0 comments/ 8915 views/ 2 favorites Laundry Tales 10: Lady of Misrule By: jeanne_d_artois Lady of Misrule Laundry Tales 10 ************************************************* Copyright jeanne_d_artois (aka oggbashan) March 2015 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. This story is one of a series of Laundry Tales, but can be read on its own. ************************************************* The laundry of my ancestors' house is now my workshop. I'm a potter and good enough at my trade to make a reasonable living from it. The main attraction of the laundry room was Martha, the resident ghost. I was aware of her from an early age. I would sit on the scrubbed table and ask Martha to tell me a story. She always did. When I became an adult, she told me about incidents in her life at the Hall. Each time I become Martha or the heroine of Martha's story and experience the events exactly as she had. This is one of those stories. In the attic of the laundry are a number of trunks full of ancient clothing from the Hall. I salvaged them when I moved my pottery into the laundry and adapted other outbuildings to become my house. I keep the smaller and more interesting items in a suitcase on top of my wardrobe. Sometimes I drag an item of clothing out of that suitcase when I am short of inspiration for the ceramic figurines I make. This time I was really stuck for an idea for a new figurine so I ignored the well-known items in the suitcase and went to the trunks in the attic. The dust up there made me splutter as I took down the first trunk from the rack. I had to retreat downstairs, bring up a small vacuum cleaner and remove the dust from some of the floor and the trunk's top before I opened it. Everything inside was in cotton bags with small cardboard labels tied around the top. Most of the labels seemed boring until I found one marked "Misrule -- Lady". That sounded much more interesting. I lifted the heavy bag out of the trunk and put it down on a clean part of the floor. I shut the trunk and put it back. I used the vacuum cleaner to clear more dust from the floor, thinking that I would have to empty the cleaner before using it again. That is a job I dislike. No matter how I do it, I seem to get dirty. I took the cleaner downstairs and put it by the laundry room's door before going back to collect the cotton bag. I washed my hands, made myself a cup of coffee and sat down with the heavy bag on my lap. Untying the label was difficult because the waxed string was jammed. I peered inside. A bright red material filled most of the bag. I lifted it out carefully. It was a massive heavy skirt, fully lined in black silk. "You've found it," Martha's voice sounded in my head. "The Lady of Misrule costume. That was Esther's skirt." "OK, Martha," I thought back to the ghost speaking in my head, "Who was Esther? What or who was the Lady of Misrule?" "There was a Lady of Misrule on an April Fool's day, and a Lord of Misrule the following year. It was like the Roman Saturnalia, when servants ruled their masters for one day only, and could do whatever they wanted to. It was a survival of a Pagan festival that lasted at the Hall up to the start of the First World War." "Why did it end?" I asked. "Not enough men is the simple answer. Even by 1900 the number of male staff at the Hall had reduced to a handful. In 1914 most of them went to war and the fun of the Misrule day had gone." "When was Esther the Lady of Misrule?" "Wait a bit before we get to Esther. In the 18th Century the Day of Misrule was really bawdy. Any pregnancies that occurred as a result were considered to be a sign of good fortune for the baby and its parents. Of course the parents had to marry once the pregnancy was confirmed, but if the dates were right for conception on the Day of Misrule, they could remain at the Hall as a married couple. Sometimes there was some creative massaging of dates to make it appear that the Day of Misrule was THE day, but as long as the baby was born within seven to eleven months from then, it was usually accepted. Towards the end of the 18th Century your ancestors decided that the Day of Misrule was getting out of hand and confined it to the servants' hall. The gentry had to fend for themselves on that day, usually on cold food prepared at the end of last day of March, but the riotous behaviour was only the other side of the green baize door, among the staff." "So what did a Lady of Misrule do, Martha?" "That was up to her. Some wanted role reversal, the men performing the maids' duties, the maids doing the men's work. Some went further and expected cross dressing as well. That wasn't popular because the staff had very few changes of clothes, and their uniforms could be damaged. The maids' uniforms were rarely large enough for the men to wear so seams could be strained or ripped. The compromise was to wear masks. Over the years several full head masks were made of paper mache, exaggeratedly male or female. The women's masks had simpering smiles with rouged cheeks and attached blonde ringlets. The male masks had beards or moustaches and short dark hair. Of course, in the environment of the Servants' Hall, or even when the gentry were involved as well, everyone knew who everyone was, even when masked. The masks were an excuse to behave out of character. Everyone had to obey the orders of the Lord or Lady of Misrule, no matter how outrageous. Of course, the Lord or Lady of Misrule knew that their reign only lasted for April Fool's day, and that there could be repercussions in the days or weeks to come if they took their role too seriously. The emphasis was on humour, sometimes bawdy humour, but with no malice. The day was a romp, not a riot." While Martha was speaking I had spread Esther's skirt wide across my legs. It was voluminous and heavy. Inside the bag was a matching bodice laced at the front, a white long sleeved cotton blouse, and a cape matching the skirt. "The Lord or Lady of Misrule was chosen at random by drawing straws. Whoever drew the shortest straw was this year's ruler. But not in Esther's year. The result was fixed because your ancestor, Sir Gerald, wanted Esther to be the Lady of Misrule." "Why?" I shouldn't have asked. Martha gets annoyed if she is interrupted. "You'll find out," Martha retorted. "It was the late 18th Century. Esther had been chosen last night in the rigged drawing of straws. This morning she is the Lady of Misrule, wearing those clothes..." As Martha continued to speak I felt myself becoming Esther. It was early morning in the Servants' Hall and I was wearing Esther's bright red skirt. I had heavy breasts that dragged slightly on my shoulders despite the bodice propping them up. I was proud of those breasts and the cleavage I was displaying. I walked into the Servants' Hall. All the other servants bowed or curtseyed to me. As yet none of us were wearing masks. Mr Clerk, the butler asked: "Who are you going to choose as your consort, Lady Esther?" That was a staged question. He knew the answer because he had arranged it with Sir Gerald. I answered as he expected. "Master James, of course," I said. As I said those words I knew everything Esther knew. Master James was a disappointment to his father. He had returned from Oxford with no sign of having ever chased a woman and possibly still a virgin. At age twenty-three and the heir of the estate that was very unusual. Most of the young gentlemen of his age were supporting several bastards. Not Master James. The only unmarried woman he had even been seen to talk to was me. That is why I have been chosen as the Lady of Misrule. My task is to get Master James into bed and ensure that he is NOT a virgin by the end of the day. I'm unsure about doing this. If he doesn't want to, am I going to force him? Am I going to get my fellow servants to drag him to my bed and hold him down while I ride him? I decided that I needed the active cooperation of my fellow servants. I held up a hand for silence. They all looked at me. What would my first command be as Lady of Misrule? "Friends, I, or rather we, have a problem. As Lady of Misrule I would normally set a few silly tasks, provide some amusement for all of us, and none of it would matter." Mr Clerk was looking at me quizzically. He suspected what I was going to say. "But Sir Gerald has set me a challenge as Lady of Misrule. Yes, my selection was forced, not a matter of chance. Sir Gerald is worried about his heir. So should we be. Master James will eventually be our Lord and he needs a lady wife. Yet he has shown no sign of being interested in women. He hasn't, has he? He treats us with courtesy and respect, far too much respect as if he is afraid of us. Have any of you women been approached by Master James? I ask as Lady of Misrule. Your answers will be forgotten after today. Has he snatched a kiss? Slapped a passing rump? Fondled a breast?" The answer was a shaking of heads. "No one?" I asked again. "None of you?" Several of the younger women said 'No'. They looked serious. The implications for the future of the estate were obvious. Master James is the only child. If he didn't marry, the estate would entail to a distant cousin none of us knew. "All he has done is once kiss my hand, in thanks for removing a splinter from his arm. As far as we know, that is the only physical contact he has ever had with a woman. But today..." I stopped. This was proving more difficult than I had thought. "Today I have to find out why. Why has he not...?" Mr Clerk came to my rescue. "What Esther is trying to say is that she has to use her role as Lady of Misrule to try to persuade Master James to do something with a woman, any woman, and if she can't, try to find out what his objection is. She needs our help, particularly from the ladies. She can order him to kiss one or all of you, but if he refuses? She cannot enforce such an order." "I can't," I added. "I can't drag him off to bed to see whether he can. I could order you to drag him to my bed but that would be impossible. Like it or not he will eventually be our master. The Lady of Misrule can do some things but raping our future master? That she can't do. What I can do is ask you ladies to touch Master James every time you are near him. You can take his hand and kiss it. You could wrap an arm around his waist. You could accidently brush against him. If he responds, I would like you to do more without jeopardising your modesty..." "...but you would go further?" A female voice asked. I nodded. "I will go as far as I can -- today. If we or I get a response from Master James then perhaps we could continue gently and subtly in future days. I don't think he is averse to women, nor that he prefers men. Something is preventing him from what would be normal for a young man of his status. As we know, many servant women have bastards by the young gentlemen, and that can raise their status for life, but not here. The only possible father is Master James and he doesn't seem interested in even kissing a servant woman. We have today to change his mind, if we can." I stood up, swishing my unaccustomed large skirt around me. "I have to go to be crowned by Sir Gerald. Once crowned, I will appoint Master James as my consort, and then bring him here. I would like all the women to be in the Servants' Hall at ten o'clock. I will ask him to kiss all of you women. Please be gentle with him and make it as enjoyable for him as you can. One request. We will dispense with the masks today. I want Master James to know who he is meeting without having to guess, since he doesn't know we servants as well as he should." I walked out of the Servants' Hall, through the green baize door that separated the servants areas from the family rooms, and went to the Breakfast Room. As I entered, only Sir Gerald and Master James were present. I curtsied to Sir Gerald. "Sir, I have been chosen as today's Lady of Misrule and have come to be crowned." "Welcome, Lady," Sir Gerald replied. "James? Can you pass me the tiara?" The tiara was costume jewellery used for charades and plays. James put it in his father's hand. I knelt before Sir Gerald. He placed the tiara gently on my head. I had to adjust it so that it fitted snugly. "Lady of Misrule, have you chosen your consort for today?" Sir Gerald asked. "Yes, Sir Gerald. I have chosen Master James." "Me?" James was shocked. "Yes, Master James, you." I replied. "And you can't refuse the Lady of Misrule," Sir Gerald added, winking at me. "Oh. Very well." James said. "What do I have to do?" "Whatever the Lady says." Sir Gerald was enjoying this. "And your commands are?" James asked. "First, you should acknowledge me by bowing and kissing my hand," I said. James looked at his father who nodded as if to say 'Do it'. James still looked appalled at the prospect of being my consort. But he bowed to me, took my hand, and brushed his lips against it. "Thank you," I said. "Will you please escort me to the Rose Garden? I need to explain your duties for the day." James looked despairingly at his father who made a gesture 'Go!'. I tucked my hand around James' arm and gently steered him towards the doorway. He resisted slightly at first, shrugged his shoulders, and began to lead me. In the Rose Garden we walked slowly, my hand still on his arm. "Master James," I said suddenly, "we need to talk." "If you say so, my lady," he answered. "I may be the Lady of Misrule for today, which is a jest, but we need to talk in sober earnest, Master James." That stopped him in his tracks. He looked at me. "Why? Why should Esther need to talk to me? The Lady of Misrule is a farce, not a serious affair." "What is serious is that eventually you will be the Master of this estate. Your father and most of the servants are concerned that you..." "...might not provide an heir?" James had made it easier for me. "Yes, James." "And you want to talk to me about that? Isn't that very presumptuous of you?" "It would be, if I hadn't been asked to do so by your father. He trusts my discretion. So should you. Nothing that is said between us today will be repeated, even to your father." "So your appointment as Lady of Misrule was prearranged? By my father?" "And by Mr Clerk, the Butler, at your father's request." "I seem to have been set up. Will today be painful for me, Esther?" "I will try to make sure it isn't. If I or we go too far, you can say so, and we'll stop. But it shouldn't be. You are well liked by all the servants and despite the traditions of this day we will try to be as gentle with you as we can." "So what do I have to do, Esther?" "Explain perhaps. Why do you avoid women? Is there a reason? All the women on the estate appreciate your courtesy, your kindness and would welcome you as the Master when that time comes eventually, but we can't understand why you avoid us as if we have the plague. We are people. We may be servants and beneath your notice but your aloofness hurts. We hope you will find a suitable wife as your partner but..." "At present there are no ladies mentioned as possible wives..." "Except your cousin Hermione. She is due here tomorrow." "She is? I didn't know that." "Why would you care? You ignore her almost beyond the bounds of conventional courtesy." "I didn't realise it was that obvious, Esther." "It is. It pains your father. If you didn't like her, another lady might be considered, but you treat all lady visitors almost as you treat the women servants. You treat them with politeness but avoid contact with them as much as you can and more than you should." "I thought you said that today wouldn't be painful for me, Esther. This catechism seems close to pain, revealing my behaviour as ungentlemanly." "We have difficulty understanding why you feel as you do. I asked before. Is there a reason?" "Can we sit down?" James asked. "Over there." He pointed to a bench beyond the Rose Garden. It was in an open area. No one could possibly overhear us. I followed him. His hand covered mine that was resting in the crook of his arm. That was the first voluntary contact he had made. We sat on the bench. He half turned to look at me. "Am I to assume that Esther, as Lady of Misrule, will continue to press me for an explanation, all day long if I don't answer?" "Yes, James. I will." He sighed. "Very well. This may take some time." "We have all day if necessary, James. I am only here to help you and your father. You have my goodwill and more than that. I will do whatever I can to solve your difficulties. Not just as the young Master, but as a friend." "Your friendship I accept, Esther. I will talk, to my friend Esther. In confidence." "In confidence," I repeated. "I have to go back in time to before I went to Oxford. You know that my mother died when I was fourteen?" I nodded. "There were no other female relations here. Most of the women servants were matrons, married women who had been serving the family for decades. There were younger maids but I didn't see them. Some were even younger than I and trainees below stairs. The women servants treated me in a motherly fashion. I appreciated that. In the months after my mother died I was often crying against a starched apron. I was barely aware of you, but you too were one of the below stairs women. There were no girls of my age anywhere around. When I went to Oxford, later than I should at age nineteen, I had never kissed a girl. The only female contact I had had was motherly, and they still treated me as a child, not a young man. The students at Oxford were all male, men of my class, and most of them far more worldly-wise than I. The only women were inn servants or ladies of the night. My father's allowance to me in my first year was less than most of the other students. I think he wanted me to learn economy. I did. I didn't overspend. I immersed myself in my studies and did well. I was sharing a set with a couple of other impoverished young students. The extent of our dissipation was an occasional evening drinking too much ale. One such evening at the end of my first year was my downfall." James paused. He seemed reluctant to continue. I reached out and took one of his hands. He lifted my hand and looked at it as if it was a strange object. He surprised me by lifting it to his lips and kissing it. "I was nineteen and a virgin. More than a virgin. I had never kissed a woman, never hugged a woman, and never..." James shuddered. The memories were obviously painful. I squeezed his hand gently. "My student friends had begun to regard me as a freak. They spent much of their allowance on female company. I suppose they thought they were doing me a favour. They paid for a prostitute to visit me. They had told her I was completely inexperienced, but their means didn't run to an attractive young woman. She was an aged whore, certainly experienced, but I was appalled. She stank of cheap gin. I had to turn away from her kisses. Her breath was rancid. When she raised her skirts, the odour was too much. I fled the room barely holding down vomit." James raised my hand to his face. "This hand is sweet smelling," he said. "If only..." "If only what?" I prompted. "If my first experience had been better, I might have sought female company again. But three of my friends caught the pox. The ordeals they had to endure before they were cured, if they were cured, reinforced my aversion to any female company available in Oxford. Every woman I came into contact with seemed soiled, dangerous and a threat. When I returned here, I was met by motherly matrons. I saw you, but you were engaged. Remember?" Laundry Tales 10: Lady of Misrule "Yes. I was engaged to the second coachman. He seemed a nice enough man..." "...but already had a wife elsewhere." "Yes, James. I found out a few months later, and he was discharged for dishonesty, mainly for lying to me." "I wanted to kiss you, Esther, but I couldn't kiss an engaged woman. That was the last time I felt the desire to kiss a woman. There were no others around anywhere near my age." I mentally hugged myself. James had wanted to kiss me. OK, that was years ago, but if he had wanted to then, maybe there was hope that he could or would kiss me before the end of the day. "I'm not engaged now," I said encouragingly. "No, Esther. You're not. Why not?" "No one suitable has asked," I retorted. "Then maybe you too have a problem," James said. "You need a husband..." "And you will need a wife. That can't be me." It couldn't. A servant woman couldn't marry the heir to the estate. He had to marry someone of his own class, if only to produce an heir. "So, Lady of Misrule, what have you in store for me today? I have admitted why..." "Eventually I am going to take you to the Servants' Hall, to meet the three other young ladies who aren't motherly. They expect to be greeted and will welcome you. None of them will smell of gin, nor of anything except healthy young women perhaps with a hint of Rose Water or Lavender. Their task is to show you that women can be friendly and not threatening..." "And if I don't obey, Esther?" "I can't order you to. In theory I could, but you can refuse. My powers as Lady of Misrule only exist by consent. I hope you will enjoy today, find it educational, and find out how much your servants love you..." "Love me? Surely you are overstating that, Esther?" "No. I'm not. I'm here, willingly, as your friend. Any of the unattached young women would have taken my place if your father had asked. He thought I might be the one most acceptable to you." "What exactly do I have to do?" "Kiss them. All of them. The young ones and the older motherly ones. It need only be a peck on the cheek. They'd like more, but a token kiss would be a start." "I have never..." "You've said so. If we could go somewhere more secluded, you could practise -- with me. Shall I make that an order, James?" "No, Esther. I accept with gratitude. I hope you will forgive any awkwardness..." "Of course I will. But I expect you to be more than a beginner before you face the assembled servants. The men will make themselves scarce so that you won't be embarrassed." "I will be, Esther. It will be an ordeal." "I and we will try to make certain that it will be enjoyable. But practice first, sir. Now!" James took my hand. We walked back into the Rose Garden, and into an arbour. He stood facing me. His face was pale. His hands were shaking. I held both of them, and lifted them one by one to my lips. I pulled one of his arms around my waist. The other followed. I held his head between my hands before gently pulling him to meet my lips. He reacted as if startled. He nearly pulled away. My hands made sure that he didn't. I was enjoying myself. My lips were kissing a handsome adult gentleman, and I was the first woman he had ever kissed. How many women would want to be a man's first? His arms tightened around my waist. It was a subtle movement but encouraging. My hands weren't needed to hold him still. I slid one hand behind his neck. We continued to kiss for at least a minute before he withdrew slightly. "Mistress Esther," James said, "that was wonderful." "Then why, sir, did you stop?" I asked. His answer was satisfactory. He kissed me. This time there was almost passion in his kiss. When that kiss ended he pulled me deeper into the arbour towards the bench. His arms lifted me as he sat down, and I was sitting on his lap. My skirt covered his legs. This position was much more pleasant. Our heads were on a level and our kissing was deeper. I dared to do more. I lifted one of his hands and put it on one of my breasts. He resisted at first, and then began to stroke my breast through my blouse. The next time our lips parted, I said: "We need to move to the next lesson, James." "We do? And that is?" "Kiss me where your hand is now resting." "Is that an order, Lady?" "I hope you will do it without compulsion, sir," I replied. "But you might order me?" "Yes." "Very well, Esther, but please be patient with me. This is very new. Pleasant, but frightening too." "It should be enjoyable, not frightening. Feel how soft I am there. I'd like to be kissed so you can know how soft a woman can be." As he moved his hand away and bent his head towards me, I opened my blouse. His eyes were shut as his lips approached. Those eyes opened wide as his lips met bare flesh. My hand cradled the back of his head so that he couldn't pull away. I didn't need to apply any pressure. He relaxed against my breast as if he had been kissing breasts for years. I stroked his hair as his lips explored the bare skin I had exposed. I gently pulled my blouse lower. "That nipple would like some attention, please," I said. His eyes opened wide again. "Am I allowed to?" "Not allowed, sir. Expected to. Please?" My nipples were erect. His lips parted slightly and the nipple slid into his mouth. Gently, as if playing a fish on a line, I eased more of my breast into his mouth. His eyes turned upwards towards my face, disbelieving. But he continued. That was what mattered. Master James, on his first encounter with a woman, was taking direction properly. I could feel warmth between my legs under my skirt. I was enjoying his attentions. I had the avid attention of the young master. If we could do this within the first hour, what could we do in a whole day? The church clock struck ten. Very gently I lifted James' head away from my breast. "I am very pleased with my student, James. For a beginner you have accepted my instruction beautifully. As you can tell, neither my breath nor my body stink..." "They don't. Your lips and your..." James paused. I think he couldn't bring himself to say breast, "...skin are soft and delicious." "And so they should be. But we have an appointment in the Servants' Hall. I will introduce you to the ladies who serve your family. The older married ones will expect a kiss on a cheek at least, and then they will depart, leaving you with me and the other three younger ladies. The four of us will continue your education, gently and with humour, and perhaps love." "Love?" That had startled James. "I mean that they love you, as the young master who has treated them with consideration despite refusing to acknowledge their womanliness. That we will try to correct without going too far. It is too soon, even for such a diligent student as you have shown yourself this morning. As I said earlier, if you feel that the experience is too much, you can stop. My powers as Lady of Misrule cannot compel you, and I wouldn't want to. None of us will abuse you, nor embarrass you. Please? Will you come?" "I suppose I have to. I rely on you, Esther, to protect me -- please?" "You won't need my protection, James. Any of us would wish you well, and they do. Come." I climbed off James' lap, rearranged my bodice so that my assets were covered, and held out my hand. James took it. I led him towards the servants' entrance to the lower ground floor. Just before we entered the Servants' Hall I stopped to kiss him. As we came through the door I felt James stiffen. He was afraid of what he might have to face. Mrs Clerk, the Housekeeper and the Butler's wife, was just inside the door. She opened her arms to Master James. He had to bend down to kiss her on both cheeks. I heard her whisper to him: "Well done, Master James." "Can I introduce you to your senior staff?" Mrs Clerk said aloud. "Certainly, Mistress Clerk," James replied. "I will be delighted to meet them." I was proud of him. He kissed the cook, the head dairymaid, the assistant housekeeper, and the senior maids. They were beaming with delight as he made his way down the line. They hadn't expected such a change in him in so short a time. James returned to Mrs Clerk. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her into a light hug. "Thank you, ladies, for such a pleasant set of greetings. And thank you, Lady of Misrule, for bringing me to meet you all." He kissed Mrs Clerk again. She blushed. I didn't think she still could. It reminded me of my early days as a servant when Mrs Clerk was much younger, and a very attractive woman. James' kiss had shown that she still was, under the stern pose she maintained as the Head of the female staff. "We will leave you now," Mrs Clerk announced, "to the younger ladies who want to meet you too. Mistress Esther will introduce you to them." She eased herself out of James' hug, curtsied, and led the senior women away to have tea and cakes in her room. The three remaining women looked hopeful. They hadn't expected Master James to kiss anyone, yet he had performed brilliantly with the older women. "This is Abigail," I said. I took James' hand and led him to stand in front of Abigail. She curtsied to him. As she came up from the curtsey James took her in his arms, leant forward, and kissed Abigail full on the mouth. She responded as I thought she would. Abigail is a little baggage who loves kissing men, any men who are willing. Most are willing. Abigail is a delightful young woman. Her arms went around his head to pull him closer. That was a real stretch for her because she is so small. "I am delighted to meet you, Abigail," James said as they broke for air. "That was a better way to say hello..." Helen tapped Abigail on the shoulder. Abigail released James with reluctance. "This is Helen," I announced. Helen didn't bother with the curtsey. She grabbed James and pulled him straight into a kiss. One of her hands pulled James' arm around her waist as she kissed him. His other arm soon followed, lifting her off her feet. Her skirt swayed as she clasped her arms around his shoulders. The third woman was waiting patiently. She moved forward to interrupt Helen's kiss. I gestured for her to hold back a while. James and Helen were enjoying themselves. When James restored Helen to her feet I said: "And this is Margaret." Margaret did a very graceful curtsey before almost jumping into James' arms. She didn't wait for him to pick her up. He had no choice as she swung from his shoulders. He pulled her up, because her lips were below his chin, and they too kissed satisfactorily. I let them kiss for several minutes, slightly longer than the other two. I hadn't expected Margaret to be so enthusiastic but she was kissing James very effectively. I tapped her on the shoulder. "Must I?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. "It's my turn." James picked me up, carried me over to the settle, and sat down with me on his lap. "How?" Abigail asked. I knew what she meant. How had I persuaded Master James, who had never shown any sign of an interest in women, to kiss them so well. "That's a secret of the Lady of Misrule," I started to say, before James' lips stopped my words. Out of James' sight, I gestured for the other three to join us. Abigail squeezed against his right side, Margaret to his left, and Helen stood against his legs. When James stopped kissing me, he looked around. "I'm surrounded," he said. "What do I expect now?" "It's what we expect, Master James," I said. "we four are all shorter than you. Although we can kiss, it would be easier if you were lower down. Please put me down, and kneel in front of Helen." Helen blushed. She knew what was coming. James eased himself out from under me and dropped to his knees in front of Helen. He turned his face upwards, expecting a kiss. He didn't expect Helen to pull his head between her blouse covered breasts and hold him there. His hands waggled helplessly beside his body before he wrapped them around her hips. "That isn't motherly," I stated. James might have made a reply. Helen's breasts muffled what he might have said. He gasped for breath as she released him. Margaret pushed Helen aside and dragged James into her cleavage. She let him breathe from time to time as she wiggled her tits over his face. Abigail, although less well developed than the other three of us, startled James. Her breasts were bare with her blouse open to her waist. Her erect nipples teased his lips. She let him take one and then squeezed her breasts together to put both nipples at once into his mouth. James' eyes turned towards me. Did he want a break? I didn't let him have one. Before Abigail released him I had unfastened my bodice and blouse. I took his head from Abigail's breasts to my own. I was really enjoying myself as his lips caressed my bare bosom. Abigail winked at me before she pushed her breasts around the back of his head. James was held in a two woman breast embrace. When we let him go, Margaret and Helen had already stripped to their waist too. Their four breasts cradled him while I and Abigail hugged them tighter around him. "Well, Master James," I asked, "is that a satisfactory way to greet your staff?" He struggled gently to free himself from Margaret's cleavage. "Lady of Misrule, that is more than satisfactory. I hadn't realised how talented my staff were, nor how delightful..." He might have said more but Margaret hugged him into silence. "As Lady of Misrule, I would like to give you an order." James eyes turned towards me. One of Margaret's breasts was gagging him. "Whenever you meet one of us four ladies in a suitable location, I expect you to kneel, as you are kneeling now, and be greeted as Margaret is now doing. Will you obey?" Margaret eased her breast out of James' mouth. "Yes, Esther. I will, if that is what they want. Is it?" All four of us said "Yes'" together. "And although my reign ends with today, will you do it after today as well?" "You're sure?" I nodded. "Then I will. Whenever appropriate, that is with no one else around, I will kneel before each of you so that you can hug me." "Hug he calls it!" Abigail protested. "Titty smothering is what we'll do." "Whatever pleases you," James replied. "And it pleases you?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "I am honoured by your condescension, and love." "You are right, Master James," I said. "We do love you. So do the rest of the staff. Even Mistress Clerk might titty smother you if she wanted to, but as a married lady she shouldn't." I sighed. "My task as Lady of Misrule is almost completed. Soon the other three will be teasing the male staff who are trying ineffectually to do the women's work. There is one last lesson for you, Master James. I and we have been delighted with your progress so far. The last task might be the hardest and I ask the others to turn their backs..." Margaret let James go. I sat down on the settle. "Please come here and kneel before me, Master James. I will whisper the last instruction in your ear." I spread my skirt wide. James leant forward. "Ladies have two sets of lips," I whispered. "You have kissed the ones on our face. I want you to try to kiss the other ones on me." James paled. He must have been remembering that ancient Oxford prostitute. "You will find that they are clean and sweet smelling," I continued "You might even like their natural perfume. Will you make the attempt?" "I will try, Esther, but you have set me a hard task for my first day," he replied. "It is the last one," I whispered back, "and if you cannot, I will understand. But please?" He shuffled backwards and lowered his head towards my lap. I hitched the masses of skirt upwards, spreading my legs. My lower lips were exposed to his gaze. He glanced up at me, as if seeking reassurance. I stroked his head, taking care not to press it towards me. I jumped slightly as his face touched my inner thighs. I knew I was heated down there and damp. His head moved closer until his nose was touching my lips. He raised his head slightly. His nose pressed against my mound and his lips gently, very delicately, kissed me. I held my breath. He was so close and yet obviously reluctant. Whatever I did, I couldn't help him. It must be his own freely given consent or everything we had done today would be in vain. All I could do was spread my thighs even wider. As if making a momentous decision, James' head slid deeper. His lips were kissing me. I slumped backwards, overcome with the enormity of what he had managed. In my excitement I let my skirt slip from my hands. It slid over his head and down on to his shoulders. He was in darkness pressed against my sex. Whether the concealment helped? I don't know, but James began to kiss me properly. I covered my mouth with a hand. I could barely stop myself from squealing in ecstasy as his tongue slid inside me. For an inexperienced lover, James' actions were perfect. I knew the other three women were jealous. They knew, even if they couldn't see, what I would want James to do. But I shouldn't push him too far. I lifted my skirt, uncovering him, before gently lifting his head from between my legs. I pushed my skirt down before lowering his head to my lap. I stroked his head. "Well done," I whispered. I pulled him back up to my still naked breasts. "You can turn around now," I said in a normal voice. The three of them knew I had been successful. They swamped us with naked tits, kissing James again and again. I hugged him tight. I was relieved. My task had proved ridiculously easy. Once James had admitted his unfortunate experience in Oxford, all I needed to do was provide clean sweet-smelling female flesh. His natural instincts took over once he had kissed me. I would always remember that I was the first woman Master James had kissed, the first woman since his mother who had held him to her breasts, as I was doing now. And I was the first he had kissed under her skirt. Whatever happened now, I would have the memory of his head pressed against me. "Well done, Master James," Margaret said as she fastened her blouse. "We three have to go to tease the male servants, but the Lady of Misrule will keep you company for the rest of today." "But remember," Abigail added, "If you meet any of us four, please kneel so that we can do this..." Abigail pulled James' head between her breasts. "And this..." Abigail kissed James fiercely on the lips. "The older women would like acknowledgement too," Helen said. "All you need to do for them is kiss a hand, or give them a gentle hug. As married ladies they shouldn't accept more, but they might be daring and kiss you properly. Not when their husbands are near, but they love you too." Helen kissed James. She was reluctant to end that kiss. I thought James was reluctant too. The three of them stood in front of James, pointedly adjusted their blouses and curtsied to him, before leaving me alone with him. Once they had left James asked: "What now, Esther, Lady of Misrule?" "A walk in the gardens before lunch?" "I would be honoured," he said, "but I think you might need to rearrange your dress first..." I looked down. My breasts, with erect nipples, were still exposed. James stood up as I fastened my blouse and bodice. Most of the rest of the day was an anticlimax. As Lady of Misrule I had achieved everything and more. While James was attentive, and kissed me frequently, I didn't ask him to go further. I thought I had pushed his tolerance to the limit. After all, I am one of his father's servants, not James' potential lover. Just before the evening meal, when I had agreed with James that I would cease to be the Lady of Misrule, he took me back to the Rose Garden. In the gathering darkness he burrowed deep under my heavy skirt and kissed me hard and often. I writhed helplessly as he brought me to an orgasm. He had proved that my pupil had learned his lesson too well. Laundry Tales 10: Lady of Misrule I, as the 21st Century potter, was enjoying an orgasm. My hands were pressing Esther's skirt hard between my legs. My head was thrown back and I was squealing in delight. I could almost feel James' head clasped between my legs and his tongue exploring the depths. I slumped back against my settee. "James was good, wasn't he?" Martha's mocking voice sounded in my head. I came back to the present day. "Yes, he was," I answered. "What happened to him, and to Esther?" "James eventually married his cousin Hermione. The day after Esther's reign as Lady of Misrule James greeted Hermione with a hug and a kiss. She responded more than a fashionable young lady should. They produced several children. Esther and the others hugged and kissed James as often as they could, until his marriage. Esther had become Hermione's personal maid, and admitted to her mistress what she had done as Lady of Misrule, not James' confession, of course. That was never revealed. Hermione told Esther that she, and the others could continue to love James as long as they didn't go too far. But Esther married one of the footmen. When they retired, they were James' Butler and Housekeeper." "And had children?" I asked. "Yes. Esther had children. So did Helen, Abigail and Margaret. Many of the 19th Century servants were descended from those four women. But James never produced any bastards. He loved his servants too much to abuse them." I took Esther's clothes off and put them back in their bag. While I had enjoyed being Esther, I wasn't sure that I could produce a statuette of Esther as the Lady of Misrule, whose reign began and ended on April Fool's Day centuries before. I felt that Esther deserved more than to be a figure of fun. She had been a remarkable woman, and I was pleased to have experienced one of the most important days of her life... ...and James' kisses down below.