After starting the fire in the kitchen ovens Sarah prepared the breakfast for chef by gathering the eggs, bacon, bread, and tea from the pantry and larder. She then set the pot to boil on the stove to make tea for the staff and later, the family, when they were seated in the dining room.
When the kitchen was warmed and the stove going, Sarah would wake the family, starting first with the master, who rose before the dawn. She would then return to the kitchen and wait wake her mistress and each sister in age-order from eldest down; dawn would be well broken by then, so she would have time to breakfast.
This day however, Sarah would leave Jane, the eldest sister for last, not first.
When the tea was brewed, Sarah poured herself a cup and sat at the table to wait. She watched the glowing coals in the stove, trying not to fall asleep before she heard movement in the house above.
Finally someone was moving about. Descending the stairs to the kitchen, chef came to cook the staff and family breakfasts. Of course, she was no chef, but called so out of love, for she was one of the finest cooks in the county.
Once chef was ensconced in the kitchen, Sarah, finishing her tea, would return to the upper hall and begin to wake the family, knocking up each door in turn. Waking Jane last, she quietly entered the room, shutting the door slowly behind her.
“Good morning m’lady,” Sarah spoke quietly. Instead of opening the curtains she left them closed, and then softly stepped to Jane’s bed. “It is time to wake.”
Jane slowly opened her eyes and looked around, trying to orient herself. “Breakfast? Already? It’s still dark.” She spoke groggily.
“Yes m’lady. The sun is up.” Sarah said, looking toward the window. Indeed, what light broke through the curtain showed the sky was lightening.
“Why are the curtains still closed, Sarah?” Jane asked, still shaking off her sleep.
“You saw Bess and I by the falls in the woods the other day, did you not, m’lady?” Sarah asked meekly. “And you stayed watching from the shadows, did you not?”
“Yes, I did. What of it?” Jane asked, now more fully awake, having been unnerved by the question.
“Bess had wondered if I should ask you…ask you if you were intrigued by our display. Staying as long as you did, and I having seen you’d lifted your shift as you watched.”
“I…” Jane began and then stopped, not knowing what to say.
“There is no need for shame m’lady.” Sarah said kindly, “and there is no judgement. I was curious if you knew the way that some women are. Bess wanted me to ask, and we wondered if you wanted more, like.”
“I…” Jane began, but then stopped herself again.
Sarah was quiet for a moment and then spoke again. “There is no need for fear m’lady.” She saw the abashment in Janes face, “it is quite natural when done lovingly. Should I show you?”
“Could you, Sarah? I…wouldn’t know where to begin,” Jane confessed, quietly sitting up slightly in bed.
“You begin with yourself, m’lady, as you did by the pond. You touch yourself and feel the pleasure that is your own,” Sarah guided her.
Sarah watched as Jane nervously reached under her cover and pulled up her gown to touch herself again. Sitting beside her, on the bed, Sarah could see the hesitation in Jane’s face melt away as she gave into her self-pleasure. Sarah felt her own body respond with dampness as she watched Jane’s face, and soon began touching herself as well.
Sarah encouraged Jane with words of desire and affection, until she saw that Jane was close to dying.*
Jane remembered the day so well, as she leafed through those days, so long ago, her diary guiding her thoughts.
June 25th, 1796
Early this morning, I found myself exploring my body in the company of Sarah, the maid. It was Sarah who had woken me. She raised an admonishing finger to her lips to ensure I stayed quiet, then made her way to my bed, leaning against the bedpost. Of course Sarah would be sent I thought — it was her duty to wake me, yet I’d done well to avoid her this entire week! It was Sarah, whom I had watched in the middle of her tryst the previous Sunday.
We stared at each other for an awkward, silent moment, and then Sarah smiled and spoke meekly, reminding me of what I’d seen, though I’d scarcely needed reminding.
Under my sheets, as the light of dawn touched my window, my fingers reached places I’d dared not touch til this past Sunday. Now, with Sarah by my side, she encouraged me to press deeper still.
I replayed the scene from that day over and over, feeling that same heat pool in between my legs as it filled my mind’s eye. It felt so strange, and yet wonderful. My breathing grew rapid and shallower as I touched myself rhythmically; focusing on the gap between my thighs. I whimpered softly as I came close to what I sought, but could not quite reach it. Something eluded me, but I didn’t know what.
I must have lost track of time, because Sarah leaned into kiss my lips and bid me to make haste. She pulled the linen sheet down away from my body and my nether regions were assaulted with the cool morning air. I gasped, then put my free hand over my mouth to quiet myself.
Sarah took her other hand and placed it atop mine, still massaging my sex. She used her hand to guide mine in this endeavor, and the sensations that flowed through me otherworldly!
Sarah leaned in and took my nipple through my sheer nightgown into her mouth and nibbled at it. Lightning passed through my body, carrying me away on waves of intense pleasure. I lift my night dress with both hands, giving Sarah greater purchase on my now bare breasts. She moved in like a cat seeking its prey. A skilled hunter, taking my breast in her hand caught my nipple in her teeth, while massaging me lower down, she continued her ministrations on my insides. Sliding a finger into me, I felt her finger twist around and tease the upper side of my passage. I writhed and wriggled, trying to get more of that sensation.
Seeing that I was so very wet, Sarah pulled the sheets back and climbed onto the bed, between my legs, and began to lap up my wetness with her hungry mouth and tongue. She licked my most intimate places, her tongue both soft and rough in turns on my feminine skin.
My world growing smaller as my nerves focused on that one nub she licked, sucked, and nibbled gently. I gripped the sheets in my hands, tryed to stay quiet, and arched my back as my hips bucking on Sarah’s mouth. Sarah lifted my thighs onto her shoulders and gave me one last, good lick sending me over the edge. My universe turned white as I tried so very hard not to burst as my body was thrown into the most wonderous involuntary spasam.
I had never felt the like before!
In the moments that followed, Sarah helped herself as Jane watched her writhed on the bed in ecstasy, as Jane lay still.
After both had finished, they lay on the bed together for a few moments. Jane then reached over and pulled herself to Sarah for an embrace. “Thank you.” She said, quietly into Sarah’s ear.
“My pleasure m’lady.” Sarah whispered, resting her head on Jane’s shoulder for a moment, before kissing her cheek softly and rising. Straightening her dress, Sarah opened the curtains, and quickly left the room.
Sarah smiled in relief as she went, she quietly closing the door behind her set off for the kitchen. As she suspected, the hallway was empty as the others would have made their way to the morning room before breakfast.
Bess had been right, she thought, Jane was a sister and kindred spirit.
* To die was a metaphor an orgasm. Shakespeare used it in his plays at the end of the 16th and 17th Century, nearly two hundred years before the scene above.
Did you miss Chapter One? Here it is —
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© Teresa J. Conway, 2021