A Different Way Ch. 01: The Club

Some idiot told me the other day that "to be born an Englishman is to have won the lottery of life;" needless to say, he was a man. My thought, unspoken, was that to be born the youngest daughter of the son of an earl was to have lost the lottery of life; but that seemed a bit gloomy. It could have been worse. But it is a truth, universally, if silently acknowledged, that to be a woman born in England in the reign of His Majesty George III, is to be at best a second-class person.

Indeed, once one marries, even one's inherited property becomes one's husbands; I have never been entirely clear about the difference between that and slavery. You might say that at least we are not put on the block to be auctioned after being inspected, but that would be one way to describe the "Season," where young aristocratic women are presented at Court and a series of balls in town until some man decides they want you. My way has been a different one to all that.

For that I have two people to thank, or, as I am sure Mr Wesley would say, blame, though he is likely to think (and rightly) that if there is blame to spread, most of it should land on me. I suppose that part of what someone once called my "deformation" is that I don't feel the guilt I am supposed to. Maybe that is part of my "moral depravity" as some kind visiting preacher called the lifestyle I have, in secret, adopted. I say "in secret", but that might need two qualifications: the first is that I have no choice; the second is that in the circles in which I move every week, it is no secret; it is one shared.

The first of these is the Duchess of Kirbydale, a woman of my own class to whom I owe my fortune, and upon whom a share of any blame might fall. She, it was, who persuaded me to invest in the exclusive club she and Lady Melbourne founded. I was hesitant, but she was forceful, pointing out the folly of investing my small inheritance in government bonds or the stock market, when she had a sure-fire business already up and running. For a small investment, I could go on the Management Committee, and enjoy what she called the fringe benefits.

But for my introduction to her, I had my maid, Kasia, to thank. Her name betrayed her origins. She is one of those Poles whose family were forced to flee their homeland when their country was partitioned by Catherine the Great of Russia, in cooperation with the Prussians and the Austrians. Her father had been killed by the Russians, and her mother eked out a living as a governess. I came across her when looking for a maid. As a gentlewoman living on two and a half thousand a year, fifty pounds a year was all I could afford, but a Lady cannot live without a maid, it would mark a fall down the social scale. However, those interested in that small allowance were not plentiful.

I had four responses, three of whom were older women who had been dismissed without references. They were cheap, but I sensed we should not get on. The fourth was Kasia.

Kasia was, at five foot, just a little taller than me. She had blonde hair and a nice smile. I could not help remarking to myself on her bosom, which, unlike my own, was prominent, but unlike the others, she was cheerful, and I thought clever. We got on rather well, and I offered her the position on the spot.

"Thank you, Lady Emily. I ought to tell you that in order to supplement my income, I work three nights a week of an evening. I can refer you to the Duchess of Kirbydale if you like. She is one of my referees."

If she had been trying to impress me, she had succeeded. The Duchess was one of the few women of our class who owned her own fortune. Married at nineteen to the Duke of Kirbydale who was sixty-six at the time, she had inherited the bulk of the estate when he died three years later. The rumour was that he had died happily - ploughing her Grace. She had declined at least four offers of marriage and had something of a reputation for debauchery, though no one ever seemed to know which man, or men, she was being debauched with.

I told Kaisa that I trusted my instinct about her, and would be fine with her supplementing her income. It at least explained to me why someone of her talents was willing to work for the money I could offer. She became the means of my coming to know her Grace.

I wrote requesting a reference, only to receive an invitation to lunch with her Grace at her London mansion, Arlington House.

Although born and bred a lady, I was not accustomed to such grand company. My papa, Lord Harry Hervey, had been the younger son of the earl of Mornington, and had pretty well run through much of his inheritance by the time of his early death from drink. I say drink, but the official story is he was shot in a duel. That is true, but he was drunk as a Lord at the time and missed with his own shot. My sister, Eleanor, had made an advantageous match to the earl of March, who was captivated by her beauty. Ella had the single aristocrats of England at her feet. Tall, blonde, well-endowed with charm, intelligence, and big breasts, she could have taken her pick. Edmund March was not the richest of her suitors, but he was the one most besotted with her. She knew she could get her own way with him - and did. Having duly produced an heir and a spare, Ella had taken her place in Georgian Society. Her younger sister, who was not endowed with anything save a good brain, was not so fortunate.

I had inherited a settlement from Papa, but as Lady Emily Hervey, I was expected to live a lifestyle I could barely afford. I was naturally thrifty and managed, keeping up appearances, but as the hiring of Kasia confirmed, it was going to be hard to do so for long. Still, stiff upper lip, girl, I said to myself, donning my best dress and walking to Arlington Street. I could have got a hansom cab, but they cost money. Walking was good for me, and free.

I arrived punctually. I knew it was fashionable to arrive later, but couldn't do an Ella. My sister was famous for keeping the Prince Regent waiting for two hours for lunch. Still, but all accounts, he was a very happy man afterwards, so, as usual, she got away with the social equivalent of blue murder.

A rather fetching maid showed me to the Drawing Room, where her Grace met me. A tall, rather statuesque woman, who undoubtedly suited the low-cut gowns that were then fashionable, she graciously bade me sit and ordered me a seltzer.

"Now my dear Lady Emily, oh and bye the bye, your sister Ella asked me to give you her best and to remind you that she'd love to see you at Kirby hall soon, shall we discuss young Kasia?"

Golly, I thought, she was nothing if not direct.

"Of course your Grace."

"Oh call me Mags, my friends all do, and I should like us to be friends, my dear."

That produced a second unspoken 'golly.' I was not sure what was going on, but it could not be a bad thing to have such a woman as some sort of friend.

"Oh your G - Mags, I mean, how very kind. Do just call me Em, then if we are to be friends."

"Capital, Em, and we are - to be friends - on that I insist!"

We paused while a man servant delivered us both a drink, telling Mags that luncheon would be ready in fifteen minutes.

"Right, m'dear. You have a little gem in Kasia. She is a bright little thing, not quite as petite as you and rather better endowed where some of us like it. She will make you a good maid. I encouraged her to go for the job, as it will be useful for her to have a place away from her Mama's attic."

"Thank you, your - Mags. She has worked for you then?"

"Has, and does my dear Em!"

I looked puzzled and expressed my confusion.

"I own an exclusive club my dear Em, and Kasia helps out three evenings a week. You know m'dear you ought to pay us a visit. I think you'd enjoy it."

At that point we were called to luncheon, and chatted perfectly amiably about mutual acquaintances and the weather. It was only over coffee afterwards that Mags reverted to the subject of the Club, and then obliquely.

"My dear Em, I noticed that you didn't continue with the Season once your Papa died. Why was that? Ella did so well in it."

"Oh it was not for me, Mags. The chaps didn't really like me, and it was a little mutual. Once papa was gone, I saw no reason to continue."

She laughed.

"There was every reason in the world, m'dear. Don't you want a husband?"

"I'd like the financial security, but given he'd get my money, I don't think it would even give me that."

Again, Mags laughed.

"What about the other? The sex?"

I must have gone red.

"You look sweet when you blush Em. You do know what sex is, don't you?"

I stammered, as this was not the sort of conversation I was used to.

"It's how Ella produced Richard and Edmund."

"It is, and you rather need a chap for that."

"If it isn't too silly of me, I'd rather pass."

"Not silly at all, m'dear, that's what the Club I own is for."

"What? Sex!"

Now I was a bit startled.

"In a manner of speaking." She looked at me squarely in the eyes. "You've been looking at my breasts rather a lot, Em, do you like 'em?"

Oh golly! I felt myself colouring again.

"Sorry, it was rude of me."

"Answer me, Em. Do you like 'em?"

As she asked me, she shook herself and I saw her flesh ripple. I was transfixed.

"Yes, Mags, they are rather wonderful."

"D'you like women, Em?"

"What do you mean, Mags."

"Have you heard of Sappho, Em?"

And there went my face again. As it happened, I had. Papa had a private bookshelf he kept under lock and key. When he was drunk, as he often was, he would sometimes forget to lock it up, and I had perused its contents.

Some of the books had indecent pictures in them. Those of men with giant things I had passed by rather swiftly, but my eyes had been drawn to ladies with their quims open and their boobies on show. There had also been some rather racy novels, and a book of poems by a Greek woman called Sappho. They seemed to speak of women doing intimate things together in the manner more commonly associated with men and women.

"I, I have Mags."

"Well, my Club is called 'The Sapphic' - can you guess why?"

It felt like she was testing me.

"Because ladies can, erm, explore the themes of Sappho?"

"What a good way of putting it Em. Yes. There are women, of whom Kasia is one, who are skilled at being with other women, and the Club provides the privacy and the space for women of our nature to explore."

As she said, "of our nature," it was like something deep in me resonated with those words.

"You are one of us aren't you, Em? That's why you like my tits."

Part of me wanted the ground to open up and swallow me; a bigger part of me wanted to put my head in her cleavage and hold what she called her tits.

"It, it is Mags."

"Well, hire Kasia, and come with her on Friday night unless you have another commitment."

I didn't, and accepted.

"And I tell you what Em, if you like it, invest some of your money with us, it'll grow more successfully than on the Stock Market."

And that was how I became involved with the Club, and how I became a rich woman. Mags was right, it was the best investment I could have made, in more senses than even she could have foreseen.

Kasia was delighted to be hired, and even more pleased when I asked her to take me with her to the Club on Friday.

"Of course, Lady Em, your maid will be delighted to show you her other place of work."

"Would it be a bad of me to ask what you do?"

There was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked across the room at me.

"That depends, Lady Em. Sometimes I have to deal with ladies who have been bad. Would it interest you to know my work with them too?"

There was something about her tone, but I put it down to her being Polish. She spoke English extremely well, but maybe she did not always get the tone right? That was my working assumption; it was a bad one as it turned out.

"Oh anything you can tell me would help prepare me."

"Well, dear Lady Em, if I can call you that, my Lady? There are many types of Lady who go there. Perhaps if I go through them as I categorise them, it would help you, dear Lady Em?"

I found her way of speaking about me very comforting. She was, of course, my Maid, but in our small household, there would just be the two of us and the part-time cook, so it felt important that we got on well.

"Some ladies are like Lady Mags. They like to rule the roost, as I think the English is, yes?"

I nodded and confirmed that was the correct expression.

"For them, I do as they want, and when they want. So they might want me to lick their private parts and give them excitement."

The thought of that had a strange effect on me. I felt a tingle between my thighs, and my nipples suddenly felt as though they ached.

"Others want a lady to love them, to be a gentler version of what men do, and I can help them feel happy."

"Then there are the bad girls. The ladies who need correction."

She looked very firmly at me as she went on.

"And these ladies I will make take their drawers down so I can paddle their arses. If you can imagine a lady in that state and having a mere maid call them to order and spank them until their big bums are red."

Thoughts of that rushed into my head; the tingling and aching got worse.

"There are, Lady Em, some ladies who enjoy that. Of course, they remain, to the outside world, the great Lady x or Lady y, but inside the Club they are sluts for an escort like me. Not, if I may say, there are many like me. I can do five or six ladies in a night. Maybe you will see on Friday?"

I really had to get my blushing under control, I thought, as I struggled to control myself.

"That is, erm, most interesting, Kasia."

"I am glad you are thinking so Lady Em. Of course, you are a great Lady and would want a little slut like me to do as she is told, and I would be," she grinned cheekily, "happy to oblige - in any way!"

As you might imagine, I was rather keen for Friday to come.

Kasia was an excellent maid, and it turned out she could cook too, so she saved me money there, as I was able to get rid of my rather useless part-time cook.

Come Friday night, she helped me into my finery, looking rather good herself. To my surprise she ordered a hansom.

"It is good to be in style, Lady Em. I am sure you must know. So pardon your Maid for taking the liberty. Here is some money for the driver."

She really was too perfect for words.

It felt a trifle odd to be paying the driver with money given to me by my Maid, but as Kasia had made it clear that it should be so, I felt obliged to do as she suggested; it was as though it were rather more than a "suggestion."

The Club was discreetly off a side street near Whitehall. Kasia knocked and a maid let us in. She clearly knew Kasia as she smiled at her most warmly and kissed her - on the lips.

I looked around. The decor was chic, rather like the withdrawing room of a country house, except for the counter where a scantily clad young women with a good endowment of breasts, was serving customers. Several of the women seated at the counter were also lightly clad. I wasn't sure whether it was me or whether the room was well-heated; either way I felt hot. Then there was that tingling feeling again.

Kasia smiled at me.

"If my Lady Em would like to take a seat here," she said, pointing to a table near the centre of the room, "I will just slip into something more comfortable. I will send someone to take your order," and oddly, she giggled.

People seemed friendly, at least to judge from their smiles.

A young brunette in what appeared to be a leather bustier, which thrust her breasts out, and a rather exiguous pair of knickers, which complemented her stockings and high heels, came by the table:

"My Lady, what can I get you? We have some good French reds and some Italian whites, we also have available escorts who will provide a variety of services, depending on your needs. I am Lucy, by the way."

Lucy's words sunk in slowly. So that was why Kasia had giggled; what was on offer was not just wine.

"I am here with Kasia," I said, "so can I order a glass of burgundy for now."

"Oh, I see, my Lady, well I shall await Miss Kasia's arrival before troubling you with other girls."

She had such a pretty smile, and the way she wiggled her backside as she walked away made me even warmer.

Two other women came by and asked if I was being served. It seemed a most friendly place.

I was taken aback when Kasia finally emerged. In place of her usual modest outfit or her Maid's clothes, she, too, was clad in a bustier, tiny knickers, stockings, and high heels. I knew she was busty, but my goodness, in that outfit, well she was stunning! She had what looked like a riding crop in her hand,

"My Lady Em. I am glad Lucy is getting you a drink. Lady Mags has left a message that she will join you for supper in about an hour. I do have work to do, but if you are happy to accompany me, I can give you some idea of what we do here."

That seemed a splendid suggestion, so, taking my wine, I accompanied her. It seemed as though there were two types of woman in the club, those dressed like Kasia, and those dressed as I was. But I was just about to be disabused of that notion.

Kasia took me upstairs to a private room. As we opened the door there was a woman clad only in her underwear. I recognised her. It was Lady Kate Arbuthnot, the wife of one of the Cabinet. She seemed almost as taken aback to see me as I was to see her.

"What's the matter my little slut? Did you not want the Lady Em to see what a whore you are for your Mistress?"

Lady Kate seemed gripped with some strange passion. To see this proud aristocrat semi-naked in front of my maid was strange enough, but to hear her spoken to like this was something else.

"I am your submissive slut, Mistress Kasia, and if it pleases you, it pleases me."

Catching her chin with her right hand, Kasia lifted it so she could kiss her lips.

"You are such a good girl for me, Katie. You shall have your reward. I want you naked and on your tummy on the bed."

Kasia looked at me and smiled.

"Katie is one of those bad ladies who need their big bums beaten," she giggled.

"So I see," I said, feeling rather strange all of a sudden.

I watched as Lady Kate stripped, her large breasts sagging a little, but what surprised me was that her hair down there had been trimmed into a heart shape. Without hesitation she lay on the bed and spread her arms up. Kasia then fastened her wrists to the bed.

As Lady Kate lay there, Kasia casually began to beat her bottom with the crop.

"Who is a naughty girl, Katies?"

"I am Mistress, I am a bad girl."

"Not so high and mighty now, are you?"

Between each utterance, Kasia cropped her backside until it seemed a mass of lines.

"No, Mistress, I am your whore.'

"Good girl, that you are."

"Do you like to see this, my Lady Em, or have I displeased you?" Kasia smiled winningly.

"Oh no, my dear, it is, erm, different."

"That it is, Lady Em."

As she said that she used the tip of the crop to part Lady Kate's legs, before moving it against her pussy. Shamelessly she pushed herself against it.

"What does my good little slut want?" Kasia asked.

"Please fuck me Mistress, fuck me with the stick."

"Lady Em, might I trouble you to fetch that phallus from the side there."

Which was how I found myself taking a large phallic shaped stick to my maid.

"Thank you, Lady Em. Can you guess where it goes?"

I gulped and nodded.

"In her thing?"

"Her thing, my Lady? She has many 'things' as you shyly call them. Katie, tell Lady Em where you want it, and we shall see whether I agree."

Writhing, Lady Kate almost screamed:

"In my fucking cunt, I want it in my cunt."

Kasia smiled at me.

"Where should she have it, Lady Em?"