Chapter 2

Diary entry 2

"Not bad for a beginner or a beginning Em," laughed Penny as she scrolled through the first part of the erotic story. "I doubt many will recognise you from the description of yourself though. Perhaps you can grow your hair longer and dye it black but how do you intend to replicate those large brown eyes? Your boobs probably fill the part okay."

"I just used a little poetic license. It isn't supposed to be a biography!"

"I notice you're hanging on to your virginity for a while yet. And I didn't know you were into quirky menstruating sex."

"Have you never done it then?" Penny grimaced at the thought but I continued, "It's not so bad. Ken used to do it when he couldn't wait a couple of days. We just put a towel under us and I made sure his prick didn't touch the sheets on the way to the bathroom. Otherwise the sex wasn't much different to normal or sometimes it was better as I always seem hornier during my period. You've admitted that too."

"And how long before I get in on the action in this masterpiece of a porn novel?"

"Sometime before the last chapter I expect."

"It'd better be soon. I think I should oversee you being screwed for the first time."

"What so you can lick me clean afterwards? Remember, I'm on my period."

"Yukk! But I think it would be a twist if I did watch and maybe order a few more stripes on your arse for not performing well enough. And what about my sons? My three boys? Hey assuming the youngest is sixteen, the oldest could be around twenty, that would make me thirty-seven years old at least."

"You really don't look your age dear!" Penny managed to swat my bum before I moved out of her range.

Chapter two. Ravished by the master

Nervously I followed Clarrie, a maid only a little older than myself, to the master's room at four o'clock. At least in this house I could tell the time from the grandfather clock that stood in the hallway and chimed the hours. At home we went by the sun or from hearing the church clock if the wind was in the right direction. My arse was a little tender still but I'd been allowed to put my period rags on while I worked in the kitchen for the first part of the afternoon. My extremely short shift must have excited the men but when Cyril tried to feel my bottom, Cook severely rebuked him saying, "You keeps your hands and your prick away from her lad, wait until his lordship says she's free for all to use. You know what he's like when people take liberties with his property and like as not you'd end up on the whipping bench for a hard birching and a buggering afterwards no doubt." I felt sorry for him but there was nothing I could do. At the time the other boy and the butler were in the kitchen as well as many of the maids and kitchen staff. At least most of them seemed sympathetic to me and I surmised they knew a little of what my fate would be later on.

The mention of a whipping bench shocked me. I'd heard there was one in our village jail that wrongdoers and vagrants were fastened to when being punished but I didn't expect one in a house. And from Cook's remark, it was obviously used, but was it just used on the men? After the way I was strapped earlier for a minor infraction of their rules, I suspected that us girls might well be whipped on it too.

"Calm yourself Emily," Clarrie whispered as we neared the top of the stairs, "Just do as he says and try to enjoy it. You probably will anyway after the first time or two." I was glad my tray had the freshly baked scones and jam and not the tea things she carried, even so, the plates jiggled and clattered against each other with my shaking. Carefully she balanced her tray on one arm and knocked on a panelled wooden door with a carved sign, 'Althorpe Copse'. I soon learned that all the rooms were given names of local landmarks, his wife's next door, was 'Willow Fen' and Master Leonard's, on the other side of his lordship's, was 'High Grove'.

The room, like the rest of his apartments, was huge. High ceiling, polished wood floor with a rug covering the centre and the walls decorated with fine fabrics. Dominating one end was a stately four-post bed with crimson drapery now fastened back to show a bedspread that glittered with gold thread. Near the window overlooking the formal garden, stood a desk and towards one corner, an ornate wardrobe, which I contrasted with the old wooden chest I stored my clothes in at home. Around the room were more items of furniture than I had seen in my life. A fire burned cheerily in the hearth at the opposite end of the room to the bed and Lord Charles sat on a sofa in front of it.

Clarrie placed her tray on a small table near the sofa and gave a little curtsey. I followed suit although I still could not do it with the same grace as her. It was when I bopped up again that I noticed his lordship only wore a silk dressing gown and moccasins. From my position I could see his legs were bare from above the knees and the hair on the upper part of his chest. "He must be completely naked under that gown," I thought, "Is it in readiness for me? Would I soon be naked in front of him?" My face grew warm and I guessed I was blushing.

"Will that be all Sir?" Clarrie asked.

"Inform M'lady that tea has arrived and then wait in case you are needed." She knocked at a door to the left of the fireplace and must have heard an answer because she opened it and entering, relayed the message. Shortly afterwards Lady Penelope entered the room.

Had not Clarrie tweaked my arm, I would have stood there mouth agape, looking at her. Never had I seen a woman as beautiful, not even the vicar's wife, and she was the most admired woman in church, could approach this gorgeous creature. And yet it wasn't just her beauty that caused me to stand there open-jawed; she wore a thin white nightdress that clearly showed her nipples and her dark pubic hair. "A nightdress at this time in the afternoon?" my mind queried. Another tug from Clarrie finally made me move but not before the lady had given me a look I interpreted as contempt, after all she was the lady of the house and I was only a peasant but, after what happened later, the look may have been one of lust.

While Clarrie and I stood quietly near the main door, I contemplated the life of the rich. It was only four o'clock and normally on the farm I had another two hours work to do at least. Were they dressed for bed already? Or for what they were going to do to me? Was it the lack of hard work and the pampering that made the lady look so lovely? I doubted she would look like that if she worked outside in all weathers and tilled the land for a living.