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David Shaw, Victorian Messenger

By: Thorilla



It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 answered an advertisement in a local newspaper for position of 'messenger boy' in a medium sized family firm serving local households in and around the Borough of Putney in south west London. The work would involve bicycling, delivering messages, small envelopes and collecting monies owed. 

The advertisement called for someone who was clean, without facial hair, well presented and in good health. Unusually it asked for someone who was between five foot and five foot two inches in height and of slender build. I fitted the description down to the last letter. Although comparatively small and skinny I prided myself on my appearance and general cleanliness.

I entered the portals of 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney and asked to speak to Mr. Herbert Maynard. 

Mr Maynard was a small dapper man in his late forties only an inch or so taller than I and smelled heavily of 'Eau de Cologne'.

"Come in Mr.Shaw, do come in and take a seat," he said to me in a somewhat cautious and apprehensive way. "And what pray, made you reply to my advertisement in the Putney Recorder?" 

"Well sir I am currently without work and I appear to fit the size and age category described and I can also ride a bicycle," I blurted, trying to appear enthusiastic. 

Mr Maynard asked me to stand up and remove my shirt.

"Hmmm." he said looking me up and down slowly. He felt my shoulders and squeezed the muscles on my arms. "May I see your teeth?" he enquired. I smiled at him insanely as he looked inside my mouth. "And can I inspect your tongue?" he asked, clearly satisfied with everything he'd seen of me so far.

I stuck my tongue out and he smiled as he noticed its length. It was a family trait that although the Shaws were rather short their tongues were rather long. 

Mr. Maynard asked if I had had any contagious diseases or suffered from any 'transmitted' maladies and I assured him that I was in the very pink of health. 

He handed me a note to take to Doctor Rupert Jeffrey's consulting rooms on Oakhill Road. I left him with the understanding that if I passed a simple medical examination I would be allowed to join the company as messenger for the area north of the river, beyond Putney Bridge.

Having passed my medical examination I was sent with my first message to deliver personally to Lady Philomena Onslow in Chester Court.

I arrived at exactly three o'clock, as instructed, at the imposing white stone and brick terraced Georgian house and rang the doorbell. I handed the housemaid my card and she quickly admonished me for using the main entrance and told me I should always use the side entrance which was reserved for tradesmen.

I parked my bike in the 'area' and nipped around to the smaller entrance. The housekeeper greeted me and told me that her ladyship would see me shortly. She led me into the entrance hall and told me to wait. The housekeeper was a severe looking woman who was clearly used to no nonsense. After several minutes a bell rang in the rear of the house, somewhere below stairs. 

"That will be her ladyship now. Please follow me and do only address her as 'm'am' and not as 'your ladyship'. Do you understand?" I replied that I did.

I followed the housekeeper upstairs and admired her large derriere which swivelled provocatively from side to side. She held up the skirts of her dark grey dress to one side and revealed the merest tantalising glimpse of starched pure white petticoat lace as she negotiated the stairs. I was transfixed by her movements. 

"I gather from Blanchard that you are from Maynard's; we had one last year and he was totally unsuitable. He lasted only for one session with Lady Philomena. We eventually sent a letter complaining of his lack of finesse."

I could not make out what the housekeeper was talking about. As far as I was concerned I was delivering a message personally, by hand to Lady Onslow.

She took me into a small ante-chamber where I noticed everything was black and gold lacquered with swirling dragons and other Chinese motifs.

"Here are your clothes Chang," said the housekeeper pulling open a drawer and handing me a red and gold silk waist coat which I immediately put on over my shirt. 

"No Chang you don't wear a shirt underneath it; it is to worn against your skin. Now get undressed quickly," she admonished in curt tones. 

I took off my shirt and put on the waistcoat. It was quite long and reached midway down my thighs. It had no buttons or ties and barely met at the front. I noticed it had two strange straps which hung down at the back. I'd say that they were large enough to get an arm or even a leg through them.

"Excuse Miss but why do you keep calling me Chang?"

"You will address me as Miss Prinddle and you are called Chang as that is the name Lady Philomena calls all her 'underskirt boys'," she continued, surveying my face which remained quizzical.

"Did they tell you nothing at Maynard's? Anyone would conclude that it was your first day with them," Miss Prinddle looked me up and down and told me to finish with my undressing. 

"Well off with you trousers, underpants and socks, quickly now," she clearly was in complete control and I was forced to comply. All my instincts told me that I was not there to deliver a message but more likely to perform some sort of a service.

When I had stripped down to my underpants I became very embarrassed. Miss Prinddle appeared however to be used to such recalcitrance so in one fell swoop she whipped off my underwear and threw it on a pile with my other clothes.

"Where are the trousers to match this waistcoat?" I enquired innocently.

"Trousers? Trousers?" she laughed. 

"You won't need any trousers until you have finished. Understood?" she said as she knocked lightly on the drawing room door.

"Come," came a haughty, educated voice from within.

I entered the room very much aware that my penis was beginning to stir and was becoming prominent through the opening in my new waistcoat.

There in front of me sipping tea was a largish woman in her late forties or early fifties.

She was sitting on a very sumptuous ornate sofa full of silk cushions and Indian shawls. 

Her elaborate dress was of black shiny satin and reached down to the floor. I was later to learn that she was still in 'half-mourning' for her husband, Lord Bertram Onslow, who had died in India.

Her dress was vast and noticed; by the way it rustled and moved that it was clearly full of silk petticoats. 

The room was full of exotic sculptures, Chinoiserie and silk hangings. The room was opulent but without appearing heavy. There was a fragrance of flowers hanging in the air.

"Ah Chang come over here boy," she said in courteous tones.

I stood in front of her as I watched her eyes on my face and on my rigid penis.

"You may leave us now Prinddle," the woman said to the housekeeper who turned and left the room. I heard her shut the door just as a mantle clock struck a-quarter-past-three.

"Stand closer boy, that's it, so that I can touch you," she said, her voice slightly quivering with excitement.

I moved forward and my erection appeared to grow in front of me and in front of her too. I looked away but saw a reflection of myself in a mirror and the scene appeared totally erotic. Here I was a 19 year old boy from 'south of the river' standing in front of Lady Philomena Onslow, widow of one of the most important men in Parliament, wearing only a waistcoat and my willy sticking out in a near horizontal position.

"Very good Chang; you are clearly ready for your underskirt duties," said the grey haired woman with a sparkling smile on her face.

"May I touch Chang's manhood?" the woman said to me as she cupped my balls and stroked my shaft with her black silk laced gloved hands. 

The touch of cool smooth silk and the hardness of her finger nails through it made my now fully erect penis jerk around wildly. For some reason I stood to attention, just the way I had always been told to stand in the presence of the upper classes. Lady Onslow appeared to be enjoying handling my penis and I have to admit that standing there in front of her with my swollen purple head just inches from her smiling face made me want to squirt every ounce of semen out of me there and then.

My eyes rolled deliriously and I felt my tongue loll out of my mouth as she weighed my heavy balls between her fingers 

I also admit that I was enjoying the lewd charade wherever it would lead.

I still didn't understand this business about me being an 'underskirt boy'? I was soon about to find out.

"Bring me those two stools please Chang," the large bosomed lady told me, "and place each one by my feet."

My heart trembled as I began to realise what my role might be.

I watched as she raised the hem of her full heavy jet black skirt and placed one foot, then the other, on the separate stools which were placed roughly two feet apart in front of her. I noticed that there was sufficiently width to allow a person of slim stature, such as myself, to squeeze between them. 

"Now pull them nearer so that I may bend my knees a little," she ordered with a natural air of authority.

I did as I was told and she raised her knees and parted her legs.

"Kneel on the floor in front of me, there's a good Chang," she said smiling and trying to reassure me that everything was fine.

From my vantage point in front of her I noticed that several ruffled layers of wide silk petticoat lace had spilled out from under the thick satin material of her dress hem and hung in an arc from ankle to ankle. The lace was very fine and intricate and must have cost a small fortune.

I instinctively averted my gaze. I had been well brought up and knew that if a woman should accidentally reveal any part of her undergarments a gentleman should cough and look the other way. This would alert the lady that she was being immodest and show that the 'gentleman' was indeed a gentleman. 

I coughed then realised that I would be seeing far more of milady's under trappings and that this was the main reason for my being alone with her.

"Right young man, under you go" she said sliding slowly forwards on the immense sofa so that her buttocks were perched on the edge of the seat. 

I watched with silent awe as her knees parted further and more and more petticoat hems were revealed. Her ankles were encased in fine black silk stockings and she wore soft black suede slippers with little kitten-heels.

"Under you go Chang," she said in a more commanding voice clearly wishing me to get on with my underskirt duties.

I shuffled forwards as she lifted her dress and petticoats and I saw where I was to place my face. Under her petticoats the air smelled musky; a sweet intensity pervaded my nostrils and I probed to find its source.

I had never ever seen a pair of woman's bloomers before and hers were pure white silk with Calais lace and teardrop lace trimmed legs. There was layer upon layer of lace decorating every flounced edge of her bloomers and I wondered how so much lace could be worn without anyone being allowed to see it. 

They were 'open crotch' and her black pubic hairs stood out amongst the many overlapping layers of lace and flounces which surrounded them. In the half-light I could see her labia were already glistening and waiting for my attentions.

"Tongue out Chang," said Lady Philomena from outside the many layers of clothing I found myself within.

I felt intoxicated by the flesh above her stockings. It was very pale and cool and yielded to my face as I slid it further into her. Silk petticoats pulled my hair back and froufroued against my head. The swishing sound was deliciously sensuous as I pushed every further inside her magnificent dress. 

My cheeks brushed against her inner thighs as she first squeezed me tightly then spread her legs further. I felt her guide the back of my tilted head into her and against her as I stuck out my tongue and slid it into her curls.

Under her petticoats I stared closely at her moist vagina. I had never ever seen a woman's genitalia before and I was both embarrassed and excited at having one in front of me. I tried to focus on its several parts, gauging what I had to do. I now knew where to place my tongue.

"Oh Chang," she murmured as I began licking her vaginal portals and pushed my tongue in between. Lady Onslow's legs opened further as she pulled me into her 

I had never ever tongued a woman in my life but I knew what to do. It was all instinctive and natural and I could tell by her moans and groans that I was doing what was required.

"Oh, a bit further up if you please," said her Ladyship as I sensed that the small nub under its hood was particularly sensitive. 

She cooed and mewed as I licked and lapped at her clitoris. We continued like this for many minutes as she held my head against her.

"Do not stop, never stop, Chang do you hear?" she told me, this time more sharply.

Her feet were off the stool and found the two straps on the back of my waistcoat. Clearly she had used them before. I felt the full weight of her heavy curvaceous legs on my back and I was instantly pulled more firmly into her.

All around me her smooth cool silk petticoats swished about and froufroued against me. I felt completely engulfed by an ocean of silk and lace.

My tongue was inside her and wiggling slowly and sensuously. Every flowing movement was greeted with an 'ooh' or an 'aah' or a moan. My nostrils snorted up the juices which dribbled out of her vagina and my head felt completely dizzy with her 'natural' odours. I never knew that women felt or tasted like this

My penis was fully erect and oozing precum. For a strange reason I hoped that I was not staining her Persian carpet. My upbringing would not allow me to damage the property of others, particularly my superiors.

"Oh Chang, deeper and quicker," she whispered barely audible amongst the swishing sounds as petticoats slid over petticoats under her heavy black satin dress. By now she was jerking her pelvis against me. My face was covered with vaginal lubrication and I smelled entirely of Lady Onslow. Her fingers gripped the back of my head through her many layers of petticoat silk. I was painfully hot and perspired like fury as she used my face and tongue to bring herself to her inevitable crescendo.

"My clitoris dear Chang, concentrate on my clitoris, do you hear?" she shouted.

I knew now that she meant the tender spot above her opening and I was determined to do my best. From then onwards she would not escape my attentions. I nibbled, tongued, lapped, licked and probed her mercilessly. I even used my fingers on her.

"No hands Chang please, just your tongue," I was admonished, and kept them on the floor to support me.

Lady Onslow was now cooing wildly. I heard her shriek out as she jerked herself ferociously against me. My nose slid up and down, into and out of her smooth slimy labia and against her most sensitive part. I felt that I was at the centre of a storm as her movements became more frenzied and pronounced.

My penis was dribbling precum as I persisted with my pleasuring of this lady, as she gripped my head.

Then all of a sudden she shivered then clamped her thighs to my head. I felt her judder, and then shudder then felt something well up inside her.

Everywhere shook and quivered as she screamed "Yes, bliss, yessss, oh bliss, yes." 

She seemed to quieten down and I continued with my licking but she pushed me away.

"Stay still Chang, too much, too much" she whispered with a voice which sounded miles away.

I knelt there for several minutes staring at her vagina with her legs lying across my back under her heavy dress and under many layers of white silk petticoats. My knees ached and I desired to stand up. She opened her legs and told me to back out slowly, which I did as she slid her heels out of my waistcoat straps.

In the cold light of day I noticed that she appeared tearful but thankful for my services. The mantle clock struck four o'clock.

"Thank you Chang you may go now," she said noticing that my now flaccid penis had a thin string of semen hanging from it.

I left the room and there in the ante-chamber was Blanchard, the housemaid who had let me in when I had first arrived. I immediately covered my willy as I felt very embarrassed to be standing more or less naked in front of this woman of thirty or so.

"Come on Mr. Shaw, or shall we call you David? There's no need to be all coy and bashful with me. I've seen several young men walk out of that room dressed the way you are and I care not a hoot, to tell the truth," said Blanchard in her Cockney accent.

She took the waistcoat off me, folded it up and placed it back in the drawer. I couldn't see my clothes anywhere so I asked Blanchard what had happened to them.

"Oh Elsie, the underpaid, is looking after them for you, in our bedroom on the top floor, in the attic," she replied. 

I asked her if she'd go and get them and she told me that it was probably quicker if we both went and collected them.

"In fact David why not get dressed in mine and Elsie's room," she said and smiled at me in a strange way.

"Up the backstairs with you," she said as I followed her in my naked state. 

I was afraid of meeting any other servants so I kept as close to her as possible and watched her buttocks and hint of white petticoat lace under her long maid servant's uniform. My penis began to perk up at the sight in front of me.

We ascended the three flights of stairs in record time until we reached the attic bedroom where Elsie was waiting for us. Immediately I clutched my genitals at the sight of the young creature who could have been only eighteen sitting at a small dressing table combing her long blonde hair. She was also wearing a maid servant's uniform but had not, as yet, put her hair up nor put her apron on.

"Hello young man, or shall we call you Chang," she chortled then giggled loudly at my penis which was beginning to rise and point in her direction. I was somewhat put out by her remark and just wanted to retrieve my clothes and leave immediately.

"May I have my clothes now please," I asked in my most impeccable English, trying to remain calm.

"You may, David," said Blanchard, "but we'll have some fun with you first," she continued pointing to the double bed.

"On you get, on your back with your head at the foot of the bed," said the housemaid.

At this point I felt quite afraid and wondered whether to just turn on my heels and flee. I could sense that both women knew how I felt and watched Elsie rush to the door and locked it. She hid the key in a drawer and I had no choice except to obey their command.

I climbed onto the iron bedstead and lay on top of the bedspread flat on my back with my hands still covering my private parts.

"No need for that David," said Blanchard, "you're with friends now, isn't that right Elsie?" she continued and I saw Elsie nod then smile.

I watched as they stood on each side of the bed staring at my puny body and noticeable erection. They opened a cupboard and pulled out long strips of material, old pieces of curtains and the like.

With only a slight struggle I allowed them to tie my wrists to the lower bedposts and my ankles to the upper bedposts. For some obscure reason being fettered made my erection grow to its maximum length and girth.

"My word we are a big boy aren't we?" said the eighteen year old to Blanchard who had removed her long starched apron and also her shoes.

"I'll boss him first," said Blanchard pulling seniority over her work colleague.

My face must have turned beetroot red as I watched the older housemaid pull up her black dress to reveal her cotton petticoats and her black cotton stockings. Her lacy frills were of much coarser design than Lady Onslow's nevertheless the very presence of her underwear drove me wild with inexplicable lust.


David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 02



(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my second day with the firm)

***

I rested my bike against the railings outside Maynard's and went in. Another young fellow of similar age, size and proportions to myself was sitting reading a newspaper.

"I say it's Shaw, the new chap isn't it?" he said looking up.

I concurred that it was the case and that I was indeed he.

"Lady Onslow eh? First time too; lucky chap," he continued. "No one lasts long with her and her bloody 'Chang', if you'll excuse my language," he concluded.

I explained that I was not used to providing these..err...somewhat..err...unusual underskirt services and merely did what came naturally.

"Well Mr. Maynard is delighted with your performance and I think he's got something special lined up for you," he added.

Simon Coleman, the young chap with the newspaper, had been with Maynard's for two years and provided services for the 'lower' end of the market. 

He told me that most women just wanted a regular visit, perhaps once or twice a week and that others paid him extra to stay the night.

"There's no sexual intercourse allowed, just licking and sucking," he added as if to justify some form of morality in his behaviour.

"They don't like you to appear equal and you are the lowest of the low in their eyes. Some even allow their servants to use you afterwards," he ventured and I told him that I had already experienced this.

"Mainly the women like you kneeling between their legs; one or two prefer facesitting; a few prefer it standing up and some like to kneel over you with their arses in your face," he continued clearly aware that I was now feeling very hot and bothered.

"They all keep their clothes on and don't like to watch what you are doing as it embarrasses them. So I spend more time studying their underclothes than indulging in polite conversation."

I could certainly understand that there must be a lot of women out there who were eager to make use of Simon and myself and I asked him how many 'messengers' did Maynard's employ.

"To date David, if I may call you by your first name, he employs fifteen," said Simon and I looked visibly shocked and surprised

***

15 Latimer Crescent, Chelsea

***

I arrived at 15 Latimer Crescent at 10.30 am precisely. 

I was the very picture of respectability as I carried by bike down to the 'area' and rang the servant's bell. A maidservant, Belinda, answered the door and after checking my business card invited me in.

"You are to go up to the nursery and their 'nanny' will get you ready," she said looking me up and down. I was already beginning to feel an erection stirring in my underpants as I noticed a hint of petticoat lace peep from below her uniform.

I followed her up to the top floor where an elderly looking woman ushered me into a large bedroom.

"I'm the twins' nurse, Nanny Oldfield to be exact," she told me in hushed tones.

"They are both in their late twenties although you wouldn't believe it by the way they are dressed," she went on. "Sad case, both are dyslexic and refuse ever to leave the house; we fear that there is some insanity there since their family passed away in the Kimbul monsoon floods of 1882."

She had a wild look in her eyes as if overcome by a deep sadness.

"We do our best of course but all they wish to do is play silly nursery games and play with their dolls and puppets," she continued.

I heard a bloodcurdling screech then a thud from a room along the corridor. Then the sound of feet being stamped.

"I won't, do you hear, I won't," said a woman's voice which was followed by crying.

"We'll get you ready young man," said Nanny Oldfield clearly used to preparing guests for the two insane women.

"We'll put you in pink I think," she said eyeing me over. Take off your clothes and put these on please," said the old lady offering me some satin and silk garments.

I did as I was told and when I had finished I looked in the mirror and there staring back was an overgrown boy wearing a sailor suit complete with Jack Tar collar, cap, silk socks and slippers.

"You'll do I suppose...they are expecting their weekly surprise," said the age-worn woman leading me to the door labeled 'nursery'. "Agatha, Nora, I have a new 'boy-doll' for you to play with.

My face went white as a sheet at the thought of being 'played with' by a pair of mad twins. It was like some scene from a Gothick novel and I had visions of ranting demented imbeciles locked away in towers.

The door opened and I surveyed the scene. There at the far end of the room were the two women. They did look at least 25 years old except their clothes appeared to be scaled up versions of girls' dresses with knee-length pantaloons.

I immediately saw them as two 'Alices' from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' and the way they stood with their knee length dresses clearly full of petticoats set me at ease.

Nanny Oldfield slammed the door and locked it. Again I felt as if there was something rather sinister and frightening about them until I heard them speak, then I felt worse.

It was a macabre sing-song way of talking as if they were grown women pretending to be little girls.

"Are you really a little boy-dolly?" asked the one with darker hair and wearing large bright blue ribbons to match her blue dress.

"Of course it is Nora, it's wearing trousers so it must be a boy," said Agatha who was dressed in similar attire except in yellow.

I noticed that she had been crying.

So far things were going smoothly and I did not wish to 'upset their applecart' but I was very worried by being addressed as 'it'.

I told them that I was a 'boy-dolly' and that they could play with me if they wanted to. I watched their breasts move about inside their starched dresses and secretly wished to lick them mercilessly and make them 'come' purely by nipple stimulation alone.

"We have to give the new boy-dolly a big kiss," announced Nora and sidled up to me and pushed out her mouth in an exaggerated pout. She was actually slightly taller than me by three inches or so and I began to feel vulnerable again. I kissed her back and she giggled.

Next it was Agatha's turn and she licked her lips and stood knees bent and her hands behind her back. She was an inch taller than her sister.

"Aggie's turn now," she said and stamped her feet.

I kissed Agatha on the lips, then Nora, then Agatha again, then the other and so on for a good few minutes until they suggested 'sloppy kisses'.

"Ooh yes let's play 'sloppy kisses'," said Agatha clearly visibly animated by the thought of different types of kissing.

"On the bed with you Mr. Little Boy-Dolly," said Nora who appeared to be rubbing herself between her legs.

I failed to mention in my description of the nursery that it did indeed have a sort of day-bed, double in size if you understand, on a brass frame and covered with a shiny pink satin bedspread.

The room itself had a very feminine character with paintings of cats and bows tied to the backs of chairs and soft rugs and other frilly ornamentation. To me this was a room where any male would feel entirely out of place.

I lay on my back and stared up into their faces.

Both had their hair in tight ringlets which fell forwards as they leant over me from each side. The ringlets in turn were tied with big loose bows and hung over their neck and shoulders. Their knees touched my chest and I noticed white lacy petticoat hems spilling out from under their flared dresses.

"Me first with 'sloppy kisses'." Said Agatha and she leant over me with her mouth open and her tongue out.

She had closed her eyes and had a more 'normal' look about her. For a pair of clearly disturbed young ladies they appeared less threatening with their eyes firmly shut.

I touched her tongue with mine and in an instant she was sprawled all over me, legs apart, lying on my chest with her tongue rammed down my throat.

I felt my penis become rock hard beneath my satin trousers.

I forgot to mention that Nanny Oldfield forbade me to wear my underpants as she considered that they could be a possible source of germs, and would threaten the girls' health.

I realized now that 'sloppy kisses' meant 'French kissing' and felt that this was perfectly acceptable and indeed was immensely enjoyable. I kissed her fervently and she groaned with delight as our tongues mingled together inside each others mouths.

"Me next Aggie," said Nora, "You've had your turn now it's my turn." said the petulant young woman in the blue 'Alice in Wonderland' dress.

Before I knew it, Nora had wrenched my mouth from her sisters and stuck her tongue half way down my throat, or so it seemed. I took the opportunity to squeeze her buttocks through her dress as she squirmed all over me.

I was not used to women fighting over me so reached down and rubbed my erection with my free hand while they both wrestled to lie on top of me.

"You're horrid," yelled Nora as her sister pushed her off me, making the bed bounce wildly.

Her French kisses were becoming coarser and indeed 'sloppy'.

Agatha appeared to take a delight in salivating into my mouth which was becoming very full to the point of overflowing.

With one movement Nora sprawled over me with her legs apart and her sister was jettisoned off the bed and onto the floor. The whole episode began to degenerate into a farce and I was not really prepared for what was to happen next. Things were not so agreeable.

Nora had a wild look in her eyes as she slowly, but surely, dribbled more saliva across my face and into my mouth. I really couldn't fathom out their motivation for such extremes of behaviour unless it was to demonstrate that they were full of vaginal lubrication and the one wished to outdo the other. I had no choice but to swallow her 'dribble' which seemed to be very copious and stomach churning.

Agatha had regained her position on the bed and watched her sister carefully transferring saliva from her mouth into mine.

I gathered that Nora was in fact the more dominant of the two and thus came across as more bossy. This clearly had explained Agatha's earlier tears.

I continued swallowing and wondered what on earth would happen next. I felt completely out of my depth in this insane nursery and wished that I was under Lady Onslow's silk dress and petticoats.

"Time to play with the little boy-dolly," announced Nora.

"Oh let's, It's my turn to undress it," said Agatha grabbing my arm and pulling my sailor suit jacket over my head.

I sat up as the other twenty-five year old lifted the garment to my armpits and eased it off.

"It's got hairs on his front, isn't that silly," said Agatha touching my chest and fiddling with a nipple.

"Off with it's trousers," said Nora as I lay back on the bed and helped them remove them in one swift movement.

My erection by this time was rock hard and sprang upwards, pointing ramrod stiff towards my navel.

"Ugh it's got a 'thing'," said Agatha looking aghast and shaking her ringlets and yellow ribbons at me and at my penis.

"Well they all have 'things'," said Nora, "That's what boy-dollies keep inside their trousers." I stared up into their faces. Their horror gave way to curiosity and cautiously they began touching it.

I was puzzled to watch them examining me quite so closely and understood, from their remarks, that they had seen a 'thing' before but possibly they suffered from some sort of mental disorder which had impaired their short term memory.

I swallowed the remnants of Nora's spit and lay naked between them as they sat and ran their fingers up and down my body.

Sun streamed into the attic room and outside pigeons were cavorting on a rooftop. The sun warmed my skin.

"It's got nice skin," said Agatha who was clearly more talkative and demonstrative than Nora.

"Can the dolly move its hands?" said Nora looking impassively at me.

She had a vacant expression which I found slightly menacing.

For some reason I hoped that there were no sharp implements in the room such as a knife or a pair of scissors. I had a fleeting image of my escaping from the room, via the window, minus a penis and a couple of testicles.

"Yes this dolly can move its hands," I said trying to remain calm in the company of these two insane women.

"Well put them under my dress then," she said, nudging Agatha to one side and straddling my waist.

I felt the warmth and weight of her bloomer-clad thighs on my naked flesh and the cool, crisp starched layers of several white cotton petticoats move over my stomach and rub against my penis. She still had a neutral look in her eyes as if she were miles away.

I slipped my hands down to her knees and along the outside of her black cotton stockings. I glanced down at her petticoats as they spilled from under her pale blue dress. They were trimmed with layer over layer of scalloped broderie and eyelet lace. They were incredibly frilly and feminine.

At the sight of her undergarments my penis stiffened even more and I ignored the fact that they were both mentally deranged and became determined to pleasure them both, as well as myself.

"The dolly must touch me between my legs, like a good boy-dolly," whispered Nora, now clearly worked up and aroused.

I slid my fingers over the tops of her thighs and under the ribbons of her white cotton bloomers where they ended in several flared flounces edged with lace just above her knees.

Her ribbons were loose which allowed me to slide my hands under, and up, her legs. She lifted her skirt and undid the ribbons so that her legs were completely accessible to my wandering hands.

She edged up my chest and opened her legs further. All her petticoats were on full view and there were at least five, each outer one being more ornate than the other.

I slid my fingers deep inside her loose pantaloons and caressed her naked buttocks, kneading them and fondling them. Her dress hem was now spread over my upper torso and shoulders and stopped just short of my chin. I felt stimulated by the cool tactile quality of her undergarments which swished and rustled around me.

Her clothes smelled of floral laundry water. Her face looked flushed and she half closed her eyes. Her tongue lolled out and made little circles in the air in front of her as if she were licking something.

Without warning she knelt forward and pushed her lips savagely onto mine. She now behaved like a fully grown normal sexual woman and moaned and groaned into my mouth.

Her breath was almost red hot and her ringlets and ribbons covered my face and neck.

I kissed her savagely at the same time tugging at my erection and wrapping it in petticoat hems. The stiff laciness against my exposed glans felt almost painful but I was determined to take advantage of the situation.

"Fingers up my fanny," she told me and with my left hand I obeyed.

We continued French kissing in an almost bestial manner, only just stopping short of biting each other.

Between her legs she was sopping wet. I found it relatively easy to slide one, then two, fingers inside her and stimulate her as requested. Meanwhile I was wanking furiously into her petticoats and it took very little time before I exploded.

 Thick spurts of semen squirted into her frilly clothing and I lay back panting as she kissed me more fervently and told me to keep fingering her.

Almost immediately she knelt back on her heels and pushed herself further up my chest until her splayed pantaloons were over my face. I stared at her wildly and watched as wave after wave gripped her and jerked her body around like a dog shaking a rabbit.

"Oh my goodness, what a good dolly," she hissed as she approached her orgasm.

Her ringlets stuck to her brow with little beads of perspiration as her shaking approached earthquake proportions.

Her underclothing was in complete disarray and I noticed a damp patch spread across her bloomers crotch. She sat astride my upper chest for many minutes while her sister, Agatha, seemed to cluck and coo in an excited and nervous manner.

"Me next with the dolly," she implored, and Nora swung her legs off me and her sister took over. Agatha seemed more reticent and would not look me in the face. She sat on my chest with her stockinged feet on each side of my face. I felt the smoothness of her cotton stockings brush my cheeks.

I licked her feet as she offered them to me one at a time.

I was forced to stare up her dress and at the many layers of white cotton petticoats. I must have counted five layers under her yellow dress, all of which were trimmed with elaborate broderie Anglais, Calais lace and eyelet lace.

Needless to say I felt my erection grow as I closely studied this incredibly lewd sight. Agatha slid her buttocks further up my naked body until my nose came into contact with the gusset of her wide legged pantaloons. She undid a drawstring on the waist band and her white lacy drawers came apart to reveal an open crotch lacy front.

She knew that I would have clear access to her genitalia so she slid further over me.

The smell from her warm moist vagina overwhelmed me and I pulled her on top of me and wiggled my way between her labia.

For some obtuse reason she spread her petticoats over me one layer at a time and topped them off with the full flared skirts of her knee length 'Alice' dress.

"There you are dolly, all nice and cosy," she exclaimed as she completely hid my face and upper body from view.

I felt comparatively relaxed and confident under her dress and petticoats and continued tonguing her the best I could. She fidgeted, then a hand appeared under her lacy underskirts and began rubbing her clitoris. I took this as a hint and flicked at her now prominent nub under it's hood.

"That's nice and cosy dolly," she gurgled, then her hand disappeared as she smoothed her skirts down again over me.

She slid further up so that I was well and truly trapped under her petticoats and open thighs. I found her odours intoxicating and slurped my way up and down her gaping cleft.

"Wee, what a good little boy-dolly," she giggled in her mock 'little-girl' voice.

I decided that I would once again pump out more of my 'penis juice' into Agatha's clothing.

Unfortunately her frills and lacy hems did not extend as far as my knob end so I began wanking furiously anyway.

This must have attracted Nora's attention as I felt long thin fingers join mine and replicate my movements.

I felt Nora sit on the bed near my legs and begin scratching my inner thighs with slow leisurely movements.

I let go of my heavy shaft and she picked it up and began milking it violently.

"Moo cow, moo cow give me some milk," she sang as if it were a nursery rhyme "I need some milk. I need some milk," she continued in a slightly unhinged way.

Quite frankly she could be singing the National Anthem as far as I was concerned and enjoyed the sensations rippling around my groin and up and down my long thick erection.

"Jolly bull, jolly bull give me some cream," the words varied but her milking movements remained rock steady.

Meanwhile Agatha was quickly approaching her orgasm.

All over me, and around me were swishing petticoats, open crotch bloomers, stockings garters and her large drooling vagina clearly engorged and just about to squeeze my tongue if she were anything like Lady Onslow.

My face was sticky with her spendings.

I felt as if I had been bombarded my too many sensations.

Here was I, a naked lad aged 19 lying on a smooth cool satin bedspread in an attic nursery. My head lay between the legs of a twenty five year old mad woman who was sitting on my face wearing a knee length 'Alice in Wonderland ' dress and five petticoats. I was completely buried under her clothing and had my tongue up her fanny. Near my feet sat her equally mad sister who was similarly attired and was milking me wildly while singing nursery rhymes.




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 02



It would only be a matter of a few minutes when one of us would 'come' and I hoped it would be her first.

I held back as long as I could until I reached the very brink of my orgasm.

Agatha, above me, jerked her pelvis vigorously over my face screeching out something about 'boy-dollies', and 'what jolly games, she enjoyed.

From deep inside her I felt the rumble of her orgasm building up, then erupting as her vulva spasmed and pulsated. Her vaginal muscles gripped my tongue and I felt involuntary ripples shuddering over me.

"Wee, wee." she screamed as her sister sang "Jolly bull, jolly bull give me some cream."

In the same instant I gritted my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut, and jerked my buttocks off the bed and spurted five thick strings of semen over my belly and whatever else was in the line of fire.

I fell backwards with Agatha's cunt still attached to my face.

She did not wish to stop and continued wiping her dribbling hairy hole over my face in short sharp movements until she climaxed again.

She held my head firmly to her and I was in great danger from drowning in her fanny juices. I snorted and cleared my nostrils then she calmed down and eventually but reluctantly released me.

I threw up her petticoats and looked up at her. Her bosom was heaving and her face looked red and clammy.

"Was the boy-dolly any good then?" I spluttered and she nodded and told me that she preferred 'boy-dollies' to 'girl-dollies'.

"They are more fun," she told me and her sister agreed.

"Have you two finished yet?" came the sound of Nanny Oldfield's voice from the corridor beyond the nursery door.

"Yes we have," said Nora, clearly used to having Nanny clear up after them.

The door opened and the old woman picked up my clothes and got the girls to show them where I had ejaculated.

"Tut, tut you are always so messy when you play with your dolls, I don't expect your new boy-doll will want to play with you again?" and she winked at me in a strange lecherous way.

***

Half an hour later I was back at Maynard's and Simon Coleman and I were joking about our recent 'underskirt' activities.

"So you had the two mad twins today then?" he enquired and he told me that had had a session there sometime in the past.

"They also had a 'girl-doll', dressed like a cancan dancer and we had to..err..do certain things in front of them."

He saw that I was now worked up and laughed.

"Tootle-pip old chap," he said and sauntered off.

THE END

***

(Please let me know whether I should write further tales about David Shaw along similar lines as I get very little feedback, but thanks to those who do write, regards THORILLA)



David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 03



(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my third day with the firm.)

***

Number Six, Paultons Square, Chelsea was an imposing four storey terraced Georgian house with impressive railings and a large blue door. I carried my bicycle down the steep steps to the area and rang the bell to the smaller servants' door.

"Good morning young gentleman you must be from Maynard's," said a stout women in her forties wearing a housemaid's uniform and carrying a duster.

It was 10 o'clock and the sky was bright with sunshine. I followed her in and sat with her while another younger housemaid ran upstairs to fetch the housekeeper, Miss Schlaefli.

Miss Schlaefli was one of those no nonsense women so typical of housekeepers in that exclusive area of London off the Kings Road. She had a surly complexion and held herself bolt upright as if her corsets were tied too tightly.

"The Mistress will see you shortly," she said looking me up and down.

I looked her over too and noted she had an ample bust and even more ample hips. She wore a dark grey dress and I spotted a tiny glimpse of white lacy petticoat hem. Naturally I became very stiff inside my trousers.

A bell rang and I was escorted upstairs. I watched Miss Schlaefli's large shapely arse swivel from side to side as I followed her up. I would have grabbed her there and then and thrust my head up her skirts and petticoats had I not been so well brought and knew how to respect my elders and superiors.

I was led to a small room and told to undress and put on a blue silk dressing gown. I was becoming used to being paraded naked , or near naked, in front of Mr. Maynard's clientele so did not balk at Miss Schlaefli's request.

I entered the drawing room where I was introduced to the Mistress.

"This is Mr. Shaw from Maynard and Son, Lady Huntington," announced Miss Schlaefli.

Before me, sitting on a chaise longue in a sumptuously furnished room, was an elegant slim woman wearing a very full 'day' dress. She must have been in her mid forties and wore her hair pinned back in a 'French pleat' with two elaborate silver hair clips fixed high on her head. She wore pearl earrings.

"That will be all Schlaefli, you may leave us now, thank you," she said to her housekeeper and beckoned me forward.

As usual I felt somewhat out of my depth in the presence of my superiors and hoped that I would swiftly be put to use under her generous silk skirts so that I could leave and return to normality in Putney.

"Well Shaw, off with your gown," she said looking out of the tall windows and at the Plane trees beyond.

I pulled apart the cords of the dressing gown and threw the garment to one side, and stared at the floor feeling vulnerable once again.

She turned her head and stared at my penis which bobbed around uncontrollably. She then fixed me with a steady gaze.

"Do you find me attractive boy?" she asked, and I told her that I did.

"Well I care not what you think as you are here only to provide me with physical relief; do you understand?" she said in an off hand manner and continued looking out of the window.

I confirmed that I understood.

"On the floor with you then, on your back now," she ordered and I did as I was told.

From my low vantage point on the Persian carpet I was able to observe her attire. 

She wore a plain silk day dress which was gathered at the waist, or just above, and flared out in a very full and generous manner and ended in a series of overlapping pleats roughly six inches from the hem. Her dress was floor length.

The dress was in two shades of Sienna brown in a slight striped pattern. I observed that her bodice was not tightly tailored and she clearly was not wearing a corset. I also noted that, for some reason, she was not wearing a bustle which fashionable women wore in those days so clearly she found this dress far more serviceable and comfortable in her domestic pursuits.

She wore black slippers with two inch kitten-heels and I noted she also wore black silk stockings.

"You will not look at me," she barked, "Understood?" she emphasized.

I replied that I understood and stared up at the ceiling. My penis responded to her curt remarks and rolled to one side them stiffened considerably and lay along my belly.

" Good, good, I'm glad to see you are 'firm'," she said in a formal, almost courteous, tone, "At least we know that you are interested in your present circumstance," she continued breathlessly, and I felt her eyes wander up and down my somewhat puny, skinny body.

I was beginning to wonder whether I was merely a distraction to her as perhaps she only wished to watch my penis stiffen. I imagined that she took some sort of voyeuristic pleasure in watching me. I was to be proved wrong, very wrong indeed, however.

She arose from her chair and approached me. As she did so I heard the tantalising swishing and froufrou sounds of silk petticoats sliding against each other under her heavy silk dress.

"Makes you stiff eh boy?" she said somewhat crudely as she circled me slowly. I kept my arms firmly by my side and continued staring at the ornately molded ceiling.

She walked around me several times flicking her skirt hem outwards at every turn. The sounds of her petticoats were almost deafening.

"I'd wager that you'd like to see my petticoats eh boy?" she whispered and continued her tour around my naked body.

I tried not to watch her but could not help but stare up at her somewhat haughty regal face, she appeared a lot taller too from my position naked on the carpet.

"Well, answer?" she ordered me.

"Yes m'am," I retorted.

"Yes m'am what boy?" she said, this time more forcefully.

"Yes please m'am I should like to see your petticoats," I spluttered almost incoherent with excitement. 

She could clearly see by the way I clenched my buttocks and the involuntary jerking of my heavy penis that I was indeed 'interested in my present circumstance' as she put it.

"Well we shall see then shan't we," she hissed.

She walked up to my head and ordered me to watch. I turned my head where the pleated hem of her wide full dress lay only a couple of inches from my nose. 

I could smell the heavy scent she used. I briefly looked into her eyes and noticed an expression of contempt mixed with triumph.

"Well boy, you shall see," she said.

She lifted her skirt hem by three or four inches to reveal an extremely ornate ruffled cream silk lace edge to her outermost petticoat. It was in fine gossamer silk with a 'Valenciennes' pattern. I watched her slowly lift this hem up to reveal yet another cream coloured petticoat, this time edged with a 'Guipure' lace design, again in fine silk.

She pulled up this petticoat to reveal a third cream silk petticoat. This was trimmed with a very intricate 'Duchesse' lace and 'Maltese' lace design.

Beneath these there were three other cream silk petticoats trimmed with 'Point de Rose' lacework of the highest quality. 

I noticeably squirmed with delight at sight of her under trappings and felt my penis lie ramrod stiff against my belly.

"Well young man," Lady Huntington said in a somewhat breathless manner, "few boys have seen what lies beneath my dresses," she announced and shook her dress down and returned to her chaise longue. "So you are privileged,"

I lay there and felt my heart beat like a steam hammer inside my head. I wanted so much to 'make love' to this woman but I knew my place, and knew that it could not be, nor never be.

'Underskirt boys' in Victorian England were paid only to do one thing and that fell far short of penetrative sexual intercourse. I stared at the ceiling as Lady Huntington rang a small bell. Two minutes later there was a knock on the door and a housemaid appeared.

"I'll take tea now Perkins," she told the young girl who stole a glance in my direction and turned bright red. She curtsied and hurriedly left the room.

"Well boy you clearly are a connoisseur of petticoats, that is for sure," she told me as I lay still staring at the ceiling.

Her tea arrived and she took her time sipping it and looking me over once more. From time to time she would stare over Poultons Square at the houses opposite. I could hear the sounds of horses and cabs in the street below.

Lady Huntington noticed that my penis had shriveled to the size of a gherkin as she finally put her cup and saucer down and stood up.

"Well boy we had better make use of your 'talents' shall we not? Eh?"

"Yes ma'm," I replied.

She slowly circled me again and the rustling sounds of her dress, filled with silk lacy petticoats, drove me wild the indescribable lust. She could clearly see that my penis was becoming visibly stiff and I lay there watching her slippers and generous arse sway beneath her slim waist.

She remained stationary at my feet and stood staring me in the face. "You may look at me now boy," she announced, as clearly this was going to be part of 'her game' or whatever way it may be described.

She lifted her dress to shin level then walked forwards straddled my feet. She placed her black two-inch heeled slippers to each side of my ankles. I watched her cream petticoats appear then disappear from view as she dropped the hem of her vast dress over my lower legs.

The touch of silk lace against my feet was driving me insane. I was in a state of high tension and she watched me like a hawk.

I now knew what she was going to do. She was going to walk up my body dragging her petticoat hems over my naked flesh. I had never ever experienced anything so lewd or tactile as that in my life and I couldn't imagine what it would be like or how I would react.

My penis stiffened and crawled further up my stomach as I watched her slowly place one foot then the other to each side of my knees.

"Oh my goodness," I murmured to myself as I felt all six of her petticoat lace hems tickling my skin.

I reached down to my erection and fondled it. I was preparing for her next slow advance up my body.

"You will not touch yourself in front of me. How dare you," she spat and I swiftly withdrew my hands and kept them rigidly my my sides.

A swishing sound accompanied the movement of her left foot to my thigh level. This was followed by her right foot so that she stood astride my upper legs. The backs of my hands were in contact with her kitten-heels as she stood above me and observed my painfully twitching erection. 

A bead of pre-cum had formed at its tip and it glistened in the morning sun.

"Good, good, you are clearly enjoying my attractions," she whispered and she slowly slid a foot along my arm to waist level.

This was followed by the other and she remained standing over my erection which was buried amongst her petticoats. I felt the trapped heat from her body under her skirt and the smoothness of her silk stockings against my elbows.

She stared down at me again like an eagle observing it's prey. I was red faced and shaking with excitement and nervousness. I would have thrust my hands and head up her dress right there and then but with great strength I controlled myself.

I was wondering what would happen next as I wanted so dearly to tongue her and explore her between her legs. Lady Huntington appeared to take great pleasure in teasing me and slowly stimulating me beyond endurance. I now lay perfectly still and perfectly flat on my back. Our eyes never wandered from each other as she placed her right foot adjacent to my chest and slid the other one up to join it on the other side.

She now stood astride me with her huge dress hem resting against my chin. I felt her slippers move inwards and apply pressure to my shoulders. The heat from under her dress was intense and overwhelming.

" Would you like to see my petticoats from the inside of my dress?" she whispered with only my head and face within view.

I was almost fainting with pleasure and replied in a high pitched falsetto voice. "Yes please ma'm."

I watched as she dragged her right kitten-heeled slipper from my shoulder to my cheek. I felt and heard the rustling of silk layers slide up my chest then over my head. I watched her shuffle her left slipper from my shoulder to my cheek and the rest of her lacy hems slide over my head. She remained standing with her feet to each side of my face. I was inside her dress and I looking upwards.

It was dark and warm beneath her petticoats and there was an insidious muskiness which clearly originated from her vagina. I stared up in awe at her cream silk open-crotch bloomers with their many layered lace flounces just above her knees. It was too dark to see her pubic curls but I could just make out where her stockings ended at her thighs.

"I assume you approve of what you see boy?" said the woman who stood astride my face.

"Yes ma'm," I spluttered but she did not hear me because of the six petticoats and heavy silk dress which surrounded me.

"What did you say?" she asked again.

"Yes ma'm," I shouted and hoped she woulld hear.

All around me from the top of my head to my stomach I was enveloped by her dress. I felt almost giddy with excitement and longed to masturbate. Her odours were clearly building up inside her inner cream petticoat with the 'Point de Rose' lace hem.

I could almost taste the lace as she shook her clothes from side to side and picked up, then dropped, her petticoats and dress over me, over and over again until I could hardly take anymore. A droplet of precum now lay on my stomach.

From far above me I heard her laugh. Then she suddenly stopped teasing me and I noticed her knees begin to bend and her legs begin to open.

Slowly but surely she squatted on my face. The rustling and swishing of her petticoats announced the slow descent of her fanny onto my upturned nose and lips. Her shoes splayed outwards and her thighs opened above me. Around my head her petticoats fell and folded into luscious luxurious creases filled with silk and layered tiers of lace. I was now completely buried beneath her underclothes and my erection felt 'white' hot.

"Do your duty boy," I heard her say through the rustling sounds above me.

Her open-crotch bloomers allowed me unhindered access to her vagina, perineum and arse. I slid my tongue along her cleft which was already oozing lubrication and smelled sweet and bitter at the same time. I had not, as yet, become use to the scent of an aroused woman but could only describe it as a magnet to my nostrils and plunged my nose into her.

"Bliss," she whispered and, through her clothing she held my head still. Almost immediately she began wiping her dribbling fanny up and down, over my nose and tongue. First my nose would enter her then my tongue, then my nose and then my tongue. This went on for many minutes and the cycle was repeated over and over again.

"Oh bliss, heavenly bliss," she whispered loudly many times. 

In the darkness between her splayed legs I touched and licked every part of her with my tongue. I was particularly keen to touch her clitoris which I now understood was the 'key' to every woman's pleasure. I believe that she was allowing me to pace the approach of her orgasm as she was quite content to permit me to enter and re-enter the sticky space between her labia at my own speed.

"Gracious me, oh bliss," she continued as I started to circle her clitoris and coax it from under it's hood.

This had indeed 'unlocked the door', as it were, and her hands suddenly grabbed the back of my head in a vice like grip.

She suddenly took control and began rubbing herself vigorously over my slimy face. She had changed from a docile passive creature into one who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it,

" Head still boy," she shouted, and swivelled her feet together against my ears so that my head was now trapped against her two-inch kitten heeled slippers. It was painful to say the least.

She now literally rode my face as if she was out for a canter on 'Rotten Row' in Hyde Park.

"Oh my bloody, Oh my..." she shouted as she wiped her cunt up and down the contours of my face with increased speed and ferocity. I didn't need to use my tongue; she only required to rub herself off on something smooth and hard, She chose my chin and nose.

For the next ten minutes I had to endure Lady Huntington squatting on me and jerking herself wildly up and down my face. I had to put up with her cursing, swearing and blasphemy too.

All around me her petticoats thrashed, threshed and rustled violently. Above me her silk bloomers were almost transparent with her sweat and her black silk stockings had come adrift from their lacy black garters. My face was completely covered with her vaginal spendings and I smelled only of cunt.

" Come on boy, come on," she shouted feeling my head beneath her hands and now thrusting herself in a savage frenzy mercilessly over my face. Another five minutes passed and just as I felt that my head would become detached from my neck it was all over. 

I felt her clench her buttocks then shake, then quiver, then judder and finally spasm. I felt her vaginal muscles ripple, then ripple further and eventually die away. She had achieved her orgasm at long last.

"Push me up please," said Lady Huntington. 

She was clearly stiff from having remained in the squatting position for at least twenty minutes so I, as a gentleman, cupped her buttocks in both hands and pushed her off me. I heard her knees crack and watched all her petticoats disappear back into their respective positions beneath her wide dress. She would need help to rearrange them, I thought. She finally stepped off me and after shaking down her skirts she rang the parlour bell for Perkins, the young housemaid.

I lay on the carpet, a pathetic smelly sight, with my hair disheveled, naked with a string of precum hanging from my now flacid penis.

The slim tall girl appeared again at the doorway and looked me over and turned beetroot red. She must have been only eighteen and her freckles and ginger hair made her look like a country girl, perhaps she was.

"Now Perkins you can remove my cup and saucer but before you do I require you to help Mr. Shaw here with his predicament," said Lady Huntington once again a figure of authority.

"What am I to do m'am?" said the fresh faced girl in her starched white apron and black maid's uniform.

"I require you to attend to Mr.Shaw's needs, Understood? " she snapped at the helpless young girl who stood with hands held together staring at me and at my growing erection.

" Just stand over his face and he will do the rest. Do you not see?"

I must admit that I was expecting a bit more than being under the housemaid's skirt but that would be better than wanking into thin air without any visual stimulation. 

The girl appeared rather reluctant to do as her mistress bade and I could tell that having a naked man before her on the floor could be rather upsetting. She watched my penis as she placed both her indoor-boots to each side of my face. I arranged her skirt and cotton petticoats over me so that I had a clear view of her cotton stockings and white cotton bloomers above me. I saw that her underwear was crudely trimmed with scalloped eyelet lace, and broderie and she smelled of sweat and urine.

The poor creature would have been busy since six o'clock that morning so her bloomers must have been soaked with perspiration.

"On your knees Perkins, let me see your arse on the boy's face," said Lady Alexandra Beatrice Huntington, to give her her full title.

With a few tugs and tucks Daisy Perkins knelt forward and aranged her two petticoats over me, and skirt too, and lowered her arse onto my face. The stench was overwhelming but I became strangely attracted to the distinct odour of warm fresh cunt which emanated from the gusset of her under-drawers. My penis was now half erect and as I breathed in the heady natural female odours it stiffened fully. I felt my foreskin being fully stretched and my bulbous knob lie fully exposed.




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 03



"Well milk him girl; imagine he is one of the cows in your father's farm," said her Mistress.

"Oh, I do now see m'am," said Daisy Perkins and I lay there with my arms by my sides with my head inside the young girl's skirt and petticoats and stared at her gyrating buttocks under her starched cotton bloomers.

She was clearly used to milking as before long I felt the familiar tingling of semen building up deep inside me ready for my ejaculation. I was determined to delay my pleasure for as long as possible and wanted her milking never to cease.

Daisy milked away; each long stroke was followed by a short strong as her young thin fingers pulled and pushed my foreskin up and down and over my glans. I had never experienced such expert wanking before and marvelled at the girl's skills. 

Soon I was at the brink, the very edge of pleasure. I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes as I felt it well up inside me. I held back for as long as physically possible. I rammed my face up into her arse and shouted " Yes" and released seven spurts of boiling semen into her fingers and whatever else lay in its path.

I could hear Perkins and Lady Huntington whoop with delight at the slimy, stringy stuff that had escaped from my loins. I felt completely 'shagged-out' and in need of refreshment.

"Take Shaw down to the kitchen and give him some tea," said Lady Huntington to Perkins as if reading my mind. 

I felt that I had had a very satisfying morning and wondered what else Maynard and Son had in line for me for the rest of the day, and indeed the rest of the week.



David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 04



(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my third day with the firm)

***

I was given the following address by Mr. Maynard's secretary and arrived there promptly at half past two. Lady Gertrude Flaxenworth, 12 Glebe Street, Kensington. I parked my bicycle near the servants' entrance of this ornate Victorian crescent and rang the bell. A pretty young housemaid in her early twenties let me in and took me to the housekeeper.

"Ah Maynard's, good,good," she said as she read my calling card, "Lady Gertrude will see you presently," she said as she returned my card. I stood there admiring the framed prints of views of Rome and Naples. The hall clock ticked solemnly and I noticed that this had an Italian movement. Everything in the house appeared to be Italian.

I heard a bell ring from below stairs and the housekeeper led me up to the second floor.

"You will take off your clothes here please," she said as I stood outside Lady Gertrude's boudoir.

I pulled my shirt out of my trousers and removed my vest. Down came my trousers and finally my underpants and socks. The housekeeper, Haynes, picked them up and handed them to the young housemaid who whisked them away. Haynes looked me up and down as if she were examining a joint of meat at the butchers.

"I need to spray you with perfume as Lady Gertrude dislikes the smell of men," she told me in a factual way.

From a drawer on the landing she fished out an atomizer and sprayed me all over with a thick cloud of expensive perfume. It stung my balls and penis and I felt as if I was no longer a chap, and that part of my manliness had been eradicated in the haze of strong smelling femininity.

"I must warn you that Lady Gertrude does not suffer fools gladly and if you fail to provide satisfaction she has a network of friends who will drag Maynard and Son's reputation through the mire. Understood?"

I told her that I understood and that so far in my career as 'underskirt boy' I had received nothing but praise.

"Good, good. Let's keep it that way then shall we?" she concluded and the young housemaid suddenly appeared at my side.

Grace Haynes knocked on the heavy door and awaited a reply.

"Come," said a regal, educated voice from within.

The housekeeper escorted me in, followed by the pretty young housemaid, Kathryn Fields.

It was a small room and was mainly filled with a large ornate bed covered in an Italian silk bedspread. The widows were framed by heavy silk curtains and there were several decorated plinths supporting carvings in stone and wood of Greek and Roman gods. Above the mantelpiece, and dominating the room, was a monochrome print of the famous painting by Francois Boucher entitled 'Odalisque'. I stared at the artwork and felt my manhood begin to rise.

The room was very dim owing to the curtains being partially drawn. Presumably light wasn't required for what we were about to do together.

Lady Gertrude must have been sixty years old and wore her grey hair in a spiral bun with soft bangs accentuated by a red ribbon to complement her red dress.

She sat on an armchair near the window and looked at me in a warm, almost motherly way. If the truth were known she was almost old enough to be my grandmamma. Her dress was huge. From her tiny waist it flared out in several tiers ending in a series of tailored flounces which almost appeared to fill the room. I wondered how many petticoats she was wearing. Ladies of her age were known to wear far more underskirts than younger women who favoured the more modern bustle.

My penis was now stirring to embarrassing proportions and I was pleased when the housekeeper, Haynes, left me with the housemaid, Kathryn Fields, and Lady Gertrude.

"Step forward boy," I was ordered by the now aroused Lady Gertrude. I now read passion in her eyes as she stared at me and at my half distended erection. She asked me whether I knew her name and reputation and I said that I had never heard of either.

"So much the better boy, so much the better," she nodded at me then nodded at Kathryn Fields.

Miss Fields clearly knew what to do as I wager that I was not the first 'underskirt boy' to set foot in her boudoir. 

The framed print by Boucher kept catching my eye. The buttocks of the woman in the picture seemed to pull me into the lewd scene like a magnet. 

The bedspread was pulled back by the housemaid whom I now understood to be Lady Gertrude's personal ladies maid.

Two long pillows, which extended from one side of the bed to the other, were carefully positioned half way down the sheets, but further towards the lower end. Both sheets and pillows were made of deep pink satin. 

I was told to lie on the bed, on my stomach, so that my head rested on the first pillow. My face lay buried in the satin and I moved it to one side, and then tilted it upwards so that I could breathe more easily. There were no brass rails at the foot end of the bedstead so I was able to dangle my legs with relative ease. 

Because I was so short and puny Fields, however, placed an ottoman at the bottom of the bed for me to kneel on which I found perfectly comfortable and agreeable.

In my mind I was wondering what I would be expected to do. Certainly, as I understood it, Lady Flaxenworth preferred to be pleasured in a horizontal position. Other than that I couldn't fathom out what would happen next. It didn't take long to find out.

The maid opened a drawer in a tall chest of drawers, next to the fireplace, and removed some leather straps. She selected two very long ones of the same lengths. I noticed that they had a set of buckles at both ends.

She carefully slid each strap around the brass bed head and through the buckle. She then pulled them down to my wrists and tightened them and tensioned them so that my arms were pulled towards the top corners of the bed with my face resting on the lower pillow facing up the bed. She rearranged both pillows so that my outstretched arms now lay underneath them.

Lady Gertrude inspected the straps and nodded to Fields. 

"Are you any good boy?" she barked and I noticed in the dim afternoon light that she was heavily wrinkled and her hair was thin.

"I do my job reasonably well," I told her and smiled at her. This had no effect on the old lady's countenance and she frowned and told be to do my best. Already my neck was beginning to ache and I stared up the bed where presumably Lady Gertrude Flaxenworth would eventually position herself for a tonguing.

"Help me on Kathryn," she said to her maid.

I was aware of movement behind me but couldn't quite see what was going on. I felt goose bumps on my flesh where it touched the cold satin sheet.

There was a great rustling noise of silk petticoats being raised and the distinct faint smell of urine disguised by perfume. Two knees appeared on each side of my head. They were clad in black silk stockings and long legged bloomers. The bloomers were of white silk edged with three flounces of elaborate 'Duchesse' lace. These ended just above the knee and were open crotch. Lady Gertrude shuffled further up the bed and I could see that her maid was holding up her skirt and underskirt in great armfuls to allow her to get into position. She wore no shoes but wore black suede slippers with a slight heel. 

Lady Gertrude then splayed her legs and backed into me and lowered herself onto the second pillow. In the dimness I saw her heavy exposed arse lie only a couple of inches from my face. The folds on her sagging skin contrasted markedly with the whiteness and smoothness of her expensive bloomers.

Fields rearranged the front of her dress so that it was pulled towards me and under Lady Gertrude. This was a complex procedure as my arms were in the way and her dress was so large. Eventually both were happy that the dress lay in a satisfactory position.

The maid hitched up the back of Lady Gertrude's dress so that it lay over the old lady's back and shoulders and then repeated this process with seven further layers of white silk petticoat. Lady Gertrude then sld further towards me and opened her legs fully. I felt the wrist straps tighten and I gritted my teeth with pain. This was now very uncomfortable.

"Cover him up Kathryn," she told her maid who was clearly used to dealing with 'underskirt boys'.

"Head up," the maid told me and I stared straight up at her Ladyship's bottom.

My penis was now rock hard and felt as if it would bore a hole into the mattress.

Kathryn Fields carefully draped and arranged each petticoat over me one at a time. Each was trimmed in fine lacework, mainly in 'Point de Rose' but some in Valenciennes lace. From the base of my spine upwards I was covered in silk petticoats and the rustling and frou frouing sound was almost deafening as Lady Gertrude made herself comfortable. It must have made an unusual sight to see my small naked bottom emerge from below the many layers of clothing which Lady Gertrude was wearing.

Again my penis was fiercely stiff and almost painfully hard and I was desperate for a wank.

Finally I felt the heavy red silk dress being spread over me and I was plunged into darkness. There was only my face and Lady Gertrude's arse under her dress as far as I, and the old lady, were concerned.

"He may start," said Lady Gertrude and I felt Kathryn tap me on the head through the eight layers of rustling material.

I had never pleasured a woman's bottom before and I didn't know what to do. Lady Gertrude pushed herself languorously against me and I began licking. First I licked the insides of her buttocks and along the crease as far as the outer edges of her open crotch bloomers. Then I licked her above and below her anus then flicked her puckered hole. I licked her perineum but stopped short of her vagina. 

This seemed to act as a trigger as she pushed against me even more firmly. The leather straps on my wrists felt painfully tight but there was a certain degree of 'give' and I now understood that Lady Gertrude could control the pressure of my face against her hindquarters. She was clearly a woman who liked to be in charge of her 'underskirt boys' and I was learning what she liked. I was learning very quickly too.

I concentrated all my licking around her anal sphincter. The aroma from her bottom was disguised by the heavy perfume which had been sprayed on me and on her buttocks. Without this fragrance, I admit, I would have found the whole experience unpalatable to say the least.

She swiveled and ground her buttocks against my face in large circles followed by sudden jerks. I kept my tongue in contact with her anus and by degrees I managed to push it into the tight opening. Again this sparked more activity from the old lady who was now perspiring visibly.

"Further inside me if you will," scalled out Lady Gertrude pushing her arse even more firmly into my face. The feel of flesh and the all pervasive aroma of sweat and perfume was intoxicating. I now understood the power of a womans bottom.

Her feet were wide apart and touching both sides of the bed and being inside the heavy layers of petticoat and dress made it difficult for me to breathe. Her hips and buttocks described small circles in front of me as my tongue slid ever further inside her. 

If only I could have used my hands I could have pulled her buttocks apart to allow easier access but I couldn't so I did my very best with just my tongue.

"Oh that is just perfection, perfection indeed," the old lady moaned and dismissed her house maid. 

I heard the door open, then close, and I was left alone with Lady Gertrude's fleshy arse in my face. I pushed my tongue into her as far as it would go and watched her grind herself into me stretching the leather straps to their maximum extension.

"Oh just perfect," she groaned and continued swiveling her buttocks from side to side. "Perfection itself," she moaned.

I had lost track of time but I must have been under Lady Gertrude's dress and silk petticoats for at least an hour. I had slipped my tongue in and out of her anus many times and now was able to judge the exact movement or degree of pressure by her comments. Fortunately she vocalised her feelings and I used them as a guide.

She appeared to have an insatiable appetite for having her anus licked and I continued until she told me to stop. 

I heard her pull the bell rope at the side of the bed and then the door opened and Fields reappeared. She lifted her dress and petticoats off me and helped Lady Gertrude off the bed. My face was a mess and was plastered with sweat. My hair lay lank and damp and I had to remain fettered until the maid had rearranged her Ladyship's clothing. This took several minutes as each layer of silk petticoat had to be pulled down and shaken out to allow the one above to lie evenly.

"Enough Kathryn thank you, Release the boy please." said the old lady resuming her seat in the armchair by the window.

I was so thankful to be unbuckled. My wrists showed the red marks of being fettered for an hour and I half. I noticed the clock on the mantelpiece showed four o'clock. Fields gave me a small bar of carbolic soap and a bowl of luke warm water and advised me to wash my mouth out, which I did. The soap tasted ghastly but I understood that it would counteract any possible infection. I also washed my face and dried myself.

My limp penis had a small string of precum hanging from it and I felt very dejected that I had not experienced my own orgasm. I sensed both women were reading my thoughts. Lady Gertrude turned to her maid and nodded. This clearly was a signal for her to do something with me, and I was completely unprepared for what was to happen.

Kathryn Fields, Lady Gertrude Flaxworth's ladies maid, knelt in front of my puny naked body and began fondling my balls. Her fingers tugged and squeezed as she handled my heavy bollocks, weighing them in her hands. 

I stared at her face as she stared back. No words were spoken. She had attractive features and could have graced the cover of any Lady's Journal of that era. Her apron was immaculate; the starched stiffness gave it an almost cardboard like appearance. 

I gazed into her big brown eyes and felt my erection slowly return. With each squeeze my erection appeared to grow an inch or so until after two or three minutes it jutted out horizontally. 

I felt both women stare at it and then at my face. I stood like a small Greek god in front of them and my eyes wandered back to the print of Boucher's 'Odalisque' and felt my swollen knob end twitch even more. In the dull light from the half drawn curtains I noticed that the carvings and sculpture of Roman and Greek deities all sported erections. The whole room was full of phalluses and pictures of an erotic nature.

I looked down at Fields who now began licking the tip of my seemingly 'massive' penis. Slowly she sucked it into her mouth and ran her tongue around it. I stood with my hands on my hips and stared into her eyes again. She fixed me with a gaze. She circled the area where my foreskin was attached to the tip which I found to be most sensitive and agreeable to the touch. 

"Carry on girl," said Lady Gertrude eager to see me ejaculate.

I must admit that I wanted to see me ejaculate too and held Fields' head as she sucked me over and over again. 

Sometimes she would lick the tip, then the shaft, but more often just slide it in and out of her mouth. The feelings were amazing. I never knew that the inside of a woman's mouth could provide so much pleasure. 

Soon the intensity increased, so did the tempo. I gripped Fields' hair, almost crushing her starched maid's cap and, to put it bluntly. I 'was fucking her face'. I abandoned all sense of decorum and pumped my penis furiously inside her mouth. Her eyes still stayed on mine as if I was staring at an automaton. 

We continued like this for about ten minutes until I felt a great intense gathering of semen inside me. The intensity and tempo was now at break-neck speed and I am afraid I had to vocalise my pleasure with blasphemy.

I was unsure whether I should spurt into her mouth or not and Lady Gertrude sensed my dilemma.

"Release it boy, release it; she'll swallow it for you," said the old lady wearing the vast red silk dress. Her voice was full of excitement.

I looked deeply into Kathryn Fields' eyes and as I did so I squirted out five huge amounts of semen into her mouth.

I watched her face melt into a smile as I slid my penis from her lips. Long strings of semen looped us together then eventually broke and slid down her chin.

"Bravo boy, bravo." Lady Gertrude cackled as she watched my penis begin to deflate. "You have done well my boy and I shall book you for further sessions," she said and left the room, leaving Fields to recover my clothes and spruce me up a little.

***

That evening, back at Maynard's I met another fellow who told me that he'd just returned from an 'over-nighter'. His name was Timothy Prentice and the lucky chap was one of many 'attractions' at a young lady's twenty first birthday party.

"How many women did you service?" I asked in an off hand manner.

"Well there was the mother, two aunts and twelve ladies between the ages of eighteen and twenty five." He told me in a casual way. 

I said that I'd buy him a drink if he would tell me the details.

***

(If any readers wish to hear about Timothy Prentice's 'over-nighter' perhaps they could write to me and let me know. Otherwise I shall continue with the David Shaw story regardless...regards, Thorilla)



David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 05



(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my third day with the firm)

***

That evening, back at Maynard's I met another fellow who told me that he'd just returned from an 'over-nighter'. His name was Timothy Prentice and the lucky chap was one of many 'attractions' at a young lady's twenty first birthday party.

"How many women did you service?" I asked in an off hand manner.

"Well there was the mother, two aunts and twelve ladies between the ages of eighteen and twenty five." He told me in a casual way. 

I said that I'd buy him a drink if he would tell me the details.

We strolled up the Lower Richmond Road towards Barnes and found a small pub called 'The Spencer Arms'. It was a fine evening so we sat on a bench outside, near the door, with our 'Mortlake Bitter' beers.

"Come on old chap," I said to Tim," Tell me about your 'overnighter', there's a good fellow," and he told me all about it.

***

This is what Tim told me.......

I had been given the usual information from Lorna, Herbert Maynard's secretary. I was to collect a clown's suit from the fancy dress outfitters on The Fulham Road. I was told that there would be 'a party' and I would be available for underskirt duties throughout the afternoon, evening and during the night. I caught an omnibus up the Kings Road and then across town towards Regents Park. The address was in Bryanston Square. I was met by the housekeeper, Mrs. Morrison, who gave me tea and a sandwich in the servants' sitting room at the back of the house near the mews.

She told me that the daughter of the household, Lucy Bellingham, would be entertaining eleven young ladies during the course of the afternoon and evening and that they would be staying overnight. It was her 21st birthday party and all the men folk, including the butler, footman and valet, had gone by train to Scotland on a pheasant shoot.

"We'll have quite a houseful Mr. Prentice," she told me, "And I am not kidding you, mark my words." She seemed very much kinder than other housekeepers I've met and she went on to tell me what my duties would be.

"My mistress, Lady Bellingham, wanted a lighthearted diversion for the young ladies and we have already booked a conjurer and fortune teller. The fortune teller will be Lady Bellingham's sister in disguise and she's been practicing her 'old crone' accent secretly for several days, it really is quite convincing you know. Under her shawl nobody will know that it's her."

It all sounded very jolly and I could smell fresh bread and cakes cooling somewhere from 'below stairs'. Mildred the housemaid popped in with an envelope addressed to 'Timothy Prentice'. She looked at me and my tight blonde curls and told me that she'd have my head up her skirt any day, curtsied then sped upstairs.

"Excuse Mildred, she's too cheeky by half," said Mrs. Morrison staring at me over the tops of her spectacles.

"You'd better read this Timothy, if I may call you that, you are old enough to be my son and we're never that formal in this house," she continued handing me the envelope.

'Instructions to Timothy Prentice, Underskirt Boy,

* Rule One. Touching of all Women above the Waist is allowed

* Rule Two. Touching of all Women below the Waist is allowed

* Rule Three. Touching of all Women under their Skirts is allowed

* Rule Four. Facesitting of Mr. Prentice by all Women is allowed

* Rule Five. Underskirt kissing and Oral Pleasuring of all Women by Mr. Prentice is allowed

* Rule Five. Exposure of the Penis is allowed and Stimulation of same by all Women. Intercourse is not allowed.

Yours etc Victoria Bellingham' 

"Well it appears that I can do whatever I like to whoever I like except 'Roger' them," I said and Mrs. Morrison laughed.

"That's the sort of thing our Harold says," she carried on and pushed me playfully on the chest. "We'd best get you changed and ready for the young ladies; they won't arrive until 2 o'clock so you've got half an hour," she said leading me up the back stairs to the housemaids' room in the attic.

I was surprised to see Mildred dressed only in her chemise and petticoats sitting on the edge of her bed darning a pair of black cotton stockings.

"I thought you weren't using this room until this evening; Timothy here needs to change into his clown suit. What is this world coming to?" said the housekeeper to the housemaid. Mildred looked up and stared at my hair.

"He's got lovely curls ain't he Mrs. Morrison?" said the young woman. "He can still get changed here can't he? He won't mind and I won't mind so long as I can keep my hands off him," she smirked at Mrs. Morrison who tut-tutted and left the room and trundled silently down the stairs.

I looked at Mildred sitting with her legs apart and at the arc of her petticoats sweeping the floor. She was very pretty and her skin looked very young and smooth. She could have only been eighteen.

"How long have you been an 'underskirt boy' then? I daresay that you're the first one I've met," she said continuing with the mending. I told her that I'd been doing it for four years and that I also worked as a delivery lad.

She put down the darning and stood in front of me. She was about an inch taller than my five foot two inches. She stared down into my eyes in an impassive, vacant manner and placed her hands on my hair. My blonde curls gave me a somewhat boyish mischievous look which older women find attractive. She was actually younger than me but more used to having her own way I could tell.

"Nice hair Timothy," she whispered and placed her hands on my shoulders and applied a firm downward pressure and slowly pushed me towards the floor.

"Let's feel your curly hair between my legs shall we?" and she lifted up the front of her petticoats to reveal that she was wearing neither bloomers nor stockings.

I got down on my knees and ducked under her white lacy frills. She parted her legs.

Her odour hit me straight away. She already smelled moist and 'ready for it' and in no time at all I was licking her slit up and down with her petticoats hanging around me on all sides.

I felt her hands touch my hair through the three layers of starched cotton. I swear that I felt I was in heaven. Her hairy cunt almost smiled at me while I diddled her with Mr.Tongue.

"Faster, deeper," she moaned and groaned as I licked and nuzzled her clitty like a maniac.

She groaned so much I thought that Mrs. Morrison would hear her from the kitchen in the basement. Then she orgasmed and her whole body shook like as an earthquake. My face was sticky with her spendings and she hurriedly pushed me from under her petticoats and wiped herself with a damp flannel. I had the pleasure of watching her dress and tickled her 'fancies' while she put on her uniform.

"Button me up Tim, and just look at my hair; Mrs. Morrison will kill me if she finds out what we've done," she told me.

I pinched her on the arse and told her to hurry up as I wanted to change. Truth be known I had a rather large erection which I wished to keep out of sight until the girls arrived for the birthday party.

It took me fifteen minutes flat to change into the clown suit. I could have gone the whole hog and put on stage makeup but, to be honest, it would only have smeared and come off during the 'underskirt' sessions so I just frizzed up my hair and wore a happy grin. The clown suit was basically red with yellow and blue spots. They could have seen me coming from as far away as St.John's Wood it was that bright.

The ladies all arrived at about half past two and I stood in the hallway with Lady Victoria Bellingham, Lucy Bellingham and her eighteen year old sister Phoebe Bellingham. The hallway had been decorated with cards and messages and little tin figures holding up tiny cardboard flags. It all looked exceedingly jolly to say the least. I was introduced as 'Tim the Clown and underskirt boy' and they all cheered when I stuck out my tongue at them and wiggled it about.

The two twins Amelia and Beatrice Bernhard shook me by the hand and then touched my willy through my big baggy trousers. It was still erect and their eyes lit up when I told them that I wasn't wearing any underpants.

"He's a saucy little imp," said Lady Bellingham and winked at me.

Charity Baxter had arrived in the same hansom cab as Georgia Snape-Cheddington and I gave them a friendly hello. They were both very tall girls in their early twenties and I appeared very small next to them. Charity asked me if I could touch the tip of my nose with my tongue and I showed them that I could. They all laughed and Georgia gave me a little hug and growled in my ear. She was like gunpowder.

Next to arrive were Charlotte Alsop, Edwina Quartermaine, Laura Rhys-Stansfield and Judith Ffitch. The latter was very tall. They all asked me to stick out my tongue.

"We used to have underskirt boys visit our house when my American aunt came to stay," said Edwina.

"That's nice dear," said Lady Bellingham in a casual disinterested way.

I helped Mrs. Morrison carry their coats up to one of the bedrooms where Mildred hung them on coat hangers in a large wardrobe. I noticed that some extra bedding had been arranged here and there for the girls to sleep on later on in the evening.

When Mrs. Morrison left the room Mildred pushed her hands inside my baggy trousers and fished out my erection then giggled. I told her she was 'a cheeky little madam' and pinched her arse again.

'Madam Destiny' arrived next in a brand new 'fly' carriage drawn by a grey horse. She was clearly and obviously Lady Bellingham's sister. I could tell by her speech mannerisms and the way she walked. She had an assistant, 'Gypsy Saffron', who again turned out to be another of Lady Bellingham's sisters. When they entered the hall they quickly disappeared up to the morning room where they set up their stall complete with Tarot cards and crystal ball.

Next to arrive were Matilda Scott-Rippon and Selina Barclay-Farthing. Each arrived in separate Hansom cabs but rang the doorbell almost at the same instance.

"We're all happy to see you both," said Lady Bellingham and passed their coats to me which I then passed to Mildred who stood halfway up the staircase.

As the maid turned I noticed her white petticoats below her uniform hem and naturally my pecker began to rise. I was in need of sexual relief, that was sure. and I bided my time and was determined to get at least one of the young ladies to jerk me off.

***

The Conjurer and Fortune Tellers

***

The conjurer entertained the girls in the rear parlour overlooking the garden. I sat at the back of the room and watched the young women sitting on low padded arm chairs. Their dresses spilled to either side of their chairs and I found myself staring at silk petticoat lace where it occasionally peeped out from under the hems of their dresses.

Charlotte Alsop sat closest to me and I was riveted by her long slim neck and pearly white teeth as she laughed and talked to Phoebe Bellingham, who wore a check, patterned silk dress which extended down to her ankles. Most the girls had their hair in elaborate plaits and plaited buns. One or two wore their hair loose. I watched them shake their heads and secretly wished to touch them and run my fingers through their hair.

I noticed that all the girls wore shortish dresses which were very wide at the hem. They were all clearly full of petticoats and the familiar sound of frou-frou was evident in the room as they fidgeted and watched the conjurer extract yet another dove from under his cape. Soon there were ten white birds standing in line on a perch. There followed various card tricks and he ended pouring water into a tumbler and making it disappear. All the while I was watching both the tricks and the girls. The tall blonde girl, Charity Baxter kept catching my eye and I smiled at her insanely in my clown's costume whenever I had a chance.

The conjurer bowed and we all applauded. I watched Matilda Scott-Rippon's young breasts shake under her bodice and would have given anything to have them resting on my face. The air smelled of lilac and lavender and the whole day had a sensuous freshness about it. I felt that my clown costume fitted the bill precisely and hoped it would allow be to take liberties with all twelve of the young women as well as the three middle-aged ladies.

I stood up and ran upstairs to the morning room where 'Madam Destiny' and 'Gypsy Saffron' had placed a crystal ball on a large round table in the centre of the room. It sat on a large thick green velvet tablecloth which reached down to the floor on all sides.

"Hello Ladies," I said to them in a perky and jolly clown-like manner.

"Quick clown, under the table you go, and make some animal noises when we kick you," said 'Madam Destiny, who was almost completely covered by a shawl.

I ducked under the tablecloth and sat at their feet. I wondered whether they knew that I was an 'underskirt boy' and assumed that they did but prepared myself to be slapped on the face.

There was a knock on the door. "Enter," said 'Madam Destiny' in a cackling voice "And who fore art thou pray?" she said to the first young lady in mock Shakespearean couplets.

"Judith Ffitch Madam," said a shy voice. I noticed her push her shoes under the hem of the cloth and saw the edge of her maroon dress. Two inches of elaborate silk petticoat appeared and I had to hold myself back from touching her legs and ruining everything.

"I see in my crystal ball several tall dark strangers, all bachelors and with immense private incomes. One of them owns a dog," she said kicking me in the ribs and I howled like a Bloodhound.

There was a shriek, and then laughter and I watched her little feet move excitedly from side to side.

"One of them is a sheep farmer," she said and kicked me again. I bleated and baaed under the table until everyone laughed.

Judith's feet were now pounding the carpet at a furious speed. She was clearly suspicious of my animal noises coming from under the table and had grounds for being so.

"The final young gentleman owns a snake." I didn't need a kick; I hissed and ran my hand up Miss Ffitch's skirt and inside her drawers.

Her scream could be heard across the Square. She jumped up and ran to the door where the other girls giggled and tickled her. "Hiss, hiss," said one of them and tried to lift her dress.

We continued this way with the rest of the girls for half an hour or so and my repertoire of animal noises was stretched to its limit. I was struggling with Aardvarks and Llamas but when 'Madam Destiny' frequently said that there was a 'escaped ferret' in the room I took that to mean that it would run under dresses and between girl's legs. In all I touched most of the girls between their legs and only two were curious enough to lift the table cloth to find me, curly haired with my silly grin, smiling and staring back at them.

"Thank you Mr. Clown," said 'Gypsy Saffron from above the tablecloth. I decided to see if Lady Bellingham's sisters were good sports so I knelt in front of them and touched their shoes. They both wore black soft leather slippers with two inch kitten-heels and looked very erotic. This was all I could see of the two women who sat behind the thick tablecloth.

Neither woman moved but instead 'Madam Destiny' pulled up the tablecloth to expose the lower part of her full A-line skirt which reached down to her ankles. It was a silk skirt with Paisley pattern motifs. I could see a hint of silk petticoat lace hanging down below and there appeared to be several more beneath.

They began talking of the supernatural, the occult and predestiny in an animated and expansive manner. I touched both women on their ankles. 

They were now deep in conversation and I watched as 'Gypsy Saffron' pulled up the tablecloth to reveal her clothing. From the knees down I noticed she wore a simple deep red silk skirt with an embroidered pattern along the hem. Her petticoat hems just peeped below her skirt and I counted at least five. 

I was now lying on my stomach staring up at both pairs of legs and petticoats under the table and I began to wonder whether I should attempt to pleasure the ladies one at a time or both together. I decided on the latter and was determined to see how far I could get before they pushed me away.

I knelt between them and listened to their conversation. It was entering an erudite world of academia as far as I was concerned and they could be talking in Chinese, nevertheless my fingers were slowly moving up their legs to their knees.

I felt the silky fineness of their black stockings and marveled at the exquisite elaborate laciness of their petticoat hems. 'Madame Destiny' pulled up her skirt and parted her knees and my hand edged its way along the inside of her thigh until it found the flounced silk wide lace hem of her drawers. 

Similarly 'Gypsy Saffron's knees slowly drifted apart and she pulled her skirt up to her knees and there before me was layer upon layer of incredible laciness and I felt the urge to push my face inside them. I resisted and ran my fingers along her parted legs and under the leg of her loose silken drawers. In unison I moved my hands up inside the drawers of both women until I reached the tops of their stockings. Their legs parted further and they casually pulled their skirts up over their thighs. The sight below the table, to me, was totally erotic and my erection seemed to fill my trousers. They kept their hands under the table as if to beckon me.

I listened to the low hubbub of conversation above me and watched both women's legs almost touching in their attempts to open themselves for my attentions. I withdrew my hands and ran them up the inside of their drawers where their open crotches lay waiting. 

"And another thing Geraldine, if predestiny is such a strong driving force why bother to even arise in the morning?" said Louisa to her sister just as I touched both women's outer labia. They must have noticed the other one flinch. I could not tell whether both or neither of them realised they I was pleasuring the other.

These two ladies, in their forties, were clearly happy to have me diddle them under their petticoats while they carried on with their conversation undeterred and, little by little, inch by inch, the middle fingers of both my hands entered their slippery portals. It was then that I noticed their knees touch and remained touching. I now knew that they both knew that I was pleasuring the other.

I slid more fingers into them and rubbed their clitties with my thumbs. Soon their conversation became ragged and I could tell that neither was listening to the other but just making noises as if nothing was happening. It was after ten minutes of constant attention that 'Madam Destiny' reached her climax and shuddered violently, clamping her thighs against my wrist and then 'Gypsy Saffron shook and shivered as she attained her orgasm. I withdrew my fingers and licked them clean, crawled out from under the tablecloth, stood up and bowed to them.

They looked at me and smiled. "Thank you Mr. Clown, and we hope you'll join us later on this evening." They said as I turned on my heels and bowed again and left the room. 

The only problem I had was that my erection jutted out horizontally and was difficult to control inside my baggy clown's trousers.

***

The Birthday Supper

***

I walked downstairs to the dining room and saw myself entering the large room in the huge mirror over the mantelpiece. The girls were standing around talking to Lucy who had been opening her birthday gifts. There were boxes of ribbons, notepaper, and silk handkerchiefs. Laura Rhys-Stansfield had brought her some Turkish Delight and dried fruits in little round boxes made of elaborately carved wood. 




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 05



"My parents sent me those," she said, "from Constantinople," she continued.

"Yes Laura we know your father is in the Diplomatic Corps," said Lady Bellingham now anxious to get the girls seated and the meal underway.

To cut a long story short they ate three courses which I helped serve and kept them amused by pinching them and telling silly jokes. At one point I crawled under the tablecloth to where Lady Bellingham was sitting at the head of the table and, hidden beneath the table cloth, I lifted up her dress and petticoats and eased my head between her feet, then her knees and then between her thighs.

All the time she opened her legs and allowed me unrestrained access to her fanny as I began diddling her with my long tongue.

I felt little feet kick against my sides, from the girls, as I knelt in front of 'the mistress of the house' on my hands and knees. 

I have to admit that she said not a word to divulge my presence and, although I did not take her to her climax, I could tell she was pleased with my performance as she patted my head like an old family dog. 

I remained under her dress until all the courses were complete and heard the girls' feet disappear into the drawing room which housed the grand piano. Lady Bellingham waited until the very last girl had left then opened her legs completely for me to continue my tonguing. She slid forwards and now in front of me was her wet gaping hairy cunt. It didn't take too many flicks of my tongue on her clitty to elevate her to her climax and she groaned and moaned in an almost delirious manner. Once sated she patted my head and I withdrew and emerged at the opposite end of the table and smiled at her and took a bow.

"Thank you 'Timmy the Clown', that was perfect. Perhaps we'll repeat our pleasures later tonight?" said Lady Victoria Bellingham using the royal 'we' for some obscure reason. 

I frizzed up my blonde curls, smiled and strode into the drawing room where 'Madam Destiny', Geraldine McWilliams, now devoid of her shawl, and her sister 'Gypsy Saffron,' Louisa Price-Fenton, were organising a musical evening of parlour songs. 

Each of the girls was given the opportunity of either singing a song of her choice or playing the pianoforte. I sat at the back of the room and listened to every girl in turn. Georgia Snape-Cheddington caught my eye. There was something challenging about this tall girl's mannerisms and the way she stood with her feet firmly apart as she sang a song based on a poem written by Christina Rossetti.

"A Birthday,"

"My heart is like a singing bird, Whose nest is in a watered shoot; 

My heart is like an apple tree, Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; 

My heart is like a rainbow shell ,That paddles in a halcyon sea; 

My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; 

Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; 

Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleur-de-lys; 

Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me."

I clapped and clapped until my hands felt really sore. In my ridiculous clown's suit all I could think of was Georgia Snape-Cheddington and her grey and red dress decorated with bows, pleats and ruches and her black stockinged ankles and two inch kitten-heeled slippers. 

I saw myself with my head inside this girl's full dress and petticoats and her moaning with pleasure on the tip of my tongue. Of all the young ladies in the room I was determined to push this one to a 'new dimension of pleasure'. I just wondered when that would be and when would I have the opportunity.

***

After the Meal

***

Following the concert the girls were offered confectionery and 'pudding-wine' in the form of Marsala and peach brandy. I took a small glass of elderberry wine but made sure that I did not drink too much as I had to remain alert enough to pleasure the girls and was determined not to fall asleep on the job, as it were.

At nine o'clock Lady Bellingham announced that I, 'Timmy the Clown' and 'underskirt boy', would take the girls up to the upper bedroom and 'entertain' them until it was time to retire for the night. My penis began to stir inside my loose wildly coloured clown trousers. The girls all looked at me and for some strange reason I turned beetroot red. I have to admit that I was more used to orally pleasuring single middle-aged ladies and not twelve young girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty five. I smiled back and stared lecherously at their feet under their wide skirt hems.

Lucy walked over and sat on my lap and ruffled my hair. The weight and feel of her warm thighs and arse caused my penis to extend further. She put her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. She was taller than I, and I slipped my hand around her waist and felt her smooth skin through her bodice. Her hot breath and girlish freshness and fidgeting drove me slowly wild with lust and my erection pushed hard up against her buttocks inside her dress.

"We must all go now," said Lucy taking my hand as if I were some virgin bride on her wedding night. My erection pushed my trousers out horizontally and I was aware of giggling from the younger girls. As I walked up the stairs I passed Mildred and Mrs. Morrison who wished me luck. I felt I would need it. It was going to be along night.

***

The Bedroom

***

In the bedroom it was now quite dark and several candlesticks had been arranged on the washstand and on various chests of drawers. The room had a cheery glow and the young ladies' eyes sparkled in the flickering light.

"Me first," insisted Lucy sitting on the bed with the others finding chairs and sitting on an ottoman. There was also a low narrow padded wooden bench and three girls found enough space to sit on this.

In an instant I had pushed Lucy Bellingham on to her back, across the centre of the bed and tickled her around her ribs. She shrieked with laughter and called me a 'naughty fellow'. I beamed at her and fell to my knees at her feet. She looked down at me and stuck out her tongue and the other girls giggled. Someone tapped me on the shoulder then disappeared into the gloom. I turned and pretended to be annoyed. There was more laughter and comments regarding my trousers resembling a 'big top'. My stiff penis did make my baggy trousers look like a circus tent. I stuck out my tongue at Lucy and she giggled knowing that I would soon be diddling her with it.

"Touch your nose with it Timmy," shouted Matilda Scott-Rippon, whose hair was in a spiral bun. I did as I was told and several girls said that they wished to be next.

Phoebe Bellingham locked the door and said, in a whisper, "We don't want Mamma or Aunt Geraldine and Louisa disturbing us do we?" and the others agreed.

I pushed Lucy's feet apart and caressed her ankles above her kitten-heeled slippers. Her black silk stockings shone in the candlelight. I ran my hands up the outer sides of her lower legs up to her knees. I could feel that her skin was very smooth and taught through her stockings and imagined that this must be the first time she had been touched by a man.

"Come on 'Timmy the Clown', let's see some action," said someone behind me.

"Oh do shut up Edwina," yelled Laura Rhys-Stansfield from the other side of the bed. 

I took things slowly as I wished Lucy to experience a perfect orgasm on her birthday. I slowly kissed her on her ankles, spending equal amounts of time on her left and upon her right. I rubbed my cheeks against her shins and savoured the feel and touch of petticoat lace where it began to spill out in a wide arc from ankle to ankle. I then lifted her dress and at least four silk lacy petticoats, and slid my head between her legs.

She parted her stocking clad knees and allowed me to push myself up to her thighs. The odour from her young body was like nectar. Her musky sweetness drew me in like a magnet. Her delicate open crotch silk drawers smelled of lavender and I marveled at the little tuft of curls that guarded her portals. Inside her petticoats and dress I set about my task of taking her to her climax.

She flinched as I licked my way up and down her cleft. Gently I opened her outer lips and watched her inner lips glisten in front of me. Above me her four layers of cool white petticoats made the familiar frou-frou swishing sound which drove red-blooded males, such as I, into a sexual frenzy.

I felt her hands on my head as I slid my tongue under her clitoral hood and coaxed out 'Miss Clitty'. Her movements appeared more urgent as she jerked herself upwards off the bed. I continued diddling her mercilessly for many minutes. After a while I sensed she was gasping for breath and her thrusts slowed down and decreased in intensity.

Then, with my tongue completely buried in her sopping fanny, I felt it. 

First there were tiny pulsations rippling inside her shivering body and this gave way to fierce vaginal spasms as her vulva muscles tightened and gripped my tongue. She screamed and laughed at the same time and her friends clapped and shouted words of appreciation and encouragement. I slid out of her vagina and from under her dress and petticoats. I kissed her twice on each foot and stood up and took a bow.

The girls gathered around Lucy, and gathered around me. I realised that I was the shortest person in the room by a good few inches but I didn't mind. I was enjoying what I was doing and getting paid for it too.

"Me next," said Selina Barclay-Farthing, a black haired girl in a pale blue dress.

I threw myself on the bed and in the candlelight I noticed that there was a small precum stain seeping through my trousers.

"No," said Beatrice Bernhard "We should allow Lucy's sister go next," she exclaimed and the others agreed.

I lay on my back next to Lucy and she kissed me full on the lips. I smiled inanely and encouraged Phoebe Bellingham to get on the bed. Lucy made space for her eighteen year old younger sister who had taken off her slippers and was clambering about on the bedspread in an ungainly fashion seeking guidance from me.

"Kneel over me facing my head," I implored her and reached out to place one stocking clad foot, then the other, on each side of my chest.

She lifted up her dark green striped dress to her knees and above me I noticed four cream coloured silk petticoats trimmed in exquisite silk Alencon, Mechlin and Chantilly lace. Her silk drawers were trimmed with Point de Gaze lace of amazing delicacy.

She knelt over my chest with her legs apart and with her crotchless drawers open to reveal her little cunny lips ripe for diddling. I took no time at all to slide underneath her so that my face was in contact with her genitalia. She dropped and shook her petticoats down all around me and I was in almost complete darkness inside this beautiful young lady's skirt. I lifted her arse and readjusted my position so that my lips rubbed against her outer labia as she knelt straddling my face. Soon I had my tongue deep inside her and my fingers probing her anus. She twitched at every touch as if she were an automaton.

"Is it nice Phoebe?" I heard Lucy say.

"I feel so dreamy and cosy," replied her sister and took quick little intakes of breath at each wiggle of my long tongue inside her.

My erection still felt fiercely rampant and I wondered whether I should get one of the ladies to 'wank me off' as it were. 

While still pleasuring Miss Bellingham I reached down to my trousers and unbuttoned the waistband and flies and lifted my arse and eased them down to my knees. I wasn't wearing underpants so the sight which greeted the girls caused them to giggle and pass one or two favourable comments. I felt two pairs of hands remove my clown shoes and socks, and pull my trousers off so that I was completely naked from the waist down.

"He's got a huge donger hasn't he?" said Georgia Snape-Cheddington, speaking quite outrageously in front of the others.

I began wanking and gestured them to join in by pointing to my manhood. Immediately I felt countless fingers and long sharp finger nails on me. The bed heaved as more and more girls piled on. I opened my legs and resumed the tongue probing of this lithe young creature who sat on me with her legs splayed over my face. I moved my hands away and reached out for legs and skirt hems.

I felt silk dresses and petticoat lace against the highly sensitised skin of my legs. With each touch my heavy stiff penis bobbed about wildly. Soon several fingers were wrapped around my shaft and I felt myself being milked. My hands were pushed under girl's dresses and I felt the cool smoothness of silk as I reached for the open crotch drawers of these excited young women. My long third fingers entered two moist cunts and wiggled and wriggled about so that I could get more fingers inside. My thumbs rubbed their clitties and soon the room was full of groans, moans and sensuous sounds.

My penis was now being milked furiously. Clearly someone in the room had done this before to someone, perhaps to an uncle or to a clergyman.

Phoebe's vagina dribbled steadily into my mouth and my tongue probed her clitty with even more fervency. Soon I had three young ladies close to reaching their climaxes and I was entering the point of no return too. My thumbs worked at a steady persistent pace and I was thankful that I kept my finger nails short and that both girls were oozing fanny juice. 

Judging by the swishing, rustling sounds of silk petticoats and silk stockings frou-frouing together all four of us were going to experience our orgasms at about the same instance. The girl on my right hand side suddenly gripped my wrist and clamped her legs firmly together and let out a loud groan.

"Ooh, aagh, oh yes," she squealed as I felt her vagina muscles grip me then spasm. "Yes, yes, yes." she continued and I felt my hand being eased slowly out of her.

The young lady on my left hand side suddenly erupted into a tirade of incoherent moaning and again I felt her internal muscles rippling, pulsating and gripping my three fingers.

Phoebe kept riding my face just like an Ascot jockey and she jerked her vagina and clitty up and down my nose and tongue. Soon she was shaking uncontrollably and was crying as she reached her climactic peak.

"There, there, dearest Phoebe," said her comforting sister sitting next to her on the bed. 

Almost immediately I 'came' and rammed my face smartly into Phoebe's now over-sensitive cunt. I jerked out four of five long strings of semen which could have ended up anywhere and lay back panting staring up at the insides of Miss Phoebe Bellingham's cream coloured Alencon lace petticoat. I felt her thighs shake as she continued sobbing and gently she was escorted off me by Lucy who asked her if she was feeling alright.

"That was the best experience in my entire life," she said between her tears, and all the girls cheered and patted her on the back and head until she began laughing and became more animated.

I had met several women who cried at the point of orgasm.

As the evening progressed I orally pleasured the girls one by one. The atmosphere in the room smelled entirely of sex and these young women were eager to have me perform.

I lay back on the bed and removed my clown jacket so that now I was completely starkers in the dim candle light. 

Amelia Bernhard lifted up her pink and yellow check dress and clambered onto the bed. I watched as she straddled my shoulders facing my feet. Soon she was kneeling on all fours with her arse pointing towards my face. I slid my head under her and under her full skirt. Her skirt was full of white silk petticoats and I had to fight my way under the many layers until I occupied the same space as her crotchless drawers and silk stockings. 

She must have been wearing six petticoats, each outer one being more feminine and more ornate than the one underneath. The swishing and rustling seemed to go on forever as she finally arranged them around me so that only my lower naked torso and legs were on general view.

Needless to say my penis began to grow again and lay ramrod stiff along the centre line of my stomach. Hands began lifting it and weighing it. Small fingernails scratched the inside of my thighs and lower stomach.

"Growl, growl, guess who I am?" said a disembodied voice somewhere beyond the seven layers of silk which enveloped my face.

"I think it's Miss Georgia Snape-Cheddington," I shouted, knowing my voice would sound muffled from under Amelia Bernhard's vast dress.

"Yes, growl, you are correct Mr. Tim, growl," said the voice as she clawed at my balls.

I pulled Amelia firmly down on top of me so that her arse cheeks opened and her puckered anal rose winked back at me. She smelled as 'fresh as a daisy' as I began slurping my way between her cunny lips. Soon I had my tongue completely up inside her and she moaned at every push and probe. Her arse looked so wide and fleshy and I felt as if I was the luckiest chap in London to be under it and have it spread over me. In the warm dark private space inside her dress and petticoats I just licked and flicked at her fanny and clitty until she began to jerk and gyrate her hips more and more wildly.

"Has he got it up you Amy?" asked one of the girls," I can't wait, I swear that I shall die waiting," said the young woman whom I guessed to be Matilda Scott-Rippon.

I savoured every second of being under Amelia's buttocks and listened to her silk petticoats slide over her silk stockings while Georgia Snape-Cheddington continued scratching me and growling like a demented lioness.

I almost groaned with pleasure as my senses were again being overpowered by being facesat and wanked. Soon however I sensed that Amelia was close to her orgasm. I slowly concentrated all my slobbering and diddling on her now prominent clitoris and from nowhere I felt her shudder, shake then spasm loudly. The air was full of obscenities and swearing.

"Amelia, really, what coarse and vulgar language," said someone.

"Oh shut up Selina, leave poor Amy alone," said another girl. 

Inside my temporary petticoat world I watched her arse shake over me and all the little petticoat folds and gathers shimmied and frou-froued. I was gripped by overwhelming lust and diddled her further and further until another orgasm welled up inside her and appeared to last for at least a minute.

"Enough, enough, enough Clown," said Amelia kneeling up then sitting squarely on my face.

I fought for breath and pushed her off and she laughed and congratulated me on my underskirt technique. I smiled like a raving idiot and frizzed up my blonde curly hair once more.

Georgia Snape-Cheddington growled at me in her grey and red dress and threw herself on the bed beside me and kissed me in the French manner. She didn't appear to mind that our tongues mingled in each others mouths and that my face smelled strongly of Amelia Bernhard's cunt. She was like a tigress or lioness and she could not stop squeezing my tender testicles between her talon-like fingernails.

"You can pleasure me on my back," she demanded as if she had an 'underskirt boy' of her own to play with at home, perhaps she did?

"Certainly ma'am," I replied smiling at her. "In the horizontal position it shall be," I said and tickled her in the ribs.

"Behave Mr. Clown," she said as she leant back against the huge pillows and spread her legs. 

I helped her off with her slippers and crawled to the bottom of the bed. I lifted her dress to reveal a white petticoat made from the finest silk I had ever seen. In the candlelight she stared down the bed at me and placed her hands behind her head.

"Nice petticoat," said Phoebe Bellingham who had now fully 'recovered' from her orgasm. It was indeed a 'nice petticoat' and was trimmed with a double layer of silk flounces and Point de Gaze and Youghal lace. I lifted this up and there beneath it was another petticoat of similar design and quality this time trimmed with a deep hem of Chantilly lace.




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 05



"Those are both French and are my best," said Georgia clearly intrigued by my reaction to her undergarments

. 

I lifted up three more petticoats which were plainer in design but still were of the finest quality. I considered that my coarse hands felt out of place amongst all this femininity. The other girls sat around us on the bed and on the narrow bench and ottoman. I lifted Georgia's legs and placed them over my shoulders. There was a gasp at my audacity and resourcefulness.

"My goodness Georgia he's done this before," said Selina Barclay-Farthing sitting next to her on the large pillow.

I had indeed 'done this before' and found that women of all ages and sizes preferred to have me under their legs as it opens up their fannies for deeper tongue penetration. As soon as my lips met hers, her lower one's I hasten to add, she threw her dress over me and I was once again hidden from view. 

I was, more or less, on all fours with my legs splayed out at the foot of the bed and became increasingly aware that my balls and willy were dangling down like a prize bull. Soon I felt thin cold fingers cupping my testicles and probing my anus. For some strange reason I felt very vulnerable and wished that I had kept my trousers on. Nevertheless this did not prohibit me from pleasuring Miss Snape-Cheddington which I did with a fair amount of aplomb.

After ten minutes of tonguing she was now mewing like a kitten. Her claws had been retracted and she was completely under my control. One final flick and her orgasm detonated inside her. Her frame shook and pulsated as she moaned, eyes closed, into the room.

"Oooohaaaghyesss," she grunted and groaned then pushed me away. She was now far too sensitive to touch and I slid from under her petticoats, dress and legs and knelt up in front of her. She stared at me beneath her long lashes and insisted on a further kiss. I lay on top of her as she crushed me against her bosom and tongued my mouth mercilessly. This time she could smell her own cunt on my face.

"Me next please," said Judith Ffitch who wore a maroon dress which had a voluminous skirt clearly full of silk petticoats. I slid off the bed and stood in front of her. My head only reached up to her shoulders and she was very tall for an eighteen year old. I kissed her on her bosom through her bodice and she admonished me because it tickled. My willy stood out stiffly and rubbed against her maroon cotton dress. My exposed knob end seemed ultra sensitive and bobbed about between the gathered folds of her dress.

I dropped to my knees in front of her and stared up into her impassive face. She had a regal haughty expression which I found fascinating in one so young.

I pushed my hands down to her ankles and felt the silky smoothness of her black stockings. Slowly I slid my hands upwards, pushing up her dress and silk petticoats until my fingers felt her soft silk drawers. There were at least five rows of flounced lace on each leg and, to me; they felt like fine Chantilly lace.

"Oh goodness gracious me," I exclaimed staring into her eyes as she parted her legs ready for me.

In no time at all I had ducked under her dress and petticoats and began running my long tongue from the tips of her shoes to the opening of her crotchless drawers. All about me her petticoats swished and slid sensually over my naked skin as I journeyed up to her most sensitive part and paused. I could almost hear her heart beating faster, in time with mine, I hasten to add.

"Oh Mr. Clown. Please continue," said the girl clearly excited and sexually aroused. 

This was perhaps the best part of my job and gave me most satisfaction. To have a woman waiting to be tongued was a compliment to me. It indicated that I was doing the correct thing.

I teased her by pausing further. She kneed me on the shoulder which hurt me slightly. 

I took that as a hint and slid my tongue up to her labia and slipped it easily between them as she was so moist. Already her juices were flowing and within minutes I had her groaning and moaning and begging me not to stop. Her petticoats shook violently as she finally 'came' with wobbling legs and holding onto my head for support.

Her whole body shuddered and I held her around the backs of her thighs as I thought that she might collapse on me. After a while she appeared to recover and I gingerly backed out and stood in front of her grinning cheekily like a street urchin. Her eyes were big and bright in the candlelight and she kissed me on the forehead before shaking down all her petticoats and skirt.

Charity Baxter decided that it was her turn next and I diddled her 'fancy' lying on my back. She sat on my face with her skirts and petticoats spread all over my naked torso. The feel of the cool silk petticoats against my skin gave me an enormous erection. I tongued her like a good'un and she climaxed quite swiftly.

Next was Beatrice Bernhard. She kneeled on all fours while I slid my face under her vast green and 'burnt orange' striped dress with her eight Mechlin lace French silk petticoats. The heat from her rounded derriere was intense, particularly where it was trapped beneath the many layers which surrounded me. She squealed and grunted like a young sow when I finally withdrew my tongue from her sexual orifice.

"Thank you 'Timmy the Clown," she said as she swung her legs off me and left me naked on the bed with beads of precum glistening at the tip of my penis.

From nowhere Charlotte Alsop appeared on the bed and I watched her clamber about like an ungainly turkey. Her grey and pink check dress was held up to knee level as she attempted to straddle my chest. Her petticoats were everywhere and appeared to restrict her movements somewhat.

"I'll never be able to sit on your face," she said apologetically as I reached up to support her. 

With the bed bouncing around wildly she managed to place one stockinged foot, then the other on each side of my neck. I stared up her dress where her petticoats now lay neatly retracted, layer against layer. There was so much lace and it was all hanging down over my face. I used both my hands to part the inner petticoat and coaxed her to bend her knees and splay her knees over me. She giggled girlishly as she struggled to lower herself on the moving mattress.

"Go on Lottie," said Selina Barclay-Farthing who sat next to me.

Charlotte did eventually manage to face sit me and again I felt crisp silk petticoats all over my naked skin. After ten minutes I had finished diddling her and it was Edwina Quartermaine's turn.

Edwina preferred to be on her back so I crawled under her lime green dress and peach coloured petticoats. Her blonde pubic hairs were unusually coarse and when I had finished tonguing her I fancied that I had grown a moustache. She wept with joy and I comforted her by lying on top of her with my face in her bosom.

She caressed my hair and whispered "Nice curls Mr. Tim."

"You can diddle me on the bench," said Laura Rhys-Stansfield patting the low narrow padded bench.

I asked her what she meant and she told me to lie on the bench, which I did.

I stared into her expressionless eyes and at her chocolate brown dress with red bows. She pulled up her hem to her knees revealing five layers of white silk petticoats. In the dull flickering light I could see that they were all edged in Alencon lace. My erection became rock hard as I guessed at what she was about to do.

She swung one leg over the bottom of the bench where my feet protruded and shook her dress and petticoats down over them. The feel of cool silk again stirred up the fire inside my penis. My feet were surprisingly sensitive.

She shuffled forwards, straddling the bench and my naked body. I kept my hands rigidly to my sides as she lifted the back of her dress to ensure that it wouldn't snag on the end of the bench or my feet.

Slowly she dragged her clothing along my body which now tingled almost beyond endurance. I felt layer after layer of silk petticoat lace slide between my thighs and over my testicles and penis. It was like having millions of tiny sensations focused totally on my genitals.

She remained impassive in the candlelight and smiled at me in an incredibly sensual manner. She placed her hands on her hips as if she were a music-hall dancer. She swiveled her derriere from side to side in order to shake all her lacy frills over my ramrod stiff penis. 

I forced myself not to wank and was aware that precum slowly oozed from my penis onto my belly. By degrees she moved further and further up my body until her skirt hem rested on my chin. I must have had a hysterical look on my face as the girls were passing remarks about my eyes and willy. 

I had not known so much excitement and longed for her to take the next two steps and cover my face with her wide skirt and petticoats. She knew that she was driving me wild so just stood there smiling. 

"Please Miss Rhys-Stansfield, please," I pleaded and felt humiliated at having to beg.

"No Mr. Timmy I have changed my mind," she said and, as I looked so dejected, she took two paces forwards and covered me with her dark brown dress and white silk petticoats and sat squarely on my face. 

My tongue gave her the best orgasm of her life and I suppose I did this to her because I was so worked up but partly in gratitude for the totally erotic experience. 

I felt that Laura Rhys.Stansfield was a kindred spirit as we both knew more about human sexuality than we would care to admit to each other. 

Matilda Scott-Rippon sat on my face on the bench. Her petticoats were all over me as she came swearing like a trooper. 

Finally Selina Barclay- Farthing lifted up her lemon yellow striped dress and straddled my face on the bench; she was able to 'hover' over me by flexing her knees. I found this very comfortable and was able to slide my hands under her dress and provide additional support for her buttocks while I tongued her mercilessly. All around me her silk petticoats frou-froued and hissed. It was similar to being inside a small tent and I watched in fascination at the ornamental stitch work and embroidery which decorated the legs of her crotchless drawers.

Soon she was bouncing up and down with my tongue flicking at her clitty. Her frenzied gasps and squeals announced to the room that I had taken her to her climax and she sat on my chest with her legs apart like some French tart in a whorehouse.

She pulled up her dress and allowed me fresh air.

Flat on my back on the bench with Miss Barclay-Farthing's shapely legs astride me I watched all the smiling faces beam at me in the flickering candle-light. I felt that I had done my duty and that they all hade been sated by courtesy of my 'naughty' long tongue.

***

Time for Bed

****

It must have been midnight when Lady Bellingham knocked on the door.

"Have you girls finished yet?" she enquired. 

Her daughter, Phoebe, unlocked the door and let her mother in. I felt rather sheepish lying on the bench naked with Miss Barclay-Farthing sitting on my chest, knees wide apart and her dress pulled up to her thighs.

"Good, good, it looks as if you girls have had a pleasant time with Mr. Timmy here," she said winking at me and at the disheveled girls all of whom looked tired and were displaying their petticoats.

"I think it's time for bed now don't you Lucy? Phoebe take the girls to the guest rooms will you?" said Lady Bellingham now anxious to shut the house up for the night. 

Behind her I could see Mrs. Morrison hovering in the background with two night candles already lit.

"That's it girls," she said as they left, "Sleep well, all of you and there's no need to arise early you know," she exclaimed as they filed past her and made their way to the rooms where Mildred and I had hung up their coats and cloaks.

Lady Bellingham took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom. It was a large room with light feminine furniture in shades of cream and pink. The bedclothes had been drawn back to reveal white satin sheets and pillows. 

In my naked state my stiff penis bobbed about uncontrollably and I felt quite self conscious in the presence of this important rich lady whereas I was poor and owned nothing except my clothes and bicycle.

"Undress me please Timmy," she demanded as she held me in her arms and kissed me savagely on my lips.

She swiveled around and presented her back to me.

"My buttons, quickly now," she ordered and I began unbuttoning her from the nape of her neck to her waist. There must have been a score or so and my nervous fingers felt more like thumbs as I unfastened them one at a time. Soon her dress gaped open and she asked me to help pull it over her head which I did.

In the glow from the oil-lamp she looked beautiful standing in her petticoats and corset. I would have kissed her on her back except that I knew my place within the rigid class structure which ruled any actions I may have considered.

"Untie me now," she said presenting her corset laces to me. I had to admit that I knew nothing about tight lacing and knew even less about the mechanics of releasing them. However I treated her corset like a bootlace and eased one side then the other and so continued from her shoulder blades to her waist. Soon there was enough play for her to release the front of her corset and I pulled it off her in two halves.

I helped her off with her petticoats one at a time. There were eight of them. Each was fastened by two buttons and a drawer string ribbon Each one was less ornate than the one above and I lifted them over her head and placed them on a chaise longue. Soon she was down to one petticoat trimmed with Valenciennes silk lace and she stepped out of this to reveal herself only in her silk chemise, silk crotchless drawers and black silk stockings. She removed her slippers and stepped out of her drawers. Soon she had taken off her chemise and unclipped her hair which she shook down to shoulder level.

"I think we'll keep the stockings on shall we," she said staring at me with my mouth open with silent gawping wonderment and my penis pointing towards the ceiling.

"Come on Timmy get into the bed with you," she said as she turned down the lamp so it gave a cosy rosy glow. 

Lady Bellingham got in and beckoned me to lie beside her. I had difficulties walking as my manhood was so ungainly and was about the size of an average cucumber.

"Oh Timmy do not be afraid, I will not bite you, I may suck you a little but I do not bite," she said as I joined her like a zombie. Our lips immediately met and to cut a long story short I fucked her twice before dawn.

I woke up in the half light with another massive erection. I padded naked out of her bedroom and up to Mildred's room in search of a chamber pot and my own clothing. 

The big house was cold and my erection soon disappeared. Mildred was nowhere to be seem and was clearly already clearing the grates and preparing the coal fires for the guests when they awoke. I hurriedly dressed and retrieved the clown suit and walked downstairs avoiding creaks by walking close to the edges of each stair tread. I let myself out and the servants' door shut with a crash and clatter

"Soon I was on my bicycle and drinking tea at Maynard's and that is the end of my tale Mr. Shaw," said Timothy Prentice holding out his glass for another drink

***

Postscript

***

Tim Prentice, as that is the way I began to address him, told me that the girls were so impressed by his performance that they sent Maynard's a message that very afternoon to say how delighted they were. There was also another envelope from Lady Bellingham with five pounds inside.

I have to say that I have never seen a young fellow look as pleased with himself as did Timothy Prentice. 

(Next chapter... back to David Shaw)



David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 06



 (It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my fourth day with the firm)

***

The next morning, following my evening at the pub with Tim, I kept wondering what other engagements I would have to keep during my employment with Maynard's. I really did not think that I could ever entertain a 'ladies only' party wearing just a clown's costume. I thought Tim had a lot of pluck, to say the least.

***

I found the address, 180 Gloucester Place, and parked my bike in the area of this large Georgian terraced house. All about me Hansom cabs were weaving up and down the street and there was a distinct smell of horse manure in the cool morning air. I watched a young woman walk past and from my low elevation on the area steps I could see a hint of white petticoat emerge as she sped on her way.

I knocked at the servants' door and handed in my card. A young housemaid took it and invited me in. I sat in the servants' room in the basement at the front of the house and watched the fire crackling in the grate. Mrs. Campion, the housekeeper, told me that her mistress was expecting me and she would escort me to her bedroom where she was waiting. 

I followed her up the narrow back stairs which twisted and creaked its way around the rear of the house to the second floor landing. Mrs. Campion had a nice arse and I would have happily had her sitting on my face with her legs apart and my tongue up her hairy 'love-hole'.

She knocked on the door and entered with my card from Maynard and Son. I heard an educated voice from within and Mrs. Campion telling her something in sotto voce. 

"Yes that will do thank you Mrs. Campion, do allow him in," said the woman behind the door. "You may go now," she said to her housekeeper.

I walked in with my cap in my hand and saw before me a tall elegant woman completely dressed in black. She was standing by the window where the curtains had been partly drawn. She wore a jet black crepe silk dress which was extremely full and flared outwards from her hips to the floor. She wore a bead necklace decorated with gold and jet, and jet earrings. Her dark brown hair was worn in a high coiled bun with ringlets. I also noticed her black slippers.

"As you can see I am in full-mourning and all I require from you are the usual underskirt services," she said to me as if I were there delivering groceries.

I nodded as she walked up to me and asked me to open my mouth. I did as I was told as she lifted my chin with her black lace mourning gloves. 

For some strange reason I imagined her gloved hands cupping my balls and stroking my willy, coaxing them into life and wanking me mercilessly.

"Hmmm," she said, "And let me see your tongue," she continued and I stuck it out ready for her to inspect.

I looked at her closely. She must have been in her mid 50s but she was quite slim and tall and did not stoop. I was used to seeing working class women in Putney who often looked haggard at 40 and ancient at 50 but Mrs. Annabel Langley, as that was her name, could have been mistaken for a much younger lady from a distance. It was mainly her wrinkled neck and bags under her eyes which gave her age away.

"Take off your jacket and shirt but keep your trousers on," she said to me in a neutral condescending voice. 

I stood in the centre of the room and removed my jacket and placed it on a chair next to the huge bed. She returned to the bedroom window.

"On the floor if you will," she said and I carefully placed it on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

I took off my shirt and folded it up and placed it on top of my jacket.

"Shoes and socks next," she said staring out of the window at a passing brewery dray pulled by two huge Clydesdales. "They do make a racket don't they?" she exclaimed, launching into 'small talk'.

The clip-clopping sound of their hooves filled the room as I hopped about removing my shoes and socks. 

I probably looked a forlorn little character to her with my thin frame and puny shoulders. My muscles were almost nonexistent and I was miles too short. In some respects I was ideally suited to be an 'underskirt boy'. I imagined women would not tolerate a large muscular chap fumbling under their dresses and petticoats so I was 'just the ticket', size wise.

She suddenly turned on her heels and swept her large dress to one side as she walked over to the bed. She sat squarely in the centre of the bedspread with her feet dangling over the side facing me. Sliding backwards she leant back on her elbows and parted her legs so that the merest hint of white silk petticoat lace was revealed.

Already my heart was thumping fast and I felt an erection stir in my loins. She looked at me and pointed to the space between her feet where her vast dress lay like a billowing jet black cloud. Her dress seemed to fill the bed it was so large.

She lay on her back and placed a satin cushion under her head so that she could stare at me, down her nose. She looked very haughty and snooty and for some reason I was visibly shaking with excitement. My penis was completely erect and it felt horribly uncomfortable, restrained tightly inside my trousers. Her arms lay outstretched and she appeared totally relaxed.

She bent her knees and lifted her feet back onto the bed. Blood hammered through my brain and penis as I took in the sight which lay before me.

The scene appeared totally erotic. Her now exposed petticoats hung in a great sweep from knee to knee and spilled out, layer upon layer. The outer petticoat was trimmed with a deep flounce of Alencon lace of the finest quality. Beneath this there were at least four petticoats hemmed with Point de Gaze silk lace and two more trimmed with Maltese needle lace. She parted her legs further until I caught sight of her drawers which ended just above her knees. She was wearing seven petticoats.

I stood spellbound in front of her and feasted my eyes on her white silk finery and delicate lacework which contrasted dramatically with the dull black crepe dress above it which spread out on each side over her bed. 

My penis ached for relief and I would have given anything for a good old fashioned wank.

"Boy, if you please," she barked at me, clearly anxious for me to begin my tonguing. 

I dropped to my knees between her feet. She wore flat-heeled black leather slippers over her black silk stockings. 

I placed my head on the satin counter pane and nudged her ankles with my nose, pushing them even further apart. I heard her sigh as I began kissing and licking her slippers, ankles and shins. All the time I kept my eyes fixed on the dark space between her legs which would eventually be my final goal. The swishing rustle of petticoats moving against petticoats assailed my senses and quietly filled me with lust. 

I breathed in her 'underskirt odour' which had the distinct muskiness of warm fanny with a hint of urine. Slowly but surely I pushed my head further under her dress and between her long legs, and rubbed my closely shaven cheeks against her stocking clad calves. I heard her moan with delight as she splayed her knees further to allow me unhindered access to the very centre of her sexuality.

As she splayed her knees her silk petticoats came swishing down all over my head and frou-froued against my face and ears. She threw her heavy black dress over me so that I was now hidden from view. 

In the dark underspace I pushed ever forwards until I nuzzled the flounced laciness of crotchless drawers. She flinched noticeably as I ran my tongue up and down her inner thighs. She was tantalisingly close and I felt that my rock hard penis was drilling a hole in the bed. I continued licking the exposed flesh above her stockings and garters where her crotchless white silk drawers gaped open ready for me.

She must have now felt my hot breath on her most sensitive parts as my mouth brushed against her brown curls. 

I touched the centre of her labia with the tip of my tongue and heard her moan and groan. Gradually I ran it up and down her cleft, probing it slowly and gently then with more fervency and urgency until it slid open, glistening with her juices.

She moaned again and whispered "Oh bliss," as I eased my tongue between her vulva lips and into her vagina. 

Her pubic hair was remarkably soft and it tickled my nose as I licked my way up one side of her lips and down the other in circular, or rather ovoid, movements.

"Oh heavens, oh heavens, my word what a good boy you are, a very good boy, oh heavens," continued Mrs. Langley breathlessly. 

She kicked off her slippers.

She lifted her left leg off the bedspread and swung it over my shoulders so that her stockinged feet lay against my naked back. She did the same with her right leg and immediately we became locked together. I pushed my tongue further into her so that it was buried up to its hilt, and then wiggled it about inside her.

"Oh, oh, oooh, yes. What a good boy you are, yes. Bliss. Heavenly oh a very good boy," she whispered and moaned and groaned again.

Her hands rearranged her dress and petticoats over me so that I was completely concealed from my chest upwards. I now felt the weight of her long shapely legs over my shoulders and almost felt part of her hairy moist cunt as we were so closely coupled together. 

She pulled me further into her with her thighs and I felt the pressure of her hands on the back of my head under the seven silk petticoats and enormous black dress which draped over me. 

Her odour was intense. There was a muskiness combined with a sweet astringency which filled my senses and I felt as if I were drowning in her headiness.

.

Soon she held my head against her in a fiercesome grasp and began jerking her pubic area up and down over my face. 

I stuck out my tongue and licked anything which was in its path. She wiped her fanny juices up and down my chin, mouth and nose in small energetic thrusts. I felt as if my facial features could have been merely a convenient piece of smooth shaped wood upon which she was pleasuring herself. 

Her movements became wilder and wilder as she rubbed her clitoris exclusively over my nose and tongue. I had to brace myself as she bucked her arse off the bed and transferred all her bodyweight to her feet and to my back.

Her petticoats rustled and swished about me as she jerked herself up and down and from side to side. With each jerk the bedsprings twanged and shook and she cried out "Yes, yes, yes, good boy, yes."

On and on she bounced, thrust, jerked and pushed her arse off the bed. My head was at the centre of a storm and her silk petticoats slid over me in total disarray. I felt that I could not withstand the intensity of her movements, or the immense pressures applied to my back.

I had little opportunity to tongue her clitoris but she apparently didn't require me to, as she had clearly taken control of the whole situation and within three or four thrusts she started to shudder, shake violently then grip my head firmly. 

I felt her buttocks tighten, her knees pull me in further and her whole body shiver, quiver and judder. 

Suddenly she screamed, "OOOoooooohyess," as she climaxed forcefully into my face.

I knelt there face down in the counterpane dribbling saliva mixed with her fanny juice into the Indian silk. Mrs. Langley lay there with both legs over my shoulders and dangling across my back. She had let go of my head and I became aware that her breathing still appeared laboured.

"Oh heavenly bliss, sheer complete bliss," she whispered, "Good boy, good boy," she said and patted my head through her immense black dress.

From my position, with my head inside her dress, I imagined that she was lying there staring at the ornate cornice moldings which ran around the top of the walls were they met the ceiling. She did not move; neither did I.

In the dark space inside her cool silk petticoats I listened to the smart clip-clopping of a Hansom cab heading towards Oxford Street and heard children running outside. Soon Mrs. Langley slid her legs off me and sat up. I slipped out from under her dress and smiled at her in an embarrassed way. 

She tousled my hair and mouthed, "Thank you very much young man."

I told her that it a pleasure and noticed that I had also accidentally 'come' in my underpants, which felt uncomfortably sticky and sweaty.

She rang for the housekeeper as I got dressed and she said that she would see me again soon.

"What is your name by the way?" she asked.

"Shaw, David Shaw, ma'am," I said and smirked in a very self conscious manner.

"I will ask for you by name next time," she said as I left the room.

Half an hour later I was bicycling across Hyde Park towards Knightsbridge whistling a silly music hall song. The sun finally shone as I sped back towards Maynard's on the south side of Putney Bridge.



David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 07



(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my fourth day with the firm)

***

After my session with Mrs. Langley I arrived back at Maynard's and had some lunch with two other fellows. 

"My word Shaw you were lucky with Mrs. Langley. She can be a vicious bitch at times when she's in a foul mood. She almost bent my back last time I went to pleasure her but she was wearing riding boots at the time," said Eric Treadwell, one of Mr. Maynard's older 'underskirt boys'. 

Lorna gave me an address and was told that it was not far away, in Putney to be precise, and I decided to walk there.

***

I knocked on the door of a modest two story terraced house in Galveston Road, Putney and was met by a young maidservant. She took my card and bade me take a seat in the front parlour. I looked at the framed prints of views of the Thames and at the Aspidistra growing in an elaborate china bowl, on a similar china plinth in the bay window. The wallpaper was pale green with a Gothic floral motif on it at regular intervals. The house was neat and clean.

I heard footsteps, and then an elegant middle aged woman appeared at the door. I stood up, cap in hand and waited for her to speak.

"That will be all for the day Ruby, you may go now, thank you." She said to her maid. I watched as Ruby collected her things and changed into her outdoor boots, put on her coat, opened the front door and left. I watched her cross the road and walk briskly down the street.

"Right young man I am Miss. Sumpter and if you must know, I am a teacher at a school close by. You need not know any other details except that I have never married and prefer an independent life. Do you understand?" she asked.

"I understand perfectly," I said stuttering badly. I had always feared teachers for some odd reason but I think this may be due to the fact that I seldom excelled at school.

"Well that is good. You may also wish to know that I have used the services of Maynard and Son for several years and have always found their 'underskirt boys' courteous and obliging. Do you understand?"

I blinked as if I were being interrogated but understood that she was expecting me to be courteous and obliging too.

"Yes Miss. Sumpter, I do understand," I spluttered and smiled insanely at her. I felt my knees begin to tremble as I stared into her hawk like eyes which fixed me with a steady gaze. I felt as if she was reading my very thoughts and felt strangely afraid. 

"Would you care for a cup of tea first?" she enquired and I told her that I would. Inside me, I felt more in need of a stiff drink to steady my nerves.

I watched her turn and leave the room. She wore a white cotton blouse with a high collar, lacy jabot and long sleeves decorated with pin-tucks. She wore a dark grey tweed skirt which was extremely full at her ankles. As she moved I heard the familiar sound of frou-frou from her silk-taffeta petticoats which she clearly wore under her clothes. Her light brown hair was coiled into a spiral bun and her neck was long and appeared almost regal in the way that she held herself.

She returned to the parlour with two cups on a wooden tray. I drank my tea in haste, not wishing to spill any. She took her time and asked me about myself. I explained that it was only my fourth day with Maynard's and didn't really have much experience with pleasuring women. I decided to be honest as I would then have an excuse if I failed to provide satisfaction.

I looked at the framed view of London Bridge, which hung above the mantelpiece.

"Then we must teach you mustn't we?" said Miss Geraldine Sumpter who now, I thought, looked about 35 years of age.

"If you would be so kind Miss," I said to her, deliberately putting on a 'little boy lost' expression in order to appear less threatening, when secretly I already imagined her screaming the house down with my tongue massaging her clitoris.

***

Miss Sumpter put down her cup and asked me to follow her upstairs. I watched her wide arse sway from side to side and I noticed the merest hint of lacy petticoat hems peeping from below her wide skirt. I must admit that once again I felt my penis stiffen and would have gladly unbuttoned my flies and wanked myself senseless there and then. We walked into a pretty feminine bedroom at the front of the house. The room was dominated by a big brass bedstead which had been pushed in the corner furthest away from the window. The counterpane was made of white cotton trimmed with eyelet lace flounces.

"We'll just draw the curtains shall we, as I don't think the neighbours wish to see you naked do they?" she said in a 'down to earth' and 'matter of fact' tone of voice.

My brain churned inside my head at the thought of being naked in front of this intelligent, prim and smartly dressed woman. I imagined that she was probably an intellectual and was a follower of the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, or possibly a member of the Women's Trade Union League. My thoughts were bombarded with feelings of inadequacy and I felt my penis shrivel markedly.

"Here we are," she said shutting the front bedroom door behind me. "Will you take off your clothes?" she requested, although it sounded more like a command.

I nervously removed my jacket, shirt and trousers and stood before her wearing just my pants and vest.

"All off, please young man," she said and I was obliged to peel off my vest and step out of my underpants. Once again I felt small and puny in front of this woman who surveyed my frame and commented on my lack of muscles.

"Hmmm, there's not much of you is there?" she said and touched my penis which now began to stir, "Let me see your tongue." 

I stuck out my tongue and almost touched my nose and chin with it.

This brought a sparkle into her eyes and she swallowed nervously. "Well you certainly have a long tongue for one so small and thin," she commented and I smiled at her with a knowing look.

I stole a glance at her bosom which was almost at eye level and longed to touch her shapely curves. She sensed me looking and reached for my hands and placed them on her heavy orbs. I was not used to touching women's breasts but instinctively massaged them, feeling their weight and her nipples against my fingers. My penis gradually extended so that it pushed horizontally into her heavy tweed skirt and slid upwards towards her waistband. The roughness of the material stimulated me further until it felt almost painfully stiff. My exposed glans were on fire and I yearned for a wank.

Miss Sumpter sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes. I was told to draw up a small stool and place it near her feet. 

"You will sit there please while I show you the various parts of the female anatomy," she exclaimed as if she were taking a class of school children.

I sat at her feet and she parted her legs to allow me to sit closer, which I did. I smelled her clothing which had the odour of flowers and perfumed laundry-water.

"Do not look so worried; I won't eat you," she said trying to put me at my ease. My erection filled my lap and pointed straight into her eyes. I found it almost impossible not to play with myself and wished that I was being seriously jerked off by this woman right there and then.

She lifted her grey tweed skirt to her waist and there before me lay an intricately decorated, very full lace trimmed petticoat made from white silk. It had an Alencon lace trim with Calais lace inserts at regular intervals. She pulled this up to reveal a second one of similar design but with fewer inserts. Beneath this lay a third petticoat this time ornamented with Point de Gaze lace of incredible fineness. This petticoat was almost transparent and I could see the outline of her black silk stockings and white silk drawers beneath.

I was almost hysterical with excitement and began to shake noticeably although I have to say that the room did feel chilly. In my naked state, at her feet, I craved body warmth and wanted nothing more than to have my torso covered by her skirt and petticoats.

Slowly she lifted the final petticoat and I watched, in awe, as her legs came into view. 

Her legs looked strong and long; she had thick calves and her knees were well rounded. Over her stockings her white silk drawers ended in two overlapping lacy flounces which lay just above the knee. They were crotchless and I soon spied her ginger pubic curls which peeped out at me.

"There you are young man. Now what shall we show you first?" she said in her schoolmarm voice.

I wanted to tell her that I had a fair idea what the various parts were and what they did. I had discovered most of what I knew from Lady Onslow and her maidservants. I watched Miss Sumpter slide her arse to the edge of the bed and open her legs further. With her petticoats around her waist she looked every part a whore, whereas it was I who was being paid to perform a service for her.

"This is the clitoris," she said as she coaxed it out from beneath it's protective hood. "This is the most sensitive part of a woman and is many times more sensitive than the penis," she continued and asked me to touch her and finger her parts. 

She explained how to stimulate her vagina and how many fingers to insert, and which movements she preferred, I understood that circular movements coupled with sliding of the digits in and out was her favourite means of self gratification. She asked me whether I had ever tongued a woman before. I explained that I had tongued several and had received nothing but praise from the ladies concerned. She appeared pleased and told me to lie on the floor on my back.

I found the carpet sufficiently soft enough to cushion my shoulders, arse and legs. As I stared up at her still sitting on the bed she smiled and stood up. Her skirt and petticoats fell back into place and she shook out all the various lacy folds, flounces and gathers. She threw me a pillow and told me to place it under my head which I did. 

She stood over me, straddling my waist, and lifted my penis with her foot.

The sensation was exquisite and I reached down and caressed her ankles and toes. She ran her stockinged feet under my balls and between my thighs. My penis showed it's appreciation by stiffening even further, if that was at all humanly possible. I was rock hard and enjoying every minute of her foot massage. 

She slid her other foot up the centre line of my stomach and onto my chest. I squirmed with sheer pleasure at each touch. What was it about being under a woman's foot which was so excruciatingly pleasurable and satisfying? She now stood astride my chest and her petticoats spilled out and frou-froued against my nipples. She caressed my chin and cheeks with one foot then the other. 

My face would disappear under her skirt and petticoats from time to time then reemerge smiling like an imbecile. I touched the laciness with my tongue and tasted the frilliness and silky flounciness of her full undergarments. I knew that she was toying with me and playing with my senses. I now knew why she wished me naked as my penis indicated to her my sexual state and also her success in stimulating me beyond endurance. 

She moved one foot then the other over my face placing the soles over my nose and mouth. Her feet smelled of perspiration and I guessed that she also found it agreeable and exciting having me beneath her.

I touched my penis and began to wank.

"Not just yet," she said and kicked my hand away. "You will pleasure me at the same time," she explained although I couldn't quite understand how.

For several more minutes she walked and stood over me. I was allowed to lick the stocking toes of both her feet which she inserted in my mouth one at a time. I looked up at her while her silk-taffeta petticoats swished and slid backwards and forwards over my upturned face. I tried to smile but I probably appeared as an idiot so I stared at her face through half closed eyes.

"I shall sit on your face now and you will use your tongue as instructed. Do you understand?" she said standing astride my neck with her skirt hem draped across my eyes.

I nodded and watched her open her knees and bend her legs. All around me she spread her petticoats and shook down the lace flounces until I was covered from the waist upwards by her under trappings.

She squatted squarely on my face and positioned her now wet vagina on my mouth. Shuffling forwards I felt the weight of her large thighs and wide arse push my head firmly into the pillow upon which I rested my head. Her odour was strong but fresh smelling. Her juices were flowing and they had the familiar sweet muskiness which I now recognised as 'fanny'. 

All women smelled similar, I discovered, and as usual I felt intoxicated by it and was drawn to it as a magnet attracts iron.

I licked her outer lips and she flinched at every flick. I had found out that some women are more sensitive than others and Miss Geraldine Sumpter appeared to be incredibly responsive and I would have described her as being highly-sexed.

"Keep your tongue moving; Do you understand?" she said clearly already worked up. 

It was quite dark inside her grey tweed princess-line skirt and petticoats and I was now free to practice all that I had learned during my four days with Maynard's.

I decide to wank myself to help me focus on Miss Sumpter's large fleshy vagina which gaped over me. All around me her petticoats swished and rustled as I probed her inner lips and slipped my tongue inside.

She flinched and grunted at every movement and soon she was responding to my tongue by wiping her dripping cunt over my face in sudden jerks and thrusts.

As I exposed her clitoris she cooed and moaned and warned me not to stop. From my position flat on my back her arse and fanny hung over me and filled my field of view. I looked up in wonder at her rounded womanly contours and at the way her underclothing swayed and shimmied with every little movement of her fanny which gripped my tongue. 

I felt as if I were in heaven and continued wanking in time with my tonguing.

For many minutes we continued like this. I could not get enough of her warm hairy cunt which was splayed across my face. I felt that it was the only thing which existed in the room and tongued her mercilessly, concentrating on stimulating her clitoris. Her juices poured out of her and into my eye sockets bathing me with her strong odour and filling my nostrils with the overpowering scent of 'aroused woman'.

Soon she approached the final stage of her stimulation and I pushed her further, ever further, towards her orgasm. I, myself, was close to shooting my semen so held myself in check ready for the 'home straight', as it were.

By now Miss Sumpter's petticoats were a flurry of dishevelment and rustled around me as she rubbed her vagina violently up and down my face. I was truly drowning in her juices and savoured every second of it.

"Don't fucking stop my young friend," she screeched out at me, as her movements became more bestial and ferocious. 

I could hardly keep up with her as she furiously wiped her pubic area savagely over my face. All around me her silk-taffeta petticoats frou-froued and crackled noisily and now I was finding it painful to be caught up in such a storm of unbridled female masturbation. Her swearing became more coarse and vulgar and even I was unused to some of her street-language.

"Keep that fucking tongue up my hairy snatch. Do you understand?" said the teacher who now appeared to be on the very brink and out of control.

I was now wanking at a furious pace and truly wished that my penis was inside this writhing woman and not my tongue.

Then it happened. She groaned, cursed then tightened her buttocks and 'came' with a shuddering shivering pulsating orgasm which gripped my tongue and spurted out more spendings. 

At the same time I shut my eyes, clenched my teeth rammed my face up into the open crotch of her drawers, groaned and squirted out seven thrusts of warm semen over my stomach and her skirt.

She pushed my head away and said, "Enough, enough, please that's enough,"and slowly stood up. 

I watched her slowly lift her arse off me and at her petticoats disappearing inside her long full skirt. Her knees cracked with the effort of standing and she looked down at me in a curious way.

"I apologise for my language. I'm afraid you were too much for me and I wanted you to continue and stop at the same time. We women are complex creatures as you no doubt know." I smiled up at her as she dropped a handkerchief on my chest to enable me to mop myself up.

The fluid seemed to have spread everywhere and I was thankful to have spurted it out when I did. She wiped herself with another handkerchief and she laughed at us both as we cleaned ourselves up. 

"That was excellent my young friend; you appear to have a natural talent and I a very pleased, Do you understand?" she said shaking her skirt and petticoats down once more. 

I got dressed and left the school teacher standing in the narrow hallway as I took my leave. She asked my name and I told her." I hope to see you again Mr. Shaw," she said and shut the door.

***

Back at Maynard's Tim Prentice had just returned from a 'job' at Mortlake.

"Two elderly sisters old enough to be my grandmothers," he said. "They wanted me to diddle them both while they played cards, then I diddled the housemaid, the cook and the scullery maid," he continued. "Maynard says that I can have the day off tomorrow or I'll end up diddling half of London."

I thought Tim Prentice was a very lucky chap.



David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 08



(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my fifth day with the firm.)

***

The next morning, my fifth day with Maynard's, I turned up at the office at 8 o'clock on the dot. One or two of the other 'underskirt boys' were waiting for Lorna to dish out the addresses. I was given an address on the Bayswater Road, overlooking Hyde Park. I was off on my bicycle at once and in no time at all I was cycling north over Putney Bridge then along the Fulham Road and eventually across Hyde Park and reached my destination at about half past nine.

The house was very imposing with classical features and a white painted stucco facade. I imagined someone very rich living there with estates both in the country and in the colonies. I had learnt to take all of this in my stride and not be put off by either wealth or position. I parked my bicycle around the back of the house and rang the servants' bell.

A young housemaid answered the door and took my card. "I shall get Mrs. Pugh, the housekeeper," she said and left me standing in a small vestibule. 

A framed foxhunting print seemed to fill one wall and I noted that the artist was Alfred de Dreux. It was of the Belvoir hunt in Leicestershire and a portrayal of Belvoir Castle occupied the middle distance.

***

The Withdrawing Room.

***

"Mr. Shaw, the sisters Hetheringham will see you now," Mrs. Pugh told me escorting me into the main hall and up a large flight of stone stairs. She was a tall thin woman wearing a black dress with a white collar. I watched her hips sway from side to side as I followed her up the stairs.

The house must have been the largest I had ever set foot in and marveled that it all belonged to one family. A long case clock tick-tocked majestically in an alcove near the drawing room door next to a marble bust of Julius Caesar.

I was led into the tall ceilinged drawing room and there, in the corner nearest the window, were four middle aged women, all sitting in a small circle on capacious low upholstered chairs. 

I noticed that two of the women were sewing, one was knitting and the fourth was reading a ladies' journal. The room was quiet except for the street noise outside and some muffled conversation from the ladies themselves. The room smelled of fresh flowers and exotic scent.

I stood rather nervously at the door while Miss Pugh introduced me. I held onto my cap like grim death and once again felt totally out of my depth in such genteel company and surroundings. 

"So you are an 'underskirt boy' are you? Let me see your tongue," said one of the 'knitters' staring at me over her spectacles. I stuck out my tongue and noticed four pairs of eyes turn to see it.

"Can you touch your nose with it?" asked the 'reader'. I demonstrated that I could almost manage to touch it and there were nods of approval as the ladies continued with their manual and literary occupations.

"Much better than that last boy we had," said Elizabeth Hetheringham to her sisters,"I could hardly feel the little blighter inside me," she concluded, and the ladies laughed.

"Come now Lizzie, he wasn't that bad; he did try after all," said Miss Emily Hetheringham putting down her knitting and getting up to stretch her legs. She shook me by the hand and told me to undress behind a screen which had been placed at the opposite end of the room.

"That will be all Mrs. Pugh. We'll ring for you when we have finished", said one of the sisters.

I was shaking like a leaf behind the screen. I had never been asked to pleasure four women at once, particularly women who appeared to be so high ranking as these. As far as I knew they could all be duchesses with long titles. I wondered whether I would be able to remain calm enough to fulfill my duties. I also wondered whether my tongue was of sufficient length to satisfy them. My heart was beating at double speed as I stepped out from behind the screen.

"No need to conceal your manhood Mr. Shaw; my sisters and I have seen many similar examples before, is that not correct Annie?"

Annie nodded and told me not to be bashful.

I walked across the wide room with my hands hiding my privates. I felt unbelievably embarrassed and wished that I was in the relatively safe bedroom of Miss Sumpter, the school teacher.

I looked at the sisters and noticed that they must have all been at least twenty years my senior. They could have been in their mid forties or early fifties. 

They had 'worn' lined faces as if they had spent time abroad in some hot clime. I would wager that India may have been their home in the past. They all appeared taller than I, by a good many inches, and once again I felt very small and thin in comparison standing near them. They were all quite slim and their hair was well coiffured, in the latest style I might add.

I stared at their voluminous skirts which were clearly brimming over with underskirts.

They all wore dark grey silk skirts, some with floral patterns in blue or brown, which filled their chairs and spilled out down to the floor on all three sides. They all wore white silk blouses with high collars and cameo brooches

Emily Hetheringham arose and walked towards me and I heard the seductive slow frou-frou sounds of her silk-taffeta petticoats rustling beneath her wide skirt.

My penis suddenly grew out of control beneath my fingers and I had to spread my hands to conceal it. I felt panic strike me and stared wide eyed round the room.

"Come now Mr. Shaw, remove your hands please. My sisters and I can surely not relax until we see what magnificent appendage you honour us with this morning." She said and giggled in a silly girlish way.

I removed my hands and my erection sprang upwards pointing toward the corner of the ceiling above the sisters' heads.

"Upon my soul that is a fine example," said Miss Emily and clapped her hands with glee. I must admit I was quite proud of its size and angle.

This gave me more confidence and I felt it stiffen even further.

"Come here and let us all touch," said Elizabeth Hetheringham placing her journal on the floor to one side of her chair.

I must also admit that I felt more relaxed in front of them now that I had become used to standing naked sporting my somewhat massive erection. I often thought that it looked larger than it actually was because I was such a skinny, puny fellow in contrast. Perhaps that's why my tongue appeared longer too. 

I stood in the centre of the four women and allowed each one to fondle me in turn. I just hoped that no one from the street could see me standing naked having my balls massaged or my penis stroked. They all seemed very complimentary and I grinned back at them like some sort of demented chimpanzee.

I felt that I was some sort of 'a prize specimen' being examined by four female zoologists and wondered how I was supposed to pleasure them and in which position, and when?

One of them rang a bell and a young housemaid appeared. She had dark brown hair with freckles and looked as if she was a country girl, new to the city.

"We shall take tea now please Davies," said Sophia Hetheringham watching the eighteen year old curtsy and leave the room. 

The maid showed no interest in me, or the sisters, and I could only assume that she was used to seeing the sisters' 'underskirt indulgences', or had been trained not to show surprise or any other emotion. I surmised that it was probably both.

Ten minutes later she returned with the tea. I noticed that there were only four cups so clearly I was not 'part' of the company, merely a plaything, a diversion or amusement, as it were.

"On the floor, in the middle with you," said Miss Elizabeth Hetheringham who clearly appeared to be the dominant one of the four.

I sat in the middle with my knees drawn up to my chest. The maid handed them their tea and they all sat around me staring at my heavy hairy testicles which dangled rudely from between my legs.

"On your back boy," said Miss Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as she was known, and I lay on my back in the little central square of carpet between them.

There was only enough room to allow me enough space to lie with my legs and arms apart. This I did and spread myself equidistant between the four low chairs.

"That's it boy; lie with your head next to Miss Sophia's chair," said Miss Lizzie. 

I now lay spread-eagled on the thick Persian carpet with Miss Annie on my right hand side and Miss Emily on my left, Miss Lizzie at my feet and my head resting in the space between Miss Sophia's shoes. I stared up at the ceiling trying not to make eye contact with any of the sisters. I felt their eyes, however, staring at my erection.

"That will do nicely boy," said Miss Lizzie. 

Suddenly to be called 'boy' made me feel nervous but for some reason I was not frightened of these women but I was puzzled to know what would happen next, and in which position I was about to pleasure them.

Naked on my back I watched the sisters sit, looking down at me as they slowly drank their tea. One by one they eased off their black kitten heeled house-shoes to reveal their feet clad in very fine black silk stockings.

Lizzie Hetheringham who sat nearest my feet placed her feet on my shins and massaged me with them.

Staring down my body I noticed the lacy hem of her outer petticoat come into view and It was of white fine silk Alencon lace of the most elaborate and complex design. It lay across her ankles and tickled the tender skin of my hairless calves. 

My penis twitched noticeably as I became transfixed by the sight of her elaborately decorated undergarment. Miss Hetheringham noticed my predicament and continued massaging my shins and ankles further. I saw her eyes twinkle behind her teacup and watched her feet running along the inside of my thighs. She handed her cup to Davies who poured her another one and, in the meantime, she pulled her chair closer to me so that it was almost touching the corner of Miss Emily's.

Davies handed the refilled cup to Miss Lizzie and took the empty cups from both Miss Emily and Miss Sophia. They in turn moved their chairs closer to me and so did Miss Annie.

Soon the ladies were all drinking their second cup with the corners of their large low chairs almost touching. There was now very little space left, on the carpet, for me so was obliged to slide the lower parts of my legs and arms under their low chairs so that just my head and torso remained in view between them. 

I was now surrounded by ladies and voluminous skirts and dared not move. From my position on the floor, and at their feet, I felt vulnerable in my naked state.

Miss Lizzie pulled up her skirt further to reveal a second and third petticoat also of fine white silk trimmed with Alencon lace. I couldn't take my eyes of her undergarments and I was almost dizzy with visual stimulation. My erection jerked about wildly. 

On my left side I felt Miss Emily's feet begin massaging my waist and upper legs and watched as she lifted up the hem of her very full skirt to reveal a cream petticoat decorated with an almost transparent hem of silk Point de Rose lace. Underneath that I saw another cream petticoat decorated with thin gossamer lace. 

I was slowly being driven insane by the deliberate display of such lacy petticoat finery I gradually sought relief and would have wanked myself senseless there and then if I was allowed.

On my right side I swiveled my head and watched Miss Annie hand her teacup back to Davies. I watched her lift her huge skirt to reveal a wide white silk petticoat trimmed with the most delicate flounced French Valenciennes silk lace imaginable. I even caught a glimpse of a second petticoat of similar design, and several more underneath that. Soon she had placed both her small feet on my stomach and lower chest and began massaging me vigorously.

"Does that feel agreeable Mr. 'Underskirt Boy'?" she asked and I replied by smiling insanely with my fixed ape-like smile.

As you can imagine, by now, I had a gigantic raging erection which lay ramrod stiff along the centre line of my stomach. It twitched at every appearance of petticoat which spilled out on all three sides as the women moved or lifted their skirts. Thick volumes of semen appeared to gather in my genitals ready to be spurted out. I would have paid several guineas to be allowed to wank myself off there and then.



I tilted my head upwards and backwards to watch Sophia Hetheringham, wearing a vast dark grey and blue silk skirt, hand her empty cup and saucer to Davies. The young servant looked down her nose at me as if I were some piece of 'spider-food' which had crawled out of the wood work.

I pushed my head as far back as possible and watched Miss Sophia lift her skirt hem and allow two silk petticoats to spill out over my face. They were pure white and both trimmed with a wide band of Alencon lace with Calais lace sewn between the many gores. I sensed she wore similar ones beneath. All this was much too much for me and a bead of precum gathered at my erection's tip. I had never known such sexual stimulation before and sensed that these middle-aged spinsters were very well rehearsed in their routine.

Above me I watched Miss Sophia lift her stocking clad foot and place it squarely on my chest just below my neck and then place her other foot on my shoulder. She applied weight to her feet and pushed them slowly over my skin in small circular movements.  

I stared up at the soft fragile tracery of her Alencon lace petticoat flounces which slipped over me and caressed my face and neck with a thousand little rustling kisses as she moved her feet. The thin petticoat lace slid above me and I watched light shine through it as if I were inside a silk swishing cloud. It smelled freshly of floral laundry water.

I was now surrounded on all sides by voluminous skirts, exposed petticoats and stockinged legs and also covered with four pairs of roaming feet. 

I watched with fascination as one by one the women picked up their sewing, knitting and journal and continued with their sedentary occupations as if I didn't exist. It was most extraordinary but I strangely would have had it no other way.

Their feet moved slowly all over me and every part of me was massaged and stroked. Their stockings made swishing sounds as they rubbed their feet over my naked chest, thighs, upper arms, shoulders, face, nose mouth, cheeks, ears and penis.

Miss Sophia seemed to derive great pleasure from placing both her feet on my nose and mouth and moving them in tiny circles. Her feet were relatively large and she applied a fair amount of force, allowing the full weight of her legs to slide over me.

I, on my part, sucked and licked her toes one by one and also her soles until her stockings became quite damp with saliva. The taste of silk was quite seductive and I lay back with my tongue hanging out. Miss Emily and Miss Annie, between them, concentrated their efforts on my chest and stomach while Miss Lizzie's feet massaged and squeezed my testicles and penis.

This was all getting too much for me and I felt that I would 'come' relatively easily and seriously wished to wank myself into an early grave. I considered however that this option was still not open.

"The boy is enjoying it," said Miss Emily watching my heavy erection flopping from side to side between her sisters's feet.

The truth was that I was enjoying it beyond description but wondered what pleasures the sisters were deriving from merely trampling my face and body under their feet. 

I lay beneath their feet for at least two hours. Sometimes they would just work at their needlecraft or read, or talk about their friends. Sometimes they would stretch their arms and stare at the people in the park. Other times they would leave the room to use the lavatory. The sun streamed through the south facing window and it was getting quite hot. I felt their feet perspire markedly through their thin black silk stockings.

"More tea I think," said Miss Emily standing up and putting on her shoes.

Her skirt and petticoats swung over me and for an instant I peered up at her elaborate cream silk drawers and felt the crisp laciness of her petticoats slide across my face as she pushed her chair back to allow herself access to the braided bell rope which lay to one side of the mantelpiece.

She pulled the rope and returned to her seat where she promptly pulled her chair closer to me and placed her shoes on my left knee and waist. Within a minute she was running the smooth soles of her indoor shoes over my chest and groin.

I almost groaned aloud with sheer enjoyment, although inside my mind was being ripped apart with sexual excitement and frustration and the desperate need to masturbate.

I no longer felt human and appeared merely to be a convenient footstool for these women. Miss Sophia, who sat behind me, wriggled her toes over my nose, eyes and mouth and announced that she had finished her sewing for the day and then ran both her heavy feet up and down my chest several times in a bored languorous way. 

She stretched her legs out like a cat and pushed Miss Lizzie's feet off my penis. Her petticoats slipped over me, again and again and rustled and swished under her thick silk skirt. I felt the smooth coolness of her underskirts tickle me almost to the point of delirium and my penis became fiercely rampant for, perhaps, the fortieth time that morning.

Davies arrived with more tea and handed the cups to the women in turn and again looked down at me with complete disdain. I had never ever seen a maid who looked so snooty, and she was remarkably young too. I thought an energetic three hour session of merciless upskirt fanny-fingering would change the countenance on that young madam's face, and my penis stiffened further. 



Miss Sophia finished her tea and handed her cup back to Davies who hovered in the background like a sour-faced minx. 

Miss Sophia stood up placing her feet astride my head and covered my face with all her petticoats and skirt. I was suddenly plunged into a warm darkness where the trapped air smelled strongly of moist vagina and urine. She moved her feet this way and that in search of her shoes which she found beneath her chair behind my head. She put them on and was instantly two inches taller. This lifted her skirt so that it was now just resting on my body. 

With the light from under her hem I could see at least seven layers of lacy petticoat all hanging down over, and around, me and enveloping my face 

She stood over me for several minutes, chatting to her sisters and pointing out things in the park. On my back I stared up her legs at the intricate lacy ruffles which edged her crotchless drawers. Her fleshy heavy arse hung down above me and I could just see where her stockings ended and where her thighs were gripped by lace garters. In the comparative gloom I could also just make out her dark curls.

At the same time I felt Miss Lizzie's feet gripping my penis and slowly pulling my foreskin up and down over by glans. Other feet slid over my thighs and stomach and I felt myself churning inside. I would have begged for relief but could not. I was at their command so just lay there naked utterly frustrated and dejected. I felt absolutely desperate for a long satisfying wank.

***

The Day Bed with Miss Sophia.

***

"Well I shall take him first," she said."Lizzie had the last one first, so it is my turn," Miss Sophia said with quite a firm voice. 

I watched her feet and skirt move across me as she pushed her chair back away from the little space where I lay. Suddenly I was in brilliant sunlight and I blinked.

"Davies. Please open the door for me," she said to the maidservant who bowed and opened a pair of doors which led to a small ante chamber.




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 08



I imagined that what lay beyond was some sort of 'conversation room' for more intimate activities away from the main drawing room.

"Up you get boy and follow me," she said whisking her skirt to one side as she walked towards the door.

I stood up, waving my erection lewdly in the women's faces and at their sewing and knitting. I almost stumbled in my haste to follow Miss Sophia and hid my erection as best as I could from Davies. She was a sour cow.



The ante room was elaborately furnished but small and poorly proportioned, I thought, as the ceiling was far too high for the room's width. 

At the far corner was an enormously long and wide daybed with a small ottoman drawn up to one side. The bed was covered with fifteen or so satin cushions in gold and green floral designs to match the curtains and the counterpane. Miss Sophia sat on the bed and placed her feet on the ottoman.

"You will kneel here boy," she said pointing to the space on the ottoman between her feet. 

Davies entered and stood to one side, hands clasped together in front of her on her crisp white starched apron. I looked at her dispassionate face and at the way her lips curled at me with utter contempt. Miss Sophia on the other hand was busying herself arranging her skirts to each side of her on the bed.

"Be ready to cover him fully please Davies," she said and asked her to arrange a small framed mirror on wheels to be placed behind me. 

Miss Sophia spent some time arranging various pillows and cushions around her to give her comfort and allow room for movement.

I looked at all her exposed petticoat hems in front of me and felt my pecker stiffen once more. The sheer volume of silk petticoat with their crisp stiff Alencon lace hems and Calais lace inserts made me tremble with excitement. At last I was about to enter this woman's secret kingdom and get busy with my tongue.

"Up you go," said my 'mistress' looking down her body at me under her long eyelashes and parted her legs for me. 

I knew my place in this rigid Victorian hierarchy and followed her instructions to the letter. She pulled up her skirt and petticoats to knee level and I ducked under her clothing with glee.

The pungent odour from her vagina immediately struck me and I followed it to its source. Meanwhile Davies tugged all her layers over me so that her seven straightened silk petticoats lay heavily across my naked back, and finally the skirt was rearranged over me. Only my buttocks and thin legs could now be seen from within the room. I reached up and slid my hands under her wide arse and gripped Miss Sophia's buttocks and edged my way upwards towards her smelly cunt.

"A bit to your left, right a shade," said Miss Sophia Hetheringham to her maidservant, Davies. 

From what I could gather she was positioning the mirror so that her mistress could watch my buttocks emerge from under her vast dress. I guessed that it may be some time before I saw daylight once again, and I was correct.

I pushed my head up between her parted thighs and the intensity of her odour knocked me sideways. It appeared that this middle-aged woman was truly 'on heat' as it were. I squirmed my face into her crotchless drawers and licked my way between her thighs. I spent time nibbling playfully at her warm flesh above her stockings and kissed and sucked at her intimate skin. I also felt the tightness of the tops of her stockings where they were held in place by black lace garters. By the way she writhed luxuriously at each touch I knew that I was pleasing her and fulfilling my duty

I thanked my lucky stars that I was born a male and breathed in her scent with gusto and it drew me ever closer to my ultimate goal.

Her vagina's inner lips were prominent even in the gloom under her petticoats. I had no problem in sliding my tongue between them and savoured all the intricate fleshy folds and creases which engulfed it. Her labia almost sucked me in and I now felt part of her genitalia and only existed to please her and stimulate her.

"Such a tongue," she said loudly, realising that I would find it difficult to hear her through the many layers of silk which engulfed me. 

It was all a bit like an erotic 'wet dream' come true as I toyed with the loose flesh which surrounded her clitoris. Little by little I coaxed it out from under its hood so that it became prominent and vulnerable to my touch.

I slid my tongue under it casually and ran it around the tiny folds of skin. I felt Miss Sophia's buttocks clench with pleasure at each flick. The forty five year old groaned softly and opened her legs even further. 

I felt Davies pulling Miss Sophia's heavy silk skirt down around me and and smoothing it over me again. Clearly it was Davies's job to ensure her Mistress retained her modesty during my tonguing of her. 

All in all I felt incredibly stimulated just paying homage to this rich woman's fanny. My penis was embedded in the bedspread and was further stimulated by the cool slippery shininess of the satin.

I flicked at her clitoris again, then again and again, then again and again. She slowly groaned and announced that she was in paradise. I moved my tongue up and down her cleft, separating the folds of skin and feeling the smooth lubricated surfaces of the portals to her vagina. At each upward lick I would toy with her clitoris, running the very tip of my tongue around her most sensitive nub.

"Exquisite," she moaned, "Truly exquisite," she exclaimed as a luxurious sensual groan filled the room.

I felt Davies readjust her skirt yet again so that we remained covered despite our rhythmical movements. 

Miss Sophia lifted her buttocks off the bed in order to intensify her enjoyment of my tongue as it delved and poked into every tiny nook and cranny of her inner lips. Her spendings flowed freely and soon my nose, cheeks and chin were damp with her secretions. My face smelled purely of cunt and I just could not get enough of her. As I fondled her delicious buttocks, kneading them and squeezing them she wiped her vagina across my face.

"This is paradise," I heard her whisper loudly. "I am in paradise," she added with a lingering groan.

I slid my long tongue deeply into her vagina and forcefully wiggled it about inside her with circular movements. She answered by thrusting her pubic area into my face. Her abundant soft curls blocked my nostrils so I snorted vigorously to clear my airways. It was very hot and stuffy under her petticoats and I now felt some discomfort and wanted dearly just to pleasure this woman and move onto the next sister, whoever that may be.

"I am walking through paradise," she whispered and mewed pathetically like a small kitten.

I felt precum gather and drool from my penis and hoped that I was not staining the counterpane. All in all I wanted so much to make her 'come' so I pulled out 'all the stops' and concentrated every ounce of tonguing on her clitoris and vaginal tube. In slipped my long tongue into and out of her over and over, again and again. 

I flicked and licked her clitoral area as I dragged my tongue along her furrow and established a steady, easy, almost mechanical, tempo. 

Soon she was reciprocating by jerking her pelvis off the bed in time with my tonguing. I gripped her buttocks and squeezed them hard at the same time rubbing my nose up and down through her cleft and forcing my tongue into her, then over her clitoris. I slowly accelerated the tempo and intensity of my head movements so that my tonguing became more savage and more merciless. 

She grunted and gripped the back of my head through her silken layers. She pulled me into her and started squealing loudly. She was beginning to sound demented and out of control. By now the bed was creaking and rocking chaotically and I was being distracted by the sounds of her wide silk petticoats sliding tempestuously over my face and back.

We were now both moving at a giddy pace and Miss Sophia was jerking her vulva forcefully and ferociously over my face. Our movements now reached a violent pitch. Her pubic area became a vicious blur as her petticoats seethed about me. Her grip on my head suddenly tightened and she slowed down her thrusts until, with twelve cruel monstrous jerks, she reached her climax, clenched her buttocks and screamed out "Yes, yes, yes, yes." She relaxed her grip and I dropped my head between her thighs and onto her damp petticoats.

My face was physical sore and covered with stickiness. I lay between her legs panting and listening to my heartbeat hammering inside my head. Then I felt Davies tap me on the buttocks to signify that I should ease myself out. I swung my knees off the ottoman and noticed that I had indeed stained the gold and green satin counterpane with strings of precum.

I stared at Miss Sophia who was red faced and still struggling for breath. Her clothing was in complete disarray and her hair was disheveled. She had also lost an earring I noticed.

"Thank you my boy, thank you," she gasped in a breathless state, as if she required a physician. 

Davies ushered me to a washstand and told me to wash my face. I could see that she smelled cunt on me and twisted her face in revulsion. Clearly in her eyes I was the lowest of the low. I did as I was told and felt pleasantly refreshed although my back was sore and my neck muscles ached and my penis yearned for relief.

Miss Sophia was helped off the bed and Davies reached inside her massive skirt and pulled her petticoats back into position one by one, and finally tugged them into their usual bouffant shape. She then arranged her heavy silk skirt so that it draped down evenly on all sides Miss Sophia now looked like the lady that she was once more.

"That will be all Davies," she said and her maid curtsied and hurriedly left the room.

"You may kiss me on my buttocks," Miss Sophia told me as she stood in front of the window watching several horses gallop across the park. 

I got down on my knees behind her and stared transfixed at the hem of her long full skirt. Although it had only been a few minutes previously that I had my head under her skirt it still held a strangely strong lewd fascination and attraction which I could not rationally explain. 

In my naked state to see a clothed woman wearing an immense skirt and having been given permission to lift it, and all the expensively embroidered petticoats which lay beneath it, and then plant a kiss on the lady's generous arse was almost too much stimulation for me to handle. Once again my penis stiffened to the extent where it was pointed firmly at the ceiling.

With both hands I gathered up her skirt and petticoats and threw them over my shoulders and ducked underneath. She still smelled strongly of warm moist fanny and I quickly found her gaping lacy entrance to her crotchless drawers. I kissed each buttock in turn, running my tongue under each pendulous crease as if to underline them. She thanked me and told me to remain kneeling on the floor where I was while she turned and walked away from me dragging all eight layers of silk off me. 

The experience was amazing and every nerve ending on my upper torso seemed to come alive and eventually I was left kneeling there alone on the carpet as she left the room.

***

The Day Bed with Miss Annie.

***

I heard the seductive sounds of rustling petticoats behind me as Miss Annie swept into the room. I stared up at her and she smiled at me but suddenly put on a superior air for the benefit of Davies who followed her in and closed the door.

"I was forgetting how small you are," she said to me as I looked up at her. She stood in front of where I had remained kneeling as if saying my prayers. My penis stuck out horizontally and she edged herself forward so that it touched the substantial gathered folds of her silk skirt it twitched upwards and slowly began pointing towards the upper panes of the window which lay behind her.

Her skirt was dark grey and covered with an intricate pattern of small brown and orange swirls. I believe that it is known as a Paisley design.

"Good, good," she said to me looking at my massive erection."I see my sister has not sated your natural lusts."

I smiled up at her like a monkey and she stepped forward so that my face touched the waistband of her skirt. She looked at me from above her jutting breasts and sneered in an odd threatening way. Davies appeared by her side and both women looked down at me with repugnance.

"Cover him up for me Davies," said the 'forty-something' year old Miss Annie...

Davies stood behind me and pushed my head down to floor level. My back was painfully arched and my knees ached dreadfully. I watched the maid gather armfuls of white silk petticoats and arrange them over my back and buttocks so that only my feet protruded from underneath. She pulled her mistress's skirt over me and kicked me quickly telling me to kneel up. Inside her cool petticoats I knelt on my heels and Miss Annie shuffled forward so that the opening in her white flounced drawers was pushed firmly into my face.

"You may begin," she said as she stood over me with her legs apart. 

I tilted back my head and pushed it forward until my mouth rested amongst her dark curls. She already smelled aroused and I was surprised how damp she was between her legs. Just like Miss Sophia her labia were quite prominent and hung down somewhat above me. I licked them roughly with my tongue and watched the loose folds quiver. Her clitoris was tucked away under more folds and her genitalia appeared oddly distended.

"I'll have my tea now in here please Davies," said the middle aged woman to her maid.

I continued slobbering my way up between her lips feeling the smooth stickiness which oozed out of her fleshy entrance. This time I rammed my tongue up as far as it would go. This surprised Miss Annie who took a sharp intake of breath. I felt her knees quiver and bend as she moved her feet further apart.

"Ooooh," she said and calmed down instantly.

"Ah Davies, thank you very much," said the woman standing astride my face.

"You may leave us now," she said sipping her tea and savouring my tongue inside her dribbling fanny.

I heard her stomach make a gurgling sound as she swallowed the hot beverage. Her juices flowed freely and I was obliged to swallow them between probing her vulva and flicking at her clitoris. She drank her tea slowly and with every movement I heard the gentle froufrou sounds as layer after layer of silk petticoat slipped against each other. After seemingly endless minutes of tea sipping she rang a little hand bell for Davies. I heard Davies's footsteps enter the room and she took her cup. 

"I'll have him on the bed now please," she said as she pushed my head firmly down and I understood that this meant that she had finished with me under her skirt in the kneeling position, for the time being.

Davies almost spat at me as she lifted her mistress's petticoats and released me from my underskirt administrations. Pure cold hatred glowed in her eyes as she took advantage of my naked kneeling position by treading on my toes with her house boots. I almost cried out, as the pain was excruciating, but thought better of it. I vowed to get my own back on this vicious girl. 

I noticed the housemaid's supercilious smirk as she pulled me up and pushed me towards the bed.

"Lie on the bed," she said, and I did.

I lay with my head on the pillow with my small naked body stretched out along the large wide daybed. She gestured to me to move further towards the middle and to slide down so that my head lay close to the centre. The bed was so vast that my feet didn't quite touch the end. The maid looked me over and appeared satisfied that I was in the correct position to provide physical pleasure for her mistress.

"Keep your arms by your side at all times," she hissed and smiled at her mistress.

"All ready for you ma'm," she said and I watched Miss Annie turn away from watching the Royal Horse guards trot past and fix her gaze on me.

"I want it up the arse as well boy, understood?" she said with an impatient expression and I flinched visibly at the sight of her very wide hips. I wondered whether I would survive the full weight of her buttocks on my face. I was soon to find out.

Davies stood by the bed and helped Miss Annie to step onto the ottoman and then onto the bed. Davies held up the many hems to one side so that her mistress did not become entangled as she walked on the highly sprung mattress covered by the green and gold satin counterpane. 

I lay rigidly on my back and watched this woman, at least twenty years older than me, place her black stockinged clad feet on each side of my head. 

Her feet smelled of sweat.

The bed bounced around wildly as Davies lifted the front part of Miss Annie's skirt and petticoats to one side so that her mistress was able to kneel astride my face facing my feet. Davies pulled the hems of the skirt and underlying petticoat layers this way and that until she was satisfied that I was completely covered and that her mistress's modesty was not compromised. 

Davies lifted up Miss Annie's clothing to expose my head which probably, to her, appeared red with excitement and she slid three large flat cushions under it to tilt my head upwards so that her mistress was obliged to open her legs further and lower her buttocks over my face. She placed several more cushions behind these creating an immovable pile.

"Perfect thank you Davies," said Miss Annie and I was covered up again.

I felt Davies tug the vast silk skirt evenly on all sides so that I was completely engulfed. Miss Annie leant forward so that she now firmly straddled my head on her hands and knees. As she did so she splayed her legs further and backed over me so that her buttocks were pushed solidly into my face.

Her open crotch drawers fell open to expose her anus, perineum and vulva which stared me straight in the face, as it were, her odour was extremely pungent and arousing, to say the least, and somewhere, beneath her my penis stirred amongst her many petticoats. 

The cushions which supported my head held me at such an angle that I could not move my head away from her buttocks even if I tried. Davies had done an excellent job ensuring that my head would remain in place no matter how much I wished to move it.

"You may begin boy," grunted Miss Annie jerking her wide arse onto my nose.

Her fleshy buttocks were huge, at least twice, if not three times, the width of my head. In the gloominess beneath her petticoats her buttocks filled my field of view and filled my nostrils with her natural odours.

"You may begin boy," said Miss Annie again, this time more sharply.

I instantly stuck out my tongue and licked her perineum. I wanted to gauge how responsive she was before licking the entrance to her anus. Immediately she clenched her buttocks and pushed down on me. My nose became pressed against her large anal rosebud and she twitched her puckered sphincter. 

She was indeed incredibly responsive. I slid my nose up and down her anal furrow and heard her 'purr' with pleasure. She swiveled her hips sensuously and slowly and rubbed her arse over me for several minutes until positioned her opening over my mouth. 

With some hesitation and trepidation I pushed my tongue into her anus. It opened slowly and gripped the tip, then opened further. Her sphincter held my tongue and I wiggled it around while she vocally expressed her pleasure with long groans and moans. She relaxed her muscles so I slid my tongue up by degrees until she gripped me again. It was quite difficult to stimulate her further as my tongue appeared completely encased by her rectum.

I slid it out slowly then ran it around the skin that surrounded her anus. She cooed loudly and pushed back on be with firm languorous movements. I pushed it in a little way then slid it out and repeated the action over and over again. Her buttocks were becoming hot and clammy and my face began to perspire. I now understood that she wanted me to run my tongue around the rim of her anus as this clearly gave her most pleasure judging by her groans. 




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 08



Her puckered skin appeared to me very sensitive to every lick and lap of my tongue and I stared at her anal muscles flinching with every minute movement.

Over and over again I ran my tongue around the entrance to her anus and she pushed down hard on me so that my face was embedded in her huge arse.

The smell was quite overwhelming, a mixture of sweat, vaginal juices and a fetid odour from her rectum. I could hardly breathe, truth be known, and I pushed her away with my forehead. She ignored me and plunged down on me once more, sprawling her petticoat covered legs around me. I gulped in air as best I could and continued 'rimming' her with my now tired tongue.

Her thirst for 'rimming' appeared unquenchable as she ground her heavy flesh over my face. Time and time again I tongued her anus until I felt physically incapable of doing it any more. She continued gyrating and jerking her massive buttocks over me and appeared not to mind the disappearance of my tongue. She appeared just to delight in wiping herself slowly over my face. I imagined the feel of my young boy's small head against her anus provided her with sufficient sexual gratification to carry her to the highest heights of pleasure.

It must have been twenty minutes later that she ordered me to push my tongue up her fanny. I watched as she reposition herself and crawled backwards on her hands and knees, her petticoats rustling and sliding, layer over layer with my head between her legs.

She lowered her prominent moist cunt lips on to my mouth and I eagerly slid my long tongue between them. Soon she was crying out and bouncing up and down on my face which felt very sore through her continuous abuse. Miss Annie 'came' with several deep shudders and pulsations, culminating with her grunting and pushing my head firmly into the bed. Her fanny juice dribbled out of her continuously and I did my best to stem the flow by drinking it. It eventually ceased by which time my face; chin and ears were sticky with it. I was in a real mess.

"Help me up please Davies," said Miss Annie to the girl who had just witnessed her mistress climaxing. I now was beginning to wonder whether Davies hated me because she had to put up with her employers' dirty and disgusting habits, or whether she secretly wished that she was on all fours sprawled over me with her arse in my face, being pleasured. I knew not what to think.

Miss Annie left the room after she had shaken down her Paisley patterned silk skirt and underlying petticoats. Davies helped pull them back into shape and also gave her a damp facecloth to refresh her fanny. 

"Let the boy wash his face before I send in Miss Emily," she said to the housemaid and left the room.

"Come on you little turd, let's wipe your fucking face," she hissed at me and wiped me with the facecloth. 

She rinsed the flannel and scrubbed me again this time more vigorously. I felt that she was assaulting me and I thought her a vicious sod. There was no need to be so blatantly violent to one so short and thin as I. She threw me a towel and swore at me again.

***

The Day Bed with Miss Emily.

***

All of a sudden she smiled and looked towards the door as Miss Emily entered the small room. 

"Ah Davies," she said in an ingratiating manner. " I'll have him under me with my knees astride I think," she continued, " I thoroughly enjoyed it last time we had a boy here, shame his tongue was so short though." she concluded.

I still lay on the bed where Miss Annie had taken leave of me and my mouth tasted of carbolic soap. Miss Emily lifted her up grey and purple striped skirt to expose six cream silk petticoats. The outer Point de Rose lace edged underskirt was particularly fine and appeared almost transparent. My poor penis flopped over to one side and gradually began to stiffen.

"He may stay on his back but I won't be needing all those cushions," she said to her maid and Davies whipped them away from under my head so that it fell backwards on the satin bedspread with a jolt. 

"You little bastard," I mouthed at Davies and she smiled at me with mock politeness. Her hatred of me was now all too obvious.

"Good, good," said Miss Emily and smiled at both of us. 

"Help me sit on his face girl," she said in a very matter of fact way. I watched her pull up more cream petticoats from under her wide full skirt then place one black stockinged foot, then the other on the ottoman.

With the help of Davies she placed her feet on each side of my shoulders and lowered herself so that her knees touched my cheeks. I looked up into Miss Emily's face and all I could see was pure animal lust. 

"Cover him up please," she croaked to Davies.

She was clearly so sexually aroused that she could hardly speak. I watched her petticoats being tugged and stretched over me on all sides until I was completely concealed except for my puny legs and feet. My erection was lost amongst the various Pont de Rose and gossamer lace hems of her petticoats.

She edged forwards and splayed her legs widely so that my mouth touched her lower lips between the open crotch of her cream silk drawers. Her drawers were trimmed with five flounces of Point de Rose lace and they tickled my ears and cheeks as she slid them past my face. I heard her gasp at my touch and she told Davies to leave the room. Clearly Miss Emily preferred to take her pleasures in private.

In the darkness between her legs and beneath her heavy full skirt and petticoats I tongued her protruding inner lips. What was it about the Hetheringhams? Why did they all have similar shaped fannies? I teased her labia apart and listened to Miss Emily gurgle with glee.

"Push it up all the way you little blighter," she said, and I didn't need telling twice.

Up I slid and found her deliciously moist. She edged forward so that her buttocks pushed me firmly into the bed. I continued with my 'tongue fucking' and listened to her girlish squeals as I wiggled it about inside her. I pulled it out then inserted it and did this many times over. She squeezed my tongue using her vagina muscles and I enjoyed slipping it out as she tried to hold me in.

"You cheeky young monkey," she said, but I could tell that she was smiling by the way she spoke. I played with her like this for a good ten minutes .I would slip my tongue inside her up to the hilt, she would attempt to grip in with her vulva muscles alone and I would pull it out and feel her try to hang on. 

She found this thrilling and soon she telling me that I had a 'wonderful long tongue'. She clearly knew what she liked and we continued like this for another ten minutes with her bouncing about on top of my face and me tucked away out of sight beneath her petticoats and wide full skirt.

Soon I had had enough of this so concentrated my attentions on her clitoris. It was tucked up inside her prominent fleshy lips and it took quite a while for me to coax it out. Eventually I had her quivering with exaggerated jerks on the very tip of my tongue and then, unexpectedly she reached her crescendo and orgasmed on my face. Her spendings gushed out and for the third time that morning my face was sticky with cunt juice.

"Oh my goodness gracious," she said in a strained genteel voice, "Oh my goodness gracious me," she repeated and rang the hand bell next to the bed for her housemaid.

In the damp humid space, under her skirt between her smelly legs I heard Davies enter the room.

"You may help me off the boy please Davies," said Miss Emily, clearly weakened by her physical exertions.

I imagined that she was clearly in need of 'smelling salts' or perhaps 'Baldwin's Wind and Digestive Pills' judging by the odours which were escaping from her derriere. I wasted no time gulping in fresh air once she had climbed off me and onto the ottoman. In truth I thought that there was nothing worse than being trapped under a woman's skirt with half a dozen horrendous farts.

***

The Day Bed with Miss Elizabeth.

***

Miss Elizabeth Hetheringham walked into the room clearly already aroused and excited.

"I'll do it on the floor with him," she told Davies. "I'll need all four dog leads," she continued and my mouth dropped in horror.

What on earth did she mean by dog leads, I thought and I sat on the bed with my hands instinctively covering my penis and testicles. 

Davies sneered at me with a smug look. Clearly she knew what to do as she had probably done this many times before. She opened the ottoman and fished out four leather leads with leather dog collars attached. She pulled me off the bed roughly and told me to stand up.

I watched Miss Elizabeth, wearing her wide floor length grey and brown check skirt, eye me up as if I were a piece of meat at the butchers. I felt my heart beat faster and wondered why I needed to be fettered. I felt very vulnerable in my naked state and waited for her housemaid, Ellen Davies, to do her worse. My penis shriveled to the size of a small gherkin and hung down between my legs reflecting my mood and fears.

"Keep still, boy," said Davies attaching the first dog-collar and lead to my right wrist. I watched her smirk as she tightened it. She pulled at it to make sure that I couldn't slip my thin hands out of it.

She secured another dog-collar to my left wrist, then a third and a fourth to both my ankles. I felt as if I was a slave and had a bad feeling that these women were going to hurt me or something worse.

"Is he ready?" said Miss Elizabeth rubbing her hands along her thighs as if to wipe sweat of her palms.

"He is ready to be tied down ma'am," said Davies standing on my foot.

"Well get on with it then," whispered her mistress, clearly extremely worked up.

Davies grabbed my shoulder and pulled me backwards at the same time tripping me up. I landed on the carpet in a heap and felt pain.

"You vicious slime-faced cow," I shouted at her and then she hit me across the face.

"What did you call me?" she shouted back. 

Miss Elizabeth seized her maid and told her to calm down and prepare me properly. I lay on my back on the carpet as Davies attached the leads to two legs of the bed and to the heavy base of a wardrobe and chest of drawers. She tightened them sufficiently to pull all four limbs in different directions so that I lay spread-eagled, on my back with my legs apart. I lay to one side of the bed and ottoman with only just sufficient room to allow someone to walk around me.

The maid stood over me and placed a boot under my chin as if claiming me as hers. I looked up into her eyes and she appeared to observe me with utter scorn.

"The boy is ready ma'am," she said with a triumphant note in her voice. 

I found it incredulous that she should address me as 'the boy' because I was surely the same age as her if not older. Davies could only have been just eighteen, surely?

Miss Elizabeth dismissed the maid, and I watched her leave the room with her a haughty expression on her face. Clearly Miss Ellen Davies thought that all this was beneath her.

"Well boy, there's just you and I now," said the forty-five year old lady wearing her white silk blouse with leg o'mutton sleeves. 

I watched her as she slowly circled me stepping over my thin outstretched legs and arms. She dragged her heavy skirt and petticoats over me so that every nerve ending became highly sensitized. I caught several glimpses of the intricate Alencon white lace which edged her outer, more ornamental, petticoats and felt my penis slide up the centre line of my belly.

For some odd inexplicable reason I discovered that being shackled to the floor made me feel more energised, sexually speaking. For no apparent reason my penis suddenly perked up and became rock hard. Miss Elizabeth noticed this and smiled at me like a lioness just about to stalk a zebra. I pulled at my ties, desperate to masturbate.

"Good, good," she said and stood astride my stomach so that her skirt and petticoat hems lay across my naked body.

I looked up into her eyes and wondered whether I should smile at her or look pitiful. I went for something in between.

She slid her kitten-heeled slippers over my belly and I struggled to raise my head to watch transfixed as she placed her sole on my penis. Then, out of the blue, she put weight on it. The pain was excruciating and I shouted out. I yanked on the dog leads but I was too tightly fettered. I could only move a couple of inches in any direction.

"Good, good," she said and pushed down on it again, then again.

I looked into her eyes and saw that she was mocking me. I was determined to get through this dreadful experience and get back to Maynard's as soon as possible, so I became desperately focused on the thought of leaving this house and not on the matter at hand.

Miss Elizabeth slid her shoes up to my neck and I felt the stiff scratchiness of the Alencon lace petticoats against my nose, chin and mouth. The tactile feel the texture of her undergarments made my penis strain stiffly and I watched with horror as she slid her heels down to my penis and applied pressure once again.

"Good, good," she said smiling down at me with a horrid cruel smirk. I tried to jerk my body away but couldn't.

The pain was awful and brought tears to my eyes. This appeared to encourage Miss Elizabeth to slide her foot down my thigh to my knee. She looked me straight in the eye and applied her full weight to my knee.

The pain was unbearable. I almost felt my kneecap crack and I shivered visibly with terror as well as discomfort. I pulled wildly on my ties but remained firmly fettered. My heart was thumping crazily.

"Good, good" she said and slid her foot back to my penis. This time she did not push down but merely lifted it with her toes and pushed it from side to side.

"Would you like your penis inside me, boy?" she asked.

I replied that I did not wish to be inside her.

"And why not?" she said rolling my erection from side to side beneath her feet.

I could not think of a suitable reply and felt incredibly vulnerable. If I told her that I just wanted to 'tongue' her and leave this would clearly antagonise her further. If I told her that I did not wish to fuck her because of her high rank this might cause offence so I decided to change my mind and appear keen.

"I would like my penis inside you ma'am," I spluttered still wary of her black suede house shoes with their two-inch kitten heels resting on my genitals.

"So you have changed your mind have you?" she enquired and I nodded my head insanely with my chimpanzee grin.

"Good, good but I shall require you to pleasure me first," she said walking astride my body until her shoes lay against my shoulders with her heavy silk skirt hem rested across my neck. 

I could feel her body heat radiate from under her vast skirt. My penis appeared to treble in size and my brain was churning with the thoughts of being allowed to penetrate this woman after our tonguing her. All my instincts told me that I shouldn't be allowed to fuck my superior, or elder or someone so rich, but I put these thoughts aside as she swung her foot up to my cheek, followed by the other one.

Immediately my face was covered by petticoat lace. There was so much of it. I struggled against the leads to find the inner petticoat where her silk drawers and black silk stockings lay waiting for me. 

The woman sensed that I was struggling so she shook down her underskirts and brought her shoes smartly together. My cheeks were pinched against her heels and I cried out. 

Miss Elizabeth laughed and swiveled her heels further against my head. I tried to move my head upwards but she place a shoe on my face and pushed down. My nose and mouth were squashed under it and I turned my head to one side. Down came the shoe against my face and squeezed my head back into the 'up-turned' position.

She appeared to delight in playing with my head with her feet and shoes and I couldn't understand why. She certainly could not see my face as it was completely hidden under her long full skirt. I imagined that she like to be in complete control of her 'underskirt boy' and feel his head trapped between her shoes.

"Oooch, ow," I yelled as she scraped a two-inch heel over my neck and cheek.

I watched as she dragged one shoe then the other backwards and forwards across my face. I flinched and closed my eyes with each pass and once again my penis remained savagely stiff and ramrod erect. For what seemed like fifteen minutes she continued with this footplay 'foreplay'. I remained completely at her disposal, naked, flat on my back with my head between her feet staring up between her legs under her floor length skirt.

The odour of warm moist fanny assailed my nostrils and I would have begged her to release me just to allow me to breathe her in more easily. I remained incredibly frustrated and wanted just to get on with tonguing her.

"Well boy, I hope your tongue is ready for me," she exclaimed placing both her feet firmly against my cheeks.

This time she didn't trap me between her shoes. Clearly she required my head to be able to move between her legs. I stared up at her white silk crotchless drawers decorated with both Alencon and Calais lace on the three flounces which surrounded both leg openings. I once again wondered how much exquisite lace could be worn where no one but the wearer would ever see it.

Miss Elizabeth Miranda Katherine Hetheringham, to give her her full name parted her legs and bent her knees and squatted on my face. I watched the rustling folds of white silk petticoats descend around me and spill out as far as my stomach and penis. 

The sounds of 'frou-frou' almost deafened me as she rearranged her clothing over me. 

Her vagina gaped over my face. It was already dribbling out juice and the lacy openings of her drawers were quite damp. Her pubic hair was very coarse and thick but her inner labia protruded quite markedly, just as her sisters' did. I was able to wiggle my tongue up inside her fleshy flaps and nuzzled them with my nose. 

Her clitoris hung over me tucked away under its prominent hood. I exposed it with my nose and breathed in her natural odours. To be frank she smelled quite badly of urine but as time progressed the pungent muskiness of her vagina took over. I would have drowned quite happily in her juices which flowed freely as I continued tonguing her furiously. 

Ten minutes had passed and Miss Elizabeth was now bouncing her heavy arse on my neck and dragging her cunt backwards and forwards over my face. I pushed out my tongue and licked at anything within range. She appeared to enjoy wiping herself over me and my eye sockets and nostrils were smeared with her vaginal secretions.

As happened with her sisters, I now smelled of warm wet cunt, and nothing else. As also with her sisters it was she who was using me as a masturbatory tool, jerking her pelvis savagely over my face. I just lay there and hoped that my neck would not be broken. All the time my penis twitched and bobbed about aimlessly between her petticoat hems. Suddenly she grasped my head through all her silken layers and 'jerked herself off' on me.

I heard her grunt at every jerk until her grunting and jerking became more frequent violent and bestial. I felt that there was almost something primeval in her movements. She shook me from side to side as well as up and down. She seemed possessed.

"Grunt," jerk, "grunt," jerk "grunt," jerk, "grunt," jerk "grunt, "jerk, "grunt" jerk "grunt," jerk, "grunt", jerk "grunt," she squealed loudly as my face became more and more sticky with her 'goo'. 

"Grunt," jerk, "grunt," jerk "grunt," jerk, "grunt," jerk "grunt, "jerk, "grunt" jerk "grunt," jerk, "grunt", jerk "grunt," she continued almost pulling my head off.

Suddenly she stopped and levered my head up into her sopping fanny and then shuddered, juddered, shook and finally climaxed, collapsing backwards on top of my penis and stomach.




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger



She then stepped onto the bed carefully avoiding banging her head on the low sloping ceiling. I watched her walk over me then place one of her stockinged feet, then the other, on each side of my chest and squatted down with her legs apart and all her undergarments on full view. I felt her weight on me and pulled at the ties but this seemed to make them even more secure.

"Let's see that little tongue of yours young man shall we?" she said as I lay there staring into her large brown eyes. I opened my mouth and stuck it out. It touched the tip of my nose.

"Blimey it's like a snake. Best get that inside me before I lose the urge," she said in her coarse London accent.

She knelt forward and pulled up the various layers of clothing and held them up to her waist. I saw her lick her lips as she watched me squirm underneath her. 

"Not very tall are you 'Chang'?" said the woman clearly happy to have me helpless beneath her.

With slow deliberate movements she slid up my chest and opened her legs. As she did so until she rammed the open crotch of her bloomers squarely into my young face. The smell hit me straight away and it was mainly the odour of warm urine mixed with the now familiar smell of moist vagina.

My penis jerked wildly.

" He likes your smell Winnie." Said Elsie who by now was fondling my massive erection. Elsie's fingers felt cool and slim but she knew what she was doing and I wondered how many other 'Changs' she had fondled in the past.

"We'll have fun getting him to squirt won't we Winnie especially when Cook joins in, it should be a laugh," she went on.

I wondered what she meant by 'Cook joining in' and tried to pull my head away but it was too late. 

On top of me Winnie Blanchard was slowly untying the front waist band of her open crotch white lace-edged bloomers and pulling the two layers of white crisp cotton apart to reveal her pubic curls. Her fingers were on her clitoris as she slid her cleft over my mouth. Her fleshy thighs prevented my head moving from side to side and I felt well and truly trapped beneath her. 

"Tongue inside me young man," she ordered with a snigger. Clearly she enjoyed being in complete control.

Elsie watched me as I wriggled my tongue inside her already damp labia. My neck ached because my head was at such a strange angle. Elsie noticed my discomfort and pushed a small pillow under my head which in turn allowed me to push my tongue further into the kneeling Blanchard. 

She almost purred with pleasure as she watched me eagerly flicking my lips and tongue over her clitoris which now appeared as a prominent nub. I could hear very little as my ears were gripped by her stocking clad thighs and lace trimmed bloomer legs.

I could hear her tell Elsie to squeeze my balls as she said that I needed to 'stay interested' in the job at hand. With that she threw her petticoats over me and then shook down her dress and I was plunged into a confined warm grey space under her starched heavy uniform. Her pubic hair felt coarse against my nose and I found it difficult to breathe. I stopped licking for a while so that I could clear my nostrils but the sudden pain from Elsie's grip on my balls urged me to start again.

It must have appeared a very lewd sight to any onlooker. Hear was I, a nineteen year old boy, scarcely five foot tall and puny with it, lying naked on a large double bed in an attic. On top of me kneeling on my face with her legs apart and her crotchless bloomers undone was a thirty year old housemaid. My ankles and wrists were securely tied to the bedstead. My face and upper body were hidden from view by her uniform and petticoats which she had spread over me. My tongue was inside her fanny and her friend Elsie, also a maid servant was gripping my genitals.

"Faster Chang, faster do," said the heavy woman on top of me. 

She slid even further up onto me and held the back of my head through her skirts. I tried my best; I really did, but she seemed to want the impossible from me. The grip on my balls became almost too painful. I speeded up as best I could but to be honest my tongue was getting very tired. 

She increased the pressure on my head and jerked it into her as she bounced her body over me. I heard the springs creak as she increased the pace. Soon she was ferociously pleasuring herself on my face. It did not seem to matter whether my tongue was inside her or not; all she needed were the smooth contours of my face to bring her to a climax and that she did.

Just as with Lady Philomena Onslow I felt her orgasm well up inside, so too with housemaid Winnie Blanchard. Her jerking became almost violent in it's intensity as she filled the room with curses, oaths and profanities. She shook and shuddered noticeably as she finally 'came' with vaginal spendings covering my face and neck.

"Oh my giddy aunt, for glory's sake...that was well worth it," she told Elsie while regaining her composure. 

She knelt up and dragged her skirt and petticoats off my face. Our eyes met and I noticed she was perspiring and her hair was in disarray. She had a look of satisfaction as well as disdain for me. Clearly an 'underskirt boy' was looked down upon by every hierarchy of domestic service. I was literally the lowest of the low.

"Me next," said Elsie helping Winnie swing her legs over me and off the bed. I watched Blanchard as she hitched up her long black skirt and white petticoats and retied her bloomer front. They looked rather damp and wondered how she could spend the rest of the day wearing them.

She shook down one petticoat then the other then finally her skirt. On went her butterfly sleeved apron and she stepped into her shoes. She readjusted her hair under her cap and left the room leaving me at the mercy of Elsie who stared at me just like a cat stares at a mouse. 

She took off her shoes and walked around the bed.

She checked the ties then when she was completely satisfied she stood on the bed and supported herself by holding onto a diagonal beam which ran across the low ceiling.

"Can I have a glass of water please?" I asked in a courteous off-hand way to the young eighteen year old girl who now stood astride my chest.

" I'd rather piss in your gob instead," she threatened as she placed one stockinged foot on my shoulder. 

I stared into her eyes and saw revulsion. Clearly she wondered how a man could earn a living from licking 'women's twats' as she put it. I watched her lacy petticoat hems spill out from under her black tailored skirt.

"D'ya like my frills eh Chang?" she hissed as she shifted her weight from one side of the bed to the other. She rubbed the soles of her feet over my face concentrating on my nose and mouth.

"Y..yes..they, they are very pretty," I stammered wondering if I had given her the correct answer. She continued wiping her feet on my face pushing my face from side to side. The soles of her black cotton stockings stank of perspiration and leather.

"Let's see if your pecker enjoys lace shall we?"

With that, still holding onto the beam she raised her skirt and walked towards my feet then turned. I watched her as she dropped her skirt and began walking astride me up the bed. Her skirt and petticoats hems slid and swished along my shins then over my knees stimulated every square inch of my exposed flesh. 

My penis became noticeably larger and twitched aimlessly for attention. I watched with fascination as she dragged her lace edged petticoat hems up to my thighs then stopped. 

Our eyes met again.

"So the 'underskirt boy' does like the feel of petticoat frills on his body eh?" she whispered smiling at the apparent power she held over my aroused penis.

She walked further forwards until her skirt hem rested on my testicles. By now my penis was ramrod stiff and glistening with more precum. She swayed from side to side and I felt her hems slide against my bursting shaft and exposed glans. 

The sensation was excruciatingly exquisite and my penis felt on fire. It was like a slow fuse ready to detonate. She lifted her skirt and dropped it on my penis. It twitched uncontrollably. She did it again, then again watching my eyes roll with both pleasure and frustration. I watched her pull up the front of her skirt then move a petticoat hem onto my balls. Instantly they seemed too tight and my penis extended further.

"Please, please," I said not really knowing what I desired.

She stood and dragged her lace hems backwards and forwards over my genitals for several minutes. With each touch of lace my penis twitched and sought relief. I wanted to enter her so much and drain all the frustration out of me. I even cursed the ties which prevented me from masturbating. She had me over a barrel and she knew it.

Eventually she became bored with this and shuffled up to my face. She raised her skirt and petticoats to her knees then placed one foot then the other on each side of my neck. I stared up at her ginger curls peeping from inside her knee length open crotch bloomers.

"Tongue out you snivelling little 'underskirt boy'," she said as she dropped her skirt and petticoats over me.

I heard a bell sound in the distance, and she was off the bed in a trice.

"Buggery and bastards," she cursed as she put her apron on, then her shoes then pinned up her hair and finally adjusted her cap.

"I'll be back...just don't move do you hear?" she said slamming the door behind her. I heard her run down the stairs to, presumably, attend to her duties.

I stared around the room at the drab wallpaper and thin curtains. There was a washstand with jug and bowl. There were cheap prints on the wall and outside all I could see were chimneys, and all I could hear were horses on the cobbled street below.

The door opened and a rather stout middle aged woman walked in. By the way she wore her apron I could tell that it was 'Cook'.

"Well, well another Chang," she said removing her apron.

I struggled with the ties but once again gave up with them. They were just too tight. I sensed that I was going to be sat on by this plump woman and didn't relish the experience.

"Nice cock Chang, dy'a mind if I stroke it," she said in a Cockney accent displaying one or two gaps in her teeth.

She grabbed my penis and far from stroking it she jerked it up and down. It was almost painful but at the same time I enjoyed it. At last, I thought, I might obtain sexual relief.

I heard the clock strike four-forty five as she lifted up her wide full skirt and petticoats to waist level and undid the ties of her long baggy broderie edged bloomers.

"You won't mind me removing these so we can be all nice and comfy do you Mr.Chang?" she told me, rather than asked me.

"I prefer tongues up me from behind so you'll have to get used to my arse on your face," she chortled laughing in an almost motherly way as if she were passing me a cake.

I watched as she pulled down her bloomers and stepped out of them. 

"These smell nice don't they young man?" as she carefully placed the crotch area of her stained undergarment over my nose. At the smell of warm damp vagina my penis became fiercely engorged. The situation was such that I felt completely aroused. 

She threw the garment onto the chair and whistled a few notes of a popular song.

I watched her lift up her black skirt and white cotton petticoats and swing her black house-boots over my face until she was kneeling over me facing my feet.

The bed gave way to her weight as she opened her legs above me and lowered her huge wobbling arse onto my upturned face. With two or three movements she covered me with her petticoats and skirt so that little could be seen of my upper body except for my fettered wrists which peeped out from beyond her skirt hems.

"Ah that's lovely isn't it?" she said, clearly not expecting a reply from me under her vast backside. "Tongue up me pussy if you don't mind young man," she said.

I could hardly hear her through three layers of cotton petticoat and one layer of skirt. She gripped my balls and twisted them. Now I understood; now I painfully understood and proceeded with licking her rear facing vagina. 

The smell from her opening was intense, both fetid and musky. I wondered how often she washed herself. I plunged my tongue into her up to the hilt. My nose was against her anus. Her vagina was cavernous and I licked her with whirling swirling motions, all around the entrance to her vulva. I lapped her perineum and flicked at her large clitoris and she grunted like a contented old sow.

"Ooooh that's really lovely isn't it?" she said stroking my erection with apparent glee.

I felt buried under her. Her flabby pasty buttocks lay spread wide open on my face. The smell from her back passage was becoming pervasive. I dearly wished that she would climax quickly but at the same time I found the whole experience erotic and ten times more stimulating than being under Lady Onslow's petticoats.

"Oh really lovely," she continued talking to herself.

I carried on sliding my long tongue in and out, up and down, clockwise and anticlockwise, inside and outside her sagging genitals. Her breathing became more laboured as I probed her clitoris from every angle. Now I could hear the bed creak as she bounced up and down on my face. Sexual secretions oozed out and my face became unpleasantly sticky. I snorted like a horse then licked her more and more. More and more I licked her, over and over again. She had let go of my penis and now was bucking against me like a creature possessed. 

"Yes lovely," she yelled as I felt her buttocks tight, twitch then judder over me. It was like an earthquake as wave after wave gripped her and shook her.

"Lovely," she screeched as she reached her orgasm and I watched her petticoats shake and swish over and around me. 

She collapsed forward allowing fresh air to surround my face which felt as if it had spent the entire afternoon in a Turkish bath. 

I looked down at her buttocks which were now spread across my chest. I noticed beads of perspiration had gathered in the creases of her fleshy globes. Her stockings were wrinkled and twisted and her garters were untied. She let the heel of her boot rest against my ear and lay like this for what seemed like many minutes. 

A bell sounded somewhere in the house and she stirred and twisted herself and stared at me over her shoulder.

"We'll have to get the scullery maid to give you what I was going to give you shan't we?" she said dragging her heavy body off me and replacing her bloomers.

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about until the door suddenly opened and in walked Winnie Blanchard, Elsie and a rather thin looking maid who was introduced as Edith.

The Cook left muttering something about discussing the menu with her ladyship and slammed the door as she light-footed it down stairs.

"This is Edith the scullery maid David. She has only been in service for three weeks and it was her eighteenth birthday yesterday," said Elsie suddenly in much better spirits than our previous encounter.

I stared at Edith. She was painfully thin and had quite a small bosom compared to the other two. Her uniform looked new and I could tell by her Dutch over-apron that she was a scullery maid.

"This is an 'underskirt boy' Edith. Do you know what they do?" said Blanchard taking on the senior role. 

The girl shook her head, and glanced at my willy then swiftly stared at an imaginary speck of dirt on the carpet.

"Well rich ladies, usually widows, hire them to..err..make them...err...feel nice between their legs," said Blanchard and I saw Edith turn red with embarrassment.

"And after they've done 'what's what' we have a free go with them, Now you understand?" continued the elder of the two housemaids.

I also understood 'what was what' too. I cursed Herbert Maynard for not telling me the true nature of my job. I also felt quite honoured to have pleasured a Lady of the upper classes. I had mixed feelings regarding the others, and how many more must I pleasure? It will be the coalman's daughter, no less, next?

"Well Edith as you're new to our house we thought you'd like a little 'go' with Mr.Chang here," said Elsie in her Cockney accent.

"Well he certainly doesn't look Chinese to me," said the little scullery maid and the others laughed. I found it amusing too.

"Well you just untie your bloomers at the front and climb on the bed," said Blanchard encouraging the fresh faced girl. I watched her remove both aprons and lift up her skirt. She turned her back to me to untie her bloomers and then shook down her skirts and petticoat in readiness to sit on my face.

"Now you want to sit astride his face with your knees on his shoulders, understand?" they told her.

I watched as she hitched up all the various layers and swung her black stockinged knees over my face. She slid forwards with her petticoats held up against her waist until the opening in her starched cotton lace trimmed bloomers rested on my mouth. 

Elsie rearranged the cushion under my head so that I was staring straight at her pubic curls. With help from the other two maids she was ready for me to tongue.

All three looked down at me with eagerness as I flicked my tongue up and down the portals of her vagina. Slowly I eased them apart and almost instantly her natural female lubrication began oozing out. Soon my tongue was inside her and delving and probing the walls of her vulva. Little shivers ran through her and she began breathing heavily.

"Now what the posh ladies do is cover the 'underskirt boy' with their petticoats and dresses so that they don't have to watch the 'lower classes' at work, see?" said Elsie now appearing to be in charge. 

With that she and Winnie pulled Edith's petticoats over me and rearranged her uniform skirt so that it covered her petticoats. 

From under her uniform I overheard a muffled conversation which mentioned being 'prim and proper' and 'no one seeing what was going on'.

"Lady Onslow once had Chang under a ball gown for the whole afternoon even when she had visitors and no one suspected," said Blanchard clearly used to having several 'underskirt boys' at the large house at Chester Court.

After many minutes of constant licking and lapping at her clitoris I became aware of Edith's orgasm begin to rise. First there was a shortness of breath, then some squirming, then muscle-spasms then a full blown climax. It surprised me as much as her. It happened so quickly.

" Oh my, oh my, oh my bloody Aunt Betsy, oh, ooh. ah," she screeched her thighs gripping me and shuddering uncontrollably. 

My penis my now was dribbling even more precum and I longed for relief. The girl was almost in tears as she slid off me and rearranged her clothing.

"That's never happened to me before," she told her friends. They kissed and hugged her and told her to prepare for the grand finale, the 'initiation ceremony'.

I was unsure what they meant and seriously felt frustrated. It was roughly half past five and to put it bluntly I could do with a 'wank'.

They untied me and I immediately rubbed my wrists and ankles and tried to restore the circulation to my limbs. 

I stood up then sat down as they told me that I couldn't leave straightaway. Edith, it appeared, was to pleasure me and in no ordinary way too.

"Edith," said Blanchard," Have you ever wondered what it's like to have a man's..you know what..inside you?" 

Edith blushed and said that she was a virgin and was determined to stay that way until the night of her marriage.

"No not up your fanny but in your mouth," she said and winked at me.

I looked at the very shy girl and could see that she wasn't quite sure.

"I suppose," she said, as if to justify it to herself, "If Chang, or whatever his real name is, made me tingle between my legs then I should do the same to him." 

"That's the girl," both Elsie and Winnie announced in unison.




David Shaw, Victorian Messenger



I sat on the edge of the bed and leant back on my elbows while Edith knelt between my outstretched legs.

"I can't do it, it's horrible," she said to Blanchard who put her hand on her shoulder.

"Yes you can, it's lovely, we've all done it before and it tastes like..strawberries and cream doesn't it Elsie?" said the older one.

"More like raspberries and cream I'd say," said Elsie with a frown on her face.

I was raring to go and found it almost impossible to hold back. 

Edith slowly licked my shaft up and down and told us that it tasted of nothing at all. She was told that what was inside was the nice part and that she must suck me hard to get the juices from me.

She licked then sucked then sucked and licked. She licked then sucked then sucked and licked then licked then sucked then sucked and licked. She licked then sucked then sucked and licked. 

My glans entered and re-entered her mouth many many times over and over again. I was becoming almost delirious with pleasure.

Elsie clawed at my right thigh while Winnie scratched my left. Slowly but surely I felt semen build up inside me. I helped the process along my stimulating the base of my penis with my fingers until I reached a point where I could take no more.

"Hold her head," I told the others and they did.

My buttocks were off the bed as I roared out my orgasm. Five violent spurts filled Edith's little mouth and the rest went everywhere, She choked, spat and cried all at once while Blanchard and Elsie just laughed. I laughed too but only to get Edith to laugh, and to see the funny side of it.

"Strawberries and cream indeed," she said spitting into her handkerchief," more like warm salty semolina pudding I'd say," she said beginning to see the lighter side of things.

Half an hour later I was on my bike cycling back southwards across Putney Bridge arriving at the gates of Maynard and Son to be met by Mr. Herbert Maynard himself. 

"You're late Shaw but I have just received a telegram from Lady Onslow who tells me that she'd like to make a weekly booking for 'Chang' for the next ten weeks. Well done my boy," and with that he tossed me a shilling.

THE END

(If readers wish to hear more about David Shaw the Victorian Messenger perhaps they could let me know...thanks Thorilla)