Sally

Part 4

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.

The next morning found Charlotte waiting anxiously in her room. She could barely remember returning to it. There was just a dim recall of creeping through the hallways of her family’s house, images flickering in her mind.

Her memories of what she’d seen in Sally’s room were so clear. Sally and Evans. They’d been, been…

Fucking. Charlotte swallowed nervously as the word rolled around in her head. That’s what Sally and Evans had been doing. And she’d, she’d… Charlotte didn’t want to think about what she’d done.

What she’d wanted, so much.

She was pacing the floor as Sally entered her bedroom.

“You!” Charlotte cried. “How dare you! Make me watch! While you did that! With another servant! I should have you dismissed!”

Sally simply stood there, in a black dress that Charlotte would never wear (except that she had last night), hands clasped low in front of her, her hair tucked primly under her cap and her face that looked so like Charlotte’s. A picture of a perfect servant. Not at all like a woman who had done what Charlotte had seen the night before.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” the heiress demanded.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” Sally asked, softly, a thin smile on the girl’s face.

Charlotte took a step back, speechless. How dare the girl speak to her like that? How dare she…

Sally advanced on her, seeming to loom over Charlotte even though they were the same height. “You liked it so much. Your nipples were so hard and your insides were all warm and runny. Such a needy little thing.”

Charlotte’s lips flapped but no sound emerged. How did Sally know? Her servant was right. What she’d said was exactly how Charlotte’s body had reacted. But how did she know?

Charlotte didn’t get any answers, her servant not saying a word. Instead, Sally took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her around, pushed her in the direction of her dressing table.

“Sit down,” the servant ordered.

Charlotte did. She didn’t know why. Something made her do it. Something she couldn’t control.

Sally picked up Charlotte’s brush. Charlotte wanted to stop her. Wanted to say no. But the part of her that wanted this to stop was so small and weak and Charlotte didn’t say a word.

She trusted Sally.

Charlotte was totally silent as Sally started brushing her hair.

“I did like the way you spoke to me just now,” Sally smiled, Charlotte barely paying attention as the brush was drawn so slowly through her hair. “So stern. So commanding. Remember that. But it’s not what we need right now.” The servant leant forward to whisper in Charlotte’s ear. “What do you do when I brush your hair?”

“I go down and down and down,” Charlotte replied, staring into her mirror. It was her image that she saw there. Or at least, the image of someone with her face. It had to be her. Didn’t it? Whoever it was, their expression was so blank and their eyes were so wide and empty. Like they didn’t have a thought in their head.

There wasn’t a thought in Charlotte’s head.

Sally was brushing her hair. Charlotte had no idea how many strokes her servant had laid on her hair. So gentle. So careful, So warm and comforting.

“Such a good girl,” the servant crooned. “You trust me. You liked what you saw last night. I can tell. Why don’t you remember it now? I’m sure you want to. Why look, your nipples are so hard.” Sally had reached into Charlotte’s nightgown, was fondling one of her mistress’ breasts, gently tweaking the nipple. “You did like it. So much. Watching us. Watching us fuck.”

Charlotte quivered, something like a thought almost surfacing in the blankness of her mind. It disappeared as Sally brushed her hair.

“You liked watching us fuck. It’s what you want. It’s what you need. Say ‘I want to fuck’.”

“I,” Charlotte stumbled. “I want…” She simply stared into the mirror, at that image of the girl with her face, so blank and mindless.

“Hmm,” Sally smiled, leaning forward to pull the hem of Charlotte’s nightgown up, her fingertips running up the inside of the heiress’ thighs. “You want it so much. You need it.”

Sally’s fingers had reached Charlotte’s centre. That girl in the mirror still looked like she didn’t have a thought in her head, but her cheeks were now flushed, her eyes so wide.

“It’s what you want,” Sally crooned, her fingertips teasing at the heiress’ opening. “You want to fuck. Say ‘I want to fuck’.”

“I,” Charlotte managed, “I want to, to fuck.”

“I want to fuck,” Sally’s voice was sharper, more demanding.

“I want to fuck,” Charlotte repeated.

“Good,” Sally smiled, using both hands on Charlotte’s hair, one drawing the brush through her mistress’ hair, the other stroking Charlotte’s long brunette locks. Over and over. “You can feel that need burning inside you. Now say it again. Say it again until you mean it. Until you want it so much that you’re about to burst.”

“I want to fuck,” Charlotte declared, her voice so flat and empty. But something inside her was burning.

“I want to fuck.”

With every soft, warm stroke of her hair, Charlotte said those words. “I want to fuck.”

She said it so many times. Over and over and over, as that oh-so-hot need curled and writhed inside her. She didn’t know how many times she said the words. She had no thoughts.

And then she stopped.

Because she meant it.

“What do you want to do?” Sally asked, still brushing Charlotte’s hair, over and over. So warm, so safe.

“I want to fuck,” the heiress declared. There was no hesitation now.

“Oh dear,” Sally laughed, still drawing the brush through her mistress’ hair. “What a thing for a young lady to say. Not exactly proper, is it? Terribly, terribly improper, if we are to be honest. But it is what you want. Let’s try something else, shall we? Say ‘I want a cock inside me.’ Say that until you mean it.”

“I, I want a cock inside me.” An image filled Charlotte’s empty mind. Of Evan’s cock. So hard, so erect. Entering Sally. Thrusting into the girl. Over and over and over.

“I want a cock inside me.”

Sally was still brushing her hair. It felt so good. As good as it could with Charlotte’s mind a blank, empty, space. “I want a cock inside me.”

“Good girl.”

Charlotte blinked. She was sitting in front of her mirror. Sally was brushing her hair. That was right, wasn’t it? Sally was her servant and she brushed her hair and…? Hadn’t she been angry with Sally? For what had happened the night before? But why would she be angry? It had been so much fun. The only problem was that it hadn’t been her.

She wanted to fuck.

She wanted a cock inside her.

Her nipples were so hard and between her legs was so wet and there was an urgent need filling her up.

“Would Miss like to see some more?” Sally asked her that a few days later.

“See more what?” Charlotte asked. Sally was folding some of her clothes and putting them away while Charlotte sat at her table and read. Not that it was easy concentrating on the book. All the last few days her mind had been filled with images of, of…

“What you saw in my room, Miss,” Sally smiled, looking up from her task. “We both know how much you want to fuck. But a little more instruction won’t hurt, now will it?”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Charlotte protested. Even though she did. She wanted to fuck, so much. Well, maybe not fuck. She knew now what men and women did. And she did want to do that. So very, very much. She wanted a cock inside her. But there were proper ways for things. Even that. In marriage. Maybe Amelia had been right. Maybe she did want to be married. Then she and her husband could well, do that. They could do that a lot. It would be proper then. Even so, her servant shouldn’t speak to her like that.

Sally didn’t reply, simply putting away the last of Charlotte’s clothes and then heading over to her employer, where she picked up the brush and started stroking the heiress’ hair.

Charlotte forgot all about the book that she’d been reading.

Very soon, she forgot about everything.

“What is it you want to do?”  Sally asked.

“I, I want to make love with my husband,” Charlotte replied.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” the servant laughed. “I’ve spent days teaching you that you want to fuck and that’s where we end up. Ah well, nobody ever said this would be easy. Say ‘I don’t want to make love, I want to fuck’.”

“I don’t want to make love, I want to fuck.” The words fell form the heiress’ lips. And as they did, they fell into her mind. A mind that was so empty, waiting for anything to fill it.

“Keep saying it,” Sally ordered, as she brushed her employer’s hair, over and over again. “Keep saying it until you know it is true. Until you believe it.”

“I don’t want to make love, I want to fuck.”

“I don’t want to make love, I want to fuck.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, shall we?” Sally suggested, helping the mindless girl to stand up. “But keeping saying that.”

“I don’t want to make love, I want to fuck,” Charlotte repeated, mindlessly, her eyes still fixed on her image in the mirror.

She kept repeating it, over and over as Sally removed her garments and sat her back down.

“Much better,” the servant declared. “I can do this now.” One finger traced the length of Charlotte’s opening, over and over.

“I don’t want to make love, I want to fuck.”

“Yes, you do,” Sally crooned as a quiver ran through Charlotte’s body. “You want a nice hard cock, deep inside you. Fucking you. You want it so much. You’ll love it. Tell me what you want inside you.”

“I want a cock inside me,” the naked heiress replied mindlessly.

“But you’ll need to do it properly won’t you?” Sally laughed.

“I want a cock inside me,” Charlotte repeated. Over and over and over.

The heiress blinked. Looked at herself in her mirror. She looked so vague. Almost like she didn’t have a thought in her head. What was I thinking? she frowned.

“You want to fuck,” Sally smiled. “You want a good hard cock inside you.”

That was it, Charlotte nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I do. I want to fuck. I want a cock inside me.”

“Oh, listen to you,” Sally laughed. “Not exactly something one would say in polite company.”

Charlotte blushed. What Sally had said was absolutely true. She could never say that where anyone would hear. Except Sally. She trusted Sally.

“Of course not,” Charlotte declared primly. “I trust you wouldn’t be so improper as to betray my confidences.”

Sally shook her head, looking surprisingly thoughtful. “No. No Miss. I would never do that. But if that’s what you want to do, I do think you need some more instruction.”

Which was how Charlotte found herself the next night, lurking in Sally’s wardrobe again. It was different this time. She knew what she’d be seeing. Something coursed through her body, anxious and wanting. One hand played at a thigh while another cupped her aching breast. There was a pressure, wet and warm and needy, deep inside. She could hardly breath.

There was a knock, a grin on Sally’s face as she bounded over to the door. A quick pause, the servant composing herself. Charlotte knew why. She could tell. Sally wanted to fuck. But she didn’t want her partner knowing just how much.

Charlotte had to suppress a gasp as Sally opened the door. It wasn’t Evans on the other side. It was Wilson, her family’s coachman. He wasn’t as tall as Evans, but he was broader in the shoulder. That didn’t matter, Charlotte’s mind skittering around the real question. Why was he here, rather than the footman? Sally couldn’t be, not with two men? Could she?

Charlotte’s question was answered as Sally dragged the man into the room, the two servants soon embracing.

“Eager, ain’t you?” Wilson grinned.

“And you’re not?” Sally shot back, her hand grasping the man’s crotch, Charlotte’s fingers itching as she longed to feel what Sally did. Was he already hard? Hard enough to, to…

“Fuck!” Wilson groaned. “Let’s be having you, then,” he leered, nodding in the direction of Sally’s bed.

“I was wondering, if first,” Sally crooned, her fingers gliding over the front of the man’s trousers as she shot a knowing look at her wardrobe.

The man frowned at her, then brightened as Sally licked her lips. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Wilson grinned. “But I ain’t finishing that way.”

Charlotte had no idea what the pair were talking about, Sally shooting the crack Charlotte was peering out of another quick glance as Wilson pulled the suspenders off his shoulders, Sally helping him pull his trousers and underthings down. Charlotte licked her lips as the coachman’s cock sprang into view. Like its owner it was shorter and broader than Evans’, Charlotte wondering just what it would feel like to have that girth stretching her, filling her. Charlotte’s fingers played at her opening. God, she wanted it so much, to be fucked, to have a cock inside her.

Why isn’t she undressing? Charlotte thought. Surely Sally wanted to be fucked.

Her confusion only deepened as Sally sank to her knees. As she leant forward.

And kissed the tip of that cock.

That’s, that’s. Charlotte didn’t know what was happening. She’d seen Sally fuck. She knew where a cock went. It didn’t go in a woman’s mouth.

Sally was proving her wrong, her lips engulfing Wilson’s manhood, swallowing it. her cheeks hollowing.

That was, was… Charlotte wanted to say it was wrong. Disgusting. Except.

I want a cock inside me. She did. And that said nothing about where. Just inside. A cock in her mouth would be inside her. A wave of heat engulfed her body. Charlotte licked her lips again. Imagining what it would be like to have her lips locked around a cock. To take that cock into her mouth. She groaned, her hand tightening around her breast as she watched Sally’s head bob back and forth. A head that looked so much like hers. I could do that, Charlotte told herself. More than that, she wanted it. She needed it. She wanted a cock inside her. In her womanhood, in her mouth. It didn’t matter.

She needed it.

“Enough!” Wilson groaned, pushing Sally away, Charlotte’s servant grinning , her tongue caressing her own lips. “God, woman. I told you I didn’t want to finish in your mouth.”

“Would you like it?” Sally teased, her fingers stroking Wilson’s erect member. “Wouldn’t it feel so good?”

“Yeah, it would. But you know what I want.”

“Oh, I do,” Sally grinned, finally removing her own clothes. “You want to fuck me.” She shot another glance in Charlotte’s direction.

A quiver ran through the heiress’ body. They’re going to do it! They’re going to fuck! God, I wish it was me. She wasn’t really sure that she did. Her body was crying out for it, a trembling fingernail running up the inside of her thigh. But not here, not with a servant. That wouldn’t be proper. If she did and she was discovered, the scandal would ruin her. But she did so want a cock inside her.

Like Sally was getting one now. Her servant wasn’t being so careful this time to let Charlotte see what was happening. But she could tell. She knew the moment Wilson entered her maid. From the look of bliss on Sally’s face. From the way the girl’s back arched, her hips rising to meet Wilson’s thrust, the tension in the man’s body.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder, damn you!” Sally cried.

“Quiet, woman,” Wilson hissed, pausing in his motions. Was he buried inside her? Was his cock so deep in Sally as he spoke? Charlotte thought it was, need pulsing at her centre, the fingers of one hand playing across her opening as her other mauled and kneaded her breast. “Do you want someone to hear us?”

“They won’t,” Sally laughed. “Do you know how thick these walls are? You could set off a bloody bomb in here and no-one would know. Now fuck me, damn you.”

Wilson did exactly that. Hard, strong, thrusts. Charlotte wanted that. She wondered how different it felt to Evans. Could she ask? Would she be able to find the words? Was it just those two? How many lovers did Sally have? How many men did she fuck? Charlotte sucked in a breath at the thought, her chest heaving. So many cocks. Fucking Sally. Maybe she could have that.

One man would have done her just then, her fingers playing at her lower lips, pressing on her nub, as she crested again and again.  She could barely think as Wilson left. As Sally pulled her from the wardrobe, dressed her and sent her back to her room.

As she lay between her own sheets, fingers stroking her centre, Charlotte wondered whether she’d notice the differences. How one cock might stretch her further. How another might thrust deeper. Would one be better than the other? She wasn’t sure that it mattered. She just wanted one inside her, surging rivers of need shooting through her, Charlotte’s back arching as her hands played over her body. She was so close. And how would a cock feel in her mouth? It would be so good.

Her crest exploded over her as the images poured through her mind

(To be continued)