Meet Violet

Violet, an adept maid of two and twenty, slowly began to peel off her uniform and felt the weight of another day leave her worn body, piece by piece. So many articles of clothing, even for a servant, that it felt like putting on another person's body each day. Then again, maybe it was only due to the season that it felt so stifling. As she loosened her corset stays she felt her bosom fall and rest heavily against her dewy skin. Violet continued downward as she untied her petticoat and let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it with the elegance of a first class lady. Sadly, no one was there to pick up after her, let alone watch.

After she shed her chemise, the final article of clothing, she stood there a moment and embraced the air, however motionless it was. Violet enjoyed these little moments of freedom whenever she could, but it wasn't easy when the servant's quarters weren't the most private. Then again, privacy was not something she worried about. On the contrary, Violet found it almost disappointing when she wasn't caught by someone. Most of the servants were at the summer house with Mrs. James since Mr. James had fewer needs and used less of the city house on his own.

So Violet had been enjoying a room of her own for the last month, but on such occasions as tonight she rather missed having a roommate. Violet turned towards her glass and began to watch herself as she took down her hair. Her thick, wavy tresses began to caress her shoulders, strand by strand, and a spark of excitement shot through her. As she shook out the rest of her mane, her eyes closed and her imagination began to take over. So close had she been to a man's touch earlier, but Violet knew Peter to be too proper to stray from his wife so soon. Besides it wasn't his body she was after, but his gentle hands on her lithe frame. Or anyone's hands really.

Violet had tasted forbidden fruit only once, yet it had awakened something in her that she yearned to explore more. Violet let her mind wander back to her eighteenth spring as she began to brush her ebony locks. The pull of the brush on a tangle took her back to that time before she knew what a man's body looked liked; how bodies felt when intertwined.

He had been a local chap of nineteen named Tom and he would pull her long braid in church while everyone sang hymns. At first it had annoyed her, but soon she grew to like it and would pinch his arm in response. One day he whispered a secret invitation in her ear and, out of curiosity, she agreed. As they walked out of church together, Violet was unsure where this young rake was taking her yet she felt she could trust him.

As it turned out, Tom was an apprentice at the local mercantile store and had a room in the cellar. While the owners were out enjoying their Sunday afternoon, Tom and Violet enjoyed vigorous basket-making in the cellar. Tom had been surprised that she'd even agreed to enter his room, but Violet was so curious about the male form and eager to experience life's hidden pleasures. Plus Tom wasn't bad looking and he seemed quite willing to pluck the petals from her flower.

As the memory played out, Violet's amber nipples began to harden as she thought of him grabbing a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, and kissing her, violently, on the mouth. It wasn't until he attempted to remove her clothes that she realized he was also lacking in experience. She remembered that silly grin Tom had given her before hoisting her up onto a barrel and pushing back her skirts; one could have as much fun with clothes still on as off. She reached to unbutton his, now, taut trousers, but had her hand smacked away.

"I want to play with it first," Tom teased as he knelt down and spread her legs apart to reveal her maidenhead.

Violet's reminiscing continued stirring something inside her that hadn't been touched since Tom. The present day Violet took to her bed and began exploring the hidden depths between her legs as she thought back to Tom's tongue doing the same. She remembered the feel of his mouth as he planted kisses up her inner thigh until he reached her wet cunny. How his rough hands clasped her legs harder as he sucked on her plump lips and flicked his thick tongue around inside her until she was moistened with lust. When he couldn't wait any longer he fumbled with his belt and then let his pants fall as he plunged his stiff sword into her. She bit down on his shoulder to stifle a scream from coming out. Tom paused in alarm, but Violet breathed deeply and nodded for him to keep going; something about the pain excited her.

As she recollected the feel of Tom's long steed moving in and out of her cunny and her growing more excited with every thrust, she felt herself dampen around her fingers. Violet moaned as she thought about wrapping her legs around Tom to keep him thrusting deeper and deeper inside her.

In the present time, Violet knew what she was doing was improper, but her cock lane was aching for touch. How could she refuse herself? Her fingers wove in and out of her downy spring-moss until they found the bulb Tom had first pollinated. As her hand rubbed, furiously, against herself, Violet smiled as the sting of pleasure drew closer and began to thrash on the bed as she had against Tom's stiff sinew.

Her heart raced, as it had then, at the thought of Tom gripping her round posterior with one hand and pulling on her hair with the other. Violet would've given anything to keep going, but wanted them to die in sweet death as well. Tom groaned as he spilled himself inside her and then planted his mouth on hers to stifle her screams of pleasure. He lifted her off the barrel as they finished and carried her over to his straw mat on the floor where they collapsed in exhausted ecstasy. They shared a blissful few hours together before the owners came back and Violet had to sneak out the back door like a harlot.

Now Violet lay, delightfully spent at her own hand, in a sweaty puddle of sin, but continued to think of Tom. Had she known he would be gone the next week fighting in the Spanish-American War, she would've lain with him thrice more before he left. An emptiness remained where he had been and would never be again. Within a month of the war starting, word had come back to town that he had been killed in battle. Naturally, she mourned him, but was grateful she had been able to send Tom into battle an experienced man and that he had picked her for the task. His mischievous, brown eyes would be her favorite forever, but she refused to be sad over him that long. She would find heaven on earth again and until then, enjoy life's small, naughty pleasures, such as washing her feet for any enticed to watch. Or dancing with herself between the sheets.