‘Stand, girl.’

I stood and noticed she had unpinned her hair although I had not been aware of it. Her mane was dark and glossy in the subdued light of the room. She indicated a spot to her right where I should position myself and tapped my inner thighs to indicate I should spread my legs. When I had done so she first cupped my mound and then, slowly and cautiously, slid her finger under the sheer silk of my knickers and then between the creases of my most intimate part, much as Mistress Pickles had some time before. She proceeded with great circumspection, as if afraid she might harm me. Her finger entered between my lips a slight way and then a smile came to her mouth.

‘Mistress Pickles is a woman of her word. How very gratifying.’ My Lady then unlaced my corset as she sat and her hands roamed over me. She had me remove my undergarments while she watched and I saw a change in the demeanour of her eyes and mouth; she had assumed what I could now describe as a predatory air but at the time I found slightly wild and unnerving.

She stood gracefully and, taking my hand, led me to the large bed that dominated the room. She indicated I should lie down and she stood for a few moments, looking at me and touching her own cunny, slowly opening herself and entering herself there. She was still wearing her bloomers and showed no inclination to remove them. I wondered fleetingly if she had some disfigurement that inclined her to keep herself thus covered. She continued to stroke herself and regard me until it seemed she reached a decision. She climbed onto the bed and placed her knees either side of my head facing my feet. My sole vision was of her hairless treasure and I lifted my head slightly once again to touch my tongue to it and trace her lips.

‘Wait,’ she commanded and so I let my head fall back but in truth I wanted more of that delicate flower. I know now that such intimacy between women is not commonly held to be proper but I merely knew then that it was secret, something to be concealed from the public. I had, myself, never known any other kind of love and suspect that even had I had the experience of men I should always have wanted womankind.

The third woman in the world ever to touch me so intimately leant slowly forward and I felt the caress of her hair on my skin above my knees. I spread my legs invitingly and her hands lifted my knees. For one moment I could see her breasts dangling before me but then the hard nipples were pressed against my belly and her tongue began to dance beguilingly over my cunny. I felt the now familiar warmth of my own wetness increasing as she thus favoured me, ‘tipping my velvet’ with such delicacy. The pressure of her tongue increased and I suddenly felt that joy which can only come from the attention to the nub. I squirmed in pleasure beneath her and as if to quiet me she lowered her hips so at last I could attend to her cunny as I so desired to do. And so I did, with some gusto. This was heaven and I was approaching ecstasy. It seemed that she was in a similar state for her mewlings became cries of pleasure and she rocked her hips and pressed herself onto my mouth and tongue.

Had I been more experienced as I now am, I should have recognised the skill with which she controlled both her own arousal and mine. I had never know prior to this the conjunction of two climaxes, my own and that of my lover. So adroit was she with her tongue and lips and fingers that she hastened or slowed my passion. My back was arching beneath her. Still I longed for the intrusion of her finger into my depths, to feel that delicious fullness. She denied that to me, building my excitement and her own, ignoring my attempts to push my hips onto her finger so as to force her inside me. My hands were caressing her clad buttocks.

I knew immediately that our crisis were to arrive imminently.

My own was building inside me, somewhere deep and wet inside me. Her own was heralded by a sort of animal growl and I could feel an increase in the flow of her nectar. As I became unable any longer to restrain myself so I felt that she was with me. I may, for all I know, have released a scream of pleasure but it would have been muffled in her core. I felt a wonderful pressure inside me and at almost the very moment that my climax burst forth, a sharp, brief pain which was followed by a glorious sense of fulfillment. Her cries were music to my ears and her soft attentions thereafter included for me that which I had so desired, her continuing presence deep within me. We lay, sated in that position for several minutes, I know not how many. Her breathing, like mine, returned to a semblance of normality and eventually she rolled off me and moved to lie beside me. She took my hand tenderly and I emitted a slight scream when I noticed blood on her chin.

‘My Lady, you are hurt!’ I exclaimed.

‘Calm yourself, Madeleine. It is the blood of your maidenhood which you see. Old wives say it has rejuvenating powers but I confess I should need a larger draft to recover my vitality just at this instant.

I left the bed and went to the washstand to bring the bowl of water and cloth that lay there for a guest’s use. I confess I almost dropped that bowl when I saw the red patch on the bed sheets where I must have bled from her penetration of me. I looked down and saw traces upon my thighs and felt, I admit, a little unsteady for a moment.

‘Come, come, girl, it is perfectly natural.’

I bathed her face and then returned to the washstand and cleansed myself. As I turned back to her, I saw her pulling the bell rope to summons a servant. Such was the quickness of Jenkins’ attendance that I suspected she had been outside and I wondered if she had been listening to our exertions. Her face was stony as she entered but she spoke politely to My Lady.

‘You rang, Milady.’

‘Bring water, Jenkins, we will bathe.’ Jenkins bowed a little and withdrew. Moments later, servants arrived carrying ewers of hot water and Jenkins opened the door to a side room wherein stood a tub. I was embarrassed at being naked as the servants, overseen by the manly Jenkins, filled the bath but My Lady seemed unaffected. She lay languidly on the bed as the comings and goings proceeded until, at last, we were alone again. She rose from the bed, removed her bloomers so that I could see there was no blemish on her faultless skin. Clearly she merely enjoyed the sensation of the silk upon her. I followed her to the steaming tub and we entered the warmth together. I washed her and she me. She lingered over my breasts and cunny as I did for her. Her soapy fingers invaded me and I followed her lead, intruding into her treasure in like manner.

Then as we sat facing each other in the commodious vessel, she slowly insinuated her body so that our cunnies were conjoined. She moved her hips, her eyes locked on mine and the arousal, already reignited by our mutual washings, welled up in me again. She continued her gentle movements and I aped her. I felt the glorious naked flesh of her cunny on my nub and I knew it would not be long before another climax would overwhelm me.

She had no desire to delay or hasten me this time. She was working herself into a gentle frenzy and moments later her head went back, her eyes closed and she let forth a gentle, keening noise as she reached her ‘petit mort.’ Mine did not arrive with hers, in fact as I watched the pleasure course through her, my arousal subsided and I felt a warm tenderness toward her.

‘My, my, Madeleine. You seem to affect me pleasurably. Shall we have more champagne?’

More champagne we had indeed, but the night did not end there.