Bancroft Hall, Dorsetshire, England. September 1902.
In the late afternoon of the second day after her arrival at Bancroft, the countess returned from a ride and found me in her sunlit bedroom tidying up, as befits a lady’s maid. I noticed she was moving stiffly and enquired as to the problem.
‘I almost fell off my horse in the woods on the far side of the lake,’ she answered, her slight German accent noticeable in the quiet room. ‘He stumbled and I have strained the bottom of my back. It is quite painful.’
‘Perhaps a warm bath might soothe it, my lady?’ I suggested.
‘A bath? Yes, perhaps. Very well, Mary, you may run me a bath,’ she replied.
I made another suggestion. ‘My previous mistress suffered from back pain and taught me how to use Swiss massage to alleviate it. After your bath I would be happy to treat your back if you like, my lady. It may help to ease the discomfort.’ She nodded slightly, suggesting she knew of such things, and then looked at me as if the implications were running through her mind. I met her eye and smiled innocently.
Finally, she nodded. ‘Very well, Mary Felix, do your worst.’
My heart beating faster, I went into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the taps, positioning the floor mat and pouring lavender salts into the water as it started to steam.
When the bath was ready, I walked back into the bedroom to find the countess wearing a beautiful pale blue silk dressing gown. Her riding dress and underclothes were draped on the chaise longue, so I assumed she was naked underneath. She was standing barefoot at the window looking out over the grounds. Her glorious deep red hair had loosened a little and lay in soft curls over her slim white neck, and the sunlight picked out the curves of her body under the fine fabric in a most delightful way. I had been told she was aged forty, but her extraordinary beauty showed no signs of fading.
She turned and smiled at me, her haughty authority lost for a moment. ‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Yes, my lady. Would you like me to assist you in the bathroom?’
‘No.’
‘Then I will go and get the massage oil from my room and return directly.’
She nodded and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open a foot or so. Seconds later I heard a rustle of silk as the gown fell away, followed by delicate splashing and a muted gasp of pleasure as the hot water engulfed her.
Climbing the stairs to my room on the top floor, my mind was fizzing with excitement. The thought of laying hands on the countess was intoxicating, and I resolved to please her to the best of my abilities. I was also very aware of how such sessions with Georgina sometimes ended, and, although I doubted that she would permit such liberties, the thought sent illicit thrills through my body.
‘I’m back, my lady,’ I said quietly as I returned with the dark brown bottle in my hand.
There was no reply from the bathroom. I put the bottle on the window ledge to warm in the sun and went to tidy the discarded clothes. Crossing to the wardrobe, I glanced towards the bathroom door. Through the gap I had a brief glimpse of the countess. She appeared to be dozing, her eyes closed and head leaning back on the rim of the bathtub, but my gaze was held by the sight of her delicious pink nipples protruding from the water. My head swam for a moment, then the vision was gone.
Aware of a sympathetic arousal in my own nipples, I removed a bath towel from the wardrobe and spread it out on the bed. As I did so, a gentle splashing signalled movement from next door. I crossed to the door and asked, ‘Have you finished, my lady?’
‘Yes, Mary. You may come in and dry me.’
I entered the room and picked up the towel from the rail. As I turned towards the bath, she stood up, the water cascading off her like falling diamonds in the late afternoon sunlight. Try as I might, I could not muffle a gasp. Truly, she was a goddess. Lustrous red hair framed her beautiful blue-eyed, fine-boned face, which was perfectly set off by her flawless alabaster-white body. High breasts showing the ripe fullness of a mature woman were matched perfectly with her slim waist and beautifully proportioned hips and legs. For a maid, my exclamation was inexcusable, but thankfully she seemed to treat it as a compliment.
‘We’ve no secrets now, Mary,’ she said in a low voice.
I did not trust myself to speak but gently towelled her dry, helped her into the dressing gown and then waited as she led the way into the bedroom.
I picked up the bottle of oil.
‘If you’d like to lie face down on the towel, my lady,’ I said. With her back to me, she silently shrugged off the gown. It slid down her back and crumpled around her feet. I went to pick it up, and when I looked again, she was on the towel, both arms folded upwards and crossed under her face, which was turned away from me. ‘I’ll start at the top of your back,’ I said quietly, standing next to the bed.
She said nothing. Indeed, over the events of the next twenty minutes she did not utter a word, but that is not to say she remained silent. Far from it.
Pouring the sun-warmed, rose-scented oil into my cupped palms, I set to work, massaging the base of her neck and shoulders. In the silence, I slowly worked down her spine, taking my time and feeling her tension ease. She gave a couple of quiet sighs and I saw her legs visibly relax and roll slightly further apart as she gave herself in to the soothing sensations.
‘Is this helping, my lady? Shall I continue?’ I murmured as my hands worked on the base of her spine. Taking her silence as acquiescence, I started to gently knead her buttocks, working with quiet concentration and occasionally easing my fingers into the crack where a dribble of oil lingered. Her legs imperceptibly parted as I continued, so that more and more of her pretty secrets were revealed to me.
Greatly daring, I let some oil dribble down over her rosebud bum and directly onto her slit. Sliding my fingers down to collect it, I found she was wet with arousal. I heard the faintest of sighs.
‘Will you turn over, my lady?’ I whispered, my voice barely audible in the silent room.
She did so with no hesitation and lay there with her eyes closed, looking utterly glorious, one arm crooked behind her head and the other thrown out towards the middle of the bed. Her cunny was crowned with a neat russet-coloured tuft, her plump lips proud and bare below. I worked the oil through the hair, letting dribbles run downwards and gently rubbing them in. The oil was not really needed, as she was most luxuriously wet. Clearly intimacy with another woman was not something that held any fears for her, and I reflected, not for the first time, that ladies’ secret lives really are a closed book to most gentlemen.
Laying my right-hand palm on her tuft, I started to work the oil over her upstanding peanut-sized clitty with my thumb. She stirred and sighed, her legs parting wider. Slowly I increased the pressure, moving in a steady rotation, and she responded, her hips gently lifting and falling. As her sighs turned to moans and her legs slowly bent at the knee and raised, I firmly slid two fingers from my other hand into her. She gasped as I pressed upwards, feeling for that patch of slightly rougher skin that resides just an inch or two inside. A place of great wonder and pleasure to the initiated.
For a full five minutes I pleasured her with my fingers and thumb. Her groans became deeper and more urgent as her arousal grew. Looking up, I saw her throat and blue-veined breasts were flushed red and she was pulling on her nipples, twisting them between her fingers in a way that must have been deliciously painful.
Not long now. Feeling distinctly aroused myself, I drove her onwards until, with a single plaintive cry of surrender, she spent, her hips jerking upwards and her body held rigid as wave after wave of pleasure broke over her.
Slowly the shuddering spasms quietened until at last she relaxed with a low moan, panting for breath as though she had been running. I looked down on her as the after-tremors ran through her body and wished for all the world that she would ask me to lie naked beside her. But her eyes remained resolutely shut.
I gently drew the coverlet from the far side of the bed over her and moved away, thinking that I would leave her to sleep. But she stirred and opened her eyes.
‘Did you enjoy that, Mary? Did you like serving me?’ She looked at me with a lazy smile. A sheen of perspiration had dampened her face and a curl stuck to her forehead, but her look was direct and there was challenge in her voice.