Chapter 21: “In this house it pays to have a liberal view of the world,”

The Long Gallery, Hoxton Hall

Edmund Molloy, part of Professor Challenor's expedition to look for a lost plateau in Amazonia, has been invited to fellow expedition member Lord Hoxton's birthday party at his stately home in Hampshire.  Almost immediately, to Molloy's surprise, Hoxton and Molloy's new sweetheart, Daisy, participate in a sexual encounter with Sarah, the daughter of Hoxton's paramour, Lady Caroline.

The shocking scene, involving Sarah, Lord Hoxton and then Daisy, to my surprise, was now, at least for the others, as if it had not happened.  Having been untied by Daisy, Sarah happily sat on Hoxton’s lap, feeding him pieces of cake with her fingers, as if he were a favourite uncle.  The bondage, beating and buggering were curiously ignored, like Sarah’s discarded drawers and the wet patch on the rug where she had urinated. Conversation, instead, focussed on the imminent arrival of Sir Gerald Crozier, who was Britten’s chairman, his wife, Britten himself and, of course Edith.  Hoxton described Edith in such a way as to provoke another twinge of jealousy.  Was he planning to have both my women?

Half an hour later, after a cup of tea and a slice of Hoxton’s cook’s, admittedly excellent, fruitcake, Daisy and I retired to our room ‘for a rest’, as Daisy explained to the others.  As we left the drawing room I noted Sutton standing with the maid Ruby, who was holding a scrubbing brush and a bucket of water.  As I walked past the redheaded maid, she gave me a cheeky wink.

Daisy and I climbed the stairs to the second floor, where our room was.  Daisy undid my tie as soon as we entered our cavernous bedroom.

“I don’t really need a rest, Daisy!” I said.

“We’re not having a rest, Edmund.  We’re going to fuck!” she said.  “I am dripping!  Clothes off!”  I had checked the bedroom door but it had no bolt or lock.  Anyone could come in at any point.

“There is no lock on the door!” I pointed out.

“Don’t care!” she said, dropping her dress onto a chair. "And neither will anyone else!"  Her petticoat and chemise followed in short order and she was not wearing drawers again.  I realised that Lady Caroline and her daughters would have known this if they had got dressed together, earlier.  Did they already consider Daisy a slut?  She knelt to undo her boots. She was soon naked, apart from her black stockings and lay across the vast four poster bed with her thighs spread.

“This bed is huge!  What fun!  Plenty of room for Edith too!” she said.  “Huury up!  I am desperate!”  She started to caress her parts.  Despite my worries about the unlocked door I removed my clothes with despatch. “Take me!!” she implored.  I looked down at her livid cunny.  She looked very aroused.  I knelt between her legs. “No wait!”  She pulled one leg up and rolled over on to her knees, presenting her sumptuous bottom to me.  “Like this!” I immediately thought of Edith and Professor Challenor and then Hoshimi, the only woman I had previously taken in dog position.  I kissed her bottom.  "No time for kissing and caressing,” said Daisy.  “Just stick it in!” I could see her hand between her legs stimulating her bud and realised how very worked up she was.  I knelt up behind her and guided my tip into her swollen entrance, watching fascinated, as I disappeared up inside her.  I put my spread fingers on her large, firm behind and squeezed, gently, before pulling out gently, my manhood already striated with creamy filaments of her juices.  “Harder!” she cried.  “Ravish me!” she cried, pushing her bottom back against my hips.  I did as she commanded, increasing the rapidity of my thrusts.  Stupidly, I only realised after some time that she was perhaps, recreating the scene between Hoxton and Sarah.   I looked at her anus and touched it with my finger tip but she reached around and batted my hand away, making it clear I was not to penetrate there.  She was moaning and groaning and seemed lost in her own passions.  When I had taken Hoshimi like this, at the Babylon Exploration Society she had often looked back at me with a smile and I had leant forward to kiss her but Daisy’s eyes were locked ahead.  I was getting hot and perspiring heavily.  Someone had set a fire and it was now rather warm in the bedroom. I gripped her upper thighs and hung on for dear life as she bounced back and forwards against my hips, creating a loud slapping sound.

“Fuck me!  Fuck my cunt!” she gasped.

“You dirty girl!” I said.

“Yes! I’m a dirty slut!” she cried.  “A fucking whore!” This was a very different Daisy from the tender creature I had experienced before.  She was more like Edith in her animation and energy.  She came remarkably quickly, her cunt gripping me and releasing her liquid warmth.  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she cried, banging her bottom against me one last time before remaining motionless, impaled on my manhood. I gently withdrew my glistening cock and she rolled over onto her back.  She grinned at me, her eyes sparkling, like an excited child at her first circus. I did not climax, however, because I was still feeling rather discombobulated by the scene that had taken place in the drawing room, was worried about someone entering, unannounced, into the room and, I admit, because I feared that she was thinking of Hoxton not me, during the act.  “You didn’t come!” she said, touching my slick manhood as I knelt next to her.

“Saving it for later!” I lied.  “Anyway the main thing is that you did!”  I lay next to her on my back, feeling out of sorts.

“How sweet!  You are almost forgiven!” she said.

“Almost forgiven for what?” I asked.

“For not joining in downstairs!” she said, rolling onto her side and looking at me. “You should have taken Sarah as well.  I suspect the whole scene was a theatrical performance for our benefit!”

“Really?” I said.  That had not occurred to me.

“Yes!  A sort of test!  You failed, dismally!  You need to participate fully in this weekend, Edmund.  No Roman Catholic qualms!  You are off the leash!  I certainly intend to be!  If you choose not to match me lascivious act for lascivious act then so be it.  I hoped that we could report to each other on our lewd experiences later, when we get back to London.”

“Oh!” I said.  “I assumed that any lewd experiences we had would be together.  As a couple!”

“Or three of us.  Or four of us. Or five of us!  Given what we have seen already I am hoping for scenes reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah tomorrow. We can have our own experiences without the other.  That would be much more exciting to talk about afterwards, if we don’t know what the other is up to!”  Images of Hoxton, Britten and Lord Ventnor, all taking Daisy, popped into my head.  

"Really/" I asked.  This was not the way nice women behaved.  They wanted romantic love with one person and if you were very lucky with the girl, she would permit sexual intimacy.  If you were really, really lucky she would enjoy it.  Perhaps Daisy wasn’t a nice woman at all.  I realised that I knew almost nothing about her, other than she claimed to have had incestuous episodes with many of her relations. Perhaps she was a nymphomaniac.  I overheard my father once saying to a colleague that women with large clitorises were often nymphomaniacs, in thrall to their uncontrollable desires. Removing the clitoris completely used to be a supposed cure for the condition.  Daisy certainly had a prominent clitoris. Would this mean that she would be incapable of settling down but would constantly seek out other partners to rut with? 

“I don’t know how any man could resist such a provocatively displayed bottom as Sarah’s!  That’s why I had to have her!” said Daisy, who had rolled onto her back and was stroking her parts again.  Constant masturbation was another sign of nymphomania, my father’s colleague had said.

“Sarah is under sixteen!” I said.

“So was I when my brother had me!”

“That was different, ignoring the illegal incest!” I said.

“It wasn’t illegal when I did it.  The law didn’t come in until oh eight!  I have researched it!  It was covered by Church law and the only punishment was penance!”

“It’s different. You were both around the same age!”

“You are only twenty four years old.  Five years older than me and nine ears older than Sarah!”

“But proportionately...”I began.  Even as I was taking this high moral stance I started to think about what it might have felt like to take Sarah up the arse. To take any woman up there.  It was so dirty!   I was appalled at myself.  I felt myself becoming erect again.

“Do be quiet!” said Daisy.  I felt her hand on my swelling manhood.  “Ooh!  I will suck you!”  I couldn’t tell her that it was the memory of Sarah’s displayed nether regions that had stirred me back to life, once more.  Daisy knelt between my legs and applied her mouth over my knob.  “You taste of me!” she laughed and then began to gamahuche me into complete tumescence.  I reached down and stroked her cheek.  She managed to smile while continuing to suck me..  She seemed to have returned to her normal self.  There was a knock at the door.

“Schloop! Schloop!” mumbled Daisy, scratching my ballocks.

“Daisy?  It’s me!  Sarah!  Can I come in?”

“No!” I said.

“Are you two fucking?” asked Sarah.

“No!” I said.

“I’m coming in, then!”  The door opened and in strode Sarah, wearing a cream, silk peignoir, before stopping dead immediately.  Daisy continued to gamahuche me, noisily.

“Daisy!” I said, trying to push her off and then stopping as I realised it would just expose me to Sarah, who had approached the side of the bed.

“Excellent!” said Sarah, grinning at me.  “Look at your muscles.  What a display!

“Hello Sarah!” said Daisy popping off me while continuing to massage me with her right hand.

“Oh!” gasped Sarah, looking at my groin.

“Want a suck?” said Daisy.  Sarah undid the belt of her peignoir and jumped onto the bed, her hand outstretched.

“No!” I said, scampering off the other side of the bed and covering myself with one of the long drapes at the corner of the bed. “Sarah, you must leave!”

“You aren’t going to have much fun this weekend if you are so modest!” said Sarah.   

“Edmund is being disappointingly unsporting!” said Daisy.  “I want to watch him take lots of other women while we are here!”

“Mummy will soon sort him out!” said Sarah.  “Oh, Daisy!  That was why I came to see you.  Mummy has just had the maids fill a hot bath in our room.  Would you like to join us so we can wash each other?”

“That sounds fun!” said Daisy, climbing off the bed.  “I have got somewhat hot and bothered and a wash before I change for dinner would be lovely!”

“Yes I can smell you!” said Sarah.  “You can come as well, Mr Molloy.  We could wash you too!  Wash your lovely cock!” She had got off the bed and came to stand behind where I was covering my front with the curtain.  I felt her hand squeeze my bottom and her naked skin press against my back.  “Goodness that is a muscle packed arse!” Her finger started to delve down between my cheeks.

“Please, Sarah!” I implored.  She stepped back. I looked at her; she was pouting and frowning.  I tried not to look at her curly black moss, visible because of her open peignoir.

“Don’t be dull, Mr Molloy.  James doesn’t like people who don’t join in!  If he doesn’t like you he won’t save you if you are about to be eaten by a dinosaur!”

“Exactly, Edmund!  It is very rude!” said Daisy.  “Next time there is an opportunity for sensual fun you had jolly well better take it!  Come along Sarah, let’s leave this unadventurous man behind!”

“What a shame!” said Sarah. She helped Daisy into her own peignoir. “You have such a gorgeous body, Daisy!” said Sarah, fondling Daisy’s breasts.  “I am going to soap every inch of you!”  Daisy kissed her.

I sighed in relief as they left the room, although Daisy’s jibe about being unadventurous had hurt and brought back memories of Agnes.  Indeed, I recalled that I had informed Daisy of that epithet, as used by Agnes when rejecting my offer of marriage.  Daisy must have used it deliberately.  Spitefully, perhaps.  Perhaps I just was lacking in an adventurous spirit and Agnes was correct.  Still, I congratulated myself on resisting the temptation of Sarah once more.  I washed myself, especially my cock, which smelled of Daisy, with the cold water from the jug on the nightstand.  Perhaps I should have joined the girls for a hot bath.  I had happily, eventually, cavorted with Hoxton, Britten and the women from the Babylon Exploration Society, so why was I so shy now?  It was not as if I hadn’t seen Lady Caroline and her daughters naked and, indeed, pleasuring themselves.  In those previous occasions, I supposed, I had had a lot to drink.  That must be it.  It is one thing to perform when floating on an intoxicating cloud of Champagne but it is another to do so on a grey afternoon, next to a plate of fruit cake.  Another reason, was the presence of the implacable Sutton, standing there holding her master’s lower garments while he buggered a young girl in front of her.  She was not part of the debauched festivities.  I would be as bad as Hoxton if I had performed an intimate act in front of her. I still had some pride.  I sat and wrote up the account of the teatime escapade but, feeling restless, I stopped writing and dressed myself in my evening suit, although I left the tie for Daisy to do, given my clumsiness with bows and knots. Stuffing my bow tie into my pocket, I stepped out of the room to explore the rather gloomy interior of Hoxton Hall.

I found myself at a different, less grand, staircase, towards the rear of the house, from the one we had ascended, earlier, to our bedroom.  I crept down, although why I was creeping I was not sure, given that I had every right to be there.  Every right to be there but perhaps not happy to be there.  I expected to find the maids scurrying about and, indeed, hoped to find young Ruby, as I wanted to find out where in Ireland she was from.  Our room was on the second floor and I turned the corner into a bright, long gallery, overlooking the garden.  It must have been nearly one hundred feet long.  The edges were lined with chairs, tables and footstools and more ancestral paintings hung on the walls.  Doors opened off one side and I assumed that, perhaps, they were more bedrooms.  I looked out one of the windows to see if I could catch a glimpse of Ross and Debney, the gardeners, but there was no sign of them.

“Are you lost, Mr Molloy, sir?” came a female voice.  I turned and saw the tall figure of Sutton, the butler, standing just behind me.  How she had approached me so silently I did not know as, so far, the one defining characteristic of Hoxton Hall seemed to be creaking floorboards.

“No, Sutton.  Exploring!” I answered.  "What is this long gallery called?" I asked.

“The Long Gallery, sir. Isn’t an explorer just a lost person with a purpose, sir?” she said, smiling.

“You are a philosopher at heart, Sutton!”

“In this house it pays to have a liberal view of the world,” she said.

“Are scenes like we had this afternoon common?  I felt embarrassed for you to witness such a display!” I said.

“I could tell that you were the only one there who was not comfortable, sir.  I am now used to it, myself.  Although when I first worked here and took his Lordship his morning tea for the first time, I did not expect to encounter a naked lady astride his hips and bouncing away.  I certainly did not expect them to continue at it with barely a glance except a ‘thank you for the tea’ from  his Lordship.  I soon learned.”

“Was the lady, Lady Caroline?” I asked.

“No, before her.  Another lady. There is always another lady. That particular lady will be here tomorrow.  I quite like her.” said Sutton, giving me a very strong impression that she did not like Lady Caroline. 

“So how long has Lady Caroline been Lord Hoxton’s...” I hesitated.

“Companion?  Well she met him, of course, at his previous birthday party, two years ago.  She came with someone else but stayed here for several weeks afterwards. They barely left the bedroom, sir!  It certainly needed a good airing after she left.  She is a musky woman!”

“What about her girls?”

“They didn’t attend.  They stayed at school over the Easter holidays.  They were too young, of course.  They still are, some might think.  Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.  I shouldn’t be talking to you about these things.  Especially with you being a journalist, with your questions!”

“I am asking questions because I am interested in what is going on.  How these relationships work.  I feel pitched into a situation I am very unsure about!” I admitted.

“And it speaks well of you that you are,” said Sutton. “Most men who visit just see it as an opportunity for unbridled lust.  The women as just objects on which they slake that lust.  With the masks everyone wears at the beginning they become anonymous objects, not people,” she said.  “Just cunnies and arseholes if you will forgive my language, sir.”

“We have heard far worse from Sarah this afternoon!” I laughed.

“That girl, I predict, will disgrace herself this weekend.  She is out of control.  Her mother doesn’t seem to care.  Given her age I worry that, at last, some word of this weekend will emerge.  Hopefully, not from your newspaper, sir!”

“Lord Ventnor will ensure of that!” I said.

“Good. Miss Emily is rather more controlled.  Sorry, I don’t know why I keep telling you these things.”

“It’s my comforting bedside manner!” I said.  “My father is a doctor and I am a journalist.  Two professions where attentive listening is a requirement!”  She laughed and her face was transformed, briefly, from her normal cool demeanour into that of an attractive young woman.  She was rather more than just attractive, in fact, her face beautiful enough to rise above her masculine clothes and her blonde hair, tied in its severe bun.

“You’re not like his usual visiors, sir.  You are more...” began Sutton.

“Normal?” I suggested.

“Down to earth,” she smiled again.  I was becoming quite smitten with her smile.

“Do not think that I disapprove of Lord Hoxton or his amorous activities, sir.  He has been very good to me.  I adore him, in a way.  Not in that way, I should say!  He behaves impeccably, apart from the rather dubious custom of maids’ bath day and young Ruby's role!"  I thought better of asking her about that.   "There is a time and a place for unbridled passion;  for being able to discard the strictures of society and let yourself go.  To dive into a whirlpool of carnal sensuality!  To surrender completely!”  She gave me a wry smile.  “But it needs to happen within a set of rules and, critically, everyone involved needs to be consenting as to what happens.  You should not feel under any duress, Mr Molloy, sir.”

“You are an unusual woman to be a domestic servant, albeit an elevated one.”  I said.  “To look at you you would not think that you pondered upon subjects such as unbridled passion.   You appear to be so cool and implacable!”

“It is quite possible to appear to be implacable yet seethe with passion, sir,” she said  “I would imagine!” she added, smiling again.

“Indeed..  What is your first name, Sutton?”

“His Lordship prefers I use my surname sir, unlike the maids!”

“Like Ross and Debney!” I said.

“Indeed,” she said.

“What are those two like?” I asked.

“Always the questions, sir.  I run the household and they run the grounds.  Two very different roles.”

“Except there are two of them.  It is easier.”

“I have an under butler, sir.  She is in London today.  She will return tomorrow. She is attending to the Champagne.  She is nice. You will like her.  She is more...approachable than I.”

“I find you very approachable, Sutton.”

“Most do not!”

“Perhaps you do not wish to appear approachable,” I suggested.

“Perhaps you are right, sir.”

“Compared with Professor Challenor’s butler you are a positive ray of sunshine!”  She laughed.

“I suspect that ‘ray of sunshine’ are not the first words the others would use to describe me, sir!”

“It is difficult for you.  You are above the others but are privy to Lord Hoxton’s most intimate moments and yet you do not comfortably fit within either sphere.”

“I am between two worlds, sir.  Like Dante’s purgatorio.”

“It is an unusual Butler who knows Dante,” I ventured.

“I never claimed to be a usual butler, sir.  His Lordship appreciates the unusual.  In many spheres of life. He is often abroad.  When he is, I read in his library.  I am a farmer’s daughter.  I had little education but I love to read, sir.  I am educating myself.”

“Are you happy, Sutton?”

“Are you sir?”

“I should be!” I said.

“Exactly, sir.”  We stood there in silence for a few seconds, regarding each other.  She was nearly as tall as my five foot ten inches, I realised.  We looked each other in the eyes.  There was a hint of amusement in hers.

 “Sutton, you couldn’t give me a hint as to what might happen tonight, could you?” I asked.  I was even more worried about how Daisy might behave after her performance downstairs.

“We will serve dinner.  Other than, I suspect, the subject matter of the conversation, which tends to the carnal, it will be quite normal. We have some excellent turbot and lamb from the adjoining farm. Your friends and the Croziers will join you.  There will be three more guests to ensure the balance between men and women is achieved. A Member of Parliament and his girl and a military man, sir.  You will retire after dinner to the Turkish Salon, sir.  You and the ladies will be undressed.”

“Naked?” I asked, alarmed.

“The gentlemen will be in dressing gowns, which we will provide.  The ladies?  Well that is for them to agree. Usually their underthings or a peignoir.  Countess di Spagno once appeared dressed in just a gold chain around her ankle but she is Italian.  The idea is that people are relaxed.  There is talk and Champagne and Turkish sweetmeats.  Some will smoke from the nargile, sir.”

“Nargile?” I asked.

“Also known as the hookah, sir, in India.”

“Oh yes!”  Like a large jug with a pipe. A hubble-bubble pipe! I have seen them in illustrations!” 

“His Lordship prefers the Turkish term, nargile sir. His Lordship has a house in Constantinople and appreciates the Turkish fashion.”

“Do you travel with him to Constantinople?”

“No sir.  I remain here, running the house.  He has other women in Turkey to look after him, sir.  The rules he has as regards his female staff do not appear to apply there.”  Was there a touch of envy in her voice?

“I see,” I said.  I imagined him in some sort of harem setting.  I pictured Daisy gamahuching him, as he sat on a pile of golden cushions, surrounded by women dressed in scanty silks and bangles.  “So, this evening is a sort of preliminary to the principle event, tomorrow?”

“Indeed sir.  A prelude. As Rheingold is to Wagner’s Ring sir. A Vorspiel, on a smaller scale before the main drama, sir!

“First Dante and now Wagner, Sutton?” I said, impressed.

“I have a lot of time to read when his Lordship is away, sir.”

“What about any...unbridled lust in this prelude?” I asked.

“That usually follows.  I do not object to unbridled lust, sir.  I quite enjoy witnessing it.  If it is genuine and not contrived.  I must go about my duties, sir.”  She had avoided the question, rather neatly.

“Sorry, Sutton.  I have delayed you for too long!” I would have been quite happy chatting with her some more; trying to discover my fate for this evening.

“You can continue your exploration, sir.  Nowhere is out of bounds except his Lordship’s rooms at the front of this floor and the Great Hall, where the entertainments will be tomorrow.  His Lordhsip likes to reveal the decorated hall for the first time to his guests at the beginning of the evening.”

“Understandable!  I will continue my quest!”

“Perhaps you are looking for your tie, sir?” she smiled.  My hand went to my collar.  I pulled my tie out of my pocket.

“You shouldn’t do that with it sir, it will get all creased.  Here.  Let me.”  She took the tie from me and put it around my collar and started to tie it.  It was a surprisingly intimate act.  I was close enough to smell the light floral scent she was wearing.  She finished in just a few seconds, disappointingly and patted the centre of the bow.  “There you are sir.  Ready for...anything!”

“You smell lovely, Sutton!” I blurted.

“When you dress as a man all day some reminder of your femininity is important, I think!”

“Your femininity is indubitable!” I said.

“You’re very sweet, sir!  I am sure that you will be perfectly comfortable at his Lordship’s birthday weekend, sir.  popular too!”

“I admit to being nervous.  I suppose I am envious of Lord Hoxton’s easy womanising manner!” I said.  “I find such things more difficult.  Women seem like such complex creatures!”

“His Lordship would not, I suspect, agree.  It is one thing to be a womaniser.  Any man with self confidence, especially backed by a title and a large bank account, can be that.  It is another thing entirely to be...beguiling!”  There was a look between us, just for a second.  The look I had observed on others, sometimes, before a first kiss.  At a dance in Dublin, perhaps, when a couple thought no one was looking and they were utterly absorbed in each other. A look that had always engendered jealousy on my part, in the past.  A world I then had yet to experience. We hesitated.  The moment passed and Sutton stepped back, breathing out audibly, as if she had been holding her breath. The gulf between our two worlds intervening like an invisible barrier. “I will see you at dinner sir, although I will be unable to converse with you, of course.  This discussion can be our little secret!”  I nodded.

“Sutton, you didn’t tell me your first name!”

“Neither I did, sir!” She smiled a final time, turned on her heel and continued down the long gallery.  She turned the corner and disappeared from sight without a backwards glance

I returned to my room, feeling better.

Daisy returned to our bedroom after an hour, looking pink and relaxed.  I wasn’t going to ask her what she had got up to.

“You should have come, Edmund.  You certainly would have done!” she laughed, discarding her peignoir and standing to admire her naked form in the large mirror. She turned around to inspect her rear aspect by looking over her shoulder. “Aren’t we having fun!”

“You certainly are!” I said.

“Don’t be a spoil-sport!” she said sitting on the bed and pulling on her black stockings, something I always enjoyed watching.

“Daisy!  Stop right there!” I said.

“Why? You were a spoil-sport!”

“No.  It’s not that!  I want to draw you!  Dressed in just your stockings!”

“I don’t think you would get them over your legs!” she laughed.

“You know what I mean!” I said, crossing to my drawing portfolio.  I extracted a sheet of white paper and a stick of charcoal.  I had decided to attempt a rapid sketch.

“Oh!  What fun!  I haven’t been drawn since my last job!”  I posed her, sat on the edge of the bed, one leg extended and the other drawn up beneath her.  I had her pulling up the top of the stocking on her extended leg.  I worked quickly, getting the shapes down.  This would not be the sort of detailed drawing I had done of Edith but something which would, I hoped, catch the sensuous pose.

“Anyway I am not a spoil-sport!” I said, as I drew her splendid breasts.  The pose caused them to thrust forward, impressively, between her upper arms.  “I just thought everything would proceed rather more slowly!” I said.

“We only have a short weekend, I have to be back in London on Monday for my appearance at the Empire.  Were you expecting a formal progression of activity over time?  Stage one, girl sits on lap.  Stage two you kiss in front of the others.  Stage three...”

“Alright, alright!”  I said, drawing her left leg, which she was sitting upon. “But did you have to join in with such alacrity!  I was not expecting stage one to be penetrating the orifices of a young girl, you had only just met, in front of her mother!”

“I enjoyed it.  She enjoyed it.  Everyone enjoyed it except you!   Oh and I was right!  The whole performance was for our benefit!  To give us a chance to flee back to London!  Lord Hoxton likes libertarians not puritans!” 

“I am not a puritan!” I said.  “I enjoy sensual experiences!  I didn’t flee from the Babylon Exploration Society when Britten took me there!  I watched two girls gamahuche each other!”

“Oh!  That sounds fun!” she wriggled. 

“Keep still!” 

“I am hoping to indulge in that this weekend.  Someone other than Edith.  Emily perhaps.  Or even Lady Caroline.  Or perhaps a toffer!” she laughed. “Or two!”

“There!  It is done!”

“That was quick!” she said.  “Let me see!”

“It is not a portrait.  Just an exercise in form and an attempt to capture a sensuous pose!”  I held up the picture for her to see.

“That is excellent!  You are clever.  In such a short time, too!”  I was pleased with it.  My increased drawing frequency over the last few weeks had paid dividends as regards my confidence and speed of execution.

“Do another one!” said Daisy.

“You need to get dressed!”

“Just one more!  Like this!”  She lay back on the bed, pulled her feet up and spread her thighs.  She cupped her right breast with her left hand and then slipped the fingers of her right hand between her legs.  “Lady Caroline showed me the ones you did of her and her girls!”  I took out another piece of paper and sat down again.  Daisy was gently frigging herself.

“You have to keep still!” I said.

“I’m not moving much.  Only my fingers!”

“Do as you are told!” I said.

“Or will you spank me?” she said, penetrating her cunny.

“I might!”  She moved her fingers rapidly.

“You are a naughty girl!” I said.

“That’s why you love me!” she said.  I gave up and carried on drawing.  I smudged the charcoal where her hand was and created a blur, like you see on a photograph where the sitter has moved during the exposure.  It did, I had to admit, give the picture a sense of movement it would otherwise not have had. This drawing was even more abstracted than the first, with it dominated by the dark charcoal masses of her bestockinged legs and that frantic hand, dead centre of the composition.  Daisy.  Frigging.  I decided to call it.

“There.  I am done!” I said.  

“I am not!” she said, her fingers beating over her bud. I watched her bring herself to climax and then let her legs flop down.  “Lovely!  I like being drawn when I frig.  You must do more of me like that!  I want a cunt portrait too, like you did of Lady Caroline!” I showed the picture to Daisy.  “That is wonderful!   You must do more drawings this weekend.   Lord Hoxton will be pleased. We must show him this one!”

“Can’t we show him the other one, instead?  This is a little intimate, is it not!

“Stop being so Irish!”  She came up to me, knelt down, put her arms around my waist and kissed me.  “I like you very much but we are still, new to each other’s ways.  I do think we might have a long term future, even after such a short time.  I was not jesting about love at first sight but you need to give me some liberty this one weekend.  Like a fish on a line.  I am hooked and you will reel me in eventually but I have one last chance at swimming on my own, where I want to go, before being caught and kept.”  I kissed her and put my hands on her bottom.

“I am just, as everyone keeps reminding me, an unsophisticated Irishman.  Just touching a girl without saying fifteen hail Marys is an achievement!”  She laughed and stood up.  I kissed her soft moss.

“I must get dressed. I have, Edmund, I confess, been involved in some naughty goings on before...” she began.

“Involving bound ladies, I gather!” I said as I watched her put her chemise on.

“No drawers, again, I think!” she said, pulling on her petticoat.  “I will tell you all about it, one day soon!  However, even I couldn’t believe it when Lord Hoxton pulled down Sarah’s drawers in front of us, earlier!  And her mother suggesting she be tied up and beaten! And then when Lord Hoxton pulled out his cock and just buggered her!  In front of us all!  In front of her mother and sister! All in the drawing room!  I was surprised.  I thought, this is going to be naughty fun, isn’t it?  Help me with my corset!” How women could bear to wear these things was beyond me.  Such is their vanity.  I struggled with it but eventually, with Daisy’s guidance, started to pull on the laces.  “A bit tighter, Edmund!”  I put my foot on the upper slope of her posterior, as instructed, to brace myself and pulled at her corset laces..  “Not too tight.  I intend to eat a big dinner!  Now I know why I have given these damn things up during the day.”

“Edith rarely wears one these days.  She says the current fashion for tight skirts is bad enough!” I said.  I watched her put her corset cover on over the top.

“I like walking too quickly for a hobble all the time and as for a corset, it is evening wear only for me!” said Daisy.  “Help me on with my dress!”  I did so.  “Of course when I worked at the intimates firm we had to wear the tightest corsets!  Quite horrid!  Eighteen inches!  Doris got down to sixteen but her mother had bound her from when she was a small girl!”  I helped her into her dark blue dress.  “It is a shame that this dress has already appeared in the newspapers.  I should have got you to get me a new one!”

 “You are beautifully presented!” I said. “You will be much admired!”

“Thank you, Edmund.  You look very dashing yourself in your evening wear.  I thought I would have to do your tie but you have done it perfectly!”  I said nothing.  “As you say, our natural attractiveness far outshines dull fashion!”  We looked at each other in the mirror and then kissed each other.

“You’re very precious to me, dearest Daisy!” I said.  She smiled and kissed me again.  I hoped I would still feel the same way about her by the end of the weekend.