Herstories Ch. 02: Country Mouse

They danced together for a moment and I was struck by the beauty of the contrast between their skins. How dark and light together seems like a dance of good and evil, of the day and the night, of lust and love.

The negress, maintaining body contact, danced behind the white woman, her tongue flicking first the white woman's neck, then sliding down her bare back, touching her with her tongue downwards, downwards, flicking her taunt bottom with her tongue for a while, until at some signal she writhed upright again, the pale woman turning to face the negress once again.

This time the light skinned woman slowly sank down the negress's front side, flicking her tongue where she went. She spent rather more time than I was comfortable with flicking the negresses turgid nipples, causing the woman to jerk suddenly in pleasure or pain in the midst of her dance.

Then the white snake woman sank lower still and for a moment I turned away as her tongue flicked out to the sex of the black snake woman. But I had to look back. The white snake woman had her face pressed up against the negress's pudenda and that woman's writhing had changed to a different sort of writhing altogether. What I'd heard whispered about as something scandalous between men and women, was happening right before my eyes between two women.

I barely noticed Yvonne's hand on my breast and I didn't feel the need to push it away. When the woman turned her head from the negress's sex and toward us, her face was shiny with some fluid.

Then the piping stopped and the two snakes fell to the floor, writhing together until they each had their face between each other's legs. The charmer then spoke in a heavy accent.

"Any snake is both male and female, penetrator and receptor, fucker and fuckee. Each carries the capacity to satisfy whatever snake they come upon, whatever snake tickles their fancy." There were moans and cries of pleasure coming from the writhing "snakes" on the floor. "We women have the capacity as well. We need not hold back from pleasuring those we love, be they our husbands or our friends, be they male or be they female.

"They say that in Eden, the snake revealed the secret knowledge of life to Eve. I say that the snake was a woman."

The room was suddenly dark. I let out a little cry of fear, turning backwards toward Yvonne and putting my arms around her, incidentally forcing her face into my bosom, resulting in her lips planting a kiss between them. When the lights came back again, the snakes were gone. There were, however, many couples kissing and I noticed a number of hands under dresses. I knew I should be scandalized. Yet, I was more, well, jealous.

"Oh my," I said, sliding off Yvonne's lap. "I think I need to freshen up. Do you know where there is a place to do so."

"I will show you."

She took me by the hand and led me from the salon toward the staircase. But she stopped me before leading up, maneuvering me against the balustrade. She moved close to me and asked, "May I kiss you, chère Violette? I very much want to kiss you."

"God help me, but I think I would like that very much, Mr. Cardigan-Shaw." And without further delay her hot lips were pressed against mine, her fake mustache tickled my nose. I eagerly kissed her back, marveling at the newness of it all. I did not resist when she pushed her tongue into my mouth — something, mind you that James has never done. I found I rather liked it and also liked it when I pushed my tongue into her mouth.

I felt her hands lifting my dress, going underneath it when it was high enough for her. Perhaps I should have stopped her when I felt her untie my bloomers, but I didn't and soon they had slipped down to my ankles. But I hardly registered that because Yvonne's hand was on my sex.

I was embarrassed because I knew myself to be wet and slippery as a marshland down there. Yvonne didn't seem to care. Or maybe she liked my sex that way. I certainly found I enjoyed her hand on my there. I kicked my knickers off one of my feet so I could move my legs further apart; and when I did, Yvonne's fingers slipped inside me, provoking a moan of pleasure from my throat.

She pumped her hand in and out of me and I couldn't keep contact with her mouth anymore. My head rolled back, my mouth open, breathing hard, like I'd been running or riding on the hunt. It felt so good. So very good. Was it a sin that it felt this good? But then I'd left sin behind long ago.

Yvonne's fingers left my insides and began to touch that nubbin of skin that I had shamefully touched so often before I was married. Those furtive times that I would never, ever confess to any priest. "Ton clitoris est si gros," Yvonne gasped into my neck. "Comme un petit pénis!"

"Si gros." So big. Like a small penis. Yvonne found my secret shame. That flesh that, when I touched it just so, would enlarge and protrude and bring me so much pleasure. But it wasn't normal. Women didn't have parts like that, did they?

"I'm sorry," I said, starting to push her away in my embarrassment.

"Non, non, c'est merveilleux," she said and I felt her thumb and forefinger start to rub it, to caress it. "Merveilleux!" she said again. Then I thought back to the "entertainment." Hadn't the negress's womanly folds grown larger and more visible while she was pleasured by the white snake woman? Maybe this wasn't so unusual.

But those thoughts didn't last long. Her fingers rubbed me and I began to feel my world squeezed down to that feeling and only that feeling. Building, building. Growing, like a rose near to flowering. Then, all at once, it exploded like a firecracker might explode, like a fire that flared when you tossed gin on it, like the steam from a kettle that has just reached boiling. Pleasure wafted across my body, centered at that secret spot, what had she called it? "Clitoris?" It did not matter. I cried out aloud in pleasure and swooned against Yvonne. It was like I would do to myself, only much stronger and much nicer.

And then I heard the applause of four or five women who'd apparently been watching Yvonne take my virtue so boldly in plain sight. My pleasure felt cut off and I burned with embarrassment. "Oh god, Yvonne, take me somewhere! Please!"

I started to stoop to pull up my knickers, but Yvonne was faster, bending and clearing them from the remaining ankle. She grabbed my hand and started up the stairs, me following behind in a daze. Then she stopped suddenly, seeing the servant whose breasts I had fondled. "You! Bring a bottle of whisky to the Lilac Room." Then we were mounting the stairs like a pair of border collies racing for a missing lamb.

She led me into a room and then closed the door, pushing me against it and kissing me hard on the lips, making me swoon with passion. I wantonly kissed her back, wondering if I would have the courage to touch her, to bring her pleasure, like she had done for me.

I started to try and undo her pants, but again she stopped me, turning me around and expertly undoing the many buttons that kept me in the frock. Then the gown was on the floor and she was looking at me with lust in her eyes. I had many more clothes on than I had had the night when she had given me a bath. But I felt so much more exposed now.

"Mon dieu, Violette, but you are so beautiful."

Without thinking, I curtsied. "I thank you, my lady. My lord?"

"I must taste you," she said. "May I taste you?"

I didn't quite know what she meant but I said, "You may do to me whatever you wish, Yvonne, I am yours."

Her smile was brighter than the gaslights on the walls. She led me over to the bed, covered with soft and silky bed covers. She had me lie down on it, then climbed atop me.

Her kisses started at my neck but did not stay there long. She worked first one breast than another from my bustier and began to suckle at my nipples.

"J'adore les tétons d'une mère," she whispered. A mother's nipples? Were they so different from other nipples? Her lips and tongue brought me so much pleasure, so alike and so different from the pleasure I had gotten from nursing James Junior and little Edith. "Yvonne," I whispered. "Yvonne, that feels so good. What are you doing to me?"

"What I should have done long ago," she laughed and then left my breasts, kissing her way lower down my body. I heard the door open and close just as her kisses reached my cunny; but I didn't care anymore, what she was doing felt so good.

Her tongue roamed around all of that engorged flesh down there, on my lips and on my "petit pénis," as she'd called it. The pleasure of her tongue on me made the previous pleasure of her fingers pale in comparison. She would occasionally suck my little penis into her mouth, squeeze, and tickle the end of it with her tongue. That was almost too much. I expected to explode again, but she kept me just at the edge of it.

I felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed. The servant, whose name we later learned was Bridget, was there, now in the all together. She leaned over me and kissed me on my lips, then my breasts disappeared underneath her blonde hair as her lips and tongue caressed my nipples. The pleasure was almost unbearable.

Without intention, my hand had lifted from the bed and started sliding up Bridget's thigh. I reached the joining of her legs to feel a damp heat emanating from her cunny. I didn't shrink away this time and ran my fingers around the soft hair covering her sex. I felt the wetness between her nether lips and her own nubbin of flesh expanding in its own unique shape.

"Fuck me with your fingers, my lady. Please. Fuck me." I didn't think. I pushed my fingers between her lips and into the wet, warm, slipperiness that matched my own but was so different. I tried to do to her what I had done in private to myself. It must have been the right thing, because she sighed, "Oh! My Lady!"

Apparently well aware of what was going on, Yvonne stepped up her campaign on my own cunny. I felt that building, growing, straining feeling in my womb once again, like a steam boiler rumbling with added coal.

I found myself pumping my fingers in and out of Bridget as my need, my want grew. My thumb found her fleshy nub and I instinctively pushed hard down on it. I was rewarded by a "God damn!" cried out into my chest as Bridget's cunny squeezed tight on my fingers and a flood of liquid poured from inside of her.

With that, my own steam boiler exploded and I was overcome with waves of ecstasy rolling over me. There seemed to be no start and no end to it and I found I could barely breathe as it engulfed me.

Bridget rolled off of me, on to her back, breathing heavily. I lay there, doing the same. Yvonne made her way back up my body and kissed me, and I kissed her back of course. Her face, her mouth, had a new flavour that hadn't be there before. And I decided that must be the flavour of the juices from my sex. It wasn't at all disgusting like I had assumed. No, it was musky, and peppery, and sweet; not at all like "fish" as I'd overheard men say about women's parts. I decided I liked it and should like to taste Yvonne's delicacy. Or Bridget's.

"Where is that whisky," Yvonne said, climbing off of me.

"Let me pour you a glass, milord," Bridget said.

"Never mind the glass. Bring me the whole bottle."

I shimmied up and onto the pillows so I could see. On one side of the bed, Yvonne was shedding her clothes. On the other side, blonde Bridget was also off the bed, her naked bottom wiggling as she went to the side board. When she turned back with the bottle, I couldn't keep from looking at the thatch of hair atop her sex and marveling that only moments before I had my fingers there. I brought those fingers to my nose and inhaled her scent, which made me smile.

Yvonne took a deep swig from the bottle and passed it over to me. She was down to a man's undershirt and drawers and continued to look sexy just in that. I took a swallow from the bottle as well — a lovely malt — and then offered it back to her.

"Girl," Yvonne barked. "Does your mistress keep a device in this room?"

"Of course, milord," Bridget replied. "There is a selection in the armoire."

"C'est bon! Come, would you like some whisky?"

"Oh, may I, my lord?"

Yvonne stepped to the bed and dribbled some whisky over my nipples. It tickled and stung a little, and was cold on my skin. I giggled. Yvonne said, "Here's your whisky, girl." She handed the bottle to me.

Bridget wasted no time, climbing back to the bed and licking the liquor off my breasts and stomach. Which made me giggle some more. I pushed her head downward, tipping it up toward me and then I dribbled more between my breasts, running down my belly were she lapped it up just before it enter my lady garden. I grew bolder still when that was gone and lifted my leg up and over her, opening myself before pouring just a little more right onto my pubic hairs. I shivered with the feel of it, then shivered even more when Bridget started to lap at my cunny to collect the whisky and my moisture both.

"Je déteste m'interrompre, mais ma femme a besoin d'être baisée."

Bridget looked up at me. "What did she just say?"

I giggled, "I think she said she wants to have intercourse with me, but how she'll do that...oh my!" She was wearing some kind of harness around her hips and from the harness stood out a white object carved into the shape of a penis.

Bridget turned her head to see, "Oh, that's my favorite. Made from whale bone!"

"It's not for you, pouffiasse. It is for my wife."

"It's, well, quite large," I managed to say.

"Oh yes, it is," Bridget giggled.

"You're going to put that into me?"

"If you'll let me, douce Violette."

"I think I will, my love, but I would also like to taste this lovely young woman like you tasted me."

"Oui. You can do both! Come down to the edge of the bed, Violette. You, girl, spread wide for us."

Bridgette quickly arranged herself on the bed, with her head toward the top of the bed and her hips in the middle. As I watched she spread her thighs wide apart, giving me my most intimate view of another woman. She was beautiful down there, with almost invisible blonde hairs decorating fascinating curves and wrinkles and a bud of engorged flesh at the top of her opening. Between her lips was slippery pinkness, glistening fluid on silky looking skin that must be the same as mine. Mine I've kept hidden so much of the time. I don't think that Bridget kept hers hidden as much. I resolved to be more like her in that regard.

But first, I wanted to taste her. I moved up close to her, which left my hips up and my face down between her thighs. I ventured a taste and found it was like what I'd tasted on my fingers earlier. Somewhat like me, she was definitely musky in her taste. But where I had tasted of pepper on Yvonne's face, she tasted of anise and salt. She was delicious. I hungrily dove for more.

Which was when I felt Yvonne step up behind me and push the "device" into me, slowly but firmly. It was big. And hard. Harder than James has ever been. It filled me, overfilled me and I bent my head back and groaned in pleasure.

But Bridget was having none of it. The cheeky servant pulled my face back to her cunny, "Don't stop once you started!" She moved so my mouth was on her clitoris and I brought it between my lips. "Do that! Do that!" she cried.

Yvonne was sliding her "device" in and out of me now, picking up speed. If it wasn't for Bridget's hand on the back of my head, holding me in place, I would be writhing and calling out. The pressure built and built more and more in my loins while at the same time Bridget was lifting her hips, grinding herself onto my face as much as I was pushing down into her.

I was not in control at either end. But had I ever been in control when in my marriage bed with James? And this felt so much better.

I felt Yvonne's hand slide between my legs and up to my own clitoris, rubbing it hard. At the same time, Bridget stiffened, shaking like with a fever and liquid sprayed from inside her, bathing my face.

And I was in ecstasy, feeling like I'd left the earth and ascended into heaven where I was held in the arms of the angels and wished never to return. From miles away, I heard myself cry out a long, low, growling moan. I felt weightless and loved, and wanted the whole world to feel like I felt.

Then everything went dark.

I don't think I was unconscious for long; when I awoke, I was cradled in Yvonne's arms and Bridget was slowly stroking my belly in a way that could have been sensual, but just felt comforting. The marriage bed with James had never made me pass out before and this glow and feeling of goodness was something I didn't quite understand. But it was good. And I was good. And what we had done was good.

"Ma amour," I breathed as I looked up at Yvonne's face.

"Ma amour," she breathed back. "We should get you home."

"But, you! I want to pleasure you."

"Time enough for that later. At home."

"But Olympe! Courtney! We will scandalize Courtney."

"By this time, ma petite chou, I expect Olympe has had her tongue among Courtney's petites boucles rouges and with hope that Courtney has tickled Olympe's smooth shaven chatte."

"Oh my!"

"Let us both be dressed, Violette."

As I pulled my dress back on, leaving my knickers wherever they lay, Yvonne pulled a bank note from a wallet in her coat and gave it to Bridget with a long, lingering kiss. By the time I was finished putting myself back together, Yvonne was dressed and we were alone again.

She took a swig of whisky right from the bottle and I took one as well when she offered it to me. Then, my arm in hers, we left the bedroom and descended the stairs. When we reached the room where we'd earlier seen the snake women, the doors were open and the room spilled out the sounds of cries and whimpers, of moans and ecstasy. Women coupled with each other in twos, threes and fours.

I was tempted to stay but instead turned to Yvonne and asked, "Another time, perhaps?"

"Oh yes, another time."

Out on the street, I was a bit embarrassed to feel the cool night air touching my womanly parts unhindered. I felt like all of London would know I wasn't wearing knickers. But no one pointed to me and called me a sinner as Yvonne handed me up to the carriage.

I lay my head on her shoulder for the ride home, knowing that for the first time in months, I would not be alone in bed tonight.