In the weeks since my return from France I had noticed much excitement in my friends and their families. My visits elicited subtle questioning on the subject of my journey into womanhood, and cryptic asides concerning their own future involvement in it. I felt plans were being concocted around me. There were many smiles and giggles and equivocal remarks as sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers, spoke of their conquests and indirectly hinted at their wish to know of my own. I, of course, refused to play the game by their rules. I remained coy, declining either to confirm or deny their suspicions. I got the distinct impression from my closest friend Charlotte and her mother that General Stanton had since spent an intimate afternoon with the two ladies in which he was less reticent than myself. Tongues could wag as well as lick.
Even the servants and maids had knowing looks for me when they passed within my eye line. It was all very conspiratorial, and I left feeling a mystery would soon reveal itself to me. I chose not to ask of it, instead deciding it more fun to wait until I was drawn into whatever game was being played in the society houses.
A week had gone by and John had ensnared Kitty many times in his arms. He played his part perfectly, managing to coax ever more daring clinches from her. He had begun with words, and coached by me he had told her the things a girl enjoys hearing most. I in turn had prised their encounters from her as she bathed me, dressed me, or sat with me some evenings.
John was the perfect gentleman. Gone was the worry of his crude advances and rough attempts to have her, replaced now by her excitement in his company. She told of sweet kisses from soft lips, of a man so evidently brought to a state of erect arousal by her who would rather talk of her loveliness than take her hand and press it between his thighs.
He was such the gentleman that Kitty was beginning to become frustrated. She was longing for more. Normally shy she would not dream of running her hand down a man's chest to his hardened cock, yet this she did on ever more oft occasions.
Poor John, I knew only too well how he desired her, how he fought with all his strength the urge to tear off her dress and thrust his weapon into her belly. And Kitty too, how she would love that now! She was perfectly ready to be 'tipped'. I however was having too much fun teasing the pair to let them fully find each other just yet.
I continued to advise John not to give in to his urges, to keep bewitching her with the words I gave him. To kiss her softly then passionately, but to pull back when she raised to a particular heat. I crafted him into Prince Charming for my little Princess.
To her I told the opposite. I told her what men want and how to perform for them, and that girls who do not submit to the desires of men end life without experience or happiness or companionship. I nurtured the concupiscent appetites she hid beneath her shyness and encouraged her to follow my lead and look to me as her guide on this new and exciting merry-go-round. I conditioned her also to believe fidelity was a mere invention of the church, and that she would have true spiritual and sexual fulfilment by serving many lovers. This would serve me in the coming future, for I had further plans for my handmaid that precluded her monogamy to John.
From my frequent visits to my close friends, as well as to the homes of members of the court, Lords and politicians, and aristocratic ladies and gents, I had discovered alternative codes of dress for some of those who served them. It was not that I had as yet failed to notice this striking difference, but rather that a hidden facet of society life was being by degrees revealed to me. I felt I was being tested, had already been tested by General Stanton, and my reactions were being gauged. Increasingly a very different world was opening up to me.
In some of the houses where the children were either grown up or permanently boarding, the serving girls wore outfits and uniforms which left little to the imagination. Just one or two at first, but the more I admired and the more I questioned where I might too obtain such provocative couture for my own staff, the freer they felt to unveil this daring and exciting side to life.
Skimpy French maids outfits, silky black with frilly white trimmings short enough to show the girl's knickers at only a slight forward bend seemed to be the most preferred. Their long and shapely legs were often encased in stockings, sometimes black, sometimes white, sheered with the complete range of deniers. The girls were exceptionally desirable, their hips swayed suggestively as they walked, drawing the eye to the stimulating swishing of their indecently short skirt frills. I found myself increasingly attracted to many of them and had no doubt the men of the house enjoyed them at their leisure.
I was told of several outlets in town to have them made, but I decided first to visit my friend Madame Belvaux, taking with me one of Kitty's fitted dresses. The Monsieur was excited and happy to see me as ever. He showed me many new things he had made specially for me. I bought them all and told him to continue his endeavours. I very much liked him, and his wife. They were very kind, and I did so enjoy their respectful but naughty flirting and let them feel and touch all they wanted as I was undressed, measured and fitted.
I explained how I wished my maid to dress. Monsieur Belvaux, it seemed, secretly stocked a variety of merchandise perfect for girls in service. I ordered much, and left Kitty's dress with them to alter the items specifically for her. It, apparently, would not take long, but I chose not to stay. I arranged for them to be picked up later that afternoon. Before I left Madam Belvaux apprised me on the progress of my wedding dress and other trousseau. I was told it was all wonderfully sensational and perfectly on schedule. I merely nodded and thanked them. They did not need to assuage me, I trusted them implicitly.
One other thing Monsieur Belvaux said to me had excited my curiosity; he had something special for me; a new outfit he had been working on in his spare time for the last few weeks. As he spoke of it, and of me, he flattered me as though I were a Princess. I soaked up his every word, kissed his cheek, and told him I would look forward to its completion with great anticipation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"A package for you, Miss." I turned my head to see John holding in both arms the Belvaux Boutique parcel. John wouldn't know it's origin; it was outwardly plain, but I recognised its crafting. His eyes were roving up and down my legs as I lay outstretched on a chaise longue in the gazebo, enjoying the summer air and the flourishing garden.
I turned back to my book, ignoring him for the moment and allowing him to look me over as I finished my paragraph. I wore one of the Boutiques naughty summer dresses; so short it barely hid what lay beneath, and had I not been wearing panties I would surely have revealed my most precious treasure. With one leg straight and the other knee raised my lascivious retainer had the perfect view of legs and inner thigh, although I had been at care enough when I'd lain down to conceal the evocative little triangle of lace that hugged my pussy beneath the delicate folds of my dress. It wrapped my torso and showed much cleavage and would thrill God himself should he choose to look down upon me.
Turning to John again I noted his expression of desire. I instructed him to place the package beside my bed and return to me. Even before I could finish the page he was back and instantly caught again in my thrall. I put down my book and motioned him closer.
