"Nice day eh, ladies?"

It was she and I huddling together on our side of the seat, a frightened tilt of our eyes toward yet another leering, inspecting glance toward us.

"That's twenty cases of gin back there, you know, ladies," a grinning nod toward boxes piled in the back of the car.

The Calmer estate, at first glance, appeared something like the school, a caretaker tending a wrought iron gate, a tree lined drive leading through gardens and parks of impressive size. The automobile turned onto a narrow gravel track at the edge of the residence, finally drew to a stop next to a side door near which a pair of uniformed maids stood smoking cigarettes.

The driver pulling our door open, my silent companion and I edged ourselves from the automobile's seat, stood at each other's sides in waiting quiet as our two shabby suitcases were lain at our feet. Two girls standing at the residence's door smoking cigarettes shot scrutinizing glances in our direction, one leaning toward the other, an idle, shrugging comment or two until a middle aged woman stepped through the door. It seemed little more than curious scrutiny in her features as she nodded my companion and me forward.

"This way," she commanded, and lifting our suitcases into our hands, we were led through the door, led along narrow servant's corridors which finally emerged into a brightly lit hallway. "Wait here," the middle aged matron stepping through a door, returning a few moments later, nodding me forward. I still hadn't spoken a single word to the girl from whom I was suddenly parted. And yet it seemed a comforting and steadying presence now gone as I stepped forward by myself. It might even have been another fleeting moment's embrace of our eyes, a sixteen year old girl glancing frantic fright toward the Calmer family's hallways and ostentatious eloquence, glancing a final moment's panicked fright toward me.

It was a lavishly decorated parlor, an attractive woman in her early forties her attire expensive elegance sitting on a plushly cushioned chair.

"Closer -" she ordered, a long, scrutinizing glance. "You are the girl from Hallstead?"

"Yes, mam," I answered. "I'm -"

"How old are you, girl?"

"Sixteen, mam - seventeen in another -"

"Very well. I think we shall call you Anne. Miss Platz will settle you in and will explain your duties and the household rules. Anything further, Miss Platz?"

"Just Jacobson to see Mr. Calmer regarding returned merchandise and a kitchen girl waiting in the hall to attend to, Mrs. Calmer."

"See to them, then, Miss Platz, and you may take this girl away."

I was nodded from the parlor, stood another several minutes in the hallway paying shuddering, reverential attention to Miss Platz's lecture. I was to attend to my assigned duties with strict, respectful diligence. Impertinence of any sort would not be tolerated, would result in the severest disciplinary measures. I was not to leave the residence grounds unless I had obtained express permission to do so. Discretion regarding my employer's affairs was of the utmost importance - it being therefore no concern of mine as to why Jacobson wanted to see Ambassador Calmer regarding twenty boxes of gin sitting in the back of the automobile.

"Miss Lownes," Miss Platz finally concluded, nodding toward the next personage into whose custody I was placed, "is my first assistant housekeeper. This is Anne, Miss Lownes. You may take her in charge - and please see to this girl as well, Mrs. Bruce and the kitchens, if I recall."

Miss Lownes, perhaps twenty two yet her bearing stern, authoritative command, gazed a longer moment's scrutinizing inspection. She reminded me of Hallstead. It was Miss Lownes, I suspected, who would inflict whatever severe disciplinary measures were to be inflicted.

"Are you quite ready, Anne?"

It was a frightened flash of my eyes toward my companion's.

"Yes -" I finally tried.

"Yes, Miss Lownes, if you please."

"Yes, Miss Lownes."

"Very well, come along, both of you."

"Me too -?" confused fright in a kitchen girls eyes.

"Of course, silly girl. And don't dawdle."

We lifted our suitcases into our hands, followed Miss Lownes back into the servant's corridor, then up a narrow, enclosed staircase. I'd climbed staircases at Hallstead, was quite accustomed to service on the upper floors. And I dared another moment's glance toward a kitchen girl for whom a progress up a residence's stairs must indeed have been frightening, dared an encouraging smile toward her, saw genuine and appreciative warmth in her smile toward me.

"In here -" Miss Lownes pronounced, and we stepped into a small room furnished with a bed and a chest of drawers - stood again in quiet fright for a glance which I had suspected even at the time had been culminating, leering scrutiny.

"Take your clothes off," Miss Lownes finally ordered.

I saw that which I couldn't have doubted was despairing terror in my companion's eyes - flung my eyes back to leering scrutiny in Miss Lownes'.

"It is my job to see that you are attired according to the household standards. If you do not wish to be shown the door, you will take your clothes off - all of them. If you are not the both of you in one minute standing here in front of me entirely naked, I will have Mr. Jacobson drive you back to the train station."

I suppose I and a sixteen year old girl standing at my side had known in frightened corners of our minds that all of this was obvious and unnecessary mischief on the part of a sadistic despot. And still, I and my companion would have stood penniless and helpless on a train station's platform, would have stood naive innocents flung onto a world which was all manner of incomprehensible horror. And a sadistic despot a few years older than ourselves was authority to which we were every bit as helpless. Neither of us at sixteen years of age were capable of anything more than docile, abject submission no matter how outrageous her demands on us.

We'd pushed the last of the clothing from our bodies a quick minute later. I stood my eyes on the floor, my arms drawn over my breasts, stood in a cold, trembling fright not quite like any I had ever before known. I'll never really remember what I had felt in that moment toward the girl who had to stand entirely naked at my side, probably felt some small, sympathizing comfort for the fact that I wasn't enduring this alone.

"That's better," Miss Lownes pronounced, turning toward a pair of uniformed maids who'd entered the room. "Take all that away," Miss Lownes nodding toward our suitcases and our clothing laying on the floor, the very evident edge of a smirking leer in her features as she settled her eyes again toward us. "You are both to wait here - entirely naked. I will return shortly with suitable attire and with whatever else you will need for the time being."

The door was closed on us - and it yet again seemed circumstances I couldn't before the moment have imagined. I noticed her quite as I had while sitting at her side in the automobile, had noticed from a corner of my eye that she was very pretty. And I stood another helpless eternity in a confused terror, another girl and I standing entirely naked at each other's sides and her presence leaving me in trembling paralysis. It was she and I still gazing toward the floor - and yet it's the ultimate intimacies of her body revealed to me, was just some new, paralyzing fright knowing that she as well hadn't any choice, must stand at my side my body revealed to her just as it was.

I noticed again, I suppose, that she was indeed trembling every bit as severely as I was, finally dared a glance.

"It's cold in here," I tried, perhaps even a quiet chuckle.

"Yes -" a whispered gasp - though that which I decided was an appreciative flash of her eyes toward mine, her eyes flung frantically back to the floor.

"She's certainly taking her time," I tried a minute later.

"She certainly is -" my companion and I finally daring inspecting glances about the room.

"If this is where we're to live, I hope they'll let us choose our own curtains," a nod toward the room's single window.

"Perhaps they will," she and I finally daring each other's eyes, very genuine smiles though the circumstances as bizare and unprecedented for her as they were for me. I might in other circumstances have told her that she was very pretty, had almost done so riding with her in the automobile and noticing at least the edge of a shy smile in her features for a hopefully befriending glance on my part. And a moment's embrace of our eyes was yet another timeless moment's confused paralysis. It seems I'm helplessly enveloped in her presence, just can't escape her. I noticed, I suspect, that which was obvious even in a moment of confused, reeling fright, the girl standing naked at my side indeed very pretty, she as well perhaps closer to seventeen, her figure mature feminine beauty. I might even have been as vainly aware as always that my own form was now mature and feminine rather than girlish. It might in other circumstances have been she and I noticing that our hair was the same shade of dark brown, that perhaps to elicit a shy though flattering comment which might lead to a friendship between us. And a moment's embrace of my eyes to another girl's as we stood entirely naked seemed almost an uncivil, blatant affront. It was indeed my eyes edged to hers and yet I just can't escape her, can't escape some reeling, blatant notice of the trembling rise and fall of her breasts. It's yet again ultimate intimacies from which I just can't escape, my eyes edged to hers and yet it's some helpless and finished notice of the hair on her body, another sixteen year old girl having hair on her body quite as I had - she and I actually speaking to each other even as we stood entirely naked at each other's sides.

It was she and I standing another timeless minute in cold, trembling fright - until it was yet again hesitant glances edged about the room, glances closer to each other - some frantic relief when it was she this time attempting a word.

"You're to be a maid here -?"

"I hope so. They told me at Hallstead that I was to be taken on trial."

"My mother was a maid."

"My father was a chauffeur at Hallstead. I rode in the back seat of a car once."

"Really -?"

"I was only fourteen then, but my father said I looked quite the grand lady and what the Hallsteads didn't know wouldn't hurt them."

It was she and I daring each other's eyes again, she and I this time just abandoning ourselves to the circumstances in which we'd found ourselves.

"It's taking her long enough," I sighed, perhaps even a glance of annoyance about a barren little chamber.

"I don't think I like Miss Lownes much."

"Neither do I."

It's a moment's genuine mirth between us.

"Do you really think Miss Lownes would let me live up here with you? I work in the kitchen -"

"Maybe she will. She made us both take our clothes off," though it was little more than a moment's sheepish, hesitating pause this time.

"I'd like to have a friend," she continued. "There's never anyone to talk to below stairs."

"We could talk to each other. I'd like that -"

We'd dared each other's eyes another timeless moment, shy though very genuine smiles toward each other, perhaps even an edge of giddy delight in our features suspecting that we had indeed found a friend in each other. And it was she and I edging our eyes apart - and it yet again seemed something from which escape just wasn't possible. We were standing nothing more than a pace from each other, had actually turned to face one another, had met each other's eyes in a moment's very genuine intimacy - until it was yet again a helpless, paralyzing fright. And yet it was a fright in which another person's body seemed my entire existence in ways I couldn't before the moment have imagined. I'll never know how long it had been my eyes buried to the trembling rise and fall of her breasts. I'd known all along in vague corners of my mind, I suppose, that another girl my own age must appear very different without her clothes on, had known that she might appear very similar to me. And yet it still seemed a strange and reeling moment come from nowhere. I'd seen again something in her own eyes which I could only call helpless and gaping, had yet again stood with another girl my breasts revealed to her just as they were. I'll always believe that it had been she and I searching for a friend even in that moment - and yet it's the ultimately personal intimacy of another girl's body revealed to me. It was yet again my own body so helplessly and entirely revealed to her, was indeed a trembling, paralyzing fright - and yet it was all something which I'd recognized even at sixteen years of age was incomparably different than I could ever have imagined.

It was she and I alone with each other behind a closed bedroom's door, she and I entirely naked and a glance toward each other which had been gaping fascination on both of our parts - and it suddenly seemed a strange, almost pleasant little warmth, a surrounding and enveloping warmth in which she and I were helplessly immersed together. It was a pace between us and yet it seemed a close and unifying warmth, something incomparably more than it could have been had she and I not stood entirely naked a pace from each other.

And it was finally something even more than that. It was she and I gazing past each other into some vague and unfocused distance. And it was yet again the ultimately personal intimacy of another girl's body revealed to me, seemed again that it was my own body helplessly and so entirely revealed to her - and even that suddenly become a strange and exciting little warmth, an exciting little pleasure which I'd sometimes felt in the past and yet never before with quite the same immediate and inescapable ferocity. I gazed another timeless few moments toward the room's window - and it was all manner of bizare and confusing thought coursing through my mind. I'd sometimes in the past with a washcloth in hand gazed toward my breasts in wondering intrigue, a touch of my hand to my body become a strange little pleasure It had been a necessary touch of my hand to my body in finished intimacy and yet that an exciting little pleasure, another moment's caressing touch of my hand until I'd realized again that I just wasn't stopping, was abandoning myself to wants seeming irresistable - helpless gasps wrenched from my throat for my body finally engulfed in a pleasure which I'd known was something finished and ultimate.

And it yet again seemed something I could only call helplessly inescapable, another girl and I standing entirely naked a pace from each other - and I wondering for another timeless moment what it would feel like if this very pretty girl touched her hand to my breasts. It was yet again the ultimate intimacy of my body so helplessly and entirely revealed to her - and it suddenly seemed a strange little need, had been my eyes edged another confused and frantic moment to her hand until it had been all manner of strange and culminating thought coursing into my mind. It seemed in the end little less than a wanting, almost desparate need, irresistable sensation I had never before felt with quite the same helpless and inescapable ferocity - seemed a wanting need that it be not my own but another girl's hand touched to my body in finished and ultimate intimacy.

I'll never entirely know why it had been the leering grin on Miss Lownes' face suddenly coursing through my mind. It was another sixteen year old girl and I standing a few more moments in trembling quiet, might finally have been she and I struggling again for each other's eyes even as we stood a pace from each other entirely naked - and it was one more sudden and blinding moment, was sheer, primal terror wrenching gasping screams from our throats. It was she and I flinging our eyes to the door's keyhole and cackling male laughter behind it. It was I and another sixteen year old girl flinging our bodies onto a wall next to the door - flinging ourselves into frantic, clinging embrace.

"Go away -" I cried out in outraged demand.

It was just another burst of cackling laughter - the door's knob rattling.

"Go away - or else -" my voice an angry rage, she and I flinging terrified eyes toward the door's knob.

We waited, the door remaining closed - and I suppose I'll never forget the next few moments, will never know exactly when it had yet again become another girl rather than just the door seeming my entire existence in ways I couldn't before that day have imagined possible. She was a pretty girl who I had noticed at the train station, had been close, comforting warmth as we huddled together on our side of the car's seat. She was finally a girl to whom I had just spoken a few frightened words - and it suddenly seemed impossible that I could keep on existing without the crushing strength of her arms around me, seemed essential that I have the warmth of her body to cling to with abandoned, unrestrained violence.

I'll never remember whether it was a minute or twenty, remember flinging another terrified glance toward the door, flinging my eyes back to hers, crushing her body onto mine with frenzied desparation.

"Maybe - maybe they're gone -" I finally tried.

"Maybe -" she whispered, she and I trembling in helpless violence - she and I meeting each other's eyes another timeless moment.

It was something I'll never entirely understand. I cradled her body onto mine with abandoned desparation, another girl's body yet again my entire existence - the naked, entwining warmth of her body leaving me standing in a reeling oblivion of raw, wanting sensation. It was her lips next to my own - and I was leaning, touching my lips to hers. It was neither she nor I having the least idea what a kiss was. I wasn't in the least certain why it suddenly had to be my lips lain to hers in searching caress, knew in clouded corners of my mind that she was standing in my arms in startled paralysis. And yet I just couldn't stop, the warmth of her lips touched to mine a sweet, dizzying little ecstasy - and she letting me kiss her, touching her lips to mine in fondling caress, opening her mouth to me - she and I burying ourselves into each other's warmth our kisses a frenzy of writhing, wanting abandon. It was yet again a sudden and dizzying want for more, blinding wants of a ferocity I couldn't before the moment have imagined. It's a heaving touch of her breasts to mine, the naked warmth of her body cradled onto mine - her body in another timeless instant become mine to search with my hands. It's a startled gasp wrenched from her throat and yet I just couldn't again stop, crushed her body onto mine with abandoned, wanting violence - and the caressing, devouring touch of her hands flung up and down my own body that which I could only call an agonizing, torturing ecstasy.

It was she and I finally hesitating, she and I suddenly and lucidly aware that we were both girls kissing and caressing each other - and it was yet again some dizzying fall through a void as she let me pull her onto the bed with me, she and I flinging scratching, clawing hands up and down each other's bodies, she and I hearing primal gasps wrenched from each other's throats for our bodies entwined about each other's in a writhing, devouring frenzy.

It might even then have been a fleeting moment's bizare, knowing pause between us, she and I just resting our bodies entwined about each other's in warm, naked intimacy. And it's pleasure of a sort I couldn't before the moment have imagined possible, the caressing touch of her lips to mine and the fondling touch of her breasts to mine a dizzying ecstasy. It's just something incomparably more knowing that it's finally become everything for her which it is for me, she and I yet again writhing together in a helpless, gasping abandon, devouring each other's bodies with our lips and our hands - and she and I yet again hesitating for one more startled, awakening moment.

I'll never know if either of us could have stopped. I cradled her body onto mine with a wanting fury - and realized in that culminating moment that the intimate want of my body for her touch seemed indeed an agonizing, desparate need, realized that it was indeed my hand pushed to the ultimate intimacy of another's girl's body - and she and I yet again just not stopping, she and I yet again hearing abandoned, assenting gasps wrenched from each other's throats.

It was something I could only call a torturing, agonizing pleasure, was yet again just something incomparably more knowing that she'd finally wanted and needed my touch as desperately as I'd needed hers - the most intimate wants of another girl's body exactly those which my own wants had become. I'd known even in that moment that we were doing something which was ultimate and irrevocable, something which I couldn't have imagined doing just minutes ago. And it yet again seemed a helpless, knowing abandon between us, she and I cradling each other's bodies into frantic embrace - she and I resting our cheeks lain to each other's as we touched each other's bodies in as intimate a manner as possible.

"Do you think - do you think we should stop -" she whispered.

"I don't know -" I answered - and it's the heaving touch of her breasts to mine, the naked warmth her body lain to mine - the intimate, caressing touch of her hand an agonizing pleasure. "It is fun -" I whispered.

"Yes - it is," eyes awash with giddy delight edged toward mine. "I like kissing you - you're very pretty -"

"You're pretty too -"

"I never thought I'd ever kiss a girl -"

"Me neither -" and it was yet again an assenting, knowing abandon between us. It was our lips touched to each other's in searching, fondling caress, might even have been a moment's giddy, mischievous delight between us. And it was yet again something incomparably more than I could ever have imagined possible, she and I edging our eyes toward each other's yet knowing our entire existence become the entwining warmth of our bodies, our breath frenzied gasps as we yet again knew it the ultimately personal intimacy of our bodies become our entire existence. It was she and I laying our cheeks to each other's, she and I wanting caresses of culminating, frantic intimacy, she and I again writhing together in an unrestrained, maniacal frenzy - she and I finally hearing helpless, primal cries wrenched from each other's throats for something which we'd discovered was a raw pleasure of unimaginable ferocity. It was yet again something I couldn't before the moment have imagined possible. I hadn't yet any real idea who she was, had stepped from the automobile with her supposing that she and I might scrub floors and polish silverware with each other, supposing that we might speak a word or two to each other and might even become friends. And it suddenly seemed impossible that I could ever have existed without her body entwined about mine in naked warmth, her hand touched to my body in finished, caressing intimacy. It seemed impossible that I could ever have existed without this pretty girl's body become mine to cradle onto my own, gasping cries wrenched from her throat for the intimate, caressing touch of my own hand - and she and I knowing again that it was the same for both of us, was something ultimate and finished between us. It might even then have been a fleeting instant's bizare, hesitating pause between us - she and I naked and in bed with each other, she and I lucidly aware that it was something incomparably more than just a kiss between us. And it was she and I seeing raw, frenzied want in each other's eyes, she and I just driving our caresses to thrusting, penetrating intimacy, writhing together in a finished, unrestrained abandon - that which was happening to my body so obviously happening to hers as well.

I'll never remember all of it, remember it as my body finally engulfed in wave after wave of raw, pounding sensation - and remember it as something so much more than just that. It was she and I cradling each other's bodies into an embrace seeming culminating, unifying intimacy, the warm touch of her cheek to mine and the heaving touch of her breasts to mine yet again seeming essential and seeming a sweet, abandoned ecstasy like none I could ever have imagined possible. It was she and I even in the midst of a writhing frenzy knowing with some strange and inescapable clarity that we were both girls and knowing the ultimate - knowing that we were doing something which we weren't supposed to do. And it was she and I just wrenching each other's bodies into an embrace of desparate, clinging violence, she and I hearing primal, helpless cries exploding from each other's throats - she and I knowing with that same strange and undoubted clarity that it was our bodies fallen together into the of throes of a pleasure which was finished and ultimate.

It couldn't, I suppose, have been anything more than a minute or two - and it was yet again a sudden moment of dizzying terror like none I could ever have imagined. We hadn't heard the room's door opening. It was Miss Lownes standing at the foot of the bed, the uniformed maids standing on either side of her holding clothing in their hands.

"Why Miss Lownes," one began, "they're in bed together - having sex with each other -"

"Writhing and clawing each other like a pair of cats in heat -"

"Yes - I can see that for myself, thank you. Anne, I turn my back for five minutes and it seems you are in bed with this girl - having sexual relations with her, no less -"

We pushed ourselves to the edge of the bed, just waited another trembling eternity. I'll never quite know how I could dare a glance toward them - could recognize their demeanor as something very different than I might ever have supposed it must be.

"Margaret -" Miss Lownes aiming her scrutinizing attention toward the girl resting at my side, "did Anne take you to bed with her and have sexual relations with you?"

"Yes, Miss Lownes - but - but Miss Lownes -"

"Very well, Margaret. You may return to the kitchens and let Mrs. Bruce know that you are back. I'm surprised at you, Margaret - a new girl and here you are in bed with her having sexual relations with her -"

I watched in reeling confusion as a sixteen year old girl lifted clothing from one of the maid's arms, crept from the room.

"Shall we bind Anne hand and foot, Miss Lownes?" the maids began again.

"And lash her? Oh - doesn't she have an absolutely, exquisitely gorgeous ass. I think we must lash her, Miss Lownes - lash her until she's squirming and writhing in agony -"

I shot the maids another glance - something probably close to defiant challenge in my features.

"I think not - not at the moment, at least," Miss Lownes finally answered - little more than the same inspecting scrutiny in her features. "Anne - you will dress and report to me below stairs in thirty minutes at which time you will be shown your duties. And you are not to bother Margaret or any of the other girls in the meantime. Not thirty minutes in the house - and here I find you ravishing the first girl you've come upon, wrestling her into bed, writhing with her in an insatiable, wanton frenzy -"

It was Hallstead suddenly coursing a frantic path through my mind, that which I'd realized even at sixteen years of age had indeed been devious little smirks on the faces on "the old witches" informing me that a position had been found for me on the Calmer estate.

"It will be most amusing," one of the witches had smirked toward the other, "to hear how another naive little innocent fares with the likes of the Calmers."

"Platz and Agatha Lownes are still with the Calmers, are they not?"

"And still preparing girls for upstairs service there - instilling and arousing in them an appetite for it. Miss Agatha Lownes in particular would have been quite in place preparing girls for upstairs service in Nero's residence."

---

I did indeed scrub floors and polish silverware with another sixteen year old girl in Calmer House - and stole with her through a utility closet's door whenever Miss Lownes' or Mrs. Bruce's backs were turned.

"Why didn't you tell me that you already lived here that first day, Margaret?"

"You never asked, Anne."

"Oh -" I chuckled as well - and gazed another moment's gentle mirth toward a friend with whom I supposed I would always, at least in a bizare and amusing sort of way, be very genuinely and very passionately in love. It's the same wild, pleading delight in an exceptionally pretty sixteen year old girl's eyes as I touched my lips to hers, drew her body into my arms. It's still at times a moment's confused wonder for me as I pushed a fondling hand to her breasts, the touch of her hand to mine wrenching gasps of entranced ecstasy from my throat. I rather than my shy and unassuming Margaret, I supposed, would always be the ravenous and insatiable aggressor - and yet I had indeed, polishing silverware with her just a few moments ago, seen yet another wistful little glance toward me. I'd touched my hand to hers, a conspiratorial nod toward the utility closet's door - nothing less than swooning relief in my Margaret's eyes when I'd pulled her from the table.

"I got another letter from Freddy today, Anne."

"Did you?" gentle though genuine mirth in my voice.

"He says he wants another kiss next time I come home, says he might get a raise from his uncle next year -" she and I standing behind a utility closet's door caressing the clothing from each other's bodies and seeing that same moment's sheepish pause in each other's eyes.

"Margaret -" I tried, "we're only sixteen. It - doesn't count."

"I guess not -" my Margaret and I chuckling in amused delight for a caressing touch of our lips to each others. I decided we had an idle half hour, wondered if I could ever tire of her. It's an arm drawn about her waist with owning strength, a caressing touch of my lips to her neck, to her breasts, a hand slid from her waist to caresses of searching, fondling intimacy - my Margaret entrancing feminine beauty and allure as she writhes in my arms in gasping ecstasy. It's that same shy yet frantic, pleading assent in her eyes. It might even then have been a final moment's waiting quiet between us - and it's that same fall from a cliff seeing raw, unfeigned want in my Margaret's eyes. It was yet again she and I entwining our bodies about each other's in finished, naked warmth, our caresses consumating intimacy - she and I even then touching our lips to each other's, meeting each other's eyes even in the midst of finished, intimate lovemaking.

"I never thought I'd like kissing another girl so much, Anne."

"Neither did I, Margaret," I chuckled as I always did in amused mirth.

"And - we're always ready for each other, aren't we? All we have to do is look at each other and we're ready -?"

"Yes - we are, Margaret -" that another moment's knowing, sheepish pause between us. We've wondered aloud any number of times over the past several months if we "should stop." It had been Margaret some evenings stealing up the back stairs to my room, I sometimes stealing down to hers, she and I in quiet conspiracy wondering if we might someday escape Calmer House - Margaret with entranced delight in her features telling me that she'd received another letter from a young man back home wanting another kiss. I'd supposed my own wistful little fantasies for most of my life not so different than any other girl's. And it was another sixteen year old girl and I behind a closed bedroom's door in Calmer House glancing again toward each other - was always a giddy little delight when I knew that a teasing touch of my hand to hers was enough. It was she and I even as we awoke in the morning in naked, entwining embrace seeing that moment's knowing, sheepish pause in each other's eyes - she and I deciding again that it hadn't, particularly in the likes of Calmer House, counted.

And it was my Margaret and I both standing naked behind a utility closet's door - seems again impossible that I could ever have existed without the entwining warmth of her body. It was she and I lowering our eyes to each other's bodies without the least pretense, she and I touching each other in the most intimate manner possible - and it seems that same unifying little ecstasy knowing again that it is indeed her body fallen into a flooding aroused want for my touch, another girl pressing her caressing touch to my body and knowing my body fallen into as obvious and finished an aroused want. It was Margaret and I able to meet each other's eyes without the least pretense, was that which I'll always believe was a gentle though very genuine affection between us. And it was she and I yet again hearing cries of helpless, primal ecstasy wrenched from each other's throats, she and I knowing each other's caressing touch an agonizing, torturing pleasure - she and I burying our eyes to each other's even as it was our bodies engulfed in the pounding, exploding throes of the ultimate pleasure.

It was the utility closet's door pulled open.

"Here they are, Mrs. Bruce. They're having sex with each other again when they're supposed to be working."

"Will you go away, Geraldine," I barked in nothing more than sighing annoyance.

"Mrs. Calmer's rung. You're to take her tray up, Ann," Geraldine aiming another leering little grin toward me. "I must say, Anne, Miss Lownes is right - you really are the most depraved and insatiable girl this house has ever seen."

I climbed two flights of stairs with Mrs. Calmer's tray a few minutes later - supposed for another musing moment that I had indeed over the past few months become as accustomed to Calmer House as was Geraldine and everyone else below stairs. And yet I still felt a moment's bemused wonder as I backed my way through a bed chamber's door upstairs, stood with the tray in my hands a few paces from the bed. Mrs. Calmer and Mr. Charles who was visiting Calmer House for a week shot me a moment's glance, turned their frenzied attention back toward each other.

"Like it, bitch?" Mr. Charles, twenty four, exceptionally handsome, entwining a hand in Mrs. Calmer's hair, pushing her face onto the pillow, pounding her in an abandoned frenzy.

"Oh - you brutal animal - you insatiable beast -" Mrs. Calmer crooned, she in her early forties though still a very attractive woman.

It was five more minutes, was still a bizare and strangely fascinating sight. I hadn't just months ago had the least idea that a man and a woman could do anything of the sort. I wondered if Mrs. Calmer still did it with Mr. Calmer at least on occasion, wondered if it might be loving and gentle between a husband and a wife even in Calmer House. And I gazed again in morbid fascination as Mr. Charles threw clawing hands to Mrs. Calmer's breasts, pounding his body into hers with hammering, thrusting violence.

"Oh - you animal - your depraved sadist - you cruel beast -"

"You like it, aunt Elizabeth, don't you," Mr. Charles' voice a growling frenzy. "You want it bad, don't you, aunt Elizabeth - you wanton slut, you - you bitch in heat -"

I set the tray onto a bed stand, amused myself another minute or two with one of Mrs. Calmer's cats. Another sat contentedly atop a dresser licking its paws and aiming the occasional moment's distracted notice toward the noisy spectacle on the bed. Mrs. Calmer finally gasping out her "damn it - shit," Charles Calmer finally collapsing onto the bed at her side, I lifted the tray back into my hands, waited again to be noticed by the household's mistress.

"Oh - Anne - there you are -" and I set the tray on the bed - Mrs. Calmer and her nephew smoking cigarettes as I stirred sugar and cream into their coffee.

"That will be all, Anne."

I curtsied, withdrew from the bedchamber - encountered the Calmer's nineteen year old son in the hallway and decided again that upstairs in the Calmer residence was by far the greater ordeal.

"Mr. Andrew -" I gasped as I writhed from his arms and his fondling, groping caresses.

"Come on, Anne - five minutes -"

"I have work to do, Mr. Andrew -"

"I'll give you four dollars this time."

"Five," I sighed.

"Done -" and I walked into a downstairs parlor with Andrew Calmer, pushed the clothing from my body.

"Now Mr. Andrew - don't you dare. You can look but you can't touch," and I danced for him another teasing half minute, a cautious glance over my shoulder to be certain that he was still standing next to the fireplace his gaze gaping, devouring scrutiny.

"Anne - come on. I'll marry you. I promise -"

"Now Mr. Andrew," I chuckled in amused mirth, "I'm just a maid. And besides, you're already married," though I supposed it several other of Mr. Andrew's lady acquaintances who would be just as angry discovering a Calmer son gawking in spellbound abandon toward a household maid.

"Now Mr. Andrew -" I gasped again, retreating a few more paces as Andrew Calmer flung frantic hands to his belt.

"But Anne - you're the most exquisitely maddening little thing imaginable -"

It was, even as I fled another pace or two, nothing less than a blatant and devouring glance over my shoulder, that which I just couldn't deny was a shuddering, exciting little warmth for an exceptionally handsome young man very obviously seeing me as arousing. It was finally a corner of the room, further retreat impossible - a pleading touch of a maddening young man's hands to my waist.

"Now Mr. Andrew - stop -" I gasped, perhaps a writhing little dance for escape and another shuddering, devouring glance - that which he couldn't have doubted had been a raw, frenzied want in my eyes.

And it was indeed the parlor's door opening at an unanticipated moment and a moment which couldn't, for the Calmer's son, have been a great deal more inadvertent.

"Father -" Andrew Calmer gasped.

"What on earth's going on here?" Mr. Calmer barked. "Who is this girl -?"

"She's - just -"

"Girl - put your clothes on -" and I snatched my clothing into my hands, stole toward the parlor's door, Mr. Calmer bellowing something about the State Department and the possible consequences of yet another sordid scandal. "And what about the gin, you young imbecile? A hundred crates of it still in the sheds and this family drawing attention to itself with one debauched scandal after another -"

I made good my escape through the door, stole toward a crevice in the hallway where I would dress - and wondered in another moment as I fell into the custody of Calmer House's Miss Calmer if escape of any sort was possible in this residence.

"Anne -" an arresting hand locked onto my wrist, "what on earth are you about - wandering the hallways and not a stitch of clothing on -"

"But Miss Calmer -"

"Leave all that here. You will come with me -"

"But it wasn't my fault, Miss Calmer -" my protests and my struggles futile as I was dragged naked back up the stairs, Patricia Calmer that which I could only call a tall amazon warrior, the crush of her hand about my wrist brutally inescapable.

"It's time you were taught a lesson, Anne," and I was dragged into her bedroom, flung face down onto the bed, my struggles yet again so entirely futile as I was bound hand and foot to the bed posts. It was another minute's writhing struggle against my bonds - and my eyes flung over my shoulder in very real fright toward Patricia Calmer pushing her dress to the floor, her undergarments black, so strangely and entirely sinister in appearance.

"Discipline, Anne - you need discipline -" Patricia Calmer tapping the lash she held to her hand. It was yet again a tall, hourglass barbarian standing a pace from the bed, her eyes awash with raw, burning delight as she gazed down on a victim squirming and writhing in helpless, primal terror.

"Please, Miss Calmer - no -" I cried out as the lash was swung - and I flung my eyes to a genuinely painful little sting on my hips. "Stop it -" I cried out again and again as I writhed in a tortured agony.

"Discipline, my girl - right to that delicious little ass of yours -"

I flung my eyes toward my tormentress - forced that which might have been a gasp of mirth back into my throat.

"Ow -" I cried out for a genuinely painful little sting. "I hate you -"

"Of course you hate me," she crooned as she finally undid my bonds. "You're a depraved and wicked little thing, you are, Anne. Now you want your revenge, don't you -?"

It was yet again something I couldn't have imagined just months ago. It now took me only moments to adjust the straps, little more than an amused sigh as I gazed toward one of her bizare little toys fixed onto my body. And it was that which I just couldn't deny was a liscivious, abandoned delight as I snapped the undergarments from her body, entwined a hand into her hair, pushed her face into the pillow - dug a cruel, clawing hand onto that which I could now term an ass which was a broad and round feminine ideal.

"Oh - you wicked girl -" her voice a purring croon as I clawed a hand onto breasts which were the same voluptuous, feminine perfection, teased her another few moments with her artificial device until I knew she wanted me writhing and thrusting in a culminating, abandoned frenzy.

It was, even then, moments of lucid, wondering pause for me. I didn't, I supposed, hate her. I didn't care about her in the least one way or another, Miss Calmer just another of the lofty, august personages sitting at the banquet table as I or another unnoticed servant reached over shoulders with plate or glass in hand - though I and four or five other girls entirely naked on certain select occasions in the Calmer residence's banquet hall. I and the other girls in certain select company might have to intimate with brushing caresses of our hips that our services were available in private though that meaning as often as not behind a screen in a secluded corner of a noisy banquet hall. Miss Platz and Miss Lownes still scowled nothing more than annoyance toward me as I intimated that my services were only available to the congressman's or the ambassador's wives and daughters. Patricia Calmer, as often as not, kept me for herself, little more than a caress of wanton, enticing lust on my part necessary.

"Can I go now, Miss Calmer?" I sighed as I undid the straps, gazed another moment's wondering mirth toward a bizare little toy.

"No," she crooned. "Pet me. Tell me you love me."

I sighed the usual mirth as she writhed and purred for my caresses, wondered what it must be like to indulge all night long in everything from gin to opium and then have nothing to do but sleep until two or three in the afternoon. I rested at her side another few minutes even after she had fallen into a comatose sleep, played with a body - allowed myself even then a moment's wondering pause. She's eighteen, is tall hourglass beauty and allure to every voluptuously ideal extreme. I played with her breasts, ran a clawing hand from her waist to feminine curves yet again mine to fondle and caress as I wished, wondered if I could ever tire of doing so. She'd ring as likely as not for me this afternoon, and it might before I helped her dress be our bodies entwined about each other's another half hour in frenzied, sexual writhing. It had over the past few months, I supposed for another mirthful moment, been our bodies entwined about each other's in every possible position, she and I having sex with each other in every way it was possible for two women to have sex. And it was she and I even in the midst of the ultimately personal act of intimacy pretending absolutely nothing. It might be our hands clawed onto each other's hips, she and I writhing together as it was our bodies touched to each other's in as intimate a manner as possible. I could readily admit that it was exquisitely exciting with my voluptuous hourglass beauty, was always a released pleasure of long and unimaginable ferocity. And it was, I realized again, every bit as exquisitely exciting having sex with Patricia Calmer even when she was fast asleep, neither she nor I anything more than bodies to each other.

I clawed a hand another moment onto that which I could readily and lasciviously term her ass, played with broad, feminine curves as I pleased. It was that which a moment of the sort had been just a few months ago. It was she and I both naked, her body revealed to me exactly as it was. It was my own body for the close, naked warmth of hers fallen into that which I now knew was an aroused want become little less than a maddening ache desparate for relief. And it was now that which I could readily admit was a blatant and liscivious abandon, Patricia Calmer expensive elegance and aloof, august majesty sitting at a banquet table - and she now just an impossibly voluptuous and alluring body become mine to use as I pleased.

I decided, however, that I had been absent from my duties long enough, stole my way back into the hallways debating various manner of excuse I would proffer to Miss Platz or Miss Lownes though the truth, even if not "subtle and discreet, young lady," would probably have sufficed. I crept back down the staircase, entirely naked as I did so - and glanced another wondering moment toward a mirror, realized again why I had been offered a position on the Calmer estate. I crept along first floor corridors, and felt little more than annoyance even when I found myself standing entirely naked in front of Geraldine's and Abby's leering eyes.

"Mind your own business," I sighed toward two young women who in the Calmer residence had to be at least as exceptionally beautiful and alluring as I could readily and vainly admit I was myself.

"Anne - come on -"

"No -" I sighed as I reached for my clothing.

"Come on, Anne. You know you want to."

"I do not -" and it's the same timeless moment's liscivious imagining, the three of us naked, our bodies all entwined in a writhing frenzy.

"Come on, Anne," accusing mischief in Geraldine's eyes. "You know you want to. You wouldn't be in Calmer House if you didn't, and you certainly wouldn't have lasted so long upstairs if you didn't."

I glanced another moment's leering scrutiny toward Geraldine - toward an hourglass beauty laying naked on the bed her wrists and ankles bound to the posts. She's squirming and writhing in a helpless frenzy, the lash in my hand swung with unrestrained ferocity toward that gorgeous and enticing ass of hers.

---

It had been another frenzied several months, Calmer House exhausting - floors and silverware and a moment downstairs with my shy and quiet Margaret a pleasant little respite from an exhausting upstairs. It was still at times a moment's quiet, wondering pause in the evening as I wrapped another girl into my arms. I supposed again that I was genuinely, passionately in love with Margaret, would never entirely fall out of love with her.

"Anne -" knowing mirth in her eyes for that moment's brooding pause in mine, "what did Geraldine say this time -?"

"She said I got you in bed with me ten minutes after I walked into Calmer House, said she and the others had been trying for two years."

"They were," just another mirthful chuckle. "Miss Lownes made me sleep with Geraldine for a month. I bit her - twice, and Miss Lownes let me go back downstairs."

I allowed myself a moment's laughter - buried my eyes again to hers.

"Constance -" she whispered, her voice and features emotional mischief, "you know I wouldn't have slept with you if I didn't want to."

I wrapped her frantically to my heart another timeless eternity.

"Did you make another movie today?" wondering mirth in her features.

"Me and Geraldine and Abby - out by the gazebo. We demanded ten dollars from Mr. Andrew this time."

"What on earth does he do with them?"

"Gives them to Mr. Charles and he sells them all over to his captain and colonel friends in the army, I guess."

"Did you like it - all three of you - together -?"

"Maybe - a little," I chuckled. "I guess I am a depraved and wicked little thing," I sighed.

"No you're not, Anne," she chuckled. "You're just an upstairs maid for the Calmers, and you never really had any choice about that."

"Perhaps not," I sighed and chuckled - and it was, a short while later that summer in Calmer House, all manner of wicked little depravity on mind.

"She needs to be stripped, Miss Lownes, bound and gagged -"

"Lashed until she's squirming in agony -"

I glanced very genuine fright toward a despot who sooner or later might indeed nod her approbation toward any pair of a chamber maids in Calmer House who could be trusted to wield their lashes with cruel, merciless ferocity toward any other girl, Calmer House's assistant housekeeper at the moment allowing herself a final scrutinizing leer toward me.

"I'll lash that cute little ass of yours, Geraldine," I'd growled as soon as Miss Lowne's back was turned - the same wondering mirth likely in my features in another half moment.

"Oh will you, Anne? Tie me naked to the bed, will you? Scratch and bite me first - run clawing nails up and down my body - all night long -?"

It had been Geraldine and I standing next to a utility closet's door, Geraldine and I with a glance easily seeing raw, wanton abandon in each other's eyes. We'd had, however, something far more entertaining on our minds that afternoon.

"I never would have thought of it," amused delight in her eyes as she stole another glance toward Miss Lownes, conspiratorial delight as she turned back to me. "I must say, Anne, you are absolutely wicked, the most exquisitely depraved and devious girl I've ever known. Miss Lownes herself -? Oh yes - we simply must -"

We had all been summoned at one time or another to Miss Lowne's chamber downstairs.

"I am informed that you were ten minutes late with the tray this morning, Ann," she'd pronounced the last time I had answered her summons.

"Yes, Miss Lownes," I'd sighed as she stood at my shoulder that which I couldn't have doubted was leering scrutiny in her eyes.

"You know the consequences, Anne."

"Yes, Miss Lownes," I'd sighed - though I'd stood another moment in angry defiance. I was seventeen now, was quite aware that Miss Lownes no longer saw me as girlish in appearance or demeanor - was quite aware that all of this was something a great deal more than just an exercise in discipline.

"I can still arrange that you be shown the door, Ann. Is it your intention to defy me?"

"No, Miss Lownes," I'd finally sighed - had pushed my underwear to the floor, had pulled my dress onto my waist, had stood in a dark corner of the chamber wondering why I of late had become her preferred object of such obviously aroused interest. Calmer House's despotic assistant housekeeper tapping the lash to her hand allowed herself another moment's leering scrutiny. It hadn't, I suppose, been brutal or cruel. And yet she'd swung her lash without the least pretence, was satisfied only when she heard a gasping cry wrenched from her victim's throat for every stinging bite of the lash. It had, as often as not, been an open hand rather than a lash, the same stinging bite and then another moment's humiliating, tormenting caress. I'd sometimes flung eyes awash with an angry rage over my shoulder - had just seen culminating, leering delight in hers as she dared me to protest her hand lain to my body in tormenting caress.

"You need to be spanked some more, Ann. I don't think you've quite learned your lesson yet."

It had been Geraldine and I one afternoon gazing another moment's wicked, conspiratorial delight toward our tormentress. Miss Agatha Lownes, Calmer House's autocratic, assistant housekeeper, had answered a summons to the library a few minutes later, had turned in authoritative, demanding question to Geraldine and me waiting for her - startled confusion in a despot's eyes for two of her maids who weren't cowering in abject submission. I'd turned the key in the door's lock, had turned eyes awash with wicked delight back to startled affront in the features of Calmer House's assistant housekeeper - had noticed again that which I had pointed out to Mr. Andrew earlier in the day. Agatha Lownes was indeed a twenty two year old despot of sinister and sadistic appearance.

"But Mr. Andrew - isn't she still as attractive as any of us with her hair down and doesn't she have as gorgeous an ass as anyone's? Can you imagine it, Mr. Andrew - Miss Agatha Lownes stripped, bound and gagged, her wrists tied to that pipe on the library's wall - two housemaids who she's tormented for so long now with lashes in their hands having their revenge?"

Moving picture cameras and Andrew Calmer concealed behind book shelves, the scene, I suspect, had been everything the Calmer heir apparent could have wanted. Our lashes had been swung without the least pretense, our naked, bound and gagged victim writhing in an angry fury, flinging eyes awash with frantic rage over her shoulder, muffled oaths and curses as she waited for another bite of the lash.

"Why Aggie - who would have known?" genuine fascination in our eyes as we touched our lashes in tormenting caress to feminine curves which were indeed some impossible, inexplicably alluring ideal. "You're absolutely gorgeous, Aggie - an ass made to be lashed."

I suppose it must have been some culminating, humiliating despair when our despotic assistant housekeeper left alone in the library and standing naked, gagged and bound to a pipe on the wall had flung her eyes toward the door and a half dozen gentlemen of various august rank processing into the chamber, an outraged, bellowing Ambassador Calmer among them.

"Mrs. Calmer -" Mr. Calmer had bellowed, a cigar in hand jabbed toward the library's wall, "there is a young woman standing over there naked, gagged and bound to a pipe on the wall -?"

It had been a growling Miss Lownes at the downstairs dinner table that evening reduced in rank to a parlor maid and vowing her revenge - and the very evident hint of a smirk even on Miss Platz's face. "Agatha - as outrageously wicked as you are? You if anyone should have known better than to turn your back, or your backside, on anyone in Calmer House."

I cradled my Margaret in my arms, edged my eyes again to little more than amused mirth in hers.

"Well - maybe you are a little depraved, Ann. Oh, wasn't she furious -?"

"Mrs. Calmer," I giggled in wicked delight, "left her tied right to the pipe as she conferred with Miss Platz. 'I've never really noticed before, Platz, but Agatha's quite beautiful with her hair down like that, and her figure is absolutely exquisite. I think we shall keep her on as a parlor maid. Gagged and bound naked to a pipe on the wall -? Now that I think of it, I can recall any number of guests to Calmer House who have noticed our Agatha in almost those exact terms.' So now - Aggie has to serve at Mr. Andrew's and Miss Calmer's dinners with the rest of us. Aggie's going to be 'the slave girl' again tonight."

"I almost feel sorry for her."

"Me too - maybe a little -" though it's just another moment's blatant, liscivious imagining for me. I did indeed, not long after that in Miss Calmer's rooms, gaze the same liscivious fascination toward an Agatha Lownes who I still, I suppose, saw as a sinister and scheming tyrant even as she stood naked her wrists bound to a lamp fixture on the wall. And yet I had, as I'd run my lash up and down her body in teasing, threatening caress, gazed entranced fascination toward a form which had to be the classic hourglass ideal to every impossibly perfect and alluring extreme. I'd run my lash in tormenting caress from her waist to feminine curves which I could readily admit I saw as agonizing, maddening perfection, tormented her until she flung wide, waiting eyes over her shoulder. It's yet again morbidly fascinating, Agatha Lownes features dark, sinister - and inexplicable, exotic beauty to every incomparable extreme.

"I hate you, Aggie," I sneered, teasing her another moment with my lash. "And now it's my turn. Oh Aggie - I'm going to lash you all night long."

"You vile - you depraved little creature. Let me go, or I'll - I'll -"

"You'll what, Aggie -?" my nails clawed onto the agonizing curves of her ass just to watch her writhe and squirm in a helpless frenzy. "You'll do what, Aggie -?" I sneered as I leaned at her shoulder, lay a clawing hand to her breasts - touched my lips to hers, played with her tongue until I'd forced her mouth open - my helpless captive and I searching and devouring each other with our lips and our tongues until it was a raw and dizzying pleasure not quite like any I could ever have imagined. I yet again flung my hands to caressing, clawing intimacy. I was indeed going to lash her, was going to tease and torment her - until I yet again saw something in my exotic beauty's eyes which still at times left me standing in wondering disbelief. I might with lash in hand fling myself into a moment's very real abandon, my victim flinging frantic eyes over her shoulder for a cruel, biting sting of my lash - and my sinister beauty's eyes awash with nothing less than swooning, reeling ecstasy. I might finally abandon myself to an unrestrained fury knowing that teasing and tormenting caresses just weren't enough for her. An arresting arm about her waist as I leaned at her shoulder, it might be an open hand rather than a lash, tormenting caresses until I'd abandoned myself to culminating, punishing ferocity - until I heard those which I no longer doubted were primal screams wrenched from her throat for her body engulfed in the throes of a released pleasure she had never before known with anything close to the same ferocity.

"I hate you, Agatha -" I sneered again.

"I hate you, you - viscous, cruel -" and it was she and I edging our eyes toward a drugged and drunken Patricia Calmer who just settled back onto the bed into a comatose sleep - was that in my agonizing beauty's eyes which I couldn't any longer doubt was relieved delight.

"I'll wake her," I began. "It is she, after all, who is charged with punishing you -"

"No -" a frantic gasp. "You punish me - you vile and wicked girl, you. When she punishes me, it just - isn't enough -"

It was that same struggle, a mirthful gasp restrained.

"I hate you -" I sneered toward a haughty, arrogant tyrant who I had dethroned and humiliated.

"You viscous - conniving little creature - let me go -" a writhing struggle against clawing, humiliating caresses, a gasp of outrage for my teeth sunk onto her shoulder - the whip as it had been for the some time now forgotten and yet my agonizing, maddening beauty still writhing in a helpless abandon for my hands run the length of her body in teasing, tormenting caress.

"I hate you -" she gasped again - and I supposed for another hysterical and reeling moment that we would indeed, at least in strange and not quite understood corners of our minds, always feel a genuine and seething anger toward each other. I supposed my wrenching her body onto mine in brutal capturing embrace a culminating outrage. And it was yet again something of unimaginable, not quite comprehensible ferocity, my arrogant, self assured despot finding herself naked and helpless, her body drawn onto mine in an inescapable, cradling embrace - my agonizing beauty helpless to me even as it was my caressing touch pushed to finished and ultimate intimacy - primal, gasping screams wrenched from her throat for nothing more than that.

"I'm going back to my own room," I informed her when I finally drew the bonds from her wrists. "I hate you."

"You wicked little creature. Let me go -" she seethed - and I suppose neither she nor I will ever know if it was my arm flung about her waist in arresting embrace or her body edged with frenzied violence onto my arm. It was my helpless, exotic beauty and I some evenings not even bothering with our clothes, she and I stealing naked along Calmer House's corridors until it was yet again something I supposed not quite comprehensible. It was she and I even as we fell through the door remembering that we hated each other, had inflicted all manner of cruelty on each other - and it was sometimes the entire night, our bodies entwined about each other's in clawing, scratching violence. It might be another fleeting moment's pause, her eyes flung to my hands rather than to a lash run up and down her body, her eyes flung to mine just to be certain that it was indeed me tormenting and torturing her. I might allow myself another moment's blatant, liscivious delight gazing toward my sinister yet agonizing beauty who I had dethroned, who was now my submissive captive to torment as I pleased.

"Let me go -" she might pout, a protesting struggle - that which I no longer doubted was wild, giddy delight in her eyes for my hand lain to her breast in teasing caress.

"No -" I pronounced. "If I have to share my room with you, Aggie, I'm going to do whatever I want to you whenever I want to."

I had, in fact, nodded wicked, assenting delight when Miss Platz requested that a former assistant housekeeper now in need of quarters more appropriate for a parlor maid move in with me. I'd intended to endlessly and mercilessly torment a Miss Lownes now become just Aggie to the rest of us.

"I hate you, you viscous, conniving little monster," she'd seethed in an angry rage that first evening.

"Why Aggie -" I'd taunted, "just because you got what you've given for so long now? And just now - in Miss Calmer's room - oh Aggie, I'm going to ask Miss Calmer to let me lash that gorgeous ass of yours every night."

"I knew I was right the moment I first set eyes on you. You're the most wicked and depraved girl this house has ever seen."

"Maybe. But you enjoyed it too, didn't you, Aggie, standing there tied to the wall lamp in Miss Calmer's rooms -"

"You don't know what you're talking about -"

"Oh yes I do," my nails brushed to her waist in tormenting caress as she stood naked at the wash basin.

"Leave me alone -"

"You're just another girl now, Aggie. I don't have to leave you alone any more," another caress, a writhing, protesting twist of her body - my eyes lowered in blatant, devouring fascination. I'd noticed first setting eyes on her, I suppose, that her figure might be called attractive, had noticed that she might be very pretty with her hair down. She'd just been Miss Lownes, however, an arrogant tyrant with a sinister leer in her features - until she stood entirely naked beside the wash basin in my room. "Oh yes. You do like it, don't you, Aggie -?" a caressing touch of my nails to her waist, a writhing, protesting twist of her body - my eyes edged to hers just to be certain that it was a furious rage in her features. It was indeed that - and yet her eyes even that first evening wide and gaping for another teasing caress of my nails.

"Stop it - leave me alone -"

"No. I think I'm going to take you to bed with me, Aggie, have sexual relations with you - writhe on top of you in a depraved, wanton frenzy five minutes after I've gotten you alone -" both of my hands clawed onto her waist as I buried taunting eyes to hers. "Come on, Aggie - you want to, don't you -" an arresting arm drawn about her waist, a clawing caress of my nails from her waist to feminine curves which I'd seen even in the moment as an agonizing, enticing ideal. I'd gazed another timeless few moments toward an arrogant despot, had gazed raw, wanton delight knowing that she couldn't indeed escape my tormenting caresses - and I'd stood in one more sudden and timeless moment finally admitting it my own body awash in wanting sensation I had never before known with anything close to the same raw, pounding ferocity. It had been she and I both standing naked. I'd pushed the clothing from my own body supposing my doing so just more taunting mischief. I'd stolen toward Miss Lownes standing at the wash basin - had perhaps in vague corners of my mind noticed that her appearance with her hair down was impossibly, inexplicably different, had noticed that Agatha Lownes was indeed as beautiful as anyone in Calmer House. I'd gazed a moment's wondering fascination toward Miss Lowne's leaning over the wash basin - even Agatha Lownes without clothing covering her body suddenly appearing impossibly, inexplicably different than she had just moment's before.

And I'd stood just minutes after she'd moved into my room running my nails up and down her body in teasing, tormenting caress, had stood in wicked, blatant delight refusing her escape - had known in one more sudden and timeless moment that I hadn't mistaken a thing.

"I hate you -" she'd gasped again.

"I hate you too -" I'd answered that first evening - and had dug clawing hands onto my exotic beauty's waist deciding on another moment's tormenting caresses. It had, I suspect, been another moment's attacking fury in our eyes - had seemed nothing less than frenzied, attacking violence the entire night.

I had over the next few months, summoned or wrestled to Miss Calmer's rooms on frequent occasion, still felt the same annoyed amusement with a lofty, august lady of the house for whom I cared nothing one way or another. I still on frequent occasion held my Margaret very closely to my heart. And yet my life had become an exotic beauty standing naked at the washbasin a few minute's after we had closed our room's door for the evening. It was all something I supposed I would never entirely understand as I pushed the clothing from my own body, an arrogant, dethroned tyrant still on occasion gazing seething fury toward me as I touched teasing, torturing nails to her waist - and her breath panting gasps for her body immersed in a wash of raw, flooding pleasure. It was usually that same glance of culminating, attacking fury between us, she and I knowing it might be our bodies entwined about each other's the entire night, an insatiable frenzy of clawing, devouring violence. And still, it was sometimes nothing more than our lips touched to each other's in teasing caress, brushing caresses of our hands up and down each other's bodies as we stood next to washbasin - she and I for nothing more than that hearing gasping cries wrenched from each other's throats, she and I knowing it our bodies for nothing more than each other's naked, entwining warmth wracked in the throes of the ultimate pleasure. And it was pleasure of an agonizing, torturing ferocity which we yet again knew with that same strange and undoubted clarity was possible only with each other. It was something which would never have been possible in the arms of someone who neither of us cared about one way or another.

It was finally, I suppose, as she and I settled onto the same bed for the night, something I can only call finished and irrevocable, something incomparably more than the brief and stolen moments I had known with others. She might still at times have been Calmer House's former assistant housekeeper settling onto the bed with me - and I had the whole night to cradle her body onto my own, found myself wondering what it would be like to pass a night without her. It still, as often as not, had to be her wrists and ankles bound to the bedposts, my hands run up and down her body in stinging, torturing caress, her breath gasping fury and her struggles frenzied, writhing violence to the limits of her strength. It was something close to very real fright in my captive beauty's eyes, was that which I supposed a bizare consequence of our imaginations. It was a self assured and assertive Miss Lownes suddenly and again finding herself utterly helpless to me, rope binding her wrists and ankles to the bed posts, her body mine to play with as I pleased - and it might sometimes be nothing more than a finishing, owning touch of my hands to her waist, a culminating embrace of our eyes - the same wondering awe for me. She hadn't even known what the ultimate pleasure was until she herself had become a vanquished, helpless captive - and my own body awash in released, pounding sensation knowing again that a capturing touch of my hands to her waist could be enough for her, gasping screams wrenched from her throat for her body wracked in the throes of a pounding, torturing pleasure - the thing something I could yet again only call unifying.

And it might some evenings have been nothing more than she and I settling together onto the same bed, pouting protest in the eyes of my submissive and docile captive who wasn't allowed night clothing. It might be another moment's struggling, writhing protest for my hands clawed onto her waist, demanding violence in my eyes as I yet again informed her that she was mine to do with as I pleased - and it was usually our limbs drawn about each other's bodies the entire night with frantic, clinging strength, was yet again that which I could only call finished and irrevocable. It might even between Agatha Lownes and me have been moments of knowing, wondering pause - and it was she and I meeting each other's eyes knowing again it was just that which it was, she and I knowing it our bodies seeming joined and one in ways which just wouldn't have been possible with anyone but each other.

I wandered downstairs as often as I ever had, cradled my Margaret in my arms for a few quiet moments, she gazing another moment's amused mirth toward her wicked and depraved friend.

"You and - Aggie still hate each other-?"

"Yes - maybe - a little," I chuckled.

"Oh - I got another letter from Freddy today."

"Really -?" genuine delight in my voice. "Did he tell you you're beautiful."

"He always does, the first two pages," an entranced giggle, brooding concern in her features a moment later. "Oh Anne, I hope there won't be a war."

"But he's only seventeen."

"I know. But he still says he'll join up anyway, says two of his friends did and he knows how. And he says he has to. And Jacobson heard Mr. Calmer talking in the car to some ambassador or something."

"Maybe it won't be a long war, Margaret."

"Maybe not. Freddy says he'll come and see me if he can before he goes, says he wants a kiss," a girlish giggle - the same moment's knowing pause as we met each other's eyes.

"Margaret -" I tried, "we're still only seventeen. It doesn't count, remember?"

"I guess not," she giggled.

"And soon Freddy will be back and you'll both be old enough and he'll take you away from here. It won't be long, Margaret. Wait and see. Maybe we'll both get out of Calmer House."

I'm not quite certain why that conversation has always stuck so intimately in my mind. It wasn't, of course, a short war. It was finally a beautiful young woman who was trapped in Calmer House's kitchens - and Margaret and I finally meeting each other's eyes admitting that it had "counted." Even that, however, might have been a moment's knowing mirth between us, Margaret and I young women allowed to escape Calmer House at least for moments, discovering that Calmer House was indeed unique in the wider scheme of things. And still, it was Margaret and I discovering that we were by no means entirely unique, particularly during the war years.

And it was indeed in the end that which I genuinely supposed a happy ending, Margaret's Freddy surviving the war, Margaret escaping Calmer House in his arms. I'm not entirely certain why I never escaped it myself. I suppose I was no more capable of doing so in the end than was a former tyrant of sinister yet exotic and endlessly intriguing appearance. And still, we all finally escaped Calmer House when the ambassador yet again found himself the object of scrutinizing attention - the government's in the last instance, something about taxes. I'd made my way into the city, learned to type when there hadn't appeared to be any alternative to doing so. I found a small yet not uncomfortable apartment for us - supposed my always exotic and fascinating beauty would never entirely adjust to an unstructured existence in the city. I saw a frightened little panic in her eyes every few months, supposed her indeed incapable of surviving in the city without me. I saw those moment's of frightened panic in her eyes even after I'd long since given up entirely - had admitted that I couldn't even imagine passing a night without the entwining warmth of her body. And I decided on a familiar little exercise in blatant, liscivious mischief in order to convince her that my feelings toward her hadn't changed in the least.

"Let me go -" she gasped.

I ran clawing nails up and down her body as she stood naked her wrists bound to a lamp fixture on the wall.

"I don't intend to ever let you go, Aggie. You're mine. I can do whatever I want to you, any time I want to," my caresses teasing, torturing - my bound and helpless beauty flinging eyes awash with reeling ecstasy over her shoulder.

"Oh Constance - you wicked girl you. But - I guess I don't hate you any more."

"Oh? Then I guess I don't hate you either, Aggie."

"I guess I might even I love you."

"I guess I might even love you too, Aggie."