As I write this, Maria is entertaining one of Mistress Pickles’ ladies. True to her promise that kindly former employer, teacher and guardian has, since our departure from her house, sent a number of her clients to stay with us. Some have been convalescents, other merely wishing to enjoy a change from the normal social circles they enjoy or endure in the capital. Mistress Pickles sends us money to pay for their visits and we do not know, ask or care what she charges them. We have also found a few clients of our own, mostly through word of mouth. The occasional intrusions do not in any way mar our enjoyment of our independence or of each other. The lady in question arrived only yesterday and was tired after her trying journey. I do not expect her to feel less so after Maria has performed in her usual, vigorous way. I know all too well for I am oft too tired of a morning to rise from my bed. I swear my knees are strangers who need to be reacquainted every morning!
My view is of the Cob. It is, I am told, a notable landmark but I have always thought since we moved here that it looks like a small harbour wall around a small and disappointing harbour. That aside, the view is perfect. It varies all the time, with the sea moving from violent anger to millpond calm and with boats and ships providing constant diversion.
We have our own Jenkins now. Her name is Torrance and is of Scottish origin. Her accent is soft and her manner mild but she rules the household with an iron fist inside an iron glove. She has, too, a foul mouth which offends my ear but makes Maria laugh inordinately. It was important to Maria and I that we created a Sapphic household akin to Mistress Pickles’ but on a reduced scale. We have but three ladies who entertain guests now aside from ourselves. They are: Ella, a simple country girl from the local county of Dorset with an appetite for carnal pleasure that rivals anyone’s, Doris who served in Mistress Pickles’ house with us and came here to recuperate from the ague and asked if she might remain and Jemima, a foundling who started, much as I myself did, doing simple book keeping for us but who showed, as Maria put it, considerable potential. I have never minded that Maria pays attention to others for I am secure in my certainty that she would forego all others for me but her appetite is so insatiable I confess to being glad, occasionally, of the respite. Her dalliances are not only rare but always with my full knowledge and consent before they occur.
I remember vividly when Jemima celebrated her eighteenth birthday Maria said quite naturally to me, ‘I think, my dear, that I shall introduce our Jemima to the mysteries. Would that be acceptable?’
‘I am sure she will find it so my love and you know I shall both envy her and rejoice for you both.’
‘You are truly a gem,’ was Maria’s response. It was, at least, her response in words; in actions she replied more deliciously.
Both Maria and I entertain too, but only for selected guests. Maria’s current visitor is the wife of an Admiral, a companion of the late and much lamented Lord Nelson with whom, she revealed last night over dinner, she had spent a memorable weekend in Exmouth, but two doors from his abandoned wife’s house.
‘I know not how he behaved when he fought the enemy, my dears, but he boarded me with great gusto. He thrust most vigorously. I was impressed that he could hold his admittedly slight body above me on but the one arm.’
Maria and I had exchanged glances, hardly able to avoid breaking into laughter.
‘Let us both hope, my Lady, that I will please you as much as his Lordship did,’ said Maria.
I thought to myself that her Ladyship would feel as if the entire fleet had boarded her now that she had thrown down such a challenge to my lovely Maria.
It seems that I was correct in my musing for heavy though the door of Maria’s salon may be, no matter how stout the walls, I catch occasional if muted sounds of obvious enjoyment. It may seem odd that despite knowing Maria is rogering her I feel no jealously of her Ladyship
There have, dear reader, been two events since our arrival here in Dorset that I dare hope may be of interest. The first occurred shortly after our arrival the second more recently. You may recall that Maria and I had, as a result of Mistress Pickles’ prudence, both amassed a substantial sum to fund our retirement from full time entertaining. It is indeed also thanks to Mistress Pickles that my mother was able to remove herself from poverty and, at her death, leave me further evidence of that good woman’s kindness. She had, without reference to me, paid my mother a stipend for undertaking all her household’s seamstress work that was beyond the abilities of her own staff and as a result mother had been able to buy a small house of her own which I inherited and which Maria and I keep as a pied-a-terre when we wish to visit the City.
It was thanks to this wealth that Maria and I were able to appear to the local gentry as worthy of their interest. Maria has, I think I may have mentioned, the slight look of mixed blood although she cannot confirm or deny this since she never knew either of her own parents, poor dear. This notwithstanding, the locals accepted us as much, I think, out of a natural generosity as from the pleasure they took from having Maria’s beautiful presence in their homes.
We were invited to a Harvest Supper by Mrs Palmer, the vicar’s wife shortly after our arrival in Lyme. This was not something that greatly appealed for, I confess, Maria and I do not have great faith nor do we attend church every Sunday and we suspected that we might receive a private sermon from the good Dr. Palmer. Happily this did not prove to be the case. The Parsonage was overwhelmed with guests some of whom had clearly enjoyed the wine more than the supper.
Whilst at home, Maria still leans to the manly in dress but in society she is a woman ‘sans pareil’. On this occasion she wore a fine satin dress and a hat of small and delicate proportions. I was alone in knowing that under her dress she wore her ladyprick for it is our delicious secret. I had for my part another secret. I shall digress and reveal this secret to you.
*
On a Thursday almost exactly a month after our moving into our new residence I had been dealing with household matters and Maria had taken the dogcart down into the town, driven by Torrance who managed horses much as she did staff. It had become and remains our habit to take sherry together at four of the afternoon and nothing, no event or client, prevents this. We retire to our private withdrawing room and talk or, quite often, enjoy a deal of intimacy.
‘Come, Madeleine and remove your face from that ledger. It is our time now.’ She had returned!
I looked up, startled, at the clock on the mantel and saw that, engrossed as I had been in the figure work, I had failed even to hear the chime of the hour. I hastily sanded, blotted and closed the ledger, tidied the papers away and followed Maria to our withdrawing room (here we see no servants except in extremis). Maria poured our wine and sat having handed me my glass.
‘How was your visit to the town, my Love?’
"Uneventful barring one incident. Torrance is a most competent driver.’
‘And the one incident?’
Maria smiled a wicked smile. ‘That is something you are about to discover most personally. Pray come and stand here beside me.’
Interest aroused I did as she asked and, also at her bidding, I turned away from her. I was not, as you may imagine, at all disturbed to feel her hand delving under my dress and opening the silk bloomers I wore. Her finger deftly stroked me until it was inevitable that my moistness was precipitated, whereupon her finger slithered deeply and most beautifully into me.
‘I do not see what relevance this has to your visit to the town,’ I said, laughing with pleasure.
‘Be silent, wench,’ said Maria with mock severity. ‘Learn you shall and soon.’
Her finger now slick with my juices left my cunny to my huge disappointment but, to restore my pleasure, slid up a fraction to press, after overcoming my natural resistance, into my darker entrance. Here she dallied for a few moments before withdrawing from me.
‘Now, my little guttersnipe, bend over the back of the chaise.’
Oft, when she was in the mood for urgent satisfaction it was over this piece of furniture that she had me bend and I was expecting her ladyprick to invade me imminently. To begin with all seemed normal. She unceremoniously lifted my dress and threw it over my head. She untied my bloomers and pulled them down and I awaited her delicious assault. I was not disappointed. I was however surprised that whilst I was experiencing an intrusion into my postern gate, Maria was not behind me but to one side, one hand on my mid back. I turned and she grinned wolfishly at me.
‘Be patient, child of sin, and you will learn.’
The pressure on my entrance increased almost to burning as I was stretched open and I gasped and protested but she was relentless, if slow. Suddenly the pain disappeared and I felt myself close around whatever the intruder was and felt her tap something that now nested between my buttocks.
‘Stand up straight, girl.’ I did so. ‘Now, walk around a little.’
Whatever she had put in me created the most delicious feelings as I walked. It was as if she were inside me.
‘My heaven, Maria, you are a magician. You invade me from afar. You are supernatural.’
‘No, my love, I am oak. I had Moore, the joiner turn it for me. He thought it was an unusual ornament but I told him it was a replica of one such that your mother had owned and that I wanted to give it to you for sentimental reasons. It is made to my own design. Do you approve? I thought it might be a shared secret like that which I wear sometimes.’
‘Could a lady ever approve of such depravity?’ I asked with a broad smile. ‘It delights me, my darling. You are the kindest and most imaginative of lovers.’
‘My thought was that it would at least stop Torrance rogering you there.’ Maria laughed and so did I.
‘But not here,’ she said as she lifted her own dress and, pressing me back over the chair once more flipped my dress and eased her ladyprick into my now flooding cunny. It appeared urgency had over come her and I was not sorry for that. The combination of her extension and the ornament in my rear led me to a surprisingly violent climax which left me shaking and exhausted as I lay bent over the chaise.
*
Perhaps you now realise that at the Harvest Supper I was thus filled. Maria, ever the one to make merry introduced me to Mr. Moore the joiner.
‘Should you not thank Mr. Moore for his skillful replication of your mother’s ornament Madeleine?’
‘Oh my, but of course yes Maria. Thank you so much Mr. Moore.’
‘I ‘opes it satisfies, Miss.’
‘More than you can know, Mr. Moore,’ I said almost in a paroxysm of laughter. ‘I will always keep it safe.’
‘Do you have it with you now, Miss? I’d like to remind meself as how I dunnit’
‘That,’ said Maria, ‘will not be possible Mr. Moore, but rest assured it is in the safest and most treasured of places. Miss Clench keeps it snug and safe.’
How we did not collapse with laughter I simply cannot explain.
As we moved among the throng, Maria would make subtle references to our secrets. She stroked a sideboard and remarked that oak was truly a most fitting wood for so many purposes. She fondled lasciviously a brush’s handle and suggested that such a shape would surely be a welcome addition to any household. I tried in vain not to laugh for fear of being seen as irreverent by our hosts but there was so much noise and laughter from others that nobody noticed.
As we entered a small sitting room with a view over the large, beautifully manicured garden we found a lady of considerable elegance seated at a window seat admiring the scene. She turned her head slowly and smiled.
‘Am I mistaken in thinking I meet the ladies of Upper House?’
‘Indeed you are not, Ma’am,’ said Maria and she introduced us. It was unusual for me to hear her refer to me as Miss Clench and herself as Miss Lloyd. ‘And with whom do we have the pleasure of this encounter?’
‘I am Jessica Tansley. I have a small apartment here in Lyme but I live mostly in London. Dr. Palmer is my uncle.’
I said it was our pleasure to meet her and it was no more than the truth. She bore herself with great authority and self-confidence. Her clothes were of the finest quality and her eyes, teeth and skin were almost perfect. She bade us sit and join her.
‘Do, please, call me Jessica and may I address you as Maria and Madeleine? I feel as if I have known you for such a long time. Mistress Pickles has often spoken of you.’ I sensed Maria react oddly to this news.
‘You are a friend of Mistress Pickles?’ I asked.
‘More, I should say, a recent client.’
We spent a few minutes talking to her. She was, it transpired, Mrs Tansley, her husband being a banker in the City of London.
‘He is a very busy man and, I fear, not at all a lady’s man, if you understand me?’
Maria and I of course understood perfectly.
‘But,’ said Maria, ‘in view of your acquaintance with Mistress Pickles, perhaps this was not a matter of great concern?’
‘By no means.
A marriage of convenience may be convenient in more than one direction.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps I might call upon you at Upper House?’
Maria smiled, ‘But of course, you would be most welcome. Pray give us a little notice and we will be sure to be there to greet you.’
‘I shall and I look forward to it with great anticipation.’
Maria and I left the supper soon after that. The good vicar made gentle hint at hoping to see us more often and his wife hoped she might visit us.
As we boarded the dogcart, driven by Torrance, Maria said, ‘Let us hope but one of the ladies who have suggested it actually visits us. I do not think I could stand the simpering gossip Mrs Palmer intruding upon our home. But Mrs Tansley is an altogether different proposition. I suspect that when she visits it will be to form a closer acquaintanceship with you my dear.’
‘What concerned you when first we met her.’
‘I thought he was saying that she knew the nature of our household and I feared that if, in a town such as this, rumour began to spread we might be driven out.’
Such a thought had never occurred to me and I thanked heaven for the worldliness of my ‘husband’ Maria. I am too trusting and, in some ways innocent although, dear Reader, no doubt you will think innocence the last quality of a whore. But pray remember, I had lived a cloistered life since the age of fourteen.
‘And why, my dearest, do you think it is me and not you that interests her?’
Maria placed her hand firmly and deliberately on my dress where it covered my womanhood.
‘Trust my instincts, my dear.’ She stared deep into my eyes. ‘Trust me and obey me.’
Had I not so promised at our wedding? And had I not been true to my vow?
That was the beginning of the first incident really. Mrs Tansley sent a note asking if she might attend at Upper House on a Thursday evening. Maria replied immediately that that would be most welcome and suggested she might allow us to entertain her at dinner. The reply was that, yes, Mrs Tansley would much enjoy that.
She arrived at 7.30. Torrance, dressed much like Jenkins’ habitual attire of the butler, ushered her into the sitting room where we took sherry wine and welcomed her. Shortly after, Torrance informed us that dinner was served and we made our way through to the dining room. Maria had arranged for Jemima to join us for she of all the three girls had a sense of formality and could behave impeccably. We sat at the four sides of our ‘intimate table’ which is used when we have a small number at dinner. I faced Maria, and Mrs Tansley faced Jemima who was on her best behavior, demure and respectable.
We spoke at length and of little of anything of consequence. Mrs Tansley admired the food, the house and Jemima.
Torrance served brandy although she muttered in a stage whisper to me that good Scotch Whisky is far superior to the French piss. Maria rebuked her but I could tell her rebuke was one for form’s sake only.
Maria smiled at Mrs Tansley. ‘Would you care to spend a little time getting to know Jemima better, Jessica?’
‘It is interesting that you should ask? I have been trying to find words to express my real desire.’ Here she reached with her left hand and covered mine. ‘Mistress Pickles intimated that Madeleine here might be more to my taste. I am aware that you and she are, as it were, married but Mistress Pickles led me to believe that that might not be an insurmountable obstacle.’
Maria turned to me. ‘Leave us my dear. I shall come to you in the withdrawing room shortly.’
I left the room obediently and sat in the withdrawing room, wondering what discussion was taking place. I was soon to learn.
The door opened. ‘Mrs Tansley is, as I thought, interested in you as you heard. She has a desire to have you in my presence. I know you will always obey me but we are married and I will always respect your wishes in such matters. What do you say?’
‘What is your wish, Ma’am?’
I had never called Maria ‘Ma’am’ hitherto and it brought a smile to her lips. ‘Mrs Tansley could become a good guest for us, my love. I would suggest we attend to her needs. Are you in agreement?’
‘I will always be guided by you, my love.’
Maria led me back to the dining room where Mrs Tansley and Jemima, who was rather to my surprise, naked sat in conversation. No words were spoken but Maria looked into my eyes and gently pressed me so that I had to kneel and she guided me under the table. I then knew what was expected of me. As the three women above continued their discourse as if nothing of note were happening I insinuated myself under Mrs Tansley’s dress, gently pressed her knees apart to find, in the semi-darkness, that her cunny was not covered by the silk bloomers which covered her legs. I leant to her and kissed her tufty hair, licking at the lips that it partially concealed. She spread her legs wider and, thus encouraged I served her eagerly. I could hear the muffled voices but concentrated on her and worked my tongue into her and around her with all my skills. I maintained this attention for some minutes until I felt a tap on my head and I withdrew. Maria told me to rise from beneath the table and when I had done so she instructed me to face her across the table, where Mrs Tansley, now standing, had been sitting. I was instructed to bend over the table facing Maria who took my hands in hers. I felt my skirts being lifted, my undergarments being opened and then the stiffness of a ladyprick pressed at my entrance.
I was, with Maria holding my hands and smiling at me fondly, rogered from behind. Mrs Tansley pressed her dildo into me and began to move relentlessly and with gradually increasing pace. I could hear her breathing deepen, her occasional sounds of pleasure and I knew she was close. Maria leant down and kissed my mouth as the lady behind me curled her body over me and, to my surprise, bit my neck as she achieved her climax noisily. She lay upon me, still deep inside me and panted, recovering herself.
I was surprised to discover that as she had been so enjoying me, Jemima had been on her knees behind Mrs Tansley and under her dress, and had, apparently, been aiding the Lady’s arousal. Mrs Tansley’s bodice was open to reveal surprisingly large, pendulous breasts. We disentangled and sat again, Mrs Tansley, still thus exposed, resumed her seat and I went to sit next to Maria who kissed my mouth warmly. We were once more provided brandy by Torrance who was unperturbed at the decadent sight that met her as she entered.
A short while later, Mrs Tansley excused herself and Jemima solicitously assisted her in re-covering her breasts which seemed to be well met.
‘I hope,’ said Mrs Tansley, ‘that I shall be permitted to visit often?’
Maria smiled, ‘You will be most welcome.’
When Mrs Tansley had departed Maria took me to our room.
‘You are a wanton whore. I adore you.’
*
The second event to which I referred earlier did not transpire in Dorset but in London. Maria and I had gone there to pay a visit to Mistress Pickles and to do some shopping of the sort that is not readily available in Dorset.
Mistress Pickles greeted us warmly and made us most welcome. We could not stay long for she was entertaining a lady who was, ‘A Duchess, my dears and a confidante of the Queen. Who knows, perhaps one day we shall have a Queen call upon us!’ A brief interlude for tea with her and Jenkins and then we left.
We repaired to our little house where we maintained a staff of two all year, a cook and a housekeeper. They were both girls who had worked as servants for Mistress Pickles and the latter was kind enough to ensure they kept the place in good order by sending Jenkins there occasionally to conduct a thorough examination. So afraid of her were our staff that we knew all would always be well. And so it proved. The house was in perfect order and Chloe and Belle were delighted to see us. They fussed around us as we gave them the small gifts we had taken for them.
To my surprise Maria told me that she had decided that we should, that evening, dine out. I expressed a little disappointment and told her that I had hoped we might enjoy an evening alone. Seldom does Maria become angry with me but the more I resisted the more she became irate. Finally she took me firmly by the arm and led me the bedchamber.
‘I will not have any disagreement in front of our staff.’
‘I was not arguing with you, merely stating a preference.’
‘Be silent.’
‘I will not! I am allowed to have a view, am I not?’
‘Indeed you are, and having expressed it, if I am disinclined to accept your view you will accept mine. And you will do so promptly.’
I knew this rule of course and I had forgotten it as I had tried to persuade Maria to do my bidding. But my own ire was ignited now and I can be willful. I spoke unwisely.
‘You want a doormat to walk on,’ I shouted.
She said, very quietly, ‘I want a dutiful wife.’ She turned on her heel and left the room.
I fell upon the bed, sobbing. We had had few arguments and mostly they were petty and soon over. As I calmed I realised that I had been wrong. I wiped my face and went downstairs to the small sitting room but Chloe informed that ‘the Mistress’ had gone out.
‘Will you be requiring supper, Miss?’ I detected a note of quiet glee at this potential source of gossip and I replied that I did not and that if she spoke one word she would feel Jenkins’s wrath. I told her that she and Belle should retire to their rooms in the basement and resume their duties the following morning. I returned to our bedroom and, heavy of heart and wet of eye, undressed, did my toilet and donned a nightdress.
‘Wake up and get out of bed.’
I was thus startled by Maria who stood, holding a chamber stick. I threw back the covers and leapt out of bed and went towards her but she stayed me with a lift of her hand. I stopped and stood, trembling, not knowing what was happening. The candle being below her face cast shadows that made her lovely face forbidding.
‘I have been considering what I should do with you. I will not tolerate your being argumentative with me, nor less than dutiful.’
‘I know, Ma’am and I am truly sorry. It was unforgivable of me.’
‘Not unforgivable but it will be punished. You will understand the need for that.’
The truth is I did understand. What I did not know was the nature of the punishment she had in mind. She was still dressed and I had no idea of the time.
‘Now, help me to undress.’
This was a task that I was adept at and approached her with, I admit, some caution. I went behind her and unbuttoned and separated the hooks. I held her dress as she stepped out of it and took it to her wardrobe and carefully hung it. I returned to her to untie the ribbons of her bodice and ease it from her then, oh then, I took down her bloomers and undid the ribbons at her stockings until, at last, she stood naked. It was always impossible for me to see Maria’s body without feeling a deep longing for her.
Maria walked slowly, her eyes locked on mine, to a chest in the corner of our bedroom. She pulled open a drawer and took from within a long, black scarf. She retuned to stand behind me and slowly, delicately almost, placed the scarf over my eyes and tied it behind my head. I felt her breath on me as she whispered.
‘You promised to love, honour and obey.’
‘I did, and I meant it, please believe me. I still do, my love.’
‘Be silent, child of sin. You have angered me and now you will feel my wrath.’
Her voice was so full of venom that I found myself shaking as she pressed me over the end of the bed and lifted my nightgown. Her hand caressed my buttocks and then I heard her move again. This time I also heard the swish of something redolent of Jenkins’s cane and I feared the worst. I gripped the sheets in my balled fists and waited for the sting of that accursed instrument. I waited and waited.
Then I felt the pressure of a ladycock against my privy parts. I was dry, not expecting, but the cock was wet, slippery and slowly it overcame my resistance, wetted me as it entered me and then I felt that so familiar pleasure of its intrusion. My bastions were overwhelmed. I felt, too, Maria’s hands on my flanks as she thrust, gently at first, into me. Her pace increased and increased until I was crying out for her permission to release my crisis and I felt sure her’s was imminent too.
Still she plundered me and her hands moved to squeeze my breasts hard, harder than usual. She withdrew and I felt her weapon press at that other entrance. I could not, nor did I want to resist. It pressed, overcame my defences and insinuated itself into me. Maria’s hand reached under me to find my nub and to stroke me there to the point at which I could not stay my climax and I howled as it tore though me like the great fire.
Maria curled her body over my back so that her nipples pressed into my skin and her mouth was at my ear.
‘Let that be a lesson to you.’ Her tongue circled my ear.
I felt all her love, all her gentleness and yet, too, I felt punished. She had made me see that, should she choose so, I should have accepted the bamboo across my flesh for her, willingly if not with pleasure. I knew then that I was a dutiful wife to her and she a caring and loving Mistress.
When she withdrew from me, she allowed me to turn to face her, still blinded by the scarf. I dropped to my knees and pressed my face to her treasure and was rewarded, eventually, by her cries of pleasure and the moist assurance of her love.
We slept, a tangle of bodies and in the morning I felt young and carefree again.
