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 Cornelius 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 me, 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 parents’ 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 porcelain claw-foot 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 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 parents’ 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 I actually 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 ménage 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.