"Good Evening, Gentlemen," the Captain began, "and welcome to our monthly meeting. I hope you have enjoyed the delicious food and wine which has been on offer to you," there was a smattering of applause, "and continue to enjoy the evening's entertainment." I had been in the Captain's employ for only a few days, but was beginning to understand the way his monthly gatherings worked. The day to day slog of working in his summer residence would leave my muscles sore and aching, but the monthly gatherings would leave me sore in entirely different places.
I had come to London as soon as it was declared safe after the end of the war and had been shocked at how different it looked in the years since I had been evacuated to south Wales. Now back in London, orphaned in the Blitz and at the same time losing my only sibling, I was back and boarding with an old friend of my mother's, Mrs Harrison. I had expressed an interest in gaining employment as soon as I could, but she was viciously adamant that I may not take up residence as a Music Hall performer. I had been taught to dance by some of the local girls in Pontypridd and was hoping to turn this to my career, but anyway, the dancing had given me a toned and flat stomach, even if my breasts and hips gave me a slightly fuller figure.
I met Rosie after about a week in London, at a little café not far from the boarding house; she too had aspirations of performing but had ended up working for a very wealthy retired Captain of the Royal Navy in the kitchens of his London townhouse. She was hoping to move with him to his summer residence in a few months time where there would be need for many more girls. I could, she offered, come with her and meet the house cook, if we got along this lady would have the influence to take me too. I quickly agreed, Rosie seemed lovely and fun and the offer of work, especially for a wealthy family, was just what I needed.
I was happy to be back in London, but was missing David, a local farming boy I had met in Wales. He was dashingly handsome, skin dark and weathered from his work outdoors, calloused hands and strong arms from the manual labour, eyes a deep, haunting brown. His family was poor, so he regularly wore hand- me- down shirts, worn at the elbows and patched at the hems. Despite this, I fell for him, his shy manner and soft accent. He had started courting me when the spring came, the nights lighter and neither of us due home 'til dark. When we met each other's families, we were permitted to take daytime trips to the seaside with other local youths, catching the last train home as one big, happy, sunburned crowd. Single dates were almost out of the question, but one night David called for me and took me back to the hay barn...
We had climbed up the rickety wooden ladder to the loft and were fooling around in the soft and itchy hay, kissing messily and holding each other with the urgency of innocence. He softly began to undo the little pearl buttons of my shirt, then tugged it off my shoulders. I responded by pulling his shirt tails from his trousers and lifting it off, right over his head. Our breathing now was deepening, learning the feel of our naked skin sliding over each other in the still heat of the night. I could feel his hardness pressing against me as he lay on top of me, and he began to rock backwards and forwards while we fumbled and kissed. I pulled back to look him in the eye, then reached for his belt buckle as his hand slid up, from the back of my knee, tickling the back of my thigh, then finding the top of my stocking. Our eyes locked, neither of us knowing the right way to proceed, but desperate to try and fill the aching need that had been growing in us all summer. He reached further, and met the apex of my thighs. My underwear was damp. He murmured something to me in Welsh, then found the edge of my panties and slid his fingers inside. I gasped, the coolness of his fingers meeting the immense heat and wet of my pussie, the feelings almost too intense for me to bear. His inexperienced fingers fumbled around, not sure what he was supposed to be feeling for, not knowing what would be pleasurable for me. The fingernail of his index finger scraped across my clitoris and I bit down on his shoulder, tasting his skin and sweat as I tried to control the scream I was holding back as I orgasmed.
David took this as his signal to pull his long, thick penis from his trousers, and now being ever so careful with me, pushed the head against my moist opening. I felt deliciously stretched as he gently but firmly pushed himself inside me, then started to slowly rock backwards and forwards. The pressure inside started to build again, and the hay was still tickling my back and shoulders as he began to build up speed. I pushed back against his insistent thrusting and soon orgasmed again, this time feeling his thick cock inside me as shivers soared from my pussie all over my body.
I was young, but not naïve, and knew from living in the countryside how babies were made. David' thrusts grew shorter and I could see the tension in the muscles of his neck and back getting tense, he reared up taking his weight on his hands and dropped his head to kiss me. I took my chance to slide out from beneath him, and wriggled down to take his cock between my lips. Using my tongue around the very end of his penis seemed to send him over the edge, and I could taste both my own and his juices as he groaned through his orgasm.
Over the next few months, then years, David and I grew closer as our lovemaking became more passionate, then inevitably the passion changed to frustration, then discontent, then separation. We remained friends, it would have been hard not to in such a small and intimate community, but I was to remain untouched again until I returned to London.
After only a few weeks in London I was working in the same café I had first met Rosie. She was still employed by the Captain, but the summer season was fast approaching and I had an appointment to meet with the cook. On Rosie's suggestion I went in a rather fashionable outfit, the skirt maybe an inch shorter than what Mrs Harrison approved of, the neckline of my pale blue blouse skimming over my collarbone to reveal a little of the skin on my chest. Dainty shoes and a pearl necklace completed my new look.
My interview went smoothly and was rather uneventful; I was not invited to tour the townhouse but was given the address of the house in Buckinghamshire where I was to be employed for the summer on a little slip of paper, and told not to lose it. The other house girls would be travelling by train, and I would be welcome to join them. Cook was a wide woman, wearing conservative high necklines and long hems, but gave me a nod of approval when I arrived. She took stock of my appearance, and conducted the interview while preparing vegetables, it seemed, so she could view me from different angles. I got the impression early on that she would be fair but very firm with 'her girls', and expected high standards. I would be given one week to prove myself to her. If she was not impressed, I would have to return to London.
I chose to take some the girls, including Rosie, up on their offer to ride the train with them to the country residence, called Canterford. When we were all together it was easy to spot the similarities between all twenty three of us who were travelling together. Our number consisted of redheads, blondes and brunettes, like me, but we were mostly of a similar age, height and build. Small waists, curvy bottoms and hips and nice round breasts. We too shared a common interest for the latest fashions and all dressed on the verge of risqué. I would soon see why.
The girls' quarters were at the very top of the four story country estate mansion. I was in awe when I arrived, but learned within a matter of hours that the key to servitude is invisibility. We had our own staircases, dining areas, bathing areas and, of course, sleeping quarters, where all of us shared one large attic room which spanned the whole of the top of the house. At least we all had our own bed. Not, I would soon learn, this made much difference.
The most experienced girl there was Marie, she was now in her third year at Canterford. In her three years, we were to learn during a very female gossip on the first night, had fucked all four stable boys, once at the same time, both serving boys and the driver. She also had made love with some of the female members of staff, but would respect our decision if we did not want to be the next notch on her bedpost. But most came round and did before the end of the summer. Some of the girls were deeply shocked at this, the shining red faces were beacons for the virgins in the room. Me, not so much. Lesbianism was not rife, but I was aware of the concept, and though it was not common I certainly wasn't going to run screaming at the idea. Added to this the growing lust I had been experiencing since leaving Wales, and the possibility of making love with another woman, especially one so open and loving as Marie, I thought I might be the first person to take her up on her offer.
