. Yes, she’d be only pretending. The sort of wheeze that would have Amelia in stitches. But even so, there was something about it, with the way Sally resembled her so much. Or she resembled Sally. Something wrong. Something...

“Good. Now just wait a few minutes.” Sally examined her mistress critically after placing the dress on her. Not that it was a dress that needed someone to help you into it, but Charlotte was more than a little confused. Sally made a few minor adjustments, fixing Charlotte’s hair and tugging the dress straight, before pulling her mistress towards the mirror. “See? No-one will know the difference.”

Charlotte gasped. She was looking at two servants in the mirror. Who might as well be twins. She wondered if her own mother would even be able to tell them apart. She wondered if she could.

“There,” Sally nodded, her hands tight on Charlotte’s shoulders. “Now just give me a few minutes.”

With that, Sally turned, and disappeared out of Charlotte’s door.

Charlotte waited nervously as the minutes ticked away. She wasn’t sure that she could do this. But she needed to, so very, very badly. No matter how confusing it was, wearing a servant’s dress. She needed to know what it was her body wanted. If it wasn’t for the promise of something even better she might ignore what Sally had said and simply rip off the dress, jump into her bed and let her hands work their magic. It was so very tempting, her breast aching, nipples tightening, something wet and warm gathering at her centre.

She needed to know. Swallowing her fear, Charlotte set her shoulders and opened the door.

It was so very different, walking through the house dressed as a servant. Even the parts of the house that she knew seemed strange, unfamiliar. Charlotte strained her ears. She didn’t want to meet anyone, not another servant. Certainly not her parents. At least her brother was away.

To Charlotte’s relief, she made it to the servant’s quarters without encountering a soul. The decoration here was plainer, the walls simply whitewashed. She was almost there.

“Ah, Sally.”

The voice pulled Charlotte up with a start, freezing her to the spot. After a moment she managed to slowly turn towards the speaker. It was their butler.

“H-.” She swallowed the name before saying it. that wasn’t the way Sally would address the man. What would the girl say? Charlotte simply stared at him for a moment before managing “Ah, yes, Mr. Hastings?”

“Is everything alright with Miss Charlotte? She seemed awfully distracted today.”

He has no idea. Charlotte had expected something else from the man. Some exclamation of surprise. But there was nothing. He thinks I’m her. He really thinks I’m Sally.

“She, she’s perfectly fine Mr Hastings. Just a tiring day.” Charlotte almost wanted to say that she, Charlotte, was distracted. She wanted to get to Sally’s room. Needed whatever it was her maid had to show her. But she knew that she couldn’t.

“Hmm,” the butler pondered. “If you say so. Young ladies can be so delicate. You have to keep an eye on her. Well, you look tired yourself, off you go.”

“Yes, uh, thank you.” After a moment charlotte remembered to add “Mr. Hastings.”

Charlotte had to struggle very hard not to run after turning away from the butler.

“Ah, there you are,” Sally smiled as Charlotte’s closed the door to the maid’s room behind her. “I was wondering. I thought you might have changed her mind.”

For a moment Charlotte didn’t reply. Couldn’t. She simply looked around the room. It was so different to hers. Smaller. Plainer. So much less furnishing. Just a simple bed, small table and plain, double-doored, wardrobe. She and Sally looked so much alike but their lives were so different. Yet it wasn’t the smallest room in the servant’s quarters. Compared to what some of the maids had it was positively spacious.

“Let’s get you out of this dress.”

Charlotte could hardly breathe as Sally removed the garment. She still didn’t understand, confusion lacing through her arousal. What was Sally going to show her? And why here? Ideas whirled through her head. It couldn’t be anything just about her body. How to touch it. They could have done that in her own room. It couldn’t be anything about Sally touching her. That would be, just, well, no. And even so, that could have been done in her room as well.

“Now the corset,” Sally continued. Charlotte wasn’t even sure if the maid was talking to her or to herself. “It will just get in the way.”

“I’ll just hang them up,” Sally commented, pulling open the doors of the wardrobe and . “You’ll need it all to get back. But we don’t want them lying about.”

Charlotte swallowed nervously. She was standing there, just in her chemise and drawers. Hardly the first time she’d worn so little in front of her maid. Hardly the least she’d worn. But they were in Sally’s room, not hers. What if someone came in? What would she say? What would they think? Would they even know who was who?

Sally pushed some of the garments in the wardrobe aside. “That should be enough space. In you go.”

“What?” Charlotte couldn’t make any sense of this.

“In there,” Sally pointed at the space she’d made. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Charlotte did. Her feet were moving before she even thought about it.

“You should be able to see out if we leave the doors just so. Don’t make a sound.”

Charlotte was left with just a crack to peer through. If she leant very close to it she could see almost the entire room. But she had no idea what was going on.

It didn’t matter, she trusted Sally.

After closing the doors, the servant gave no further attention to the wardrobe. Sally simply pulled her own dress over her head and off, laying it over the end of her bed, her corset cover soon joining it. She undid her own corset, front-lacing unlike Charlotte’s. Something the wearer could manage by herself. It joined the dress. Then she sat in front of her little table and started brushing her hair, admiring her image in the small mirror.

She looks like me. Admittedly, the maid’s chemise wasn’t as fine as hers. But would anyone notice that detail? If someone knew she was there, would they know who was the maid and who was the mistress?

The minutes ticked by. Charlotte was tempted to call out. Demand to know what was going on. This wasn’t telling her anything. It was cramped and uncomfortable. Even so, her body still called out for attention. Maybe she could touch herself. just to pass the time. It would feel so nice.

“Not yet,” Sally said, as if knowing what Charlotte was thinking. “Just wait.”

Charlotte pulled her hand away from the hem of her chemise.

Moments later, there was a quiet knock at Sally’s door. The maid didn’t rise from her seat, a smile on her face that Charlotte didn’t recognise at all. There was something sensuous about it, inviting and wicked and oh-so-tempting.

Sally opened the door to her room, someone slipping in before the maid closed it again. Charlotte couldn’t breathe as she recognised Evans, one of their footmen. What was Sally thinking, letting a man into her room? It would be instant dismissal if she was caught. And she wasn’t just letting a man into her room She was in nothing more than her underthings. It…

Oh.

Charlotte had the first inkling of what it might be that Sally wanted her to see.

She couldn’t mean? Could she?

Charlotte watched, breathless.

“You took your time,” Sally smiled, that oh-so-sinful smile. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Had to get past old Hastings,” Eveans replied, his eyes roaming openly over Sally’s body. “Don’t know what the old goat was doing prowling around at this time of night.”

“He didn’t see you did, he?”

“No.” Evans grinned. “I’m too smart for that.”

“Well then.” Sally’s gaze was wandering over Evan’s body just as openly as his eyes were on her.

Warmth was turning into fire in Charlotte. She knew that men and women, well, did, something. Something no-one, not even Amelia, ever talked about. There was an aching need, boiling in her centre. As Evans grabbed Sally, pulled her in, their lips meeting, Charlotte’s hand edged under the hem of her night gown.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” Sally laughed, breaking the kiss. “Let’s get you out of this.”

Quickly, Evans shrugged off his coat, pulled his suspenders off his shoulders. He grabbed Sally again, roughly, not that the servant seemed to care. She was smiling and laughing as his hands ran over her body.

Charlotte’s hand had almost reached the top of her thigh. She could feel the warmth radiating out from her centre. She was drowning in need. Her nipples were so tight. Fumbling, she loosened the neck of the chemise. Her breasts ached for attention.

Just like the attention Evans was giving Sally, cupping and mauling the servant’s breasts through the rougher chemise that the maid wore.

Oh God. As Charlotte’s hand found her own breast, kneading it, pulling at the nipple, she wondered what it would be like to have someone else’s hands on her breasts. Cupping them, tugging at the nipples. She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out. The need was overwhelming. A finger traced the line of her opening.

Charlotte stopped breathing as Evans pulled the chemise over Sally’s head. Her eyes shot wide as the man leant down, took a nipple that was so obviously erect between his teeth. A nipple that looked exactly like hers. Her eyes were almost painfully wide, her hands kneading and pulling and playing at her body, as Evan’s licked and sucked and kissed Sally’s breasts, the maid’s back arching, a wicked grin on her face.

Charlotte was almost cresting as Sally playfully pushed Evans away. “Get the rest of it off. I need a good fucking.”

Charlotte did gasp at the crudity, but neither of the other people in the room seemed to notice. She’d heard the word, once or twice. Workmen on the street, a man delivering stores to the house when a box dropped on his foot. Elsie had covered her ears. She didn’t know what the word meant. Just that it was something rude. Something told her she might be about to find out what it meant. As the thoughts had flashed through her mind, Charlotte’s hands froze in place. She watched, mesmerised, as Sally removed her drawers, the servant standing there naked, as Evans rid himself the last of his clothes.

Charlotte tried to tell herself that there was nothing in seeing Sally naked. The girl had seen her that way. But this was different. Forbidden. She could see how erect Sally’s nipples were, just like hers. How her centre glistened with moisture, just like hers. And Evans…

Charlotte had never seen a naked man before. Had only a vague idea what they would look like under their clothes. She could see Evans. His chest. The muscles in his stomach. So defined. So, so. Charlotte wanted to run her hands over them. Luxuriate in them. And then, lower.

Oh God.

There it was. His, well, it must be his manhood. Like a half-raised flagpole. Rapidly coming to full salute. Charlotte was staring at it. She’d never seen anything like. Never imagined it. But something about it was so mesmerising. The room had narrowed down. There was just that, that… Dimly, Charlotte realised that her fingers had started moving again, her body crying out in need. That pole. That manly girth. It could, it could-

“Get over here,” Sally ordered, from where she’d hopped onto her bed. “I want that cock inside me.”

Cock. Another word Charlotte barely knew. She knew it now. God, a cock. She was almost drooling.

Evans was across the room in a flash. The couple’s hands were soon all over each other. Sally’s back arched as Evan’s lips found her nipple again, Charlotte’s hand grasping her own breast so tightly. She caught only glimpses of Evan’s manhood, of Sally’s wet, glistening centre. Something reared in Charlotte, green and envious, as she saw Sally’s fingers trail along that pole, saw Evans stiffen in response.

Then Sally shifted. “Now, damn you. Now. I want to be fucked.”

Charlotte froze again as realised that Sally’s pose, the way her leg draped over the side of the bed, let Charlotte see as Evan’s pole, his cock found its way to Sally’s opening.

And pushed inside.

They were, they were … fucking.

Charlotte’s hand pushed down on her nub, her crest exploding through her. This, this was what she needed. She needed something inside her. She needed to be filled. To be fucked. As Sally was being filled. As Sally was being fucked. Charlotte needed that. Something stretching her, entering her, impaling her. She was so empty, and she needed to be filled. Filled the way Sally was, with Evans thrusting in and out of her, over and over, the bed rocking from their exertions, Sally’s hips rocking back and forth, rising to meet her lover.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, the word driving through the heiress’ mind, in time with Evan’s thrusts into Sally.

Charlotte’s body was quivering with excitement, her own hands everywhere. She realised that she was no longer silent. It hardly mattered, not with what the couple on the bed were doing, the noises they were making, the encouragements Sally was giving her partner, urging him on, to be deeper, harder. Charlotte couldn’t take her eyes off them, her hands playing at her young body as she watched. Crest after crest. Sally seemed to have her share too, crying out as Charlotte watched.

Watched them do so many things. Watched them fuck.

Sally on her back. On all fours, Evans ramming that glorious cock into her over and over. Charlotte had particularly liked that image. Sally on top, bouncing up and down as the servant played at her breasts. Or tits, as she’d heard both the servants call them. Another word she was learning. Tits. Charlotte rolled the word in her head. Sally’s breasts looked just like hers. So if Sally’s breasts were tits, then so were hers. Tits, she thought again, a hand rising to her chest. Tits. I have tits.

“You better get going,” Sally said, at last, Charlotte’s maid lying languidly on her side, one hand propping up her head. The other hand trailed over Evans body, tugged at his cock. “See,” she frowned as her fingers evoked some response but nothing like what it had been earlier. “All done. The little man needs his rest.”

“God, woman,” Evans gasped as Sally played at his balls. “You’re a fucking tease. There’s only so much a man can take.”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait until next week,” Sally laughed.

“What about earlier?”

“We don’t want to get caught,” Sally warned him. “Now get going.”

Evan rose unsteadily to his feet, pulled his clothes back on.

The maid waited a few minutes until after Evans had left before rising. She showed nothing of the exhaustion of only a few minutes before. Quickly, she slipped her chemise back on before heading to the wardrobe and pulling open the door.

Charlotte hurried to rearrange her own slip before her servant pulled her out of the wardrobe.

“Well, miss,” Sally teased. “Did you like what you saw?”

Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She shouldn’t tell Sally anything. How she’d crested again and again. how’d she imagined it was her that cock was ramming in to. She couldn’t say that. She shouldn’t feel it.

“I think you did.”

Charlotte knew that it wouldn’t have mattered what she said. It would have been plain. In the flush in her face, reaching down to her chest. How her nipples, still painfully erect would have been so visibly poking into the fabric of her chemise. How her breath was still so short, her tongue flicking at her lips.

“Would you like to visit me again?”

(To be continued)