My shame was now nearly complete, for the air was thick with a scent which I knew must be my own and they could clearly see the dew that moistened my sexual parts.
'And now the most important question,' announced Jarvis, '...is she still a virgin?'
'I am indeed,' I cried, for it was true.
'I hope so, my dear, for I paid out a lot of his Lordship's money.'
I was hardly in a position to ask him to elucidate on these mysterious remarks. Indeed I hardly heard them as he delicately ran a finger up the inside of my thigh, from my stocking top to the alert and tender skin adjacent to the triangle of blonde curls that covered my mount. There he delved his inquisitive digit into my moist and hidden groove.
'Oh,' I cried, my loins twitching as a dart of sensation shot through me. 'Oh sir, please don't. This is most indecent.'
But Jarvis had no mercy on my shame and, had he shown any, I dare say his accomplices in debauchery would have been cruelly disappointed. In truth the sensations in my private parts were such that I would have been a little disappointed myself.
Now his fingers were playing with me at will; nibbling and stroking and paddling in my sodden thicket, finding my most secret nub of pleasure and agitating it so sweetly and so knowingly that my knees gave way and I collapsed into the arms of his two lecherous handmaidens.
They laid me on the table, on my back, and spread my legs on either side of the seated Jarvis. It was a grotesque and yet most titillating arrangement - in which the man sat at table to feast on the most succulent part of my anatomy. On either side of me were Winifred and Milly who fondled my neck and shoulders and breasts.
Jarvis now had total possession of my treacherous sexual portion and proceeded to insinuate a finger right into me.
'She's tight enough,' he muttered as his insistent digit eased into my virgin orifice. Then its passage ceased, its progress inhibited by the natural barrier of my uncorrupted state. A broad smile broke across the manservant's features.
'Your mother's an honest woman,' he said to me, 'and so are you it seems.'
'So, she's a virgin, is she - are you sure?' With this Winnie plunged her hand between my legs in Jarvis's place.
Though I recoiled from her fumbling there was little I could do. Indeed I was past the point of any resistance at all. I was totally bewildered - by my humiliation, by this talk of Lord Coddrington and my mother, by the praise heaped upon my person and, above all, by the overwhelming sensations in my most secret parts. It was dawning on me then that my body was not the uncomplicated mechanism I had always believed it to be. At the moment it seemed to have a will and an appetite of its own. Even the coarse manipulations of a matron old enough to be my mother were as the exquisite fingering of a musician on the strings of a harp. And when she took her hand away I could have wept for another player to have taken up the tune. In such a state I was hardly aware of what they were saying.
'She's pure all right,' agreed Winnie.
'And she's a hot little filly, too,' came the reply, 'look at her jib her cunt up, she wants it that bad. For two pins I'd give it to her and his Lordship could go hang.'
But that was not to be my fate.
There was a sound of giggling and a slithering and flapping of clothes. I opened my eyes to see Jarvis, his garments at his feet, stark naked in the dappled light of the fire. His chest was matted with thick black hair, his simian arms hung by his sides and from the forest of hair in his loins sprung a thick staff, its head angry and glistening.
Milly now stood in front of me, her dark hair loose about her shoulders, the points of her breasts clearly outlined through the material of her shift. To my surprise she pulled my thighs apart and bent down to support her elbows on the table between my legs. Suddenly, it seemed, my thighs were captured in the crooks of her arms and her face was buried right between my less.
'Oh, what are you doing?' I shrieked as Milly's thin warm lips sought out my agitated slit as eagerly as a pig after a truffle.
'She's going to gamahuche you, my darling,' whispered Winnie in my ear. 'You just lie back and enjoy yourself. Mr Jarvis is going to take her from behind so he can enjoy the adorable spectacle you will make. Now you see how much we love you!'
I knew enough not to trust the old bawd, but in one particular she was not lying for Jarvis had upped Milly's shift from behind and was dandling the buttocks now thrust saucily towards him.
With a shameless gesture be ran his fingers in the juice of her crack and anointed the tip of his bobbing organ. Then be positioned himself rudely behind her and slid his shaft smoothly home. I felt the tremor of his entry transmit itself through the gasp and tremble of her lips on my nether mouth. It was as if the three of us were worms skewered on one pin, wiggling and thrashing in an indistinguishable erotic agony.
Winnie too was transfixed by the same passion. At Jarvis's direction she had unfastened the pinning of her dress so that her huge white dugs now billowed out of her bodice and her skirts were up to her waist exposing the creamy flesh of her belly.
'Frig yourself, Winnie,' commanded Jarvis and the matron needed no second urging. She plunged her hand between her legs and began to manipulate her capacious hole with practised dexterity, spreading her legs as wide as she could and pulling open the flaps of her cunt at Jarvis's instruction.
He now surveyed us all in a libidinous frenzy. To excite his lust still further he told me to place my hand on Winnie's love-hole and to frig her as I would myself. I was willing to indulge this lechery but I did not know how, never having even done it to myself. Winnie herself showed me by placing her hand over mine and directing the play of my fingers over her bewitching motte.
Thus did the four of us take our pleasures. Jarvis pumping into Milly's delectable rear end, she milking and nuzzling my aching nether spot and Winnie writhing and twisting under the eager ministrations of my novice touch.
Though until now I had been a stranger to these delicious pleasures, I knew instinctively that there must be a coming crisis of the flesh. I could feel an emotion building within me that must soon have physical release.
'Oh Lord,' I heard myself say, 'oh heavens, oh dear,' and it seemed a chorus of cries burst from us all at the same time. Even Milly, with her mouth glued fast to the hungry well between my thighs, seemed to sing a song of ecstasy into my very vitals as a white wave surged through my entire frame and threw me up into a blaze of sunlight and onto a warm, soft bed of bliss.
I opened my eyes to find my head pillowed on the bountiful still-heaving bosom of Winnie the housekeeper. I knew now that the world would never be the same.
Debauched yet still virgin, I awoke the next morning to the knowledge that the world itself contained a world that I knew nothing of. It was strange to think that I had always carried with me the key to this mysterious and intoxicating land and yet only now did I realise how to unlock its secrets.
Lying on my narrow bed with the day not yet begun. I took stock of the events of the previous evening. It was now plain to me why Olive, my step-mother, had been only too happy to see me go. I wondered how much money had found its way into her purse to compensate her for my absence and my usefulness about her house. Yet the realisation that I had been sold for my virginity did not strike me with horror as it might other girls in my situation. The shame, the fear, the praise, the pleasure - this new knowledge had changed me irrevocably from the girl who had come to this house just a few days before.
So this was what men and women did! It explained a great deal to me, made sense of the way my step-mother with her heavy figure and slatternly habits had besotted my father. I had seen them lying together, on top of the bed one hot summer's day and he palping and patting the big moon cheeks of her arse. It made sense too of the way Lord Coddrington's eyes followed me, dwelling on every curve of my uniformed figure - and maybe also of how his children had regarded me in the drawing-room the previous day.
Here lay the crux of my present dilemma. It was obvious that I was shortly to be w
hisked into his Lordship's bed for his enjoyment of the charms which Jarvis had reluctantly refrained from sampling. When, I wondered, was my defloration to take place? Now that I had been subjected to the intimate scrutiny of Jarvis and company I could only presume it would be soon.
I confess to an immodest confusion. Most chaste girls in my situation would have plotted their escape from this licentious house - or fainted dead away from terror. But I knew already that I was one of nature's libertines albeit, as I now think, a foolish one. My concern was not to preserve my virginity - or to sell it to the highest bidder - but bestow it for love. I knew I did not want to yield my maidenhead to an old lecher, no matter how noble or wealthy. I wanted to give it up to William, he of the elegant bearing and warm smile.
I wondered what he would look like in the place Jarvis in my reminiscence of the orgy in the servant's hall. Would his organ thrust, club-like, from his belly like that stiff, threatening sword of flesh that Jarvis bore? I could not picture it precisely yet the thought excited me. I recalled the way William had regarded me the day before and his words - 'a remarkably pretty child' - surely he would accept from me the gift of my virginity?
As I teased at this prospect in my imagination, my fingers naturally strayed to that now mysterious spot between my thighs and made an exploration in the light of my new knowledge. I rubbed the coarse short hairs on my mound and gently pulled open the wings of my cunt to probe within. I traced the outline of a bearded mouth and rolled the tender lips between my fingers, feeling the tingle of remembered new pleasures as I did so.
With both hands now, my legs asplay, I felt inside my hot passage and tried to imagine the entry of such an instrument as Jarvis's. In my mind's eye the bright plum of his staff took on enormous proportions. Surely such a big thing could not be inserted into the confines of such a narrow corridor? Yet was Milly made so differently to me? She had engulfed that monstrous organ to the hilt, to his hairy balls which had battered her buttocks as he thrust into her! It was such a mystery. A delicious, exciting mystery that held me in a spell I had no wish to break.
Thus, my fingers now stroking, fondling, encircling the nub of flesh at the stop of my split, I frigged myself into a frenzy. Yet I was clumsy. It seemed I was chasing something not quite within my grasp and though I was flooded with a sudden warmth I was not able to scratch at my real itch.
It was time to get up, to clear and lay fires and embark on my daily chores. If I failed to perform my tasks I was certain to be upbraided by Winnie but, after last night, when I had witnessed her puffing and wheezing in the heat of her passion, and when it was I myself who had dictated the ebb and flow of her lusts, I no longer felt fearful of her authority. Besides, evidently I had not been added to the household for my abilities as a drudge. The fires could wait, I had another scheme.
I upped and dressed as quietly as I could. Yet in my impatience I could not help blundering into the end of Milly's bed which lay between my own and the door. She called to me in a voice heavy with sleep, asking if it was time for her to rise. I bent and spoke to the mass of dark hair that fanned over her pillow.
'Go back to sleep,' I whispered. Her face was barely visible but it seemed her eyes were still shut. 'I'll take the teas up.'
I tapped gently on Miss Hilda's door. From behind the door came a muffled sound which I took to be a summons to enter. I did so, bearing the tea tray and with my excuses for Milly already half out of my mouth.
And there they remained, frozen on my tongue, as I regarded the tableau before me. Miss Hilda's bed faced the door so, on the threshold of the room, I looked directly at its foot. As beds go it was a large and sturdy article, as indeed it needed to be to support the vigorous activity that was taking place upon it. I gazed, it seemed, upon a human octopus at whose centre clenched and writhed and thrust a pair of naked male buttocks. The pale skin of this gyrating seat was downed in dark fuzz, growing thick and black in the rude seam which bisected it. Above this mesmerising sight waved, inexplicably, a female foot whose toes wriggled and flexed in dainty abandon.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light I struggled to make sense of the strange shape. Amid the wreckage of the bed linen, the bedraggled sheets half on the floor, I made out the columns of a man's strong thighs as he knelt forwards, a sturdy brown back and a dangling pouch of skin which waggled coarsely beneath the muscular cheeks of that dancing arse. Now I could see that the man had Hilda's legs slung high about his neck and that he was supporting them both in this position, thrusting deep within her body with fiercely energetic strokes. I could hear their breathing, he with slow deep pants, she on a quicker note that indicated laughter - or tears.
My mind was in a turmoil. In my ignorance it seemed incredible that two people could accomplish such things. And Miss Hilda, so well-mannered and proper-and so abandoned! Or was I witnessing the violent sack of her virtue? Was her bedfellow some crude ruffian who had broken into the house and was now raping my mistress before my eyes? Yet I knew this could not be the case, only by the way her fingers were toying feverishly with the short black curls that grew at the back of his neck.
Convinced by now that the lovers were too transported to have noticed my ill-timed entrance, I began to edge backwards out of the doorway when Hilda spoke. Her voice was low and breathless but it addressed itself unmistakably to me.
'Put the tray down Milly, you little trollop, and run along. You've seen enough.'
Now did not seem the right moment to explain that Milly was indisposed. Indeed, I imagined that it would cause a degree of consternation were I to do so. Accordingly, my mind buzzing with the implications of Hilda's remarkable speech, I placed the tea tray on the dressing table by the door and turned to go.
As I did so I cast one last inquisitive glance backwards. To my surprise the man on the bed turned to look at me. Then he deliberately shifted position to show me his thick brown staff plunging hungrily into the pink-lipped nest now revealed between Miss Hilda's suspended thighs. For a moment he held it still, in full view, at the entrance to her wet and juicy passage and grinned at me in shameless masculine pride. Then, as her cries mounted to a higher pitch, he stuffed it home deep inside her.
I left the room with my heart hammering against my ribs. What I had seen was coarse, vulgar, obscene. Yet it had affected me profoundly and what disturbed me most was that I wanted this rude spectacle for myself. I wanted muscular arms round my body, a mouth fast like a leech to my mouth and a big engine like that one bolting between my thighs. I leant against the wall in the corridor outside the bedroom and closed my eyes as the blood raced crazily through my veins.
The swirl of passion had scarcely abated by the time I entered Mr William's bedroom, bearing yet another tray in my trembling hands. His room stood on the second floor of the house, facing east, and already early morning spring sunshine had pierced the gaps in the drawn curtains of the high windows. A broad hand of pale sunlight fell squarely across the bed and the still form that lay between its crisp white sheets.
Mr William was deep in slumber, his mouth half-open and a sleepy gurgle in his breath, whose regular respiration both reassured me and aggravated my fear of discovery. I had no conscious plan but it seemed my body had more knowledge of my purpose than my lust drunk brain.
I took hold of the hem of the top sheet and slowly pulled. With surprising facility the bed covering yielded to my naughty purpose and fell away from the unconscious form that lay beneath. Already uncaring of the consequences, I drew the sheet back to reveal the object of my desires.
He lay on his back, his limbs spread wide, one arm tucked up underneath the pillow. He wore just a simple night-shirt, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal an expanse of tender, boyish chest and which, in the manner of such garments had ridden up during his night's repose and was now rucked high around his waist. Thus I could gaze with sinful fascination on his almost naked form. He was slender, pale, almost girlish in his making - so different from the brutish Jarvis and the coarse ruffian I ha
d seen but recently lewdly frolicking in Miss Hilda's boudoir. This was no vulgar ape who would leer obscenely at a woman as he roughly violated her femininity. Here lay a beautiful angel who would surely divest me of my maidenhead with tenderness and consideration.
But let me not be coy. Of course my eyes were drawn, above all, to the junction of the man's thighs; drawn there first and last to scrutinise every fold of flesh, every mole, every downy hair - every aspect of the instrument which I hoped would disencumber me of my virgin state. And here, indeed, was cause for fascination. If there was a marked contrast between William and the other men I had observed in their natural state, then here lay its epitome. Though the other two manly organs I had seen had been engaged, so to speak, and this one was in repose, here surely was a different order of masculinity.
The article in question lay curled like a tiny sleeping mouse on a cushion of two blue pigeon's eggs. There was no hair there to speak of, just a transparent fuzz of down which I could only observe by sinking to my knees at the side of the bed and bending my head close to the root of my curiosity.
What interested me above all was the mysterious hood of skin which covered the head of this exquisite article and ended in a curl of pretty pink flesh. Where was the great red plum, the focus of Jarvis's battering ram, that had so inflamed my imagination? Could it be wrapped within that dainty fold of flesh, hidden and asleep just like its owner?
My inquisitive nature was in no state to be denied. I cautiously raised my hand and, as gently as I could, ran my forefinger down the length of the tiny organ. The skin was as soft and smooth as a new born baby's. I glanced anxiously at William's face. There was no change in his features or in his regular breathing. He slept on. I touched him with my finger again. And again.
It seemed to me now that the mouse was stirring in its sleep. Now, when I gently stroked the tender crest of flesh I could see that the animal was waking up, was growing miraculously before my eyes. Emboldened, I began to tickle beneath its chin and the head began to twitch. Then - oh my - the whole organ gave a leap and jerked upwards out of my hand. Mouse no more, it had metamorphosed into a stiff snake which pointed upwards against William's belly and danced with a life of its own.
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