0 comments/ 91253 views/ 24 favorites The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady By: rlfj Chapter 1 - An Introduction to my Situation I was just a few days past my sixteenth birthday when first I arrived in Saratoga. My journey had been sped by the marvel of a rapid and smooth rail coach, and I often wondered at the miracle of such a speedy and modern appliance. My entire trip had been by such new means, first a steamship to the Americas and then a railroad trip. Why, even the nature of my appointments had been made by transatlantic telegraph! It was no wonder that the world marveled at these impetuous Yankee engineers. There seemed no end to what their ingenuity would conjure. I should explain. My name is Caroline Pendrake, and I was born in the Year Of Our Lord 1880. Now, as I look back at that time, even as our world speeds alarmingly towards an almost inevitably terrible conflict, I am still awed by how my own small piece of it changed that summer. In a way, it all started several years before, when my parents died in the London typhus epidemic of 1893. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, I can realize it was only a minor outbreak, yet for my loving parents it was major enough. Certainly hundreds died, and countless thousands were laid ill. The only reason I survived is that by then I was living in a boarding school, Mrs. Pembleton's School for Young Ladies, a finishing school as it was called. My father was a military attaché attached to the Foreign Office, and as such was routinely posted to embassies all over the Continent. Once I was old enough to live on my own, albeit in a supervised environment, I was placed in a boarding school. Both he and my mother felt that a military lifestyle in lands where the Queen's English was unknown was no life for me. Summers I would spend with them, viewing castles and forts with my father, and attending various embassy functions with my mother. In many ways I was quite content. They were both quite affectionate with me, but some of the places they were stationed were terribly horrid. Most people would think of a military attaché as being stationed in one of the great capitals, such as Paris or Berlin, but my father, bless his dear departed soul, was an over-aged captain in an era without a war. He was stationed in places such as Carpathia, or Ruthenia, or even, try as I might to forget it, Slovenia. Oddly enough, when they died in the plague, he was between assignments and they were living in London. Since my mother was an only child, and had no surviving family (most having died in the Sepoy Mutiny in India years before), one of my father's few relatives, a second cousin was named my guardian. Little did this change my life, since what few savings my parents had were spent in sending me back to school immediately after the funeral. It was perfectly obvious that for a young woman in my situation, that is, a middle class orphan with a good name and respectable education yet little money, I would most likely need to earn my way in life as a school teacher or governess until I married. Realistically, this was little different than my prospects before my parents died, and I had never expected any other, and was perfectly content with my life. In truth, everyone seemed to think I would have little difficulty in finding a marriageable husband, even without a penny to my name. I must admit, that I have a good education, although at the time it was rather conventional, a keen sense of humor, and an agreeable disposition. Most others never seemed to take note of these qualities and instead focused on those qualities which a woman does best to blush at, my face and my figure. Yet, even then, when brushing my hair in front of the looking glass, in my heart of hearts, I would often agree with my flatterers. I am not a tall person, being only a bit over five foot, and barely weigh more than a hundredweight. Nowadays, women look back on the corsets worn by proper Victorian ladies with horror, yet at the time it was little imposition on me, as I was, and am, very narrow-waisted and could easily fit into the smallest corset. I must report, however, that this tended to make my bosom quite conspicuous, forcing what few pounds I possessed up and out as it were, and inasmuch as a generous Creator has already blessed me with a considerable ampleness in this regards, my figure seems much like the proverbial hourglass, with more time to pass than had passed. My limbs are lithe enough, and I still have slim and elegant wrists and ankles. My hair is a golden yellow, and hangs to my waist when unfettered, which is often, and my eyes are a deep blue. Mind you, in those days, little of a women's figure could be seen. Certainly, anything above the ankle was cause for a scandal, if not a public stoning! In fact, the fashion of the day was that even married couples would not see each other, but would perform their marital relations in the dark. I have always felt that this has been a precept more often obeyed in the breach than not. So it was expected that once I left Mrs. Pembleton's, with a few introductions into polite society, I could be assured of marrying an up-and-coming young man with prospects, or perhaps an older widower with money. Some of my more worldly friends suggested that I try for both, an older man to provide me with an income, and a younger man, to be more "vigorous". Things changed for me only a few years later, when my second cousin suffered a stroke at Christmas time. He was a rather elderly gentleman for whom I felt not the love for a parent but rather a more distant affection. For his son, I had less emotion than that. He was a cold man, old enough to be my father, and at our first interview, he informed me that at the end of the school year I was to be matriculated, regardless of my feelings. He saw little use in the education of females, he said, and would certainly not keep up the needless expense. I was welcome to stay with him and earn my keep, but the cold glint in his eyes as he perused my form told me of the sordid way he intended for me to do so. I politely thanked him for his offer, ignoring the obvious plan he had in mind, and contacted my father's solicitor, whose name I obtained from Mrs. Pembleton. In a letter, I explained my situation and asked whether there were any other relatives yet existent upon whom I could turn in my hour of despair. I also discussed with Mrs. Pembleton my circumstances, and she promised to begin searching for a situation to my liking. You cannot imagine the extent of my surprise when a few months later, Mister Carruthers, my father's solicitor showed up at the school and asked to see both me and Mrs. Pembleton. It turned out that there was another relative, a rather distant cousin from an offshoot Scottish branch of the family that had settled in the Americas. He had forwarded my letter to this cousin and a reply had just arrived. "It is really quite unusual.", he commented. "There was no letter, simply a quite lengthy telegram specifying that you and an accompanying adult be provided with first class steamship tickets to New York. Once there, you are to stay the night in a place called the Waldorf Astoria, then the next day take a rail coach to a place called Saratoga Springs, where you will be met, presumably by the gentleman, a Mister James MacAllister. I can't say as I've ever seen anything quite like this before." "An accompanying adult? I don't understand.", I replied. "I don't either.", he admitted. "And how is this travel to be paid for?", asked Mrs. Pembleton. "Well, as I said, he directed that everything be paid for ahead of time, and a wire transfer to Barclay's has already been arranged and cleared. We are to provide a pair of first class tickets, and a hundred pounds to you, Miss Pendrake, and twice that to your companion, as spending money." "I still don't understand about my companion. I may be young, but I am not that young!", I protested. "As I said earlier, I do not understand myself.", said the barrister. Mrs. Pembleton looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you could take the value of the second ticket and the other two hundred pounds in notes. That would give you an excellent start if there was a problem, and could certainly pay for a ticket home if you do not like the Americas. What is this gentleman like?" "Well, I can not say as I truly know. He certainly seems rather wealthy, considering the cost of the tickets and the telegram, and what inquiries I was able to make indicate he is an investor of some sorts, but nobody seems to know where he got his money from.", he replied. "And the spare ticket and funds?" Mister Carruthers shook his head in the negative. "Unfortunately, I have no authority to do such a thing. However, I will make a counterproposal of sorts. Your father was a dear friend. If you do not like this Saratoga place, send me a letter, and I will arrange for you to come back to England. It may not be first class, but you won't have to row the boat either, and then we can find something else for the future. Is this to your satisfaction?" Mrs. Pembleton smiled graciously and I nodded my thanks. It was thus that I found myself traveling to the colonies. The steamship made the journey in a fortnight, and as one of the first class passengers, I found myself sharing the Captain's Table. In truth, I suspected that I would have had little difficulty finding any table to dine at, since it was made quite apparent that an attractive young women, of admittedly barely marriageable age, would be welcome anywhere on the ship. I blushed politely at the compliments, but was secretly pleased. The Waldorf Astoria was not at all some provincial tavern, as Mister Carruthers had feared, but instead turned out to be one of the newest and finest hotels in New York City, itself a metropolis fit to rival London. Despite my plans to stay a single night, I was shown to a small suite with two bedrooms, and my bags were unpacked and my clothing was taken out to be cleaned and pressed. The bell captain seemed interested in a gratuity, so I gave him a one pound note, the only money I had on me at the moment. He gave it a strange look before pocketing it, and this was perhaps the most forceful reminder that I was now in a foreign country. My rail trip began early the next morning. Again, my ticket had already been paid for, and I found myself in a most congenial conveyance called a Pullman car. Other such cars included dining and viewing coaches, and there were even sleeping cars, with beds, or at least bunks. It truly astonished me that this country could be so large that you could travel for days, and still not reach the other side! Why, the conductor informed me that this single province of New York was but slightly smaller than my own country of England, and that some of the states as they are called are larger than most of the nations on the Continent! They already had 45 of these states and blithely talked of adding more, even some overseas and in the Latin American countries, even in Canada, as if the Queen would allow of such a thing! As per the instructions in the telegraph, I wired ahead to inform this Mister MacAllister that I would be arriving today, and upon my arrival in the early afternoon, descended from the coach in the hopes of greeting my distant relative. Saratoga Springs seemed a rather sleepy destination, as very few other passengers alit from the train. From the luggage car I saw my trunks being set out, and not espying anyone to greet me I began to make my way to reclaim my possessions. It was then that I noticed a somewhat confused gentleman approaching the few other passengers and the conductor. Suspecting that this was whom I was to meet, I stayed in place to await his approach, silently taking stock of his appearance. At first he looked rather elderly, but as he neared I realized that this was an error; the appearance of age was due to his silvery-gray hair and the presence of a cane. As he came closer, I could tell that the cane was in fact a walking stick, and that his hair, although indeed silvery in tone, was luxuriously thick and wavy, and went down to his shoulders. Other than that, he was in the peak of health and the prime of life. He was quite tall, almost a foot taller than I, and possessed of a slim waist and hips, but with a manly chest and wide-set shoulders. His high brow spoke of his breeding and intellect. Large and lustrous silvery mustaches graced his clean-shaven countenance. He had gentle and light brown eyes and a straight aquiline nose. His skin was tanned a very dark shade, almost as if it was a light walnut, yet was free from wrinkles everywhere but at the corners of his eyes and lips. The most prominent feature of his face was a long and thin white scar which descended from his left eyebrow to his jaw. He was dressed quite well, if not precisely in an elegant fashion, than certainly in one that showed a considerable degree of refinement. He wore a dark charcoal colored riding jacket, tight on his frame, with matching riding pants, also tight, tucked into gleaming black riding boots. Under the jacket he wore a lighter charcoal vest and a snowy white silk shirt, with a bright green cravat. His hat was somewhere between what could be called a "cowboy" hat and a top hat, and was worn at a jaunty angle. I could only guess his age at no less than the late-thirties to no more than fifty, and he appeared to be in excellent shape. I must admit, I was hoping that he was whom I was looking for. He approached me with a very worried look on his face and raised his stick to his hat in greeting. "Pardon my intrusion, Miss, but did you perhaps see a young child, a girl, on the train? She would be about six years of age or so, and her name is Caroline Pendrake.", he asked. I blinked and answered with a start. "My name is Caroline Pendrake. Are you Mister James MacAllister, sir?" He stopped and stared at me, his mouth flapping in silence like a fish in a fishbowl, before he could summon words. "You?!...Oh my!...You?...Oh, good heavens!" Finally he mastered his emotions as I continued to stare at him. He had been expecting a six-year-old child? Stepping back from me slightly, he looked up and down the track. Lifting his right hand to his mouth, he inserted a pair of fingers and let out a piercing whistle which could only be rivaled by the steam whistle of the train itself. The entire station turned in our direction, at which point he removed his hat and waved it frantically above his head. I was mystified by this and was on the verge of protesting when another man and a woman approached from opposite ends of the platform. The woman was only a few years older than myself, a very attractive redhead several inches taller than I, but the other man was simply astonishing. Taller still than Mister MacAllister, he was at least ten years older and much heavier set, although not portly or stout, and he was an Indiaman, a Musulman in white linen pants, shirt, and floor length coat, dun colored soft boots, with a crimson sash sporting a long dagger, and a crimson turban! I had seen enough Indians in London and around the military to recognize him as a Sikh. Turning to the others, Mister MacAllister said, "Allow me to introduce Miss Caroline Pendrake, six-year-old!" The Sikh simply gazed at me, but the young woman started, and exclaimed, "Good heavens!", in a heavy Irish accent. My temper was beginning to boil over, when Mister MacAllister explained. "Please excuse my intolerably poor manners, Miss Pendrake. In you letter you explained that you were six years old." "That cannot be, sir, as you can plainly see that I am not!", I protested. "I have it right here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out my well traveled envelope and removed the letter I had sent to Mister Carruthers. Squinting at it, he mumbled to himself, then said in a louder voice, "Yes, here it is, 'I will be only six then, with hopes of...', well, it is right here." He handed me the letter. I glanced at it, but since I was the writer, its contents were already familiar to me. "Excuse me sir, but it says, 'I will be sixteen, with hopes...'" "What!" He tore the letter from my grasp and began to read it again, squinting fiercely. The young woman began to laugh as the Sikh made what I gathered was a disparaging comment in some Indian tongue. My relation began arguing back scathingly in the same dialect until the Sikh reached into his own pocket and pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses, which Mister MacAllister took with considerable distaste and put on. He reread the letter and grimaced. "Blast!", he swore, tearing off the glasses and thrusting them at the Sikh, and thrusting my letter to the woman. "Blast! Blast! Blast!" Finally he regained control of himself and faced me. "Well, my dear, you must think by now I am the perfect madman. I am not, but I will have to admit to a certain vanity where my eyesight is concerned. It would appear as if I have managed to cock things up nicely, indeed. As you can assuredly gather, I have been expecting a child, not a grown woman, but please, I pray you, pay no mind to this. Believe me when I say that you are as welcome as possible. Allow me to introduce Mrs. Siobhan Rourke, your nanny, and Ahkbar Singh, my, ummm, compatriot." (For those unfamiliar with the Celtic speech, allow me to interject and specify that Siobhan is actually pronounced Sheh-Vawn, an extremely beautiful name for such an improbable spelling. However, as one who has grown up surrounded by the Celts - pronounced Kelts - such as the Irish, Scottish, and Welsh, an Englishman soon learns to ignore their oddities of birth. I do not know who first said that the wogs start at Calais; I've often suspected one does not have to go even that far!) Mister Singh bowed silently but Mrs. Rourke laughed loudly. "You'll be needing a nanny like I'll be needing a third leg!" My relation looked pained. "Please, let me apologize again. My behavior was quite outrageous and uncalled for. You had no way of knowing my error, and it most certainly was not your fault! Allow me to make it up to you. If you and Mrs. Rourke will accompany me to a bistro in the town, I will make a start of it. Ahkbar, please see to Miss Pendrake's luggage and then join us if you would." Mister Singh bowed towards me, touching his right hand to his breast then his forehead, before straightening up and moving away. Mister MacAllister stepped between Mrs. Rourke and myself, then cocked up his elbows and allowed us to each take one as he escorted us from the station and into the town. Mid-Summer in upstate New York, which is defined as anything in New York State north or west of Yonkers, is more akin to Spring than Summer. It was warm, with a slight breeze, and the trees and flowers were just beginning to bloom. Mister MacAllister led us to a small inn with an outside gallery and allowed the owner, a portly and small man, to seat us around a small table. He greeted Mister MacAllister profusely, who ordered a bottle of wine, "...something light, perhaps a white? And the usual for Mister Singh, of course." The proprietor promptly returned with two large bottles, opening one and allowing Mister MacAllister to sample the vintage. It was a German wine from the Rhineland. He also opened the other bottle, but left the cork in. "Now, to the first order of business, Miss Pendrake. Could you possibly forgive my breach of etiquette earlier? And might I call you Caroline? Miss Pendrake sounds so formal for such a lovely young lady as yourself.", my host begged of me. "Certainly, Mister MacAllister. I must confess, that upon thinking of it, I must have been quite the shock to you. Does this change your desire for me to stay? If so, I am sure that I can return home. A friend of my father's has promised my passage as needs be.", I stated. The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady Ch. 2 Chapter 1 - A Reprise of my Circumstances For those who have not yet been acquainted with my story, allow my introduction. My name is Caroline Pendrake and I was born in the Year of our Lord 1880. I but recently came to live in America, traveling from my home in England. Physically, I am somewhat on the small side, being but five feet in height and weighing only a hundredweight. My hair is a golden blonde, which I wear long, to my waist, and I have deep blue eyes. My limbs are slender, as is my waist, though my hips are wide-set, and my bosom is the product of a most generous Creator. It may be vain to admit it, but most gentlemen seem to find my form rather appealing. My father was a Captain in the British Army, seconded to the Foreign Office, and he and my mother were stationed all over Europe. Inasmuch as they did not consider this lifestyle conducive to the rearing of a young lady, I spent much time in the care of Mrs. Pembleton's School for Young Ladies, a finishing school for young ladies located near London. Think not that they were foisting me off on others while they gallivanted around the continent; I spent all my vacations and summers with them. We were a most loving family! When I was thirteen, that is to say, between three and four years ago, my parents died in a small typhoid epidemic. My nearest relative was a rather elderly second cousin who allowed me to continue my education at Mrs. Pembleton's. However, earlier this year, he passed away, and his son decided that since women had no need of an education, he would no longer support me. Rather, I should specify that he would be happy to support me only if I were to move into his household. His smirk as he said this told me exactly the sort of sordid occupation he considered me suitable for, so I thanked him and removed myself from his odious presence as soon as possible. Mrs. Pembleton and my father's solicitor endeavored to discover any other relatives that I could turn to in my hour of need. Mrs. Pembleton considered that it was quite probable that I would be able to make my way as a clerk or shopkeeper, or even as a teacher or governess, certainly until I married, and as my background and family were most suitable, that I would most likely be able to marry well. You can imagine our surprise when we received a telegram from America, stating that a distant relative had been found and that he was welcoming me into his household. It was with some trepidation that I made the journey to Saratoga Springs, in the province of New York, to greet this gentleman. I had assurances that if things did not work out, I would be welcomed back in England, but I was determined to begin making my own way in the world. However, no one was more surprised at my appearance in Saratoga than my Uncle, Mr. James MacAllister. He is somewhat farsighted and had misread my letter, and thought I was six, and not sixteen. He had even engaged a nanny for my care! In any event, we all overcame our surprise and he welcomed me into his family, such as it was. James is a man in his early forties, though I am not precisely sure of his age, and is a tall and well-formed gentleman in the peak of his life. He is quite strong, though I was to discover that his musculature is rather wiry and not of great bulk, though he has a broad and manly chest, and is darkly tanned, with flowing and prematurely silvered hair and a generous mustache. He has several scars, derived from a youth spent abroad in India, the most notable being a long white scar along the left side of his face. He is an extremely attractive gentleman! He dresses predominantly in various shades of gray, charcoal, and black, though he always wears a snowy white silk shirt, as well as knee length cavalry boots, though he has never been in the military. He generally carries a walking stick which conceals a long blade, similar to a rapier, and often carries a small derringer in a vest pocket. He had no other relations than myself, not having married, and his household primarily consisted of his friend and companion Ahkbar Singh, a Musulman and a Sikh whom he had met and befriended in India. They were inseparable. Otherwise, he lived on a vast estate dedicated to the raising of thoroughbred and race horses, in a mansion outside of Saratoga Springs in the Adirondack Mountains of Upstate New York. He is immensely wealthy, being an investor, though he came from quite humble beginnings. He made his first wealth in India, though some would consider it ill-gotten. He managed to rifle the jewelry of a local potentate when said individual turned on him and Mister Singh, intending to kill them. They managed to make their escape, killing the Sultan in turn, and escaped with their lives and his crown jewels, among other valuables. The rest of the household consisted of Mrs. Siobhan Rourke, a beautiful red-haired Irish widow from Boston, whom he had originally intended to be my nanny, and then upon determining that I had no use for such, converted to his secretary. Otherwise, his household was a bachelor one, though he had a multitude of servants. I settled into my new life eagerly and gladly, thankful for the Divine Providence which had enabled it. A minor assistance I made to my new Uncle caused him to make me a secretary as well, allowing me to earn my keep, though it was not necessary. James gave me an ample allowance and credit at all the local shops, and though he never precisely stated it, gave me considerable cause to believe that his bachelorhood was a decided fact and that I could consider myself his legal heir. Since he was in the prime of his life, I considered any such inheritance an unlikely event at best. I also soon discovered the bawdy and scandalous nature of his household. Any number of brawny and well-formed young men lived in the bunkhouse, and the household servants were all comely young ladies, and there was a considerable amount of comings and goings between the two residences. Furthermore, my Uncle had a secret tendency towards the voyeur! His mansion was honeycombed with secret tunnels and doors, which I perchance happened on, and while exploring them, discovered they gave forth all over the servant's and guest's quarters of the house. Most of the rooms were possessed of large mirrors which could be viewed through from behind, and this enabled James to walk through the walls and view the antics of his amorous employees. I should explain that the nature of his household was aided and abetted by Mister Singh. Ahkbar was a fakir, or shaman, familiar with the use of various Eastern and Indian herbs, and knew of a potion, which when added to an inexpensive and tasty wine that the servant girls had easy access to, prohibited their becoming with child. This was a most astonishing discovery to me, though James and Ahkbar kept it secret from all others, and the effect was obvious. Though none understood the cause, it was a fact that none of the girls would discover themselves in a family way whilst in our employ, and their young and libidinous natures thrived. Absent the fear of pregnancy, they gamboled with the men of the household with gay abandon. I also discovered that James partook of the pleasures of the flesh with these young ladies as eagerly as any of the other men in residence. I never considered this as a deviltry, since I had sufficient experience with my own parents' marriage, as well of those of some other people, such as Mrs. Pembleton and Siobhan, to realize the joys inherent in expressing a physical love with another. Whilst I was yet innocent of a man's touch, I looked forward to the day when my husband would introduce me to such enjoyments. In truth, I had already sampled the pleasures to be had with a woman, and enjoyed them tremendously! Verily, my maidenhead was lost not to a man, but to a hairbrush at Mrs. Pembleton's, wielded by a close friend. The most momentous change in my life occurred in the fall of 1896. I had been living with James for the summer and had become close to him, and felt that he was becoming close to me as well, though neither of us expressed these feelings. Then, one night whilst I crept through the walls, I heard him approaching behind me. I immediately ducked through a door and discovered I was in Siobhan's rooms. She was bathing and I scurried under the bed, intending to leave once she had gone to sleep. To my utter horror, James followed me through the secret door and spent the evening fornicating with Siobhan. I spent the evening cowering beneath the bed, crying silently, as the bedsprings creaked above me. Then, to my utter amazement, the pair took a break from their merriment and began discussing James' feelings towards me! I discovered that James was in love with me, though he considered himself too old for me, and was unsure of what he should do. Siobhan told him that he should express himself to me, as she had no such feelings towards him, but simply was a lusty wench and friend. They decided that he would invite me on his next trip to New York, where he frequently traveled on business. They then continued their tryst, and I crept from beneath the bed after he had left and Siobhan went to sleep. The next day he made the invitation and I accepted. Siobhan gave me some excellent advice on how to win James' heart, though I did not inform her of my discovery relating to her, and I put it to good use. Throughout our first week in New York, as we stayed in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, I wore increasingly less demure dresses and began brushing against James and began kissing him less as an Uncle and more as a lover. James was powerfully affected and on more than one occasion I saw that his manhood was pressing most immodestly against the front of his trousers. Finally, after a ball that we attended, I forced myself upon him and he succumbed to my charms, ravishing me as I so thoroughly desired. The next morning he made a proposal of marriage and I accepted. I shall continue my narrative from that wonderful moment. Chapter 2 - Our Return to Saratoga We spent the remainder of the weekend in our rooms, living on room service and never fully dressing. Indeed, James seemed to revel in dining with me en deshabile, wearing only a dressing gown and his trousers, and I would wear even less. Most meals I wore my stockings and slippers alone, though occasionally I would add a transparent robe or 'Merry Widow' corset of the sort that cupped and exposed my bosom to his view. Needless to say, our deserts were often each other! Monday morning we dressed and James ordered up a coach to drive us to a jewelers'. Once inside, he reached into his pocket and pulled forth a small velvet bag and emptied it onto a velvet mat on the counter. The young clerk stared at the vast array of diamonds inside, and almost ignored James' statement that he wished one of the stones set in a ring, for our engagement. The astonished young man scurried into the back, to return shortly with an older gentleman, who seemed much less surprised by the sight. He traded greetings with us, then began examining the diamonds carefully, even going so far as to place a lens to his eye. "Extraordinary!", he breathed quietly. "Magnificent!" He repeated these words several times, then looked up at us and smiled hesitantly. "A ring, you say?" James smiled and nodded towards me. "An engagement ring, if you please. I assume that you should be able to make an appropriate setting. I realize this is somewhat unusual, but the gems have been in my possession for a while now." "Certainly, sir." The jeweler looked over the stones briefly, then picked one up. He examined it a second time, and set it aside. "That would be the one." I glanced at it; it was a large gem, though not the largest, and seemed somewhat large for a ring. "Somewhere between three and four carats I should say, and flawless and perfectly cut." He waved a hand over the others and said, "These are either smaller or not quite as well cut or the same quality stone, you understand. Nothing wrong with them, really, excellent quality, excellent. Just not the same..." "That would be fine.", replied James. In short order I found myself being sized for rings, both engagement and wedding, in gold, though the wedding would take place the following summer. James had wanted an immediate ceremony but I had insisted that we wait; I had also informed him that the joys of the wedding bed need not be delayed until the wedding, so he had happily acquiesced. As we prepared to leave, James scooped up the loose jewels and began placing them back in the velvet sack. The jeweler watched this wistfully, and said, "You know, I would love to do something with those stones. Perhaps a necklace?" James stopped and eyed the gentleman curiously. "Really? I must confess I'd never considered such. Could you?" He set the bag down on the counter again. The jeweler poured the diamonds onto the velvet again, then briefly went about arranging them, smiling as he did so. He grinned at us, and replied, "One worth a king's ransom! Please, allow me. I'd kill for the chance for a commission such as this. The rings shall be free, simply give me the chance!" James laughed and agreed, leaving the bag of gems upon a receipt of their ownership. As we left he laughed. "A king's ransom!" I tucked my arm in his and replied, "A sultan's, at the least." *** We stayed in New York a few days more, seeing the sights until the rings were prepared. The necklace would take several more days, and the jeweler promised to bring it to us personally. We departed on Thursday morning for the train ride back to Saratoga. It was an early morning ride, so we had most of the baggage prepared the night before, but we still managed to oversleep and very nearly missed the train. We had but minutes to rouse and bathe and dress, and no time at all for a breakfast. We dined on the Pullman car as soon as practicable. Once we were in the first class carriage, I began to torment my beloved in a most delightful way. Shortly after we had left the station, I turned to him, and in a very low voice, said, "James, I fear to admit this, but we were so hurried this morning that I forgot to put my bloomers on." He stared at me and gasped, "You mean...you...on the train..." "What, James, you mistake me! What a scandalous thought. I simply wanted you to know.", I replied. He surreptitiously looked at my lap, then glanced away out the window. I kept up this delicious torture for the balance of our travel. Several times an hour I would say something along the lines of, "I'm so sorry James that we were hurried this morning, since I know how much you enjoy me waking you up.", referring to our habit, whereupon I almost always would wake before him. Since we both slept naked in each others arms, it was very easy for me to slide the covers down and lower my face to his loins, to lick and suckle him to release within my lips. Often this would lead to a second, more active, session of loveplay. I also asked if train rides were conducive to such bouts, since the rhythmic motions of the ride had heated my loins and moistened them. James became more agitated at each such teasing, to the point where he exclaimed that he would be retiring to the parlor car, where women were not welcome. I desisted at this pointed, hugging him and kissing him warmly, and promising to behave. "By God, Caroline, you will be the death of me yet. I have a good mind to give you a proper spanking!" "Oh, but James, whenever you have lifted my skirts in the past, spanking has never before been on your mind.", I replied. "Bah!" I laughed and embraced him again, then he relented and wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I fell asleep with my head on his chest. I next woke when we stopped in Saratoga, and we hired a carriage to take us to his estate. The entire household greeted us when we came in, and James announced to one and all that we were to be married. This set the maidservants into an uproar, crowding around me and ogling at my new ring. I immediately asked Siobhan, who had returned from her vacation in Boston the prior day, to be my Maid of Honor, and she promptly accepted, setting off another flurry of congratulations. Even Mister Singh seemed taken with it all, repeatedly congratulating James and offering me his sincerest condolences. Following a late lunch, James invited me into his study, so we could peruse the correspondence which had assuredly accumulated in our absence. Once inside, however, James locked the door and strode up to me. He embraced me most heatedly, then twirled me around so as I was facing his desk. Pushing me face forward across the desk, he stepped behind me. I could hear him undoing his pants, then I felt his hands lifting my skirts to my waist. As I had told him, I was naked beneath but for my stockings, and he immediately inserted himself into me. As soon as I had understood his intentions, that is to say, once I witnessed him locking the door, my quim had moistened with the thought of his impending assault. James slipped easily into me as he pushed his immense manhood into me from behind, and I whimpered with the pleasure as he caressed my buttocks as he did so. I should mention that James is a most masculine gentleman, having an organ of regeneration fully ten inches in length and two inches wide, and in our present position I could sense every inch as he sank into me. This is one of my most favored of positions for our pleasures. Whilst I prefer to gaze at him and kiss and embrace him in our more loving interludes, in those which we undertake more from our lusts, I greatly prefer this method. It makes me feel so helpless, so vulnerable as he uses me for his wanton pleasures. This was precisely what he wished now, to use me and release himself inside me, and I desired it as well. SMACK! James brought his hands down upon my buttocks even as he thrust into me, stinging me. Squealing with outrage, I thrust back away from the desk, but this only served to seat his cock deeper in my cunny, and I moaned as I began spending. "You said that I would never spank you if I were to see your bare bottom.", he whispered in my ear, bringing his hands down again in another stinging rebuke. "Well, as you can see, you were wrong, weren't you, eh?" He caressed my rump briefly, then spanked my reddened buttocks yet again. I moaned with my spending, unable to stop this savage yet delightful punishment. "I see no reason why both of your needs can not be attended to." He thrust himself into me, rogering me fiercely whilst he alternated caressing me and spanking me, until he gave out a vast groan and collapsed over my back, his loins pumping his hot seed deep towards my womb. We panted with our exertions for a moment, then James straightened up. I was terribly pleased that he did not withdraw, since I could feel that though he had spent, his manhood was still stiff and vigorous within the fleshy folds of my quim. I began to squeeze my cunny around him, to assist in reviving him, and our mixed love oils began dribbling down my thighs. James undid the buttons running down the back of my dress, then reached through and undid my corset. Pushing my clothing apart, he ran his strong hands around me to grasp my heaving breasts, and began to slowly thrust his loins at me again. I gasped at the shocks he gave to me, my reddened and sensitive buttocks eagerly accepting the feel of his hips thrusting at me. I began whimpering with joy anew, as James rode me into a second and a third spending before exploding within. I lay panting atop his desk as he pulled away and did up his pants. Then, as if to signal we were finished, he gave me a final spank, and as I bolted upright, to glower at him as I arranged my own clothing, he smiled and kissed me, saying, "That shall teach you not to be a tease." I kissed him back, then left in a great huff, much to his amusement. The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady Ch. 2 I went to my apartments to change and rest from our trip and subsequent amusements, and ran into Siobhan. I invited her along with me, as she had a million questions for me, about the trip and the engagement, and most decidedly, "Did you and James...?" Laughing, I replied, "Most assuredly! Why, once we went into his study, he took me again twice!" I sat on the bed, my bottom still tingling from James' punishment. Pulling my skirt up, I displayed the seed running down my legs. "Here is the proof!" "Oh, let me help clean you up!", she begged, the lowered her face and began licking my thighs. When she had swallowed the spendings which had run out of me, she moved her face upwards and began to suckle my quim, licking the seed which had not escaped previously. Her actions upon my nubbin caused me to spend yet again, and the copious flow of my juices was lapped up as well. Finally Siobhan relented and I sagged back onto my bed, ecstatically tired. Siobhan then proceeded to remove her own clothes, and I managed to find enough strength to undress as well. I planned to return the favor she had just made, and gazed upon her well developed form when I noticed something. She, like I, had the evidence of sexual activity upon her person, in the nature of a man's seed coating her cunny as well. "Siobhan!", I exclaimed, "and what have you been up to?!" She glanced down at where I was looking and blushed, then crawled upon my bed with me. She lay back and spread her legs wide as I moved between them. "Little David.", she sighed, referring to one of the workhands. I should explain that 'Little David' is something of a misnomer. While his stature is rather limited, his manhood should have him proclaimed 'Goliath!' Siobhan and I had witnessed him taking one of the maids, a buxom girl named Maude, in one of the barns, and he is anything but little. Although I was never to experience 'Little David', I am forced to admit that his manhood was among the largest I have ever seen, and it made both Siobhan and I wonder what he would be like as a lover. It was evident that Siobhan had managed to find out. I promptly buried my face between Siobhan's outstretched legs, to clean up their mutual love juices, and we conversed intermittently, between my lickings and her moans. "So what was it like?", I asked. I found the flavor interesting. I had previously used my lips and tongue on James after coupling, in order to revive him, and the flavor was subtly different. "Well, he is certainly large.", she admitted. A few minutes later she continued, "I will not say that I wish to endeavor such a task again, but I am also glad that I made the effort the one time." Later on she would admit that he simply was too large even for an experienced campaigner such as herself, though she also admitted to enjoying the somewhat painful at times interlude. Chapter 3 - A Ride in the Country That Sunday, after we returned from church, James suggested we take a picnic in the nearby fields. It was a very warm day, being the season known locally as 'Indian Summer.' Why is beyond me, since there was not an Indian to be seen! I readily acceded, and while James prepared the horses and gave orders for a hamper to be filled, I went to my rooms to change into my new riding costume. I should explain that there were two permissible modes for a woman to ride a horse. The first was sidesaddle, an awkward method requiring a special saddle which numbed the limbs and left one hanging precariously to the horse. The second involved what was known as a riding dress. This allowed a lady to sit a horse properly, but the dress, actually a voluminous pair of pants cunningly arranged to look like a dress, was overly bulky. I had noticed the ease with which the men rode and decided that an outfit more like theirs was in order. This being considered, I had made my arrangements before we left for New York, and I entrusted Jenny and Bessie, two of the maids whom I had befriended, with their completion. Stripping down, I first put on a sturdy but pretty white brassiere; a bust such as mine does very well in all activities but the equestrian arts - I should be flopping around in the saddle ridiculously without one. I also put on a pair of abbreviated cotton bloomers, so that I might not chafe. Next, I donned one of James white silk shirts which I had had resized. James chest measurements were suitable for me, but otherwise it was too long, and needed gathering in at the sides. Finally, I pulled on a pair of pants made by Mr. Levi Strauss, of a sturdy and tough blue cotton denim. We had determined my size by the simple expedient of having the maids bring a pair from their lovers to me for testing. I would try them on, and the pants of the individual that fit me closest were noted. We then purchased a pair of Mister Strauss' pants in that size. They fit me well enough in the seat, but were overly long, so they were cut to the proper length and hemmed. The last item was a pair of riding boots. Nothing was to be found in my size, so I simply rolled some socks up into the toes of the smallest pair I could 'borrow' and put them on. As long as there was no walking to do, I would be fine. I could have a bootmaker prepare proper footgear at a later date. So attired, I made my way down to the foyer and went out to where James was waiting. I could feel the stares from both the workhands and the maids as I walked to James. He was staring at me goggle-eyed, as was Mister Jack Strong, James' chief foreman. It was he that spoke first. "Those are men's clothes!", he exclaimed. I smiled at him as I took James by the hand. "Really, Mister Strong, do you think I look like a man in these clothes?" I knew the answer because I had left the shirt unbuttoned low enough to show a considerable quantity of my bosom. Mister Strong began sputtering as he turned away, red-faced, and I turned towards my fiancée. "Are we ready to ride, darling?" "My God, Caroline, but you will be the death of me yet! What in the world possessed you to do such a thing!?" "James, really! You must admit the utter impracticality of the riding dresses I have been wearing. I have simply changed to the clothing that you gentlemen find so practicable. Don't tell me you think I look like a man?" As I said this I shifted my posture slightly, thrusting my chest forward and exposing as much of my bosom to my love as I could. James stared down at my breasts straining against the silk and he shook his head dumbly. He assisted me aboard Daisy, my mare, then climbed up onto Excalibur, a magnificent black stallion that was his personal mount. "Please tell me that you don't plan on wearing pants around the house, Caroline." Checking to see that we were out of earshot of any listeners, Mister Strong wandering off and muttering under his breath, I answered, "Of course not, James. How would you be able to lift my skirts if I was wearing pants?" I surreptitiously loosened another button on the shirt, so that a hint of my brassiere showed forth, and James stopped complaining, and began to smile instead. James chuckled at this as we began riding towards the fields. Dressed as I was, we were able to maintain a pleasant trot, much faster than we normally would have done, and James took me to a lovely field several miles from the mansion overlooking a small stream. It was a lovely vista, with the hills in the background and the trees beginning to turn a veritable rainbow of reds, yellows, and oranges. Alighting, I helped him with the hamper, then we tied the horses by the bridle to a nearby tree and removed their saddles. The saddle blankets found use as our picnic table, and we reclined for our luncheon. The first order of business was opening a bottle of wine, which, perforce, we were required to drink straight from the bottle, there being no flat spot to set wine glasses upon. On my second sip, I managed to spill a small drop onto my sleeve, which James noticed. Smiling, he asked, "Darling, wouldn't it be safer if you were to remove your blouse, so that you might not spill any more on it?" My eyes widened at the mention of such a state, but I giggled and agreed. James and I had already kicked off our boots, and James had even removed his jacket and vest. Not for a second did I believe that James was concerned about the cleanliness of my attire, and the bulge in his pants indicated an entirely other sort of concern. I handed the bottle to James and unbuttoned his borrowed shirt, then pulled the tails from my pants and doffed it. I jiggled pleasantly as I opened the hamper and removed the sandwiches and roast chicken which had been packed away. Needless to say, James was most concerned with maintaining my spotless mode of attire. After a few minutes he espied a crumb on the curve of my breast. Bringing it to my attention, he suggested that it would perhaps be best if I removed my brassiere as well. I laughed at him, but removed this as well. The slight breeze felt delicious on my naked flesh, cooling me as I began to be heated by something other than the warmth of the day. I purposely spilled a drop of wine on my pants, and when James noticed it, I volunteered to remove them as well, and removed my bloomers as well. Thus I ended up displayed for my lover's eyes in my entirety, and my cunny began moistening as he gazed serenely upon me. I should point out that other than the hair on my head, I was devoid of any body hair. It was a curious American affectation for a woman to shave both her legs and under her arms, though this did allow the most delightful of fashions to be worn. As to my most private parts, this had been originally presented to me as being hygienic, though I was to discover that it was a rather peculiar desire of my Uncle's! Regardless, the sight of my nudity in the midday sunlight caused his loins to twitch most immodestly. By the time we were finished with our picnic lunch, James began the afternoon's entertainment. Removing a jar of strawberry preserves from the hamper, he announced it was time for dessert. He opened the lid and inserted a finger into the jar, then smeared the jam across one of my nipples. This was repeated a second time on the opposing breast, and I sighed at his touch. Coming closer, he lowered his face to my breasts and began licking and nibbling upon my flesh, slowly consuming the preserves. He repeated this process twice, and I spent deliciously as he did so. Finished with this repast, I pushed James onto his back and began removing his clothing. He assisted by moving to allow this, lifting his hips as I tugged his pants off him. His manhood was stiff and rampant, waving in the warm breeze, and I perused him with great interest. Then I took the jar of preserves and applied them liberally to his loins, coating them in their massive entirety. Positioning myself kneeling between his outstretched legs, I lowered my face to his midsection and began my own dessert. I was most thorough in my dining, finding jam in every fold of his flesh, and was rewarded with a delicious cream topping that he pumped down my throat when I took him deep within my lips. James sighed contentedly as I reclined next to him on the blankets. Rousing himself, he spread the rest of the jam across my cunny, slathering it around and into my quim, then lay down between my thighs and feasted. James has the most talented of tongues and by the time I was clean, I was thrashing and writhing helplessly before his assault, crying out my pleasure to the countryside. Finishing, James reared up, his manhood revived, and announced that some of the preserves had found lodging at a place too deep for his tongue to reach, so that a different probe was needed. I raised my legs and spread them wide, and James placed himself in me, to begin a pistoning action which he assured me would take care of the problem. I wrapped my arms and legs around his torso as he madly pumped into me, spending madly as he plumbed my depths, gasping as I felt his cock expand inside me to blast out his seed into my womb. James collapsed upon me and we rested briefly. It was not until he rolled off me, panting, that I discovered a problem. Despite our best efforts at cleaning the other, we were sticky! Stated plainly, our bodies were covered with jam residue, not to mention our own love potions. "James, I for one will need a bath when we get back. This was very nice, darling, but very messy, to boot!" James laughed, then climbed to his feet. He reached down and took my hand, and as he pulled me to my feet, announced, "Your bath awaits, sweet Caroline. Come with me." He led me to the edge of the stream, showing me a deep spot suitable for swimming. "Your tub, my dear." I looked at the water somewhat skeptically, and James solved the dilemma by pushing me in. I surfaced in the cool water, sputtering and screaming imprecations, but James simply laughed and jumped in with me. The water was quite brisk, James explaining that it was from snow fed pools in the mountains, and we rubbed ourselves clean hurriedly, then scrambled out. Looking at my love, I laughed loudly, and James stared down at his loins to see what I was pointing at. His organ, so massive and manly in normal times, had shrunk to nothing in the chill water, and reminded me of nothing so much as an infant's. He snorted and led me back to the blankets. We flopped down on these and he drew me to him, pulling me on top of him, then drew the blankets around us to dry us and warm us. I found this to be a very relaxing and cozy placement, and we began caressing and embracing within the blankets. In short order, his miniscule manhood had assumed it's normal size, and stiffening, rose between my legs to aim at its desired target. I squirmed down James' body, allowing it entrance to my sex, and we made slow and leisurely love to each other as we caressed and whispered sweet nothings in each others' ears. Afterwards we dressed and rode home, for the day was ending and our gambols had spent the afternoon. I resolved to continue wearing my new riding costume and procure proper boots. Chapter 4 - Passing the Time and a Great Commotion The month of October passed with my beginning to assume the station of Mistress of the House. James let it be known that he considered my commands as his, which I felt was somewhat overblown, but dared not deny him. I solved this problem simply by not giving any commands, and by simply going about my, by then, normal existence. Our first day back in Saratoga, James had asked me, after dinner, when we were alone and thinking of retiring to bed, if I would consider sharing his bed prior to our wedding. Even though we had conducted ourselves so in New York, he was most worried that I would consider such a thing here at home to be a lewd behavior. I made no answer but promised to consider it. Privately, it was all I could do not to laugh at his remarks. For one thing, he had already taken me that afternoon in his study, and since most of the other women around the house had 'discussed their jobs' with him in there, it seemed rather doubtful that they wouldn't know what had occurred. Secondly, James' household was most assuredly the bawdiest and scandalous of homes, what with all the carryings-on between the maids and cooks on one hand and James and Ahkbar and the workmen on the other. It would have been far more astonishing if I had not moved in with him! Still, I decided to tease him a bit, and after he escorted me to my rooms, I went inside as he looked at me plaintively and closed the door on him, locking it behind me. I could hear him shuffle off slowly down the hall, and giggled to myself. Then, I immediately doffed my clothing and prepared for the night ahead. First I removed myself to my water closet and made my toilet, giving myself a quick sink bath and brushing out my hair. A pleasant perfume found its way to my neck, my breasts, and even my loins. Next, I slipped into a pair of black slippers of the tallest sort, with laces that tied around my ankles so that they would not slip off. Finally, I donned a transparent black silk robe that Siobhan had lent me and that I had since proclaimed my own. I should explain that Mrs. Rourke's beauty is slightly different than mine; she is several inches taller, yet not quite as buxom, and this robe fit her closely. When I wore it, even in my slippers, it dragged softly across the carpets behind me, pulling away from my legs and exposing me, and could but barely wrap around me to be tied. My boobies were contained only by the merest hints, my little nipples holding the fabric together, and my legs were exposed almost to the junction of my thighs. I made a most sinful walk down the carpeted hallway to my Uncle's room next door. Gingerly testing the knob, I found it unlocked, and slipped inside. I found myself alone, and realized I had never been in his rooms before. I was in a small sitting room, and off to my left, towards my rooms appeared to be a bedroom, and off to my right I could hear water running in what must have been his own water closet. I scurried into the lighted bedroom. When James entered his bedroom, he was wearing nothing but his trousers, and I stared at him through half-slitted eyes lustily. He took one look at me and grinned. "I am so pleased that you considered my invitation! I see that you have started without me." He referred to the fact that I was leaning back against a dresser, my legs spread wide and straight, and all ten of my fingers were working my quim and nubbin. My breasts had escaped their confinement and were heaving with desire, my nipples stiff with anticipation. James came closer and kissed me, and I began fumbling with his trousers, but he stopped me. Stepping back, he said, "First things first." Kneeling before me, James buried his face in my hot and wet loins and began to loudly and passionately lick and suck the juices running so freely from within me. His mustaches tickled my thighs as he feasted upon my outpourings, and I ran my hands through his silvery locks as I quivered and gasped at this marvelous assault. I had already spent twice when I pulled his face away, begging for him to stop and "Fuck me!" James grinned up at me wetly and stood. Taking me by the hand he led me to his bed and placed me on the edge. He pushed me down on my back with my legs hanging off the side, and I awaited him. Undoing his pants, he let them slide down his well-muscled legs and stepped out of them. As was his custom, he wore no underclothes, and his cock reared up proudly, his cockhead red and bulbous, protruding from his foreskin. Standing between my outstretched limbs, he lifted my legs and tucked them under his arms, then inserted himself. He bucked into me in a single mighty shove and I spent a third time, crying out and thrashing on the bed before him. Then he stood there, thrusting in and rearing out, moving ever quicker as he neared his own release, whilst I moaned in contentment. Finally, he groaned as his cock swelled up and spewed an endless torrent of his seed into my cunny, and then he collapsed into my outstretched arms. Afterwards, we climbed up onto the bed and I stripped off the robe (though not the slippers, for I had learned how much he liked them on me!) and revived him by suckling his cock until it stood strong between my lips. At this, he begged for me to finish him in this method, and I proceeded to do just that, pumping his large and thick shaft while I suckled the tip, and he spent again, and it was his turn to thrash around on the bedclothes. Afterwards, we made loveplay with our hands upon each other until he rejuvenated, then made sweet and gentle love before calling it a night. My decision being made, James invited me to move into his rooms with him, but I demurred. When he asked me why, in much confusion, I replied, "And give up all my closets?!" He laughed mightily and made a second suggestion, one to which I whole-heartedly agreed. He had a doorway built between our rooms, so that our chambers became adjoining and that I might keep my closets separate from his. I did note, however, that the doorway was put in a rather odd location, and while James made no mention of this fact, I immediately understood that it was because of the locations of the secret passageways in the walls. The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady Ch. 2 Siobhan and I began to immediately begin preparations for the wedding. She was my Maid of Honor and promptly took upon herself the full responsibility for managing the event. She, of course, had been married herself, and informed me that afterwards she had been a bridesmaid for a close friend in Boston, so she knew precisely what would be involved. We began to construct lists of guests and various plans for dresses and such, and had an inordinate amount of fun doing so. James, on the other hand, considered this so much folderol, and one night at dinner informed us so, insisting that it would be so much simpler simply to call in the local magistrate and get it over with. At my shocked look, Siobhan took him to task. "James,", she started, "allow me to explain how this works." Pointing to me, Siobhan said, "Caroline's entire job is to show up in a long white dress, looking as beautiful as imaginable. Other than that, her entire responsibility is to have as much fun as possible." Next she pointed at Mister Singh at the end of the table, looking on amusedly. "Mister Singh's responsibility is to make sure that you are at the church, on time, dressed decently, and sober. Other than that, his entire responsibility is to have as much fun as possible." Hooking a thumb at herself, she said, "My job is to run the whole show, and have as much fun as possible." Finally pointing at James, she continued, "Your job is to show up at the church, clean, dressed, and sober, and marry the girl. You will note that I have said nothing about enjoying yourself. You may do so if you wish, but that will most assuredly be an afterthought. Do you understand things, now?" "Ye Gods, Siobhan! It's just, well, the plans you two are making are going to cost a fortune!", he complained. Siobhan smiled breezily and brightly, and said, "Well, just send the bills to the bride's family, then. After all, it's their responsibility to pay, isn't it?" "But I'm the bride's family!", he roared. "Funny how that worked out, isn't it?", she said with an innocent smile. James stared at all of us for a moment, then surrendered unconditionally. Throwing his hands up in the air, he said, "Oh, so be it, do as you will! Just make sure that when we have this three ring circus, that I get to ride one of the elephants!" He took my hand in his and kissed it, and simply began rolling his eyes as Siobhan and I continued our plans. Ahkbar snickered at his end of the table and took his leave; we all heard him roaring in laughter from the kitchen. November began with a terrible calamity. Ahkbar Singh was normally the most robust of gentlemen; despite being ten years older than James he had an iron constitution and was in supreme health. It was Siobhan who first noticed that he seemed to be moving a little slower and was tiring easily. However, once she mentioned it to me, I began to notice as well, and mentioned it to James. James scoffed at the idea, saying that Ahkbar had never been sick a day in his life, even in India, and that we must have been imagining things. Even he grew concerned, however, when Mister Singh excused himself from supper the first Saturday night in November and retired to his room without eating. The next morning, we all awoke to a great crash and scurried down the hall to Ahkbar's rooms, wrapping our robes around us as we went. Maude, one of the cooks, had brought a pot of tea to Mister Singh's rooms, as it was his custom to start the day with tea, after making the first of his five prayers towards Mecca. She found him laying on the bed, drenched in sweat, barely able to move, and had dropped the tea service in her panic. We rushed to him and James examined him closely, then turned to us and said, "We need a Doctor!" Jumping from the bedside where I had been helping, I ran from the room, calling for assistance as I made my way downstairs. I saw Mister Strong out the back door of the kitchen, leading Excalibur back into the barn from an early morning workout, and I rushed out to him. "Mister Singh, he needs a Doctor!", I cried out, "Hurry, we must get the Doctor immediately! He's dying!" Mister Strong stared at me as if I was mad, then looked up as Siobhan ran from the house saying the same thing. Excalibur was still in full harness, and he swung himself up into the saddle effortlessly. By now, several other of the workhands had gathered around at the commotion, and he pointed at two of them. "Hitch up a coach and follow me into town. I'll find the Doctor and get him ready. Break the horses if you have to, but get there and back before they die, understand!" With that he tore off down the lane and out to the road. The coach was rigged with alacrity, with everybody helping, so much so that it was almost comical, for Mister Singh, for all his foreign ways, was considered by all to be a fine gentleman and a friend, and was greatly loved by those who knew him. It went thundering down the lane shortly thereafter, and Siobhan and I ran back inside to tell James that the Doctor was being summoned. I hurried to my rooms and changed into something decent, then spent the next thirty minutes going from Ahkbar's bedside to the front porch and back, as if my movements would spur the Doctor in arriving. Finally he did so, with Mister Strong and Excalibur in the lead, and the Doctor bouncing along in the wildly bounding carriage. The horses were lathered in sweat, and the Doctor seemed in almost as great a state of agitation at the extreme speed of the trip. Mister Strong bundled him up the stairs and ran him down to Mister Singh's rooms. He took one look around and threw everyone else out, while he examined Ahkbar. The diagnosis - pneumonia! He said that it was obvious that Mister Singh had tried to ignore the early signs and had continued his normal and active routine, and that this had made things even worse. There was little any of us could do but make him more comfortable. Mister Singh was very ill, indeed, and the next few days would be crucial. While he doubted whether a great contagion was involved, he warned us not to allow very many people to have contact with him. His general prognosis was bleak. James detailed Siobhan and I to stand watch while he changed into clothing as well, then we all began a veritable deathwatch for the next week. Ahkbar's breathing was quite labored and he had fits of fever and delirium as well. The three of us stood watch day and night, napping in chairs, while the maidservants brought food and drink to the door. The Doctor visited twice a day, but was able to do little. Finally, about midday on Friday, the crisis seemed to pass. Ahkbar's temperature dropped to normal and he began to breathe easily, though he was still overly tired and weak, and we wept with the relief that we all felt. He dined with us that afternoon, the four of us in his room, gathered about his bed, and informed him of just what had been going on. Afterwards, Siobhan and I excused ourselves, announcing our intentions to take the first decent baths we would have in almost a week, and James stayed behind. Siobhan would spell James later, and allow James and I some rest. I trudged to my room and bathed, then slipped into a short but comfortable and loose cotton shift, and crawled into James' bed, falling rapidly asleep. I awoke late at night, as James came into the room and began preparing for bed. "Ahkbar?", I asked. James called out from the bath, where he was bathing, and said, "Getting better by the hour. He was dozing when I left, and Siobhan was staying with him." James came forth from the bath wearing a dressing gown, which he promptly doffed and climbed into bed with me. I rolled towards him and wrapped my arms around him, embracing him with joy at his news. It was then that I discovered his nakedness, and more, that his manhood was stiffly pointing towards me under the covers. "James!", I exclaimed, "I guess you are happy!" James roared with laughter, pushing me back onto the bed, then crawled atop me and rudely pushed my shift to my waist. He sank into me and gave me the most vigorous of fucks, causing me to spend countless times before exploding inside me. Afterwards, we cuddled, but as I rolled away from him, to begin to drift off to sleep, James rolled with me and I found his manhood pressing against my buttocks. Giggling, I lifted my leg up slightly, and James pressed into me from behind. He rogered me furiously from the rear, grasping my hips and thrusting madly into me before we both spent again. Late that night, I aroused slightly at James moving in the bed. "Sssshhh, my love, I simply want to check on Ahkbar.", he whispered, and I drifted off again. I awoke when James came back into the room. Looking up at him, I discovered a most thoughtful look on his noble face, lighted by the moonlight drifting through the windows. "James, is everything all right? Is Ahkbar...?" He glanced at me and gave me a wry smile. "Ahkbar..., Ahkbar is just fine, just fine. Siobhan is with him, tending to his needs." I closed my eyes and James rejoined me in our bed. I threw an arm across his manly chest and wrapped a leg across his, this being my favorite position for sleep, but was surprised when I came into contact with his cock, stiff beneath the covers. My eyes snapped open and I looked up at my beloved. "James?!" James gave me an embarrassed smile, and said, "Um, well, as I said, Siobhan is tending to his needs." I came fully awake at the realization of what James was saying. Further, I was well aware of James voyeuristic tendencies, knowing full well (though he was unaware of my knowledge) how much he enjoyed watching others perform the acts of love. I reached under the bedcovers and lightly stroked his massive cock, at which he gave forth a low moan. "Really, James, she was tending to his needs?" Grasping his shaft lightly, I pumped it gently, causing James to groan lowly. "And just how was she tending to him?" "Like that.", he gasped. I pumped him a few times more, and asked, "Was that all?" "No, no.", he muttered weakly. "Really?" I pushed the bedclothes off of us and gazed down at his strong physique. Lowering my head to his groin, I gently licked his cockhead, which quivered on my tongue. I could taste the salty and sweet essence which trickled from the tip. "Was she tending him this way?" "No, she was..., she was on top.", he replied weakly. I sat upright and straddled my fiancée. Lowering my heated and wet cunny onto his cock, I took him in fully, asking, "Like this?" James groaned in pleasure, responding, "Yes, I mean, no, I mean, well, she had removed her shift..." As I bounced slowly on top of James, I reached down and pulled my shift over my head, to ride him naked. "Like this?" James was bucking up into me wildly. "Yes, yes! And she was bending over him, so he could suckle her boobies, and she had her hands between them!" Smiling to him, I bent down, lowering my nipples to his questing lips, and I began fingering my quim and nubbin. James had barely begun to suckle me when he gave out the most ferocious of groans and I felt his cock expand inside me, twitching and pulsating as his seed began rushing from his sac, through the shaft, and into my quim. I spent wildly as he filled me with his hot and sticky seed, and collapsed atop him to fall asleep in his arms. Chapter 5 - Thanksgiving and a Christmas Trip The household rapidly reverted to normal pursuits as Mister Singh recovered his strength. He was able to make his way to the downstairs about a week later, though he was still very tired, and his robe (for he still maintained his dress in the Eastern fashion) hung loosely on him. Still, though he was in generally good spirits after such a close call with the Grim Reaper, he seemed preoccupied with some deep thoughts. Even James noticed, and asked his old friend if he could be of some assistance, which Ahkbar repeatedly declined. Eventually, at luncheon one day, Ahkbar nodded at the question and said, "I think I shall be traveling soon. I have never been to Mecca, you know." James sat bolt upright and looked at Ahkbar closely. "The Haj? Are you feeling all right, old friend?" Ahkbar smiled and said, "I am feeling better every day. Still, I should like to make the trip once..." I nodded in understanding. He continued, saying, "For all I know, I shall outlive your grandchildren, but I suspect that the number of the days I have left is fewer than the number that I have spent. It is time." At this point, Siobhan broke in, looking at us without understanding. "The hodge? What is that? Are you going somewhere?" We all looked at her with smiles. Siobhan is both a very worldly woman and a very provincial one. She is Boston Irish and Roman Catholic, and knew little of Islam other than what she had picked up being around Mister Singh. I can still recall her confusion when she asked him why he had to pray five times a day, and always facing the East. James' admission that he had had a surveyor draw up a map showing compass directions to Mecca simply was incomprehensible to her. "No, the Haj.", I said, pronouncing it correctly. I answered her question, being relatively familiar with the Musulman religion. Being English, I had often encountered Musulmen and Arabs near London, and, of course, a considerable number of soldiers traveled there and back, bearing tales of the East. My father was a soldier, and through him I often met travelers and knew of the religion. "Mister Singh is a Musulman, Siobhan, as you know, and one of the tenets of their faith is that every Musulman should make a holy pilgrimage to the city of Mecca, at least once in his life." "Oh, sort of like visiting Rome or Jerusalem, you mean?", she replied, her eyes widening at the thought. "Something of the sort.", admitted Ahkbar. "But what about the wedding? Will you be back in time for the wedding? You're in the wedding you know.", she asked. At this, Ahkbar and James looked at each other and shrugged. James said, "Well, I should think you would have plenty of time to travel there and back by then, eh?" "I would imagine so.", agreed Mister Singh. "What, travel West and take a ship from San Francisco, then the Orient, India, and Arabia?" James shrugged in acquiescence and it was my turn to be shocked. "Excuse me, but is that not the long way around?" The others looked at me, and I continued, "Surely it would be much faster to go through Europe, or even directly to Palestine and then on to Arabia. It must cut your travel in half, if not more!" I began juggling distances in my head and was sure that Mecca was only a third of the way around the world while traveling East. Going West would involve twice the travel, and correspondingly, twice the time. As far as Siobhan was concerned, we were sending Mister Singh to the far side of the moon with Mister Verne; she had no idea at all where Mecca or Arabia were. To prove my point, I led the others into the library and retrieved the large atlas that James possessed. It occurred to me that during their travels, neither James nor Ahkbar had traveled through Europe. They had spent their entire time in the Orient, India, and the East Indies, and were therefore unfamiliar with the more direct route. Turning to a large map of the world, I traced out two possible paths, the first being a direct steamship from America to Palestine, and the second being a steamship to Europe, followed by a rail journey to Palestine. I was sure that once Mister Singh reached Palestine, he would be able to find his own way overland to Arabia. The others looked at me curiously as they traced out the routes on their own, agreeing that my method was much shorter. It was then that Ahkbar said, "Alas, once I am past England, I will be lost. While I have many Eastern tongues, I know none of Europe's." James shrugged and suggested that he wire some European solicitors to provide translation, and it was then that a plan formed full-blown in my mind. Squealing with glee, I said, "Rubbish! I have a much better method! You can get to London fine, correct?" Ahkbar looked at me skeptically and said, "Well, I suppose..." "Fine, from London, you travel to Mrs. Pembleton's School. Her students are all taught several European languages. You might recall that I speak French and Latin, and can usually puzzle out Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese." The others nodded in understanding. "Well, I am sure that other students will know these languages as well, as well as German and Russian. Why, a group of us could ride the rails all across the Continent and manage quite nicely, thank you very much.", I said proudly. I continued on, "Now, from Mrs. Pembleton's, you and your escorts will travel to London and thence to one of the Channel ports. A short ferry ride will have you in France, from which you will take a train to Paris. Now, once you are in Paris, you simply need to take the Orient Express. That will run you through Germany and Hungary to the Black Sea, Varna, I believe, and then continue on to Constantinople by ferry. Once in Constantinople, you will be in a country where you will be able to converse again, and I am sure that you will be able to take a train to Palestine or even Arabia from there!" I traced the path along the map excitedly, and both James and Ahkbar began to look at me curiously, not expecting this sort of detail from me. However, the Orient Express was a brand new luxury coach that was the talk of Europe when I had left, and I was sure of my facts. "Well, that is all very well and good, but for whatever reason would they want to do such a thing?", asked Ahkbar slowly. "Why for the adventure of it, of course! Think of the fun they would have, escorting a refined and handsome Indian gentleman around, dining at the finest restaurants and staying in the finest hotels. You would be staying at the finest hotels, wouldn't you?", I asked. "I am not a penniless beggar!", replied Ahkbar stuffily. I patted his hand in mollification, and continued on. "Well, of course you're not! That's my point. I shall wire ahead to Mrs. Pembleton and arrange things as needs be. You shall make a certain contribution to the school fund, oh a few hundred pounds should do nicely, and provide suitable lodging and accommodations on your trip. Now would you not prefer traveling with three or four lovely young ladies to ease your way, or would you prefer a long and tiring sea trip on your own?" "Three or four...? Are you serious?", stammered Ahkbar, staring at me incredulously. "Oh, certainly! I am sure that they will assist you in your every need." With this I gave a sly wink to James, who started. "By Jove, I must meet this Mrs. Pembleton! Make sure she gets invited to the wedding, even if I have to pay her steamship ticket myself!" So our plans were finalized. Ahkbar would take his leave after Thanksgiving, in Mid-December, travelling with Siobhan to Boston, from where he would take a liner to England. Siobhan assured us that she would act as escort to Mister Singh in Boston. When they left, James and I would travel to New York and spend the holidays there. Siobhan would spend Christmas with her family in Boston, and the three of us would return to Saratoga after the New Year. Ahkbar would return sometime in the Spring, and was asked by James to be on the lookout for horses. His entire trip would not be taken up with his religious obligations, and it was well known that Arabian horses were particularly fleet of foot. Ahkbar rested and recuperated through the balance of November, even through the local holiday known as Thanksgiving. This is a peculiar American holiday, celebrating a feast held by the Massachusetts Indians for the Pilgrims. James and Siobhan described it to me and I was rather confused; it seemed to me that the Indians, considering their current plight, had been most foolhardy! The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady He waved this aside. "Impossible! How can you return home when you already are home! You may consider my house your house. If I had been wearing my glasses when I read your letter, my response would have been the same. And please, call me James, or at least Uncle James, if that seems too familiar." "Thank you, Uncle James." He turned towards Mrs. Rourke. "As to you, Madame, I fear I have dreadfully mistreated you. When I retained your services, it was on the assumption you would be Caroline's nanny and governess, yet such a state hardly bears thinking." To me he said, "I brought Mrs. Rourke here from Boston and now have little proper employ for her." Turning back to my erstwhile governess, he continued, "So I will put to you a pair of propositions. First, you could return to Boston, with a generous severance and an excellent reference, for I am sure you would have earned it. Or, on the other hand, I can continue your employment, not as a nanny, but as a friend and companion to Caroline, as she gets used to life here in Saratoga. You are both of an age together, and I would be comforted to know that my niece would have someone to go shopping with and talk to. At other times, perhaps you could be my corresponding secretary, since it is obvious that correspondence is my weak suit. Might you be interested, my dear?" Mrs. Rourke smiled at me. "That sounds quite interesting, actually. I only just got here. Why should I want to turn right around and go back to Boston?! Caroline, call me Siobhan." "Capital!", exclaimed my uncle. Just then, a very handsome open carriage pulled up to the curb, propelled by a beautiful pair of matched black geldings. Ahkbar Singh stepped down from the driver's seat and tied the reins off. He made his way towards us through the garden's side gate. "Just in time, Ahkbar!" Uncle James opened the second bottle and poured some in the Sikh's glass. "I have made amends for my behavior and Miss Pendrake will be staying with us." "Be welcome, and may Allah's blessings be upon you.", he replied in English, intoned with a voice deeper than even Uncle James' gravelly baritone. "And the nanny?", he asked with a twinkle and a wink at Siobhan. "We shall continue her employment, only as my secretary." "Excellent. She may read your letters for you." He handed Uncle James' spectacles across the table to Siobhan, at which both she and my uncle laughed. He then turned back to me. "So, child, was your voyage a comfortable one?" "Oh, quite, sir. I must thank you, Uncle James, the arrangements and accommodations were simply superb. I hardly spent a shilling of your money." I reached into my purse and pulled out the bank notes I had remaining, along with the notepaper that I had written my expenses upon. "I have an accounting for you here, sir." Now it was his turn to appear shocked. "What! Well, I never expected anything like that! That is your money, Caroline, to do with as you please. What in the world did you count my pennies for?" I explained how my father's solicitor had handled the funds for the passage, and told me to keep a proper accounting for him. "The purser told me that a ten pound gratuity would be sufficient, and I spent another pound at the Waldorf Astoria the other day. On the trip over, only wines and spiritous liquors were not covered by the fare, so I did not imbibe spirits. I have here 89 pounds sterling for you, Uncle James.", and handed them over, along with the tally sheet. "Oh, my dear, how dreadful. Trust a lawyer to encumber things. I knew that we should all have come over to bring you back. I am so terribly sorry for all of this." The thought that he would pay first class steamship fares to take the three of them to England to retrieve a child he had never met before was astonishing! "I don't understand." "Well, that was simply spending money for a small child! I assumed you would buy candy or such with it. That's why I provided more for whoever was bringing you over. I certainly never expected it back!" "Well, that explains the companion. None of us could understand what that was about. Good heavens, a hundred pounds worth of candy, why you'd have had to roll me down the gangplank!", I exclaimed. Uncle James stared at the bank notes, then pushed them across the table to Ahkbar. "See that these get deposited tomorrow, at whatever the current rate is." Reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieved a slim wallet. He pulled out a sheaf of American notes and pressed them in my hand. "Here, take these. You and Siobhan can go shopping this week. No, don't argue, if you need more, I have credit with all the local shops." Half-dazed I took the proffered money. My new found uncle obviously had far more capital then I could conceive of. His attire and coach and the arrangements for travel had all stated quietly his wealth, but the very idea of tossing a hundred pounds sterling at a six-year-old for candy spoke of dazzling funds. It was all I could do to croak out my thanks. Chapter 2 - My Uncle's House, and Dinner that Evening The ride to Uncle James' house was a short one, perhaps all of twenty minutes in length. House is not the correct term for the marvelous edifice that awaited our arrival. Mansion is the more proper term. Uncle James protested that it wasn't all that grand, only having fourteen bedrooms, and that Cornelius would not even consider it fit to be a tenement. "Cornelius?", I questioned him. "Cornelius Vanderbilt." I gaped. "You know Commodore Vanderbilt!?", I exclaimed. "Oh yes, loaned him some money once, in fact. Rather too flashy for my tastes, however. Everything has to be bigger than anyone else's, his mansion, his yacht. I suppose that if I were to show up at his door on a larger horse than his he would have to buy an elephant from Mr. Barnum to outdo me." The mansion was at the end of a long chestnut shrouded drive, and as we arrived, more than a few of his staff came up and lined the walkway to greet us. The house, as he called it, was an imposing brick and granite structure, fully three stories tall, with a broad front and a pair of long wings. Uncle James stepped down and then helped me alight, then turned to our audience and introduced me, saying I would have all the privileges of the house, although I had no idea at the time all that this would mean. The ladies all curtsied and the men all doffed their caps and bowed slightly, then Ahkbar had several men take my trunks to my rooms while Uncle James led me inside. While my belongings were taken to my quarters, my uncle took me on what he called 'the nickel tour'. In brief, the first floor was entirely public rooms, specifically the kitchen, any number of parlors and salons, a pair of dining rooms, one monstrously large, and a very grand ball room. The second floor of the west wing held servants quarters, while the third floor held Uncle James suite, Mister Singh's rooms, Siobhan's rooms, and my suite. The entirety of the second and third floors of the east wing were guest rooms. Interior plumbing was liberally sprinkled throughout the residence, and even the servants quarters had access to shared facilities. My own suite, only slightly smaller than my wealthy relation's, consisted of a large parlor, a sleeping chamber of considerable size, a dressing room, innumerable closets, and a bath with both a water closet and a bidet! "Now, Caroline, if this is not satisfactory, simply let me know. I had originally planned on an even larger suite, but I had that converted to a nursery, and it will take a few days to convert back, I suppose." He showed me an absolutely beautiful nursery, complete to a gilded hobbyhorse, which he rocked gently, smiling. "I think that perhaps you might wish to trade this in on the genuine article." A horse? "I don't know, sir. I've never ridden before." "What! How dreadful, we shall have to obtain a riding costume for you straight away. There is nothing quite like a good canter in the morning." He led me back to my suite, where he left me in the care of a pair of young maids, with instructions to help me bathe and rest, and that dinner would be at seven, or whenever I came downstairs, if that was too early. Then he left me in the care of my new keepers. The maids were sisters only a year or so older than myself, with only a year separating them. Both girls were dressed plainly but becomingly, and had a well-scrubbed and wholesome look. Both were quite comely to look upon, as in fact were all the maids and cooks that I had seen, a rather unusual thing given the general human condition. Another curious item was that aside from Mister Singh, whose position seemed to be that of butler and majordomo, the entire staff of the household consisted of young ladies. The various men I had seen earlier were all employed outside of the house, upon the grounds, and lived in a large bunkhouse behind the mansion. My maids' names were Jenny, and her older sister, Bessie. I endeavored to put Mrs. Pembleton's training to good use. Although my parents had never been able to afford servants, I had seen them on occasion at various Foreign Ministry affairs, and Mrs. Pembleton had a most practical curriculum in many ways. She had warned us of the immense danger that mistreated servants could be, and of the immense benefit that a properly treated servant was, and I tried to be as pleasant as possible, making no orders but only requests, and saying 'Please' and 'Thank you' frequently. After I had shown the pair how I wanted my clothing taken care of and exploring my new residence, one at least of the size of my family's home in London before my parent's untimely demise, Bessie suggested that I bathe and relax prior to dinner. It had been a long and tiring day and I readily agreed. I was, however, surprised when, instead of taking my remarks as a dismissal, Jenny went into the bath to begin drawing a hot tub, while Bessie went behind me and began unbuttoning my dress. I had never had body servants before, and my confusion must have been evident, for Bessie stopped briefly and explained that she and her sister would help me disrobe, and bathe, and then dress later, and that perhaps I would enjoy the entire process. Deciding to keep an open mind about it, I allowed her to continue. As the tub filled and Jenny began laying out soaps and fragrances, and then a light silk robe for afterwards, Bessie soon had me standing in my undergarments, a shift, petticoat, light travel corset, bloomers, stockings, and high buttoned shoes. After hanging my dress over a chair, she knelt and helped me off with my shoes, then stood and undid the front stays on my corset. I must report that having assistance with a corset is quite intoxicating, and may I say, addictive. I untied my petticoat and handed it to her, and Bessie remarked that she would have my clothing cleaned the next day. She then rolled my stockings down my calves, and barefoot and dressed but in my bloomers and shift, I went into the bath to finish disrobing and to bathe. I was most surprised when Bessie followed behind me and Jenny stayed to help in this process. My mind awhirl, I allowed the pair to raise my arms and lift my shift above my head. I retained enough thought to step out of my own bloomers, although the pair moved towards me with the intentions of helping here as well. They then assisted me in stepping into the large porcelained clawfoot tub in the center of the bath. While I had spent a number of years boarding in a ladies' finishing school, with the incumbent lack of privacy, I had never had such active assistance in my toilet. The reader can well imagine my astonishment when, once installed in the delightfully hot bathwater, I witnessed both my maids undo their frocks and kick off their shoes as well, to stand before me in only their light shifts as well. They then knelt on either side of me, and picking up soap and wash cloths, began to scrub my back and arms. Jenny and Bessie kept up a constant patter about life here at the mansion, and I listened intently, trying to learn as much about my new life as possible. My bath was a most pleasurable experience, especially once my bathers finished with my back and limbs. Neither girl was the least reticent about washing my bosom or my loins, and in point of truth, spent considerable time soaping and rinsing my quim, which became considerably heated, and not simply from the bathwater. I simply lay back against the tub and allowed their hands to roam my body, luxuriating in the many small spendings they were providing. This was not at all the first time I had allowed myself to indulge in the Sapphic pleasures. One should consider that I had spent several of my most formative years in a ladies' boarding school, rooming with other equally young and nubile women. Mrs. Pembleton had blatantly ignored any evidence of such trysting, feeling, quite rightly I am sure, that such affairs were only temporary at worst, and that as we grew to womanhood we would assuredly take nature's proper course and find our preference with the male of the species. My first such tryst occurred but shortly after I returned to school following my parent's funeral. I was but thirteen, and just coming into my womanhood, and returned in a most despondent condition. We roomed four to a suite, with several older girls in with younger ones, to teach by example the necessities of such a way of life to those less knowledgeable. An older girl, Tess Harcourt, had taken me under her wing and befriended me, and was most distressed by my state. Late one afternoon, while our roommates were out, she came to me to comfort me, hugging and kissing my face. I responded with thanks, returning her kisses and hugs, and Tess continued with her caresses. I responded as well, and before our friends had returned shortly before dinner, we had both ended up naked, kissing and caressing each other's bodies in joyful abandon. I was to discover over the succeeding months, that to one extent or another, almost all of the older girls had participated in such trysts. While I seemed to inherently shy away from them, I was honest enough with myself to realize the pleasure they provided. I simply had witnessed enough of my parent's joy in marriage to realize that the more proper congress of a man and a woman seemed to hold the greater pleasures I desired. This is not to say that I avoided such intercourse. In actuality, I was deflowered not by a man, but by another woman, losing my maidenhead to the intrusion of the handle of a large and substantial hairbrush. Most of us had such inanimate assistants for times of need. Mrs. Pembleton seemed not to notice the occasional couplings of young ladies which came to her attention. Perhaps this was due to the fact that she, herself a widow, had recently remarried, to the chief groundskeeper, a strapping man a number of years younger than she. Rumor had it that she required his attentions several times a day, and on more than one occasion I had chance to see him leave her office after a 'consultation', to find her radiantly reinvigored, with a detectable scent of passion in the air. So I allowed Jenny and Bessie to pleasure me. By the time the water had become tepid, both their upper shifts were sopping wet, molding to their buxom forms. They helped me aright, drying me with large towels as I stepped from the tub, then held the silk robe for me to dress in. After, I was seated at a large mirrored vanity. Taking a hairbrush, Bessie began to comb my flaxen curls, while her sister moved to my side to provide a manicure. This was luxuriousness defined. I was mystified, however, when Bessie began to strop a razor while Jenny mixed lather in a shaving bowl. I was informed that most of the women in the household shaved their bodies. It seemed that most of them had gentlemen callers with whom they allowed considerable liberties, and that this had become a popular enhancement of their natural charms. I was rather put off by the whole idea until Jenny pointed out that this would allow the wearing of the sheerest stockings, a notion that I was quite in fond of. I know that this was a most pointless undertaking, considering that a lady should never allow a gentleman to see her stockings, but why then do we wear them, if not to be seen? Of all the Victorian hypocrisies which I have outgrown, this always seemed the strangest. I relented and opened my robe at the hem, lifting a foot to Jenny's lap, whereupon she lathered me lightly to just below the knee. Bessie knelt at her side and was most careful in removing the pale down upon my lower limb. I watched in fascination, and Bessie then had her sister move higher, from mid-calf to just above my knee. This level would certainly require me to be a good deal more risqué in showing my stockings. I failed to protest in time, when the pair began to barber well above my knees, and I soon found my thighs shorn as well. Despite my protest, it was decided that my other limb must needs be trimmed in the same fashion. As Bessie shaved my other thigh, Jenny began a gentle foot massage, with a most erotic connotation. Her shift had slid down to her waist, and she had pressed the ball of my foot into her ample breast. I could feel her nipple tightening. I was so totally distracted, that I failed to notice that Bessie had lathered the fine down on my quim and had begun shaving this as well. I looked down and shrieked as I found myself as bare as I would have been if actually I had been a six-year-old moving into this house! In more intimate moments I could conceive of allowing a gentleman a glimpse of my legs, but under no circumstances could I dream of allowing him to see to this level! Bessie calmed me, saying that if I were ever to trust her, then I should trust her in this. It was too late to protest in any fashion, and the next outrageous thing that occurred was when the pair stripped me of my robe and shaved under my arms, saying that this was a peculiarly American passion. I was most compliant, dazed and confused, as they led me from my bath back to my bedroom. As I laid back on the covers, they both removed their shifts and turned before me, displaying the fact that they, too, had undergone this process, and I must admit that I found the sight intriguing and most exciting to my passions. When neither moved to don their clothes, I silently invited them into my bed, whereupon I received a gentle massage and backrub, and a much more vigorous frontal massage. Despite my inclinations in favor of the male form, which in all honesty I had yet to partake, I quite eagerly joined with them in what the French call the menage a trois. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the lack of cunt hair allowed me to readily attack the nubbins at the tops of their slits, and that said shaving eliminated the possibility of getting any fluff caught in my teeth! After a most extended session, we all reclined on the oversize quilts and drifted to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms. We awoke shortly before six in the evening, and while Jenny was interested in resuming our afternoon pursuits, an interest I was rather secretly avid for as well, her older sister remarked as to the passage of time and the approaching dinner hour. With considerable reluctance we climbed from my bedsheets to dress. Both the maids were dressed in a trice, but my habiliment took longer. "How formal should I dress?", I asked. "Does my Uncle James dine quite formally? You've both known him much longer than I." "Well, not really.", said Jenny. "I have only been with Mister MacAllister since last month. However, Bessie has been a maid here for a year now. It was she who recommended me for this position. Perhaps she could better answer the question." Both of us turned to face her older sister. "Well, Mister MacAllister is not the most formal of gentlemen, but neither is he the least.", she replied thoughtfully. "I should say that Sunday supper is often quite formal, and whenever guests are in residence as well, but for the most part, a pretty dress will do quite nicely." She searched through the apparel they had hung in my closet. "Yes, this should be appropriate, I would think." The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady I gasped as I saw the dress she removed and held out to me. I had bought it almost on a dare, shopping with my friends, wishing for one new dress for my voyage, but had never worn it, being most nervous once I tried it on alone. It was red, a dark crimson hue, and made from the new rayon fiber; it was rather shiny and supple, and molded itself well to my form, with a simple bustle and peplum. This, in truth, was part of the problem. The fabric was so clingy and the bodice so low cut that when I put it on in my cabin and looked at myself in the mirror, I instantly felt as if a slattern was staring back. I promptly removed it, vowing to dispose of it as soon as possible. "I cannot!", I cried. "I shall look like a trollop!" Bessie simply smiled. "On the contrary, you will look ravishing. I must warn you, your Uncle's gray hair is quite premature; he is younger than he appears and has a marked appreciation for the ladies. If I owned such a dress, you may be assured that I would wear it when with him!" Shocked, I gasped out, "But he's my Uncle!" Jenny responded to this. "Yes, but a most distant relation nevertheless." "I find him a most fascinating man, and a most eligible bachelor as well. As much as I love my dear sister, if offered the choice between her and your Uncle, Jenny would find herself on a dustheap!", said Bessie. Jenny laughed at her sister's remark. "You are so much gentler than I, dear Bessie. I would use arsenic on you, given the choice." At this we all laughed. "It's simply so, well, intemperate." I explained how I had come to purchase it. "Regardless, this is the dress you should wear. I am sure that Mrs. Rourke will find something equally pretty. She has been here for several days already, and has already begun to gauge your Uncle's preferences.", said Bessie. It was this last remark that swayed me. While I was already beginning to like Siobhan and enjoy her company, no woman can resist such a challenge. As we all suspected, it was impossible for me to wear the dress over one of my shifts, and the bodice was so low that even my corsets would show. I completely refused to even consider going downstairs without undergarments, and we were stumped. Then Jenny bolted from the room, crying, "I'll be back!", while Bessie and I considered the problem of my wardrobe. Within minutes the young maid had returned, bearing several silken items, quite lacy and black. She held them up. Her left hand held a most abbreviated pair of bloomers, her right held a foundation garment, what she called a 'French brasierre'. She explained how she thought that Charity, the pastry cook, and I seemed to be of the same size, and she had obtained them on loan. When I asked how she could afford such fineries on a cook's wages, Jenny grinned and told me they had been provided by a gentleman friend. The bloomers I could understand, despite their scandalous nature, and I slipped them on. They had India rubber in the waistband and fit well. Jenny and Bessie had to assist with the French brasierre, since I had never worn such a thing before. It basically consisted of two half-cups, sheer and black, to support my boobies, with a strap across the back and one over each shoulder to hold the affair on and in place. Once dressed in it, my breasts were supported well, being both secure and snug, yet since the cups were only of a partial nature, my boobies rested atop them, feeling free and unencumbered. My small nipples were left uncovered by the black lace. I slipped into my stockings and shoes, then stepped into the dress, which Jenny buttoned behind me while Bessie held my hair back. They led me to the floor length mirror. It was no sixteen-year-old trollop in the glass. Cinderella had been transformed into the Princess! I gasped as I saw myself, and turned back to the maids. My eyes welled up with tears as I hugged them fiercely. "How will I ever repay you for your kindness?", I gushed. Bessie simply shrugged this off, but Jenny replied, "I want to be invited to the wedding." I playfully swatted her at the scandalous thought. "No jewelry?", asked Bessie. At my negative response, she continued, "Well not to worry, a scarlet ribbon in the back to hold your hair will be adornment enough. Besides, the best jewelry is that provided by a gentleman, and with dresses like that, you shall soon be swimming in diamonds and pearls." Jenny reached out and fondled my exceedingly exposed bosom. "With jewels like these, who needs diamonds and pearls?" When I entered the smaller of the two dining halls I discovered that I was the last to arrive, but only by seconds. Both Uncle James and Mister Singh were greeting Siobhan. Bessie had been correct in her assumption of my Uncle's informality, as his attire was no more formal than that in which he had retrieved me from the train, although it was more suited for the residence. It was then that I remembered and considered their comments concerning the distance of our relation, and his high degree of suitability as a husband, and I began to consider such a possibility in earnest. Mister Singh had changed only slightly. I was soon to learn that he was almost always attired in linen pantaloons, shirt and long jacket, and that his dagger never left his side. Jenny and Bessie were also correct in their assessment of Siobhan's probable attire. While her bodice was nowhere near as extravagant as mine, her Kelly green ensemble suited her hair and fair coloration perfectly, and her dress had a most daring slit to mid-calf, through which an exceedingly fine petticoat could be seen. We smiled and hugged in greeting as the cheerful rivalry began, and as we marshaled our resources I could sense that my bountiful bosom would be vying with her much longer legs for the attentions of any gentlemen we chanced to do battle over. I immediately understood the necessity of obtaining undergarments of my own of the requisite nature, and several more dresses with the necessarily abbreviated bodice. "Verily we have died and gone to Paradise, for where but in Paradise could we find two such houris.", commented the Sikh, to which my Uncle agreed. I asked Ahkbar to explain, and blushed as he described the Musulman vision of heaven. Mrs. Pembleton and several of her instructresses had held classes of a most highly informal nature regarding the means and methods needed to impress oneself upon a gentleman, all the while without seeming to be in pursuit. They all agreed that the single tactic most suitable for such a conflict was to get the gentleman to talk about himself! In the meantime, one simply bats one's eyes while gazing adoringly at the intended victim, hanging on every word, with an occasional breathy sigh at those moments he thinks he is being most interesting. Certainly, in my present dress, a breathy sigh would focus a gentleman's attentions marvelously! Mrs. Rourke had apparently attended the same classes, because she was able to match me sigh for sigh, but since her arsenal was beneath the table while mine was above, I had the better of the battle. Although my Uncle attempted to deflect our questioning with questions of his own about me, both Siobhan and I kept the conversation squarely upon his history, and Uncle James acceded to our interrogation with a considerable degree of grace, albeit with a considerably lesser degree of forthcoming. "You have so much art from India, Uncle James. You must have spent time in that country.", I mentioned. "You seem familiar with the country yourself. Have you ever been there?", he asked. "Oh, my, no. However, one can not grow up the daughter of an English officer without learning something about the subcontinent.", I remarked. "For instance, I know that Mister Singh is a Sikh, since all Sikhs have the last name Singh, which means lion in their tongue." "Most perceptive, Miss. Few in this country would understand that.", commented Ahkbar, eyeing me with interest. "I quite agree, Ahkbar.", agreed my Uncle. "It's unfortunate that Mister Pinkerton is no longer with us, as I am sure that Caroline would have found profitable employment in his agency!" "Mister Pinkerton?", I asked. "Allen Pinkerton. He was a private detective of considerable repute, similar to your Mister Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, only real. He died ten or twelve years ago." "So, how did you make your way there and back? May I assume you met Mister Singh there?", interjected Siobhan. Our genial battle for my relation's attentions continued with a renewed attack from the opposing general! Still, I had learned much from a military background, and felt confident in my abilities to defeat my opponent. An energetic sigh riveted his attention back to my almost nonexistent bodice. "Well, if you must insist, yes, I spent a number of years there in my youth." "Were you born there?", asked my rival. "Oh, no. Actually I was born on a farm in Morristown, New Jersey. That's where our branch of the family settled.", he said to me. "But when I was Caroline's age, I began to develop a severe case of wanderlust, and combined with a complete hatred for staring at the south end of a north bound mule, I ran away from home. I rode the rails to San Francisco, in California, then worked my passage on a clipper ship to the Orient. When we stopped in Madras, I gathered my meager possessions and departed the ship's company, rather informally if I might say.", he continued. "I don't understand.", I admitted. "He jumped ship.", explained Ahkbar, "perhaps with the contents of the ship's safe, eh?" Siobhan and I were properly scandalized at the thought. "Hogwash! I was simply obtaining the pay which I had worked for! That captain wouldn't have paid us till we got back to the States, of all things.", Uncle James protested, tacitly admitting the charge. "Well, after that, I simply wandered the subcontinent, met Ahkbar, and then, after a few years, came home. I decided that since farmboy hadn't worked out so well, maybe I should try robber-baron." Ahkbar commented in his foreign tongue, at which my Uncle laughed and replied in kind. He refused to comment or translate. Most curious! We continued to press for details, without being satisfied, although we did learn a few things. My Uncle stayed in India and the surrounding regions, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kashmir, the Punjab, and all those other heathen lands, for the better part of ten years, accompanied almost from the start by Ahkbar. Their bond was extraordinarily tight, enough so that when Uncle James came back to America, Mister Singh came with him and they had stayed together ever since, a period of almost fifteen years. In one curious moment, each claimed that the other had saved his life! Perhaps they both had saved each other's life. Dinner and dessert were long past when we finished in the sitting room with brandy. This proved to be a tactical mistake on my part, for without the intervening table, Siobhan was free to daintily cross her ankles with an ever-so-gentle whisper of her petticoat. It took several breathy sighs to return my relation's attentions to where I felt them proper. It was near midnight when the party broke apart, and as Ahkbar Singh escorted Mrs. Rourke out, I stayed back and pressed a hand to Uncle James' wrist. He looked at me curiously as I held him back as the others left the room. Finally, when we were alone, I asked, "Uncle James, one thing I do not understand. At the café this afternoon, Mister Singh, who is a Musulman, drank wine, as he did again this evening. However, he did not drink the same wine as we, but from a different bottle. Why is that?" "You really are most perceptive, my dear.", he replied with a judicious nod. "Again, most do not understand the Koranic prohibition against spirits. I fear that my friend follows the letter of the law but not the spirit, with no pun intended. The prohibition is against consuming the fermentation of the grape or the fermentation of grain. What Ahkbar drinks is mead, a fermentation of honey, which he argues is neither grape nor grain. He would have made an excellent lawyer, I fear. In any regards, it is little enough to stock a supply of mead in my cellars, and to request that the local restaurateurs do likewise." With this explanation, I bid him good night and retired to my rooms. I was most surprised to find a young lady reclining on my bed wearing a thin cotton robe. "Hello. Can I help you?", I asked. The girl, only a few years older than myself, arose from the bed and came to me. "Good evening. My name is Charity and I came to retrieve a few of my belongings." I remembered that Charity was the name of the person who had loaned me my present undergarments. "Oh, excuse me, yes. Thank you so much. I really had nothing with which to wear this dress. I hope you don't mind! I planned to return them in the morning." I reached behind me and began to unbutton my dress. Charity stepped behind me and gently took over for me. As she continued to undo the buttons, she simply said, "Not to worry. I was most happy to help you. I simply figured that this would be a chance to meet you. Besides, I wanted a chance to wash them tonight, since I will need them tomorrow evening. The gentleman who supplied them is calling on me, and I'm certain he plans to inspect them for fit. At least I hope he does!" I giggled as I stepped out of the dress, now puddling at my feet, and Charity unfastened the French brassiere and drew it away from my body. Then she came around to my front. She loosened the small sash holding her robe together and drew it off, to stand naked before me, then sank to her knees. I was most pleasantly surprised when she reached up to the waistband of the transparent black bloomers and drew them down, then leaned forward and buried her face between my thighs. Chapter 3 - Discovering the Bawdy Nature of the Household Charity did not stay long that evening, simply a period sufficient for the both of us to make the most intimate acquaintance and cuddle afterwards. The next morning I awoke refreshed and relaxed, lazing in bed sinfully until I felt the first pangs of hunger. I disdained the need for servants to dress, so I made my way to the bath and drew water in the sink, then with a small towel made a whore's-bath for myself, and yes, I had heard the term before and understood the implications. It refreshed me further, and afterwards I dressed in a light shift and a simple gingham dress, then went down to breakfast. Siobhan was already up and finishing her coffee when I arrived. Without Uncle James around, we could relax our combative skills and simply be friends, so she waited while I was served and continued drinking her coffee. It was decided that today we would explore the grounds, as she had only arrived a few days before I and had little opportunity to explore herself. We would take a coach into Saratoga the next day and go shopping. The MacAllister estate was devoted to raising horses, thoroughbreds for racing, and consisted of all the necessities to do so. While there were some cattle and chickens, these were only for milk and eggs and such needed to maintain the residents of the estate; they were not sold at market. We spent a considerable time wandering through the barns and stables, along the fenced in pastures, and around the many small workshops and tack rooms spread out over the considerable acreage. The horses were absolutely magnificent, and I was not at all surprised when Siobhan informed me that but a short way back towards the town was the finest racing track in the country. Several other such estates were in the region, which was making a bid to replace Kentucky as the premier source of thoroughbred horses in America. Along the way I discovered one of the many joys of living on a farm - there were cats and kittens everywhere! It was during this exploration that I began to discern just how informal living on the estate could be. Siobhan and I had been passing by the blacksmith's shop and we noticed a young lady was inside talking with the blacksmith, a very large man with a trim beard. Neither of us failed to pay it any note, and we stopped to talk by a fence near a side window. I stopped to watch a most curious sight, and Siobhan followed my gaze through the window. First, the blacksmith turned from the young woman, whom neither Siobhan nor I knew yet, and stripped off his tunic and apron. Then, bare-chested, and a very impressive chest it was, he bent over a large barrel of water and immersed his head and upper body in it, cooling himself and washing his torso. Finished he walked back to the girl, who promptly knelt before him. He then undid his breeches and pushed them down his thighs, to stand before him with his manhood rampant before her. Eagerly she leaned forward, opening her mouth wide to take his cockshaft between her lips, and I was impressed with her ability, inasmuch as it was proportional to his large frame. Then as she reached between his legs to fondle the pendulous sack present there, she played a happy tune on the mouth organ, culminating in a crescendo satisfying to both player and played. Afterwards, she kissed him and took her leave, and he resumed his professional duties. Mrs. Rourke and I crept away quietly, and could scarce whisper to ourselves about what we had just witnessed before we found ourselves among others and were perforce required to stop. We were near what was called the bunkhouse, where the male staff had their rooms and kitchen, and several of the men invited us to lunch with them. Curious, we made our way inside, to find Jenny and Charity serving a hot luncheon in the dining area attached to the large kitchen. Most of the men came in, to wash and be seated, and we joined them at a one of several large trestle-type tables. Lunch consisted of a good vegetable soup and several meat sandwiches. I should note that while nothing of the like which we had witnessed before occurred as we dined, the men felt free to touch and caress Jenny and Charity most freely, placing their hands on the two girl's backsides frequently, and neither of them seemed to be wearing undergarments. After lunch, Charity showed us around the bunkhouse. It was a long and low-slung building with a number of rooms running down a central hallway from the dining area. Some of the rooms did indeed hold stacked beds, or bunks, for more junior workers. As a man increased in seniority and responsibility, he moved from a four-man room, to a two-man room, thence to a small single room, and finally into a larger room, although bath facilities were in common. It was in one of the larger rooms that we received our next shock. Charity was explaining how much larger a foreman's room was and decided to show us by opening up a door into one such. Ushering us in, we found ourselves in the presence of Jack Strong, a foreman, an older man intermediate in age between my Uncle and Ahkbar Singh, and of a medium size and build but with very rough and capable hands, and Jenny. Both were as naked as the day they were born, with Mister Strong laying on his back while Jenny straddled him, riding him like the stallion that I could clearly see he was! His callused hands were pawing at her bosom and she was squealing with delight as she gave him a vigorous ride. They both looked over as we came in the door, but neither made any effort to cover their nudity or terminate the ride. We made our embarrassed apologies and closed the door behind us. Afterwards, Siobhan and I both wanted to talk about what we had seen that day, and went into one of the large barns. We were distracted by one of the innumerable kittens deciding that we were exemplary prey, pouncing on us. Determining that we were not really overgrown mice, it playfully scampered off and we chased it up a set of stairs to the hayloft. We lost sight of it briefly, then followed it through a doorway into the other end of the barn. Below us we saw a breeding pen, in use. The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady The breeding pen was where a mare was placed when it was decided to breed her to a particular stallion. This was not allowed to be done haphazardly, but was followed quite closely, to develop specific bloodlines for instance, and required considerable care in the selection of the proper pair. At present, the mare was already in the pen, tied by her halter to a bar, and a young man called Little David from his stature (or lack of it, actually!) was leading a stallion into the stall. The stallion seemed to understand precisely what was about to occur and seemed rather anxious to begin, sporting an incredible tumescence. Maude, one of the house servants, was standing next to a bale of hay, watching the proceedings. Once locked in the stall, the stallion rapidly got down to business, and as Siobhan and I spied on him, reared up and mounted the mare, burying himself, a most lengthy process. Then we stared goggle-eyed as Little David came up behind Maude. Undoing his own pants, he lifted her skirt to her waist and leaned her over the bale of hay, to repeat the act being performed before them. Both mares squealed with delight, and both stallions bucked and snorted their pleasure as well. Finally, when the stallion finished with his duty, he climbed off and watched Little David and Maude finishing theirs. Afterwards, Little David returned the stallion to the pasture and Maude returned to the mansion. My most coherent memory of the entire affair was that Little David was misnamed; Goliath would have been more appropriate, since his manhood was quite probably the largest I have ever seen! It was certainly the largest I had seen to that time, admittedly a very small number, but in hindsight I must stand by that statement, and as I write this memoir, I must say that I have since seen more than a few. Both Siobhan and I crept away, to return to the other end of the hayloft, whereupon we lay down on a few coarse horse blankets to discuss these amazing scenes. The kitten followed us and curled up between us to sleep, and we discussed the amazingly debauched household we found ourselves in. She admitted that she had done all that we had seen with her own husband. "That raises a question, Mrs. Rourke. Where might Mister Rourke be?", I asked. Siobhan looked startled, then grinned. "Oh, he's in Boston, but I fear he is quite busy pushing up daisies." At my curious look, she continued, "He's been dead these several years, Caroline. I am a widow." I apologized profusely, which she waved off as unnecessary. "I am curious.", I admitted. "You are not many years older than I, so how can you be a widow several years." "Well, you see, I married when I was your age, at sixteen, but within our first year found myself widowed. Michael died nigh on four years ago, so the pain is gone, but not the memories, and they were sweet memories indeed." "Go on. I am all ears.", I urged. "Well, just in case you haven't learned by now, I grew up in Boston, in a large Catholic family. Michael was my second cousin and a good six years older. I have to admit that when I was little, he was the most cruel and terrible tease, but then, when I was nine, his family moved across the country to California. I did not see him again for another six years. At that time he was twenty-one and about to enter his last year at the Rensselaer school." "The what school?", I asked. "The Rensselaer school. It is an engineering college, quite prestigious despite the ridiculous name. In fact, you rode by it on your trip here, it is only fifty or sixty miles south of here, near Albany. But anyway, he was visiting the family in Boston for a few days when we met again. I think it was love at first sight! He was no longer the snotty brat I remembered, and I was in my bloom, if I do say so myself. We wrote each other constantly, several times a day, and he found a position in Boston after he matriculated, at an engineering firm that built bridges. As soon as he came to town he asked my father for my hand, and we were married that summer. I was only sixteen, but my family knew Michael to be a good man with a fine position. We had a most glorious, if brief, marriage, although it got off to a most terrible start." "Really? How so?", I asked. "It was my mother's fault, really. I grew up in a very conservative household, and a very large family if you count cousins and all, but I was practically the only girl in the bunch! I had five brothers, and the only other girls in the family were a pair of twin newborn cousins! Momma was extremely religious, and marital relations were quite indistinguishable to her from the most sordid work of the devil. I led an extremely protected life. She never let me out of the house unattended, even when Michael was courting me, and she filled my head with the most terrible notions of what was to be expected of me by my husband.", admitted Siobhan. "That doesn't make a lot of sense, Siobhan. I mean, how did you and your brothers get here, if she didn't take an active part?" Siobhan grinned and shook her head. "That is because she played a most inactive part. On my wedding night, she advised me to lie back, grit my teeth, close my eyes, and repeat the rosary to myself while my husband had his dastardly way with me. It was a mortal sin to do anything more, and even that little would be sinful if it were not my husband's marital right to force himself upon me. She had me so scared that I almost called off the wedding." "But you went through with it anyway.", I stated. She laughed. "Good heavens, child, I had to! People had shown up from all across the country, my father would have killed me!" "So what happened? I gather you discovered your mother was wrong?" "Eventually. I was quite terrified that immediately following the ceremony, Michael was going to tear my wedding gown from me and ravish me on the altar. When that failed to happen, I relaxed somewhat until later that evening, when he loaded me into a carriage and drove us to a small house owned by a friend. The friend had agreed to lend us the house for a few days, until we could move my belongings into Michael's. As he carried me across the threshold I burst into tears at my imminent ruin." Siobhan laughed quietly as she remembered her not so distant past. "Needless to say, my husband failed to ravish me on the floor of the foyer. At nine or so, we retired to our bedchamber, and I put on my new white nightshirt, and Michael removed his boots and shirt and settled into bed next to me. I was already cowering under the covers, and promptly burst into unbearable tears." She sat up and looked at me intensely, her movements causing the kitten to wake and wander off. "To this day I bless Michael for treating me so gently that night. If he had simply taken his pleasure upon me, I have no doubt I would have ended as bitter as my mother. Instead he took hours talking to me, calming me, professing his love for me. It was ridiculous. First he had to talk me into pulling the quilt down, then the sheet, then into removing my nightshirt, and then finally into uncurling and laying back. At every step, I would comply, then begin crying again! It was utterly pathetic!" "Well, then what?", I pressed. "Well, then he touched me, and my tears turned instantly into tears of joy! It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck me and burned clear to my soul! My very flesh pulsed as he moved his hands over me, and I gasped and cried out my love for him as I grasped his body to mine. As soon as we had finished one course, I would begin begging for another, and we didn't fall asleep until well after dawn. It was glorious!", she exclaimed, sinking back on the blankets in happy reverie. "Oh my heavens!", I exclaimed. "Your husband must have thought you perfectly mad!" "Oh, he did, he did, but once I knew just how wrong my mother was, I was able to demonstrate my affections quite convincingly." "Did it hurt that first time? I know it did with me.", I said. "What, your first time! I thought you had never been with a man. Or have you?", she asked, gaping across at me. I blushed. "I have not. It was a hairbrush, and it stung terribly." Siobhan snorted and laughed. "Well, then you should have waited for the real thing. It is a considerable improvement." "So the two of you were able to overcome your mother's warnings to you?" "Oh, my, yes! To be honest, I was not Michael's first woman, I mean how could I have been? He was twenty-two, and had been away to college and all, but he proved an excellent instructor, and I tried to be the best pupil possible. He was most insistent on having his husbandly way with me, and I was equally insistent that he do so! He did things with me, and showed me things to do to him, that made what we witnessed earlier seem common and cheap." "Such as?" I was fascinated. "Well, you do understand that there exist more than one orifice in a woman's body suitable for the entrance of a man, don't you?" "Indeed, I have even witnessed such!" "Really, you shall tell me all shortly. In any event, they are all pleasurable. Further, what we saw that young girl doing to the blacksmith? A man can do the same to a woman, and they can even do them at the same time! Hardly a day would pass that my husband would not return home and take me immediately upon his arrival. He preferred me to meet him in the parlor, wearing nothing but my stockings, to slake his manly thirsts. Afterwards, I would dress as if for bed, and serve him supper, than he would make of me a dessert, and we would frolic until bedtime, at which time we would retire for a final passage and then sleep blissfully, naked in each other's arms. Good heavens but it was wonderful!" "It sounds delicious!", I admitted. "Oh, it was. Michael was the most wicked man, wickedly delicious, that is. He forced me to dress most immoderately, and not just at home, although very little force was needed." "How do you mean?" "Well, I have mentioned how at home I wore nothing but my underthings. Whenever we went out together, to a restaurant or a party, he would allow me only to wear a dress and my stockings, and nothing else. Then, whenever we were at all alone, he would force his attentions on me in the most shocking ways, lifting my skirts to fondle me in the most intimate of fashions! Often, when we had left to go home, he would have the hansom driver take a longer way home, or simply drive around, while he laid me naked in the coach and had his way upon my body.", said Siobhan. "So, how did he die?", I asked. Siobhan waved the question off. "Later, later. Now you must tell me how you came to witness the methods with which a man and a woman may find pleasure of each other. Come, tell me all. Who did you watch, your parents, perhaps?" "Precisely so.", I admitted. "So tell me, what were they like? Your father you have said was an officer, but that is all I know. Do you take after either of them?", she pressed. I laughed. "Well, not my father, that is for sure. He was almost ten years older than my mother, and was forty-two when they passed. He was of an average height and build, somewhat shorter and stockier than Uncle James, I should say, with the most amazing muttonchops and mustache! On the other hand, I have been told many times that I am the spitting image of my mother, except for the fact that I am almost a half foot shorter than she was. Papa oft joked that Mama must of had outside help , after which Mama would squawk and hit him with the nearest item to hand. Papa would let her connect with the first blow, then wrap her in his embrace and buss her with great laughter." "They sound most affectionate.", commented Siobhan. "Indeed they were, most affectionate and attentive to each other's needs. There was a brief period even when I felt a certain jealousy towards them both, until I could understand that their love for each other, in all its varied forms, did not mean they cared for me the less. Whenever I was home, I often would hear their bedsprings squeaking as they expressed their affections in the most intimate of fashions.", I said. "So, when and in what manner did you witness these affections?", my friend pressed. "It was my thirteenth birthday. They had taken me out of school for a few days of holiday, and I was rather excited by it all and could not sleep. They had sent me to bed, but I was so excited I wished to stay up longer, so I left my room and went down the hall, to attempt to sneak back downstairs for a bit. However, I was need be detained on the steps, as both Mama and Papa were sitting on the divan, sipping tea and reading the Times. I waited for them to leave, so I could continue my sneak, but events grew out of my control. After they had finished their tea, Papa tossed aside his newspaper and moved closer to Mama, placing one of his hands on her skirt and gently tugging it upwards. Mama let out a squeal of impropriety but laid down her paper as well, and embraced him as he slid his hand under her skirt and between her legs. After only a few brief moments more, I saw Papa pulling Mama's bloomers from under her dress, then he pushed her back onto the divan and moved atop her. Mama was cooperating wholeheartedly, helping my father remove his tunic and braces, and undoing his breeches, then she spread her legs wide as he raised her skirt to her waist and took her there on the divan. I remember thinking how Mama was failing to obey Queen Victoria's admonition for a woman to lie back, close her eyes, and think of England! How treasonous! It was very interesting to watch as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, crying gently, 'Fuck me, Thomas, fuck me!' It was over much too soon for my tastes." I remembered the episode well, as it was my last vacation with my parents; the typhus would kill them only a few weeks hence. "I would have preferred that type of explanation to the one provided by mother.", said Siobhan. "Quite so. It was obvious that if my mother, a fine and God-fearing woman and mother, could enjoy herself so, then perhaps the Queen was mistaken, treason though that be. Afterwards they cuddled on the divan for a while longer, then Mama said that perhaps they should go to their room to continue. I almost bolted at this, but Papa demurred, stating he felt like another course, right then and there, and insisted that Mama relieve him of his needs. With that, he began to remove Mama's clothing from her, and although Mama asked if I might not wake, he persisted and very soon had my mother's dress and corset laying on the floor. With that, he laid back and positioned my mother as he desired, with her face in his lap. From my vantage point it was perfectly clear what she was performing, and Papa was highly pleased with that performance." "How large was your father?", asked Siobhan. At my confused look, she elaborated, "As compared to the specimens we witnessed earlier today, for example?" "Oh, well, I can not be entirely sure. It was, after all, several years past, and I had no standard of comparison, but he seemed more than adequately endowed to gratify my mother's passions. In this second course, he had her satisfy his need with her lips and tongue, taking him into her mouth in his entirety, except for a brief spell, where she knelt between his legs and buried his manhood in the valley of her bosom." I reenacted this part by pressing my own boobies together from the sides, through my dress. "Then she returned to her oral ministrations and allowed his release, swallowing his spendings." "That sounds so much like Michael and me, it gives me shivers.", said Siobhan. "Yes, but they were not finished yet! While Mama tended to Papa in this manner, Papa finished removing his own clothing. Then he drew her into his lap, and told her he would cause her to spend, while he renewed his strength. After this statement, he devoted his touches and kisses to her naked form, concentrating muchly on her own boobies and quim. Mama gasped and shook so I feared she was having a fit, but I was mistaken, for when his manhood stood proud again, she stopped him, and after embracing him, knelt on the carpet. Papa knelt behind her and entered her from behind, as we saw Little David and Maude doing earlier today, but then the most astonishing event occurred. Papa reared back, and as Mama reached back to spread her arse, Papa pushed himself inside her arse! Mama squealed with delight as Papa ravished her backside with vigor and energy, and he spent himself in her nether orifice, collapsing atop her as she gasped out her own spending. It was at this point I returned to my own bed." "What an amazing lesson you learned at such an early age!" "Quite. I have since come to the conclusion that when I do marry, my relations with my husband promise to be most pleasant, and I look forward to them eagerly. Mrs. Pembleton, the headmistress at my school, told us, if somewhat indirectly, that she and her husband enjoyed their relations as often as practicable, and you also say as much, so I have great hopes for my wedded bliss!" "You shall, you shall!" Siobhan and I embraced at the thought. It was a lengthy embrace, and I briefly wondered if she had a different type of embrace planned. I considered it one thing to enter into a dalliance with the hired help, but something quite different to do so with a friend, and was relieved when she pulled away. "So, how came you to be widowed, and what did you do thereafter?", I asked. "The first question is simple. There was an accident at a bridge Michael was building, and he and two workmen plummeted to their deaths. Fortunately, Michael had left me well able to survive on my own. His own parents had died, leaving him a reasonable inheritance, and he had some insurance and savings as well. Despite my parent's insistence that I return home, I refused, preferring my independence. Then, I learned the most amazing thing." "What was that?", I asked. "Well, by the time my year of mourning was up, I had been an entire year without the touch of a man's body, and I was feeling most deprived, yet I felt no impulse to wed again for such a purpose. During my mourning, several of Michael's friends had approached me with offers of companionship, and I realized that wedded bliss did not necessarily require the wedding. With the proper care and discretion, it is quite easy to manage such events, and I partook of them gladly. I also confirmed that my love for Michael had been true, as I felt little for these dalliances beyond the pleasures they provided me.", she admitted. "You would be surprised, but I feel as if I can understand you completely. It is similar to the trysts I engaged in with the girls at Mrs. Pembleton's school, in that I knew that while extremely enjoyable, they would never satisfy my desire for a loving and affectionate husband. So what did you do when you were not engaging in these pleasures?", I asked. "Well, Michael's funds were sufficient to pay for the house and the upkeep thereof, but he had always cautioned me of the difference between capital and principle, and of the danger of spending capital. I soon found myself as a nanny and governess to young children, which I continued until I came here. I fear that you have little need of either, but your Uncle's offer was most suitable to me. My last position was rather strange." "How so?" "Well, I was attached to the household of a fairly wealthy banker in Boston. He had both a large family and a large staff, and was quite active in obeying the Biblical command to be fruitful and multiply with both!" "What! You must explain!", I demanded. "It is hard to do so, since I little understand it myself. He was quite active in his pursuit of the maids and cooks, with considerable success I might add, and even added me to his harem. I at first thought that he made such pursuits since his wife was an absolute harridan and battleaxe, with a face and figure suitable for your Uncle's pastures, but this was not so, since their own relations were equally frequent. They had eight children already, and she was in a family way again when I began my employ! His success with the women on the staff was a match for this, since his wife was frequently sacking a cook or maid who showed the signs of incipient childbirth. As it was, she managed to walk in on her husband and I, and I was let go on the spot!", said Siobhan. The Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady "How terrible for you. What kind of a cad was the man?", I exclaimed. "Now that is the most amazing part of the tale. He was the most innocuous gentleman you can imagine, of average appearance at best, as old as Mister Singh appears, bald, myopic, and stout to boot. The single trait he possessed in abundance was the ability to talk a girl into bed, a trait which he exercised as often as humanly possible. I tell you, the man could have talked a cloistered nun onto her back!" "Astonishing!" "Very." The afternoon was ending, so we took our leave of the hayloft and went down to prepare for dinner. Chapter 4 - Shopping for Necessities and Extravagances At dinner that night I found that I had exhausted my reserves at the first conflict. My mode of attire was limited to a long and tight black skirt and a high-necked white blouse. While the blouse was relatively sheer, and I disdained a shift for a lacy corset, Siobhan countered with a rather immodestly cut dress of her own, and though her forces were not perhaps equal to mine, they were nonetheless quite sufficient for the battle at hand. An impartial referee would be charitable to describe the contest as an equal one. My Uncle proved that in such matters he preferred to be able to clearly see the combatants. I was still able to score on a different ground, and in doing so expanded my duties from lay-about to gainfully employed. During talk after supper, my Uncle declared that he had recently received a letter imploring him to invest in an ironworks in Bratislava, Slovenia. I corrected him gently, saying that Bratislava was in Slovakia, not Slovenia. He goggled at me. "Are you sure?" He seemed quite skeptical. "Very much so, sir. My father was stationed there briefly." He swore and bolted from his chair, much to the amazement of Siobhan and I. Several minutes later he returned, brandishing a letter in one hand and his spectacles in another. "I thought my eyes were giving me away again, girl, but this time you are the one mistaken!" He thrust the letter at me. "Slovenia, see?" I glanced at the letter long enough to see that indeed it did say, 'Bratislava, Slovenia', but stood my ground firmly. "Mayhap the letter does say so, Uncle James, but the residents of Bratislava consider themselves Slovakians, not Slovenians." This quite consternated him, and he left a second time, returning shortly with a large atlas of maps. "Show me.", he demanded. A quite check of the index led me to the correct page, and I pointed out that they were indeed two separate nations, and that Bratislava was indeed the capitol city of Slovakia. He stared at the page for several moments, then sat back in his chair, tossing his spectacles aside. Looking at Ahkbar Singh, he said, "Drat! And to think I was actually considering this investment! Yet this fool either doesn't know where he plans on building his factory or thinks I won't catch on!" Ahkbar simply pondered in silence, although his facial expressions were interesting. My Uncle turned back towards me. "I am afraid my dear, that while Ahkbar and I are quite familiar with the subcontinent and Asia, and I am fairly familiar with the United States, neither of us has traveled at all in Europe. Are you at all familiar with the continent?" "Well, on such a relative basis, I would have to say more so than you, sir. I have traveled there, at least to a certain extent with my parents, and in truth an English education does tend to concentrate more in that direction, but I am in no ways an expert." He slapped his palm on the table soundly, setting the crockery to rattling. "By Jove, we must talk more. I am getting reports of a number of investment opportunities in Europe of late, and here you are to help me. What say you if I make you my European secretary, with a salary to match?" Alarmed, I tried to demure. "Please, Uncle James, as I said, I am not an expert. Surely you must have some others more qualified available?" He shrugged my worries aside. "Quite so, in Boston and New York, but not in Saratoga. Please, you can help me more than you can imagine. They may know a good deal more, but they also charge a good deal more than I plan on paying you. Still, it will give you something to do while you plan your future, and it may well prove useful all the way around. I am willing to chance it if you are." "Well, on those nebulous conditions and for an indefinite term, agreed, sir." I thrust out my hand and he shook it firmly, while Siobhan applauded my good fortune. The next day both Siobhan and I had planned for and obtained permission to go into town and shop. We met over breakfast, and being curious how we were to get thence, were directed by the cooks to go find Uncle James and Ahkbar, presently dueling! Mystified, we sped out the door to a large pen behind one of the nearby sheds. Here, in the small fenced-in circle, surrounded by a fence upon which several of the maidservants were hanging and watching, the two men were going at each other with swords! It became obvious in a second that this was not a real duel, but a practice. Both men were stripped to the waist, even Ahkbar had removed his coat and shirt, and despite the early morning coolness, perspiration flowed freely along their manly chests. They made quite the contrast. Uncle James was slender, with wide-set shoulders, and his musculature was hard and rangy and not at all bulky, while Mister Singh was larger in girth and musculature, although not stout but stocky. A life of hard usage showed on both forms. My Uncle had several noticeable scars on his torso, beyond the one on his face. A long and jagged tear had been made in his side at one time, his right chest showed a pair of small round scars matched by another pair, obviously bullet exit marks, on his back. Ahkbar's torso was even more amazing. Somebody had once endeavored to torture him with the lash, as his back was a latticework of long welts and scars, some healed white, others persistently reddened. In addition, both bore the marks of the morning's exertions, with several lighter abrasions showing where they had been scored upon. We waved as we approached, and Uncle James glanced over at us in acknowledgement. It was at that moment that Ahkbar struck most foully, kicking my Uncle's legs from beneath him. As my relation collapsed into the sawdust, Ahkbar's sword whistled down from above, stopping only as it met the skin on the back of Uncle Jame's neck. "Foul! Foul!", we cried, as Uncle James through down his sword in surrender. In response, Ahkbar helped him to his feet, cursing him loudly in a Punjabi dialect. At my Uncle's nod in our direction, he translated. "In a real fight, allowing yourself to be so distracted will get your head mounted on a pike at the palace gate!" "They don't really do that, do they?", asked Siobhan. I already knew the answer, but Uncle James answered for me. "Only if you're very lucky.", he puffed out. "At least that way you're already dead. I've seen some palace gates decorated by entire bodies up on pikes, and they were still kicking." I nodded. "Quite barbarous, I have been told." Ahkbar smiled. "Oh, yes, much worse than blowing your prisoners apart by cannon, like the English do." "What?", I asked. A grinning Uncle James explained. "The English have been known on more than one occasion to remove excess prisoners by tying them across the barrels of cannons prior to battle, then lighting them off." He held his arms out to demonstrate. "That's not true!", I protested. "Quite true, child.", remarked Ahkbar. "Damn near happened to us, eh, old friend!" concluded my Uncle. Subdued, Siobhan and I asked about transportation into the town. Uncle James announced, "One more passage, then Ahkbar can run you in." Pointing at one of the spectators, he ordered, "Go tell Jack to rig up the carriage.", then he and Mister Singh resumed their stances in the center of the small arena. Despite the playacting characteristic of the practice duel, both men went about the affair with deadly earnest. Unlike the more formalized training taught in a fencing class, this became a knock-down, dragged-out brawl. In one instance Uncle James punched the basket hilt of his saber into Ahkbar's stomach, only to be followed by a hearty kick to his own. This was caught and turned, only to be followed by the falling Ahkbar throwing sawdust in Uncle James' face. This back and forth went on for several minutes before a deft move threw Ahkbar's sword across the ring, and Uncle James' blade was felt along the side of Ahkbar's neck. He surrendered and they gathered their weapons, tossing them out of the pen and onto a small table. I examined them, having often seen my father's dress sword. Unsurprisingly, they were quite blunt and dull, but I was amazed at their weight. I could scarce lift one! "Practice swords. You double or triple the weight to build strength and stamina. That way, if you ever have to do it for real, you can last longer and strike harder and faster.", my Uncle commented. "Have you ever had to do so?", asked a breathy Siobhan. Uncle James paused in putting on his shirt. Pointing at the healed gash in his side, he replied, "Sumatra. Almost died, too. Fortunately the other fellows really did die, so it all worked out in the end." He finished with his shirt and led us outside to the carriage. Mister Singh had miraculously managed to clean himself and dress in his full ensemble in the brief time allotted. In short order we found ourselves deposited in the town square, surrounded by chestnut and elm lined streets with a multitude of small shops. We spent the rest of the day, with a generous break for lunch, going from one lady's shop to another, leaving our purchases behind to be gathered at the end of the day. I was quite astonished by the value of the sheaf of banknotes my Uncle had provided me. In retrospect, I understood that the British pound sterling was the foremost currency in the world, but what this meant when translated into American money allowed me to shop for most of the morning before I had to dip into the credit my Uncle had at these establishments. I utterly failed to wonder why my Uncle would have credit with stores that only sold women's clothing, especially those which specialized in lady's fineries. Siobhan also unlocked her purse to a considerable degree, and we had a glorious time spending our monies. I knew that in the polite battle which we were waging for Uncle James' attentions that it would be necessary to call attention to my pair of considerable armies, and I knew Siobhan would be attempting to do the same. Still it was a most genteel combat, and neither of us hesitated to point out to the other an especially attractive outfit. While she may have been the more experienced campaigner, I was a fast and eager cadet. I took my red rayon dress as a mere beachhead. I purchased several dresses which displayed my charms amply, in a variety of colors and fabrics, with narrow waists, low cut bodices, and bustles which were just large enough to highlight my proportions. Siobhan tried to do the same, but in this style of combat, God truly does favor the bigger battalions! We also purchased several pair of shoes, not the button front styles more conducive to walking, but slippers, delicate and high heeled, to lend height and grace, and a definite sway when walking. As for our undergarments, we both selected attire reminiscent of Charity's garments. Our stockings were longer and sheerer and our bloomers were most abbreviated. We both obtained several garter belts and a few of the new French brasierres, both fuller coverage and the open-topped style. Our new corsets were very immoderate, being simply sufficient to nip our waists and supports our boobies as if for display. By the end of the day, as the shops began to gather our possessions, we could both feel that we were ready for this contest. I was rather curious when, in the final shop, a lady's finery and notions store, Siobhan spotted a small and oblong box and handed it to me, commenting, "Here, I am sure that you will be needing this." I glanced at the box. 'Doctor Allsworth's Patent Cure For Female Hysteria', it said, and underneath this elaborate title, it announced itself as the cure for '...Feminine Hysteria, Nervousness, Exhaustion, Dietary Disorder, Fluxion, Vapors,...' and a myriad of other ills. "I don't have any of these!", I protested, setting it back on the shelf. Siobhan laughed and picked it back up and handed it to me again. "Take it, trust me." Curious, I opened the end of the cardboard box and looked inside. I could not quite see the contents, so I turned the box upright and the 'Patent Cure' slid out into my hand. I could but stare! Inside the box was a duplicate of an erect male organ, cast in artificial ivory. Flabbergasted, I fumbled the item back into the box and thrust it back onto the shelf, all the while exclaiming, "Ye Gods!" I looked daggers at my erstwhile rival. "Siobhan, what are you thinking of?!", I whispered urgently. She laughed and grabbed the box back, placing it with her own purchases. "It is much more pleasant than a hairbrush, my dear." Red-faced I followed her to the counter, where she purchased it, and then out into the street. Dinner was an interesting comparison of our styles. Siobhan proved slightly more decorous and sophisticated, while I used youthful exuberance and simplicity. My bodice was wider and a touch more open, while hers was cut somewhat deeper, so that we both displayed a considerable valley at our bosom. I wore a minimal corset with attached garters and no bloomers, and stockings, and felt decidedly wicked. We both wore a new pair of slippers, and Uncle James was at quite a loss as to which of us he should watch the closer. We both wiggled and jiggled fetchingly. After dining, Siobhan excused us and taking me by the hand, led me upstairs. "Go change for bed. I shall be along presently." Curious, I doffed my new clothing and put on one of my new night shirts, a soft linen which failed to reach my knees and had a row of buttons down the front, like a blouse. I had just settled myself on the bed, sitting Indian style, when Siobhan knocked on the door and entered. She wore a new shift of her own, one no longer than mine and very loose in the neckline and bodice, and carried both the 'Patent Cure' in its box and a box of her own, in a Japan lacquer. She crawled up on my bed and faced me, then opened the box containing the 'Patent Cure'. "Now, let us cure your hysteria.", she announced. Curious, I examined the obscene object. As best I could tell from my limited experience, it was an exact replica of the male organ of regeneration in its fully masculine condition. It was approximately of seven inches in length and of somewhat over a single inch in width, and even had molded into it a variety of veins and ridges, as well as a rounded representation of a cockhead. Shyly, I raised my shift and spread my legs, exposing my cunny to my friend. Placing it along my slit, I discovered that I was slickly wet. I placed the false shaft along my valley and was electrified at the touch. "Ooohh!" "Go ahead, place it inside yourself. It looks much more interesting than the handle of a hairbrush, don't you agree?", asked Siobhan. "I must admit, it does.", I agreed. Angling the organ towards myself, I inserted the head of the device into my cunny and slipped it slowly inside. "Ohhh, ohhh! This is much better!", I exclaimed. I pushed it inside until it was fully enveloped. "Now, pull it out and push it back in. The faster you go, the better it will feel.", explained Siobhan. "And rub it against your nubbin, that is especially fine!" Siobhan was most excited and had begun breathing harder. I did as she ordered and was delighted by the sensations flowing through my loins. An older friend of mine at Mrs. Pembleton's had possessed such an item, and although she had never shared it with me, I now could understand the pleasure she took from it. As was my wont in these circumstances, I began to use only one hand to guide the intruder. With my other I reached up and undid my nightdress, slipping my hand inside to fondle my boobies. Moments later I felt my ecstasy peaking, and began to shudder in the final pleasures of that ecstasy. "So good, so good!", I cried out, gasping as I crested. After I had rested a moment, Siobhan exclaimed, "I must borrow that sometime. For now, let me show you my own cures for hysteria." So saying, she opened her box. It was low in stature but almost a foot long, and reminded me of a jewelry case, only without the many drawers that they normally would have. She pulled out several items and showed them to me. First she held up a small egg-shaped piece in ivory, carved with a small pedestal at the base, then a longer and thinner ivory 'Cure'. "Michael obtained these for me shortly after our wedding. When I learned the delights of the marriage bed, I promised that I would allow him to use my body for his pleasures in every way imaginable, even the most outlandish. He explained a method most enjoyable, but said that I would need to be trained in the method first." "What method was that?", I asked. "Why, the same method that your father finished in your mother that night you watched them. Michael enjoyed taking me in the Greek fashion on occasion. He would often rub and finger my arse, and desired to empty his seed into my arse as well. I was nervous at this, inasmuch as he was of a rather pronounced stature, so he trained me to his usage." Siobhan pulled a small jar of petroleum jelly from the box. Opening it, she ordered me to lie face down upon the covers. "Now, we shall place a small dollop on your rosebud, and another on the small egg,", she said as I felt the cool jelly coat my nether opening. Then I felt an insistent push into my arse, and as I protested, she said, "And then we place the egg inside and leave it there. How does that feel?" It felt like I needed to most urgently relieve my bowels, and I told her so. "Nonsense. You simply need to get used to it. Now roll over and sit back up. The egg shall stay in place, and you shall enjoy the oddest sensations in short order." I protested further but gave way to her greater expertise in such matters. In truth, the urge to void myself was passing even as I complained, so I sat back down facing my friend. "Now this next object, and these are known as dildoes by the way, though I have no idea why, is the next step. As you can see, it is larger and longer, and is designed to be inserted by you or your lover and moved in the same fashion as you just performed with yours.", said my teacher. I took it from her and examined it closely. It was of an intermediate size, being about five inches in length and slightly under an inch in width. "Really?" I was fascinated, and already my clenching arse was providing an enjoyable stimulation. "Oh, yes!" Next she displayed an ebony dildo of a most substantial size. It was easily eight inches long and two wide, and had a most curious curve to it. "Now this I obtained after Michael's accident. It is an almost perfect reproduction of his manhood." "It seems a little dark for your second cousin.", I quipped. Siobhan took a second to understand, then laughed. "Well, I will admit that my family has a strain of the Black Irish, but not to this extent! Here, allow me." Taking it from my hands, she lifted her own shift and pressed it inside her cunny, moaning at the entrance. She immediately began thrusting it fiercely and spent moments later. "Oh, that was pleasant, now we are even!" "Lie back and let me help you then." I pushed Siobhan's shoulders back and she reclined on my bed. Kneeling between her outspread legs, I commented, "So, the maids have been at you with the razor, too." Siobhan was shaved as neatly as myself.