Sally

Part 6

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.

“Colonel Heywood will be coming to dinner next Thursday dear,” Charlotte’s mother, Eleanor informed her. “I just thought that you should know.”

“Oh, ah, thank you,” Charlotte replied, not at all sure why it mattered. Their family often had dinner guests, rarely mentioning them to her beforehand.

“Your father does think quite highly of him,” her mother continued. “They do say he has excellent career prospects. His uncle is considering retiring at the next election. And the family always does hold that seat.”

“Oh. Really.” Politics wasn’t something that Charlotte followed with any eagerness.

“Yes. Quite a comfortable majority I’m told. He did ask after you.”

“The uncle?” Charlotte frowned.

“No dear,” her mother sighed. “Colonel Heywood. Between his inheritance, what he as from the army and his parliamentary salary he would be quite well off.”

Charlotte followed her mother’s conversation with a growing sense of trepidation.

“Of course, if he aims for a ministry, he would do well to have a wife.”

Charlotte didn’t say a word. She’d finally worked out what was going on. And who exactly her mother pictured as Colonel Heywood’s wife. Her. If we were married, we could fuck. Charlotte glanced at her mother, fearful that her thoughts would be plain on her face.

“You should think about it, dear.”

Charlotte was thinking about it. Although she doubted that the line of her thoughts was exactly what her mother intended. It would be so good to be fucked. But if she was married then she’d have to limit herself to just one cock. Something about that didn’t sit right with her at all.

“It’s perfect,” Sally declared when, shortly afterwards, Charlotte voiced her fears to her maid. “Everyone will be worried about the dinner and not what Sally the lady’s maid is doing.”

Charlotte frowned. “What? How does that help me?” She didn’t say what she was thinking How does that help me get fucked?

She didn’t have to. Sally did it for her. “How does that help you get fucked? How does it help you get a cock inside you? Simple! I can be you and you can be me. It will give you the perfect alibi. No-one will think that the Honourable Miss Charlotte Rothermere is getting her brains fucked out by one of the servants if she’s sitting at dinner with a guest.”

“Y-you?” Charlotte spluttered. “Be me?”

“Why yes,” Sally declared, gracefully seating herself on Charlotte’s bed. “I do believe that I could be most convincing as the Honourable Miss Charlotte Rothermere. Do you not think so?”

Charlotte’s eye’s shot wide in astonishment. The change was unmistakable. Sally had sounded so convincing. Not just a switch in her accent, which wasn’t that far from Charlotte’s to begin with. But something about her expression, how she held herself. Is that me? the heiress wondered. Is that how I look? She wasn’t certain that it was. If anything, Sally seemed more assured of herself in the role of young lady than Charlotte ever was.

“Of course,” Sally declared airily, still playing the role of young heiress. “You will need to be me. Not simply pretend, but be me. Hmm, perhaps we should practice first.” The servant paused, finger delicately tapping her lips. “I know!” Sally added brightly. Charlotte simply sat there, feeling as if she was observing her life from the outside. “We should invite dear Amelia over. If we can fool her, we can fool anyone, don’t you think?”

“I, I suppose,” Charlotte offered.

“Then we must write her a letter!” Sally exclaimed. “No, allow me,” the servant insisted as Charlotte reached for her pen. “In fact, we should start now. You’ll need the practice. First, we should change clothes.”

Charlotte stood there, as if in a dream, as Sally stood her up and removed everything she was wearing. Then watched as Sally did the same. The pair stood there naked, just for a moment. Could anyone tell the difference? Charlotte wondered, her thoughts scattered. Looking in the mirror, at the image of her and her servant, she wasn’t sure that she could tell which was which.

“Well, hurry up,” Sally ordered, a look indicating the black dress and everything else she’d been wearing. “A lady’s maid dresses herself.”

“Oh, uh, yes,” Charlotte spluttered, hastily pulling on Sally’s clothes.

“Now you need to attend me.”

It took some instruction, Charlotte not used to helping someone else dress, but Sally was eventually arrayed in Charlotte’s fine dress.

“Now,” Sally smiled, seating herself gracefully at Charlotte’s table. “You just stand there while I write a letter to dear Amelia.”

Charlotte did as she was ordered. It felt so strange. There was Charlotte, sitting at her desk, writing a letter to her friend. But it wasn’t her, it was Sally. Would anyone have been able to tell? It felt so odd. But she needed to do this. If she wanted to get fucked.

The thought hit her like a tidal wave. This made it real. In a few days, I’ll, I’ll... She couldn’t finish the thought, everything in her head splintering. She wanted it so much. The need rushing through her, the heat between her thighs, told her that much. Do I really want this? Charlotte knew that it was a silly question, even before she was finished with the thought. She did, she wanted it so much.

“There,” Sally smiled eventually, sealing the envelope on which Amelia’s name was now written. Charlotte stared at it. Her friend’s name there. In her handwriting. Yet she hadn’t written it. How had Sally…? Charlotte wasn’t given any time to ponder that.

“Come along,” Sally ordered, rising and heading to the door, envelope in hand.

“But? What?” Charlotte spluttered. Surely Sally couldn’t mean that. Go outside the room. Dressed like this. Yes, she’d done that before, creeping through the house at night. But in the daytime? Together?

Sally shot her a dry look. “We need to find a servant to deliver this.”

Charlotte could hardly breathe as Sally handed the envelope to Hastings.

“I need this delivered to my friend Amelia,” Sally said.

“Yes, Miss Charlotte,” Hastings replied.

The man was all deference and civility. He seemed to have no idea who he was speaking to. It’s me! I’m here! Part of Charlotte wanted to shout it out. The words died in her throat. Who would believe her, anyway? She looked just like Sally.

“Ah, Charlotte, good.”

Sally thought she was going to have a heart attack as her mother’s voice had her spinning around.

“Yes, mother?” It was Charlotte’s voice giving the reply, except it wasn’t. It was Sally. Except it sounded so like herself.

“We need to discuss what you’ll be wearing when Colonel Heywood comes to dinner,” her mother declared. Except the comment wasn’t aimed at Charlotte, she was talking to Sally.

I’ll be wearing this! Charlotte thought her lips frozen in silence, one hand slowly sliding down her side, the fabric of Sally black dress, the fabric just a little coarser than she was used to, under her fingers. And then I won’t be wearing it. And then I’ll, I’ll. Charlotte stared at her mother.

“It needs to be suitably elegant,” Charlotte’s mother continued, paying no regard to the girl in the black dress. “Not too grand. It is only dinner, not a ball. But not one of your plain things.”

“No, mother,” Sally replied, sounding so perfect in the role of Charlotte.

“You, girl.”

Charlotte stopped breathing as her mother turned to her. It’s me! Can’t you recognise your own daughter?

“You’ve proven adequate in helping my daughter with her clothing choices. I trust that you’ll help her choose something appropriate for this.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Charlotte replied, finding herself bobbing into a half-curtsey. It was just what a servant should do. “We’ll find just the right thing.”

“See that you do,” Charlotte’s mother ordered before dismissing the pair with a wave of her hand.

“Well, I think that went rather well,” Sally smiled once they were safely back in Charlotte’s room. Charlotte wasn’t so sure. Her heart was racing and her head was spinning. No-one had recognised her. They hadn’t been able to tell that mistress and servant had swapped places. But that meant she could do it. In a few days she’d be getting, getting…

Fucked.

“We had best change back though,” Sally declared. “Don’t want to push our luck, do we?”

No, no we don’t, Charlotte thought, with more than a little relief

“She should be here soon,” Sally declared, a few days later, sitting at Charlotte’s table, arrayed in one of her mistress’ dresses. It was the day Amelia was to come to visit. Charlotte stood by her servant’s side, again wearing one of Sally’s dresses. She was almost getting used to it now. Every day, she’d spend some time as Sally. Wearing Sally’s clothes. Following Sally’s orders.

Being Sally.

And when she wasn’t being Sally she spent so much time sitting at her table, Sally brushing her hair, the servant whispering words in her ears. Telling how to be Sally, how to act, what to say, everything seeping into Charlotte’s mind.

How often am I being me? Charlotte wasn’t sure of the answer.

“How was luncheon?” Sally asked, casually.

Today had been something special. Before this, when she was Sally, Charlotte had been with her servant, almost clinging to her side. But today Sally had sent her off to have lunch with the other servants. “You’ll need to be with them without me while I’m at the dinner,” Sally had pointed out.

It was true. Charlotte knew that, to get what she wanted, she couldn’t spend all her time with Sally. But she hadn’t known what to think. When she’d entered the kitchen where the servants ate. When no-one had even blinked at her presence. She’d been on edge the whole time. Waiting for someone to jump up and point at her and shout. “It’s Miss Charlotte.” But no-one had. They’d called her Sally. And spoken to her in ways they’d never speak to Miss Charlotte. Not rude or disrespectful, but as if she was one of them. Well, a little better than that, she admitted. A lady’s maid did have a certain status amongst the other servants, above a footman or a parlour maid, but even so.

She’d been Sally.

She didn’t know what to think.

There was a knock on her door.

“Miss Amelia is here,” Clara, one of her family’s maids, announced. Who’d been at lunch and called her Sally. But she wasn’t Sally. She was Charlotte. She should be the sitting at her table. In the fine dress. Waiting for her friend.

Charlotte almost said. “Thank you,” before stopping herself.

“Thank you,” Sally said, just as Charlotte almost had. “Please take her to the second sitting room.” It was exactly what Charlotte would have said. They couldn’t use the first sitting room. Her mother might want that. She could hardly breathe as she followed Sally through the house to where Amelia would be waiting. This was her friend. Surely she’d realise what was going on.

“Charlotte!” Amelia cried, jumping up and running over to Sally before throwing her arms around the servant. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Charlotte simply stood there, stunned. How couldn’t her friend realise that she was talking to the lady’s maid?

“And you, Amelia,” Sally smiled, holding Charlotte’s hands and smiling at Amelia before seating herself in one of the chairs. “Now, tell me all about what you’ve been doing.”

Amelia did that, never sparing Charlotte a glance. Not even when Sally waved her away with an instruction to see about afternoon tea. Not when she returned. Charlotte simply had to stand there silently, watching her friend as Amelia and Sally gossiped and drank tea and ate cakes. Sally knew exactly what to say. Knew who everyone Amelia mentioned was.

Have I told her all that? Perhaps she had. Charlotte wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything.

“I need your advice,” Sally smiled, conspiratorially after Charlotte didn’t know how long. “Colonel Heywood is coming to dinner in a few days and I have to decide what to wear.”

“Colonel Heywood?” Amelia grinned. “And who exactly is he coming to see?”

“Well,” Sally smiled bashfully.

It’s me! Charlotte thought. He’s coming to see me! Except he wouldn’t see her. She’d be Sally. A lady’s maid never appeared at a dinner like that. She’d be with the servants. And then she’d be getting… Charlotte couldn’t even think the word.

“Well then,” Amelia declared eagerly, bounding out of her seat. “We have to choose just the right dress.”

“No. No. Definitely not,” Amelia’s pretty face scrunched up as she dismissed dress after dress. “We could always buy you a new one,” the blonde suggested hopefully.

“I do not think that there is the time,” Sally shot back. “And anyway, you haven’t looked at the last ones we bought.”

“True,” Amelia shrugged. “But we should go shopping anyway. Oh, what about this?”

The dress was terribly fashionable, falling straight from a high waist, the fabric a wonderful blue, with a gold pattern and delicate lace around the neck. Charlotte wasn’t sure how she could wear something so elegant at a dinner with someone who might be wanting to court her.

Except I won’t be. She wouldn’t be wearing it. Sally would.

“Just the thing!” Sally declared. “And it is the one Sally suggested. She is a treasure.”

Amelia barely spared Charlotte a glance. “Just as well I had you employ her then.”

“Just so,” Sally lips curled up wickedly, quickly replaced by an innocent look.

And there was more talk and gossip and Charlotte simply stood there. Like a good servant would.

“Well,” Sally grinned after Amelia had left. “She didn’t suspect a thing, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

“Suppose?” Saly laughed. “Come on. You know Amelia. If she’d thought something was wrong she would have said something. She wouldn’t have been able to help herself.”

That’s true, Charlotte admitted. She was so confused. Sally shouldn’t talk about her friend like that. But it was what Charlotte would say. It was what Amelia would have done if her friend suspect something was amiss. But how did Sally know Amelia that well?

“We should switch back now though, shouldn’t we?”

Charlotte sighed with relief as she removed Sally’s clothes. She could be herself again. Whoever that was.

“Not your clothes,” Sally commanded as Charlotte reached for her underthings. “Not yet. Just a robe. I need to redo your hair first.”

Dutifully, Charlotte slipped on a robe and sat at her table.

“When you are being me,” Sally said as she drew the brush though her mistress’ hair. “You need to be me. You don’t want him suspicious, do you? Not wilting little Charlotte. Sally knows what she wants, doesn’t she? Remember how I was with them.”

Charlotte did. Sally was so different to her. Sally didn’t just know what she wanted. She took it.

“Can you do that?” her servant asked.

“I, I don’t know,” Charlotte replied feebly.

“Yes, you can,” Sally declared. “You just listen to what I say. You’ll have no problem being Sally.”

As the brush ran through her hair, listen was all Charlotte could do. Not with her head so empty.

“Remember to keep looking in his eyes,” Sally declared. “Unless it’s clear that’s not what he wants.”

The brush wasn’t in Charlotte’s hair anymore. Its handle was in her mouth, Charlotte eagerly sucking and licking away. “You are getting quite proficient at this. You’ll be quite the little cocksucker.”

A swell of pride rose in Charlotte’s breast at her servant’s praise.

“We do have a problem though,” Sally mused as Charlotte continued her ministrations.

“You’re a maiden and I’m well, not.”

Slowly, Sally drew the brush from her Mistress’ mouth. Charlotte frowned. She did like having something long and hard inside of her.

“Oh look,” Sally’s look of surprise was almost genuine. “You’ve got it all wet. I wonder what else we can do with it?”

Charlotte simply looked at her in confusion.

“Go lie on the bed.”

Charlotte rose, simply doing as she was told. She didn’t hesitate. Not even when she saw a towel spread out, about where her hips would be.

“A little more, I think,” Sally considered thoughtfully after Charlotte had arranged herself. The servant slipped the brush’s handle back in her mistress mouth. Charlotte’s lips locked around it, almost without thinking, her tongue swirling over the hard length.

“We don’t want anything to make him suspicious, do we?” Sally smiled, undoing the belt that held Charlotte’s robe together and parting its sides. Charlotte almost gasped as delicate fingers played at her breasts, but she kept her lips locked in place as Sally thrust the handle in and out of her mouth. “So we need you to be like me. Spread your legs dear. Yes, just like that.”

Charlotte’s eyes were focused on the ceiling. She didn’t know what was happening. There was something long and hard in her mouth and Sally’s fingertips were trailing up her thigh. Her legs were spread so far. She was so open and wet and she needed to be fucked, a tremor running through her.

“Yes, that will do,” Sally decided, stars appearing of front of Charlotte’s eyes as her servant’s fingertips grazed the length of her opening. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you? You want a cock in your cunt.”

Charlotte didn’t recognise that last word. It sounded harsh and vulgar. But as Sally’s fingers played between her legs she realised what her servant meant. That’s, that’s my cunt. I want a cock in my cunt.

“But there’s never been anything in your cunt before. We don’t want him realising that.” Slowly, Sally drew the brush from Charlotte’s mouth. “So. This will hurt. Just for a moment.” It was the handle of the brush playing at Charlotte’s cunt now, Sally drawing it back and forth along the length of her mistress’ opening. “But then it will feel so good.”

The handle was entering her now, forcing her lower lips open, Charlotte’s lips quivering, her chest heaving. It felt so good. But then there was pain, a sensation as if something was tearing, and then, and then.

The brush was slowly sliding out. And then in, so far in. Over and over, deeper every time. “So deep. So good.”

It was Sally whispering to her. Yet it sounded like her own voice.

“It will feel so much better when it’s a real cock.”

Charlotte could hardly imagine that. Even this was so good, writhing on her bed, her body impaled on the handle of the brush as her servant thrust it into her, over and over, deeper inside her than Charlotte had thought possible. It was bliss, ecstasy, more than she’d thought possible, her crest exploding over her.

“You’re cumming,” Sally grinned, thrusting the brush so deep. “You’re cumming so hard. And you’ll cum even harder over his cock.”

She would. Charlotte knew that.

“Now just let me clean you up,” the servant smiled when she was done. “You just lie there. No silly maidenhead to worry about now. He won’t know the difference.”

Something almost like regret washed over Charlotte as she lay on her bed. She’d lost something. Something that was supposed to be for her first time with a lover. Something she’d never get back.

But really, she told herself. It didn’t matter.

Now she was ready to be fucked.

(To be continued)