Sally

Part 8

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.

“I think last night went very well,” Charlotte’s mother commented,

I think so, too, Charlotte thought, squeezing her legs together as she remembered just what she’d done. Her mother was actually looking at her across the table at breakfast. That, in itself, was unusual. Charlotte’s mother usually paid her little heed.

“I think you had him positively enchanted,” Eleanor continued.

Charlotte blinked at her mother, ‘Enchanted’ wasn’t the word she’d have used. ‘Lustful’ perhaps, if she wanted to pretend at refinement. Earthier words if she was being honest. But then she remembered that her mother wasn’t talking about Evans. She was referring to Colonel Heywood.

Her mother had no idea what Charlotte had done.

“Er, thank you?” the heiress ventured. Sally had told her little about the evening beyond having dinner and making polite conversation. Nothing about ‘enchanting’ the colonel.

“You positively surprised me,” her mother smiled. “Am I to take it that if he had some intentions that you would not be adverse?”

“Um,” Charlotte hesitated. What had Sally done? Whatever it was seemed to have impressed both her mother and the colonel. Which Charlotte herself probably wouldn’t have managed. Was Sally better at being her than she was? Charlotte didn’t want to think about that.

What would Sally do now? “I did my best,” Charlotte smiled back at her mother. Which was only telling the truth. She’d given Evans the best fucking she could.

“Well, my little girl is becoming a woman at last,” Elanor beamed.

Well, yes, Charlotte thought drily. Her mother didn’t know just how much of a woman Charlotte was. Then her courage failed, a pit opening in her stomach. Charlotte couldn’t imagine how her mother would react if she ever found out what Charlotte had done. She shouldn’t have done it. She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t. Fear was running icily down her spine. Her mother had to know. Didn’t she? Couldn’t she just look at her daughter and know?

“Yes, he did seem quite taken,” Charlotte’s mother mused.

Maybe that was for the best. Maybe she should marry Colonel Heywood. Write the previous night off. Try to forget it. Once she was safely married, she’d have a husband and she could do with him what she’d done with Evans.

All the things she’d done with Evans.

She couldn’t do it again.

That resolve only hardened when she and Sally passed Evans in the hall. The servant didn’t look at her. Not that he was ignoring her. He acknowledged her. Without looking directly at her. In just the way a servant should.

He has no idea.

There was nothing that said that Evans knew who exactly it was he’d been with the night before. Nothing that said he’d seen a daughter of the family naked. Had kissed her.

Fucked her.

He wasn’t looking at Charlotte in any way like that. He was proper and deferential and just like a servant should be.

Except when he looked at Sally. Then there was something in his eyes. Something that told Charlotte he remembered everything they’d done the night before. Except he thought that it was Sally he’d been with, not her. That it was Sally he’d fucked.

She wasn’t sure what she thought about that. It’s just as well. But it was me. Me. Relief mixed with jealousy and emotions that Charlotte didn’t even have words for.

Sally, on the other hand, just laughed, when they reached Charlotte’s room.

“Dear God, did you see how he looked at me?’ the servant chortled, leaning against the door after closing it. “You must have given him a proper ride. Like a right little tart.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Charlotte snapped. “I might have enjoyed last night’s activities but that’s all. And I’m not doing it again.”

“Enjoyed?” Sally laughed again. “Enjoyed? Oh yes, dear, I so enjoyed the tea. And the cake was simply wonderful.” Charlotte stared at her servant, taken aback by the change in Sally’s voice. It sounded just like her. Then Sally’s voice slipped back to its normal tones. Which were so close to her own anyway. “Bollocks. You fucking loved it. You couldn’t wait to spread your legs for him. Couldn’t wait for him to fuck you. And you can’t wait for him to do it again.”

“I do not want that!” Charlotte snapped, stamping her foot.

Sally just smiled, thinly. “Not bad. Not too bad at all. The sound is about right. Rather cutting even. And your eyes almost flashed. Positively determined. The foot stomping is a little childish though, wouldn’t you say? Still, some men appreciate things like that.”

“Wha-what?” Charlotte spluttered. They’d been arguing. It didn’t occur to her how odd it was that she’d been arguing with her servant. But they had been. Now Sally was evaluating her like she’d been giving a performance.

“You almost make a convincing me. And I do think Evans was convinced last night. And you do want to do it again.”

“I do not,” Charlotte insisted, folding her arms and glaring at her servant.

“Oh, very good,” Sally smiled. “Quite the fixed stare. But we both know that you’re lying. You want to lift your skirts and ride him like a cheap strumpet.”

Charlotte tried to keep her eyes fixed firmly on her servant. Tried to keep the determined look on her face. She couldn’t stop a quiver running through her. Because she knew just how true Sally’s words were. She did want it again. So much. There was an ache in her breasts and a warm dampness in her centre and she wanted to be filled so badly.

She wanted to fuck.

“Sit down,” Sally ordered curtly.

Charlotte wanted to say no. She wanted to refuse.

But she didn’t say anything, simply taking her place in her chair and sitting there, silently, as she watched Sally pick up the brush.

“Not too bad,” Sally whispered, as the first gentle stroke fell on Charlotte’s hair. “Not too bad at all. I’m almost convinced. But there are more things that you need to learn. So many more. Let’s start on those, shall we?

Charlotte wasn’t listening, not consciously anyway. She was simply staring into the mirror, not a thought in her head.

---

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Well, of course I do,” Charlotte huffed. What a silly question for Sally to ask. She’d so very much enjoyed what she’d done the night before. She couldn’t wait to do it again.

“What do you want to do.”

“I want to fuck.”

“Well,” Sally smiled. “That sounds very determined of you. We shall have to see what we can arrange. But a young lady can’t spend all her time, well, fucking, now can she? Especially when she has a visitor.”

“What?” Charlotte cried, desperately looking around her room. For a panicked moment she thought she’d declared her intentions in front of someone other than her servant.

“Didn’t you hear what Clara said?” Sally’s question was all innocence but her smile was all wry amusement. “No, I suppose you didn’t. Ah well. Your dear friend Amelia is here. She’s coming up.”

“What?” Charlotte repeated. Quickly, she looked down at herself. At least she was wearing a dress suitable for receiving visitors. But it wasn’t the dress she had been wearing. When had she changed? It was too late to think of anything like that. At least she was wearing one of her dresses. Not like the last time Amelia had visited, when she and Sally had swapped places. She was herself this time. That was a good thing. Wasn’t it?

Charlotte wasn’t given any time to think about that question, as Amelia swept into the room, giving her friend a hug and then stepping back, her hands still on Charlotte’s shoulders.

“So it’s decided,” Amelia declared theatrically, the back of one hand on her forehead. “You are to leave me for wedded bliss. I am wounded that you didn’t tell me first.”

“What?” Charlotte exclaimed. She was starting to feel as if it was the only word she was capable of uttering.

“Why, you and Colonel Heywood. The talk is all over town.”

Charlotte simply spluttered. Amelia attempted to keep her serious expression but then dissolved into fits of laugher. “Oh, the look on your face,” Amelia grinned.

“All over town?” Charlotte managed at last.

“Well, not really,” her friend admitted. “But I do know that he was here for dinner last night and that you made quite the impression on him. So, Charlotte dearest, can an announcement be expected?”

Charlotte paused for a moment, distracted by her servant, who stood behind Amelia with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “You are rushing things a bit,” Charlotte huffed. “But if such an event did occur, “ she declared with mock-seriousness, her chin tipping up. “You shall have to refer to me as Mrs Heywood.”

“Not the Honourable Mrs Colonel Heywood-Rothermere?” Amelia grinned back. “Can we find some other titles to add to that? Surely his family has one or two they can spare?”

The two girls dissolved into fits of laughter.

“But, seriously,” Amelia said after composing herself. “Are you leaving me? That would be a bother.”

“There is no understanding between us,” Charlotte reassured her friend. “Indeed, I feel that I hardly know him. It is as if the dinner happened to someone else.”

It was Sally’s turn to suppress her laughter, the servant managing the feat far better than the two noble ladies had.

“If you spent the whole evening talking to him,” Amelia asked. “How can you say you hardly know him? You must tell me all about it.”

“Well, ah,” Charlotte didn’t know what to say. Maybe it would have better if she and Sally had swapped places before Amelia arrived. At least her servant would be able to answer her friend’s questions. An idea popped into her head. She didn’t know from where. It didn’t matter. She knew that it was a good idea. “I shall. But first, you absolutely must come over here.” She led her to her dressing table. “Now sit down.”

Her friend gave her a questioning look but did as she was asked.

“It was you,” Charlotte noted, stepping back, “that had the idea that I employ dear Sally. And she has been such a treasure. Helping me with all sorts of things” I wouldn’t have got fucked without her. That was so important. Charlotte knew that. “And she is so good with my hair. You really must see.” Charlotte had no idea why she was so insistent. She just knew that it was important that Sally brushed Amelia’s hair.

So important.

“Well, if you insist,” Amelia shrugged. “But my own maid, Mabel, is quite good with my hair. She never has any trouble and can do the most exquisite things with it.” Amelia’s long hair was up in a very fashionable do.

At a signal from Charotte, the heiress not knowing how she knew to make it, Sally came forward, Charlotte stepping out of the way.

Quickly, but expertly. Sally unpinned Amelia’s hair, Charlotte’s friend’s blonde locks falling free. Charlotte’s eyes were so wide as Sally picked up the brush. The brush that she… Charlotte didn’t want to think about what she did with the brush. There was an odd urge to say something, to protest. Something about what Sally was going to do…

Charlotte didn’t say a word, simply standing there, silent and wide-eyed, as Sally drew the brush through her Amelia’s hair. It was important that she watch. That she absorb every movement of Sally’s hands, every word the servant uttered, every subtle nuance of her voice.

“Miss has such wonderful hair,” Sally said, Amelia preening at the praise. Charlotte frowned. Had Sally said that to her? She thought her servant had. Exactly the same thing, the first time Sally brushed her hair.

She could almost feel the brush in her own hair. She didn’t need to worry about that. The thoughts flowed out of her head. Charlotte’s mind was empty as Sally’s words took their place.

“You just sit there miss. Just relax.”

The same words, again, that Sally had said to her. Amelia was just sitting there. As Sally drew the brush oh-so-slowly through her hair. Like she drew it through Charlotte’s hair. Like Charlotte could feel it in her hair.

“Having your hair brushed is so relaxing.” Those words were different. But it didn’t matter. It was so easy to watch Sally brush Amelia’s hair. Watch as the servant slowly drew stroke after stroke through those long golden locks.

“Stroke after stroke. Why you could almost be falling asleep. But you have to keep your eyes open. Do try.”

Familiar words again. Charlotte watched as her friend’s chin tilted down, her eyelids hooding, before Ameila jerked her head up, her eyes wide as she stared at her image in the mirror. Charlotte’s eyes were so wide.

“So tired. So sleepy. Falling down and down with each stroke. But you have to keep your eyes open.”

Stroke.

“Listening to my voice.”

Stroke.

“Falling down and down and down.”

Stroke.

“Hearing only my voice. So pleasant to just sit there. Hearing only my voice. So comfortable. So relaxing. So simple.”

Just what Sally had said to her the first time her servant had brushed her hair. It was Amelia’s hair being brushed now, but that didn’t matter. Charlotte could feel her own hair being brushed, a pleasant, familiar, feeling from her scalp echoing each brush that Sally laid on her friend’s hair.

Sally was saying more things now, familiar things. So familiar that it didn’t matter if Charlotte couldn’t really hear them. She knew what Amelia was being told. Knew how wonderful it felt.

“Every stroke pulls you further and further down. Until there are no thoughts in your head.”

There would be no thoughts in Amelia’s head now.

There were no thoughts in Charlotte’s.

---

Charlotte blinked. She was still in her room. But Amelia wasn’t sitting at her dressing table now. The two friends were standing, facing each other.

They weren’t wearing their dresses.

When had that happened? How? Something that might have been panic almost rose in Charlotte. But then it slipped away. They were still wearing their underthings. Skirts and chemises and corsets and corset covers. All the things a young lady of society wore under her pretty dresses. Everything was as it should be. She trusted Sally.

The servant was sitting on Charlotte’s bed, leaning against the head, her legs curled elegantly underneath her. “It’s almost funny, you know,” Sally smiled. “She’s the adventurous determined one. But it only took me this one time. You took so long. But I knew that’s how it would be. Maybe it’s because…” The maid’s voice trailed off. “Ah well, it doesn’t matter, now does it?”

Neither of the young ladies answered. They knew that wasn’t required.

“So, on with the lesson, shall we?” Sally smiled, her voice so like Charlotte’s. Her voice that could be Charlotte’s. “Men don’t just like kissing us. They like seeing us kiss each other. To be truly honest I do not understand it. If I had two men then I’d want them kissing me, not each other.” The servant shrugged elegantly. “But it was it is. So you need to learn. Give her a kiss.”

At her servant’s words Charlotte leant forward. It was easy to do, Amelia was her friend. Why not kiss her friend? Amelia was leaning forward as well, both girl’s eyes wide and empty, locked on each other. Soft lips sank into soft lips, something warm and delicate spreading through Charlotte. If she’d been able to think she’d have realised the soft moan came from her.

“I said I didn’t get what they saw in it,” Sally smirked from her perch on Charlotte’s bed. “I didn’t say you couldn’t enjoy it. But that’s far too chaste,” she observed at the pair’s simple kiss. “Let’s have some tongue from you. And use your hands.”

It was Amelia’s turn to moan as their tongues danced, as hands roamed over bodies that had known each other for years. Oh they’d hugged before, but the touches where never like this, electric heat spreading through Charlotte.

“It does help to put on a good show if you mean it,” Sally laughed. “And, of course, it doesn’t always have to be a show.” If Charlotte could have thought she might have wondered what her servant meant by that. But she had no thoughts, just heat and need and desire as her hands roamed over Amelia’s body, as Amelia’s hands explored and caressed hers.

“Let’s start losing some of those things, shall we?” Sally’s laugh was like tinkling crystal. “You want her. You need her. Oh, the naughty, naughty things you are going to do with her.” The words fell into Charlotte’s empty mind, becoming thoughts. Her only thoughts. Of course she wanted Amelia. She wanted her so very badly. It didn’t matter that it was wrong, perverted. The words would be sinking into Amelia’s mind as well.

Amelia moaned as Charlotte’s lips locked on her neck, the blonde going rigid, quivering with need as Charlotte loosened the string on an underskirt, as Amelia pulled Charlotte’s corset cover off.

“You want her,” Sally’s voice, sharp and cutting, left no room for argument. “You need her. Your tits are aching for her. You’re so fucking wet for her. What do you want to do?”

Somehow, Charlotte knew that question was directed to her. “I want to fuck her.” Thoughts sparked in her mind. She wanted to fuck. That’s what she’d told Sally. But she she’d never said she just wanted to fuck men.

“Well, then,” Sally laughed, hopping off the bed. “Don’t let me stop you.”

But they couldn’t take her place, not yet. There were so many clothes left to lose. So many things left to lose. Amelia behind Charlotte, helping her off with her corset, Amelia’s hands running over her torso, Charlotte keening in need as those hands found her tits, Charlotte spinning around and kissing Amelia, fumbling with the last of Amelia’s underskirts.

She had to do this, she had to. The need in her was a living thing, hot and wet and urgent, her centre tight and ready to explode. Even if something told her that this was wrong, she couldn’t stop it, Sally in her ear, urging her on, Sally whispering words to Amelia that Charlotte couldn’t hear, didn’t need to hear.

And then Amelia was shrugging out of her chemise, her friend standing before her in just her drawers, Charlotte’s drawn to her friend’s naked tits, small and ripe and so wonderful, the pink nipples so hard and erect. For her. Amelia was quivering in need. For her.

“You love them, don’t you?” Sally whispered in her ear, Charlotte’s eyes fixed on her friend’s chest. “You love how they look. You love how they make you feel. All wet and needy and ready to fuck. You want to kiss them. You want to suck them.”

Charlotte did. She wanted that so much. It didn’t matter how wrong it was, she wanted it so much. Sally told her to wait. And Charlotte did. No matter how hard it was. No matter how she could feel her desire dripping down her legs. She just stood there. Drinking in the sight of her friend’s tits. That glorious vision was lost for a moment, as Charlotte rid herself of her own chemise. And then she was standing in front of her friend, her own tits exposed. She so wanted to touch Amelia. But for the moment, she couldn’t. Sally was whispering in Amelia’s ear, the blonde’s eyes so wide as they fixed on Charlotte’s chest. Sally’s voice was so low that Charlotte couldn’t hear what her servant said. But it didn’t matter. She knew. It was the same words Sally had said to her.

“Don’t let me keep you any longer,” her servant smirked.

Charlotte rushed to embrace her friend. It was nothing like when Amelia had entered the room. Everything was a haze of need and desire. Hands roaming over naked flesh, kisses lavished on soft skin. Diamond-point nipples pushing into breasts that ached for the attention. Amelia’s head sank, her lips locking around one of Charlotte’s nipples, the heiress moaning as her hands dived into those glorious blonde locks.

The two friends fell onto the bed, drawers lost. Fingers found wet, secret, places, moans of need and pleasure filling the room.

“You still need some instruction,” Sally declared. Sally, who was still wearing her dress. Look prim and proper like a lady’s maid should. Who sounded like she was instructing her mistress in some finer point of etiquette. “Amelia, sit up against the head and spread your legs. Yes, just like that. One might almost think you were a natural. But you’ve never done this before, have you?”

“N-no, I haven’t,” Charlotte’s friend replied, her voice quivering with need. “Oh. Oh, dear God.”

“Charlotte, arrange yourself between Amelia’s legs. Oh, very nice. You do have such an excellent arse. Lean forward. And kiss her just here.” Sally’s finger was pointing at the spot just above Amelia’s centre. Charlotte knew what lay there. That very special spot, that little nub. She followed Sally’s words. When to kiss. When to suck. When to lick the length of her friend’s opening. How to cover those lower lips in hers. When to sink her tongue inside. Amelia moaned and thrashed under Charlotte’s attention.

She’s cresting. She’s cresting.

“That was you first time, wasn’t it dear?” Sally smiled.

“Yes,” Amelia replied. “It was. Oh, I never knew. Oh.”

“Well, you simply must return the favour. Swap places girls.”

They did, Sally giving the direction to Amelia now, Charlotte’s turn to squirm mindlessly as Amelia’s tongue and lips did everything to her that she’d done to her friend, Charlotte’s back arching as she came.

“And, of course,” Sally smirked. “You do not have to take turns.” And then she was directing them so that Charlotte lay over Amelia, her eyes fixed on her friend’s centre, knowing that Amelia was gazing up at hers. Hungrily, she dove in, her body quivering as Amelia, at Sally’s suggestion, pulled Charlotte’s hips down, feasting on her friend.

“There is more to learn, of course,” Sally mused. Charlotte listened only with difficulty, what Amelia was doing was so glorious. But she did listen. She trusted Sally. “But we can leave that for another time.”

Amelia lay back and sighed, Charlotte luxuriating as her friend’s finger circled her nipple.

“Well, that was an adventure,” her friend giggled.

It certainly had been. Hot and wrong and oh so delicious.

“We shall have to do this again,” Amelia continued primly. “Even if you do get married.”

“I have not decided on that,” Charlotte replied, darting in to lick Amelia’s nipple, her friend shrieking in reply.

Charlotte shushed her friend. It had been fun. But they couldn’t risk anyone finding out. It was just as well they were alone. For a moment, Charlotte had a memory of Sally being there. Instructing them.

But that was ridiculous, Sally had left, right after Amelia had arrived. And even if Sally knew what they did, the maid would never tell.

Charlotte trusted Sally.

(To be continued)