Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Amanda

1792 – Philadelphia Pa. 

Catherine took my hand and bent down to kiss it. “Enchanted as always, my dear,” she said, as she pressed her lips to my fingers. The moment passed as her attention went to Madeline. “And you, good sir,” Catherine teased, “to think that you could attract such beauty gives us all hope, I think.” She shook Madeline’s hand with a hearty smile before ushering us into her party hall.

We had not come to the tavern, not tonight. Tonight we had been afforded such a great honor that there could have been no refusal. We were invited to a private gathering of only Catherine’s most inner circle of friends.

The woman owned homes throughout the world. Or she would when her mother died. They possessed two in Philadelphia: the one that her mother lived in, above the tavern, and an estate on the edge of town. It was in this estate that Catherine held her party. The dwelling above the tavern was well staffed and she had chosen it for her mother because it was but a block from her doctor’s home and office.

I had no idea how my Madeline had come to such favor with one so well-heeled, but it afforded us great privilege and anyone could see the joy of that. I would not learn for another year that Madeline’s father, and now she, cared for Catherine’s horses. And equine were Catherine’s first and dearest love. She was a skilled rider and displayed this in shows around the young nation.

There were faces at the party I had never seen before. Scant few of the women I knew from the tavern had been invited, and many of the attendees seemed quite surprised to see us there — being not at all wealthy, or even a part of Catherine’s equestrian world — rubbing elbows with people of breeding. I would come to understand later that my Maddy might have been expected and that I was the one who seemed out of place.

I had no idea what was in store for us that night, but Madeline had warned me not to display shock at anything. I was unaware then that this promised to be a party of indulgence and wanton wickedness.

Madeline joined Catherine and others similar to them in dress and manner. They talked politics and the like, and I, being quite uninterested in their conversation, chose to seek out one with whom I could chat.

It was then that I met Sarah. At first she seemed to me only an odd-looking woman. She was larger than me and had broad shoulders. She was at least forty and had an unusual, almost unnatural voice.

It did not dawn on me until we had been chatting for an hour that she had not been born a woman. She was indeed a man in women’s garb. It surprised me, but I was not sure why. Madeline dressed like a man, so surely there would be men who wished to dress as women. Madeline would explain to me later that Sarah wanted nothing more in the world than to be a woman, and shunned all manly things.

“Catherine has a particular fondness for you,” Sarah told me, leaning close and whispering.

I was surprised. “Does she?”

“Indeed. Why else do you think you were afforded this most coveted invitation?” She sipped her drink, then asked, “What do you know of her?”

“Not much I suppose. Only that she is very wealthy and that she…” I blushed.

“She’s quite famous in the world of horses. As both a rider and a breeder.” Sarah took my hand and lead me to a more private corner. “She travels all over the world.” Again she sipped her drink. “We all learn ourselves from another. Sometimes by accident and sometimes by design. Madeline was not always so sure of herself. She was one of us drawn out by design.”

“I can hardly imagine,” I said absently.

“Well, ’twas Catherine that brought her to such confidence.”

I was quite surprised by this, and evidently showed it.

Sarah laughed to herself. “You didn’t know?”

I shook my head.

“Come now. Catherine is much above your station, surely you had to understand there was more to the privilege you both enjoy.”

I was still so naive. It had never occurred to me.

“Catherine? But — then why did she leave all this?”

“She didn’t. Catherine was forced to send her away. But she sent her away with an allowance and everything she needed to make her shop the most successful in Philadelphia. You must understand, even here in America it simply would not do for someone of Catherine’s breeding and refinement to be seen carrying on with a stable boy.”

A stable boy? I thought. Madeline was a shrewd and successful woman of business. How dare this, this person call her such!

“I’ve offended you,” she said. “Forgive me.”

Sarah finished her drink and set the empty glass on a table. “Catherine loves Madeline with all her heart. And I think Madeline loved her back, perhaps even still does. So, if you are making Catherine’s darling Madeline happy, then you will gain favor with her.”

She stood silently for a long moment. “Madeline has always dressed as a man to perform her work. But in the evenings, when her time was her own, she would make herself up into a stunning lady indeed. This attracted Catherine to her. Madeline did not become the tom boy you now know until after she and Catherine parted ways.”

I wanted to learn more. I thought I might feel jealous learning of Madeline’s past loves. But I did not. I was intrigued. Especially learning that Madeline had once worn dresses, and done her hair like a proper lady. However, a servant announced dinner and we all made our way to the lavishly dressed and set table. I would learn no more from Sarah that night.

We ate in polite conversation, the meal drawing on for hours. The party would not end there, though. It would not end even that night. Madeline had not told me, but Catherine’s parties were often three day events and everyone was expected to stay until the end.

So the night went on. The servants performed their duties, and I could not help but notice that if any of them had an opinion of those they served, they hid it well. And for a time in that house, under Catherine’s care, I felt truly accepted. These people would pass no judgement on me. Their stares were not ones of accusation, but often of jealousy that Madeline and I should enjoy such favor with Catherine.

Catherine. Such a formidable women, and being only thirty years. It was impossible not to admire her. She was fascinating, in her long jackets and breeches, stockings pulled up her calves, and handsome leather shoes with large gold buckles. She wore the fashionable cocked hat over her powdered wig and at a glance very much seemed a man.

She played her expected part in the normal world, though. Among regular folk she wore dresses and a woman’s wig. She rode in proper attire for a woman and acted every bit the lady. It was only in the privacy afforded by her tavern and parties that she showed her true nature.

When the food was finished and we had all tired of sitting at table, Catherine dismissed us to the parlor where we gathered in chairs, and on pillows set upon the floor, in window sills and on love seats. She served us absinthe, and we spent the rest of the evening drunken and dazed.

In the morning many of us awoke with aching heads, a condition the servants were prepared for with a folk concoction they insisted would cure the night’s indulgences.

I remember it was bitter and unpleasant, but I clearly tasted a hint of brandy. It occurred to me that it was most likely the brandy that provided the relief. So, by noon we were all feeling better. Everyone had awakened by then and we had shared tea and biscuits and some, myself included, had enjoyed Catherine’s coffee, imported directly from Colombia. Perhaps it was horrible of me to have indulged so, but when else could I have had such an opportunity?

Catherine gathered us in the parlor again and passed out cigars to each of us. There we sat chatting and smoking and generally being poorly behaved women. It was wonderfully decadent and freeing.

I dipped the cigar in my glass of brandy and drew on it. Madeline had warned me to take care not to inhale the smoke. Instead I simply enjoyed the flavor of the brandy with the tobacco. What luxury she enjoyed. And such luxury she was willing to share with us. I realized then how fortunate I must count myself.

The tom boys left us and went out to the stables. Madeline left me with the other ‘ladies’, those like myself. That was how I’d come to think of us, in terms of tom boys and ladies, that is. Catherine was entertaining them by showing off her prized steeds, something I had to admit I had very little interest in.

One of the girls picked up a guitar and began to strum it softly. She hummed at first, but soon her humming grew into singing. She — Alice, I would learn — had come to Philadelphia with a traveling show and had settled here when she met her love, one of the masculine sorts, though with the pretty name Eliza. It was clear that Alice dearly missed performing on stage, yet equally clear was the fact that her love far outweighed this.

Soon she requested her purse from the servants and withdrew from within it a stack of cards. These were not like the playing cards I’d seen men using in taverns. They had beautiful artwork on their faces and seemed to have meaning.

“I need a volunteer,” she said, her eyes focusing on me. Everyone, myself included, understood that since I was the new girl, I was the volunteer. She moved close and handed me the deck. “Think of a question while you shuffle the cards.”

I closed my eyes, moving the cards about, and thought of the only question I could.

I handed the cards back to Alice, and she laid them out in a careful pattern. It was the Celtic Cross, she explained. She turned over the first. A smile played at her lips. “You were in love. But it ended badly.”

My eyebrow raised involuntarily. The other girls giggle and whispered.

“Your question is about the future,” Alice said, turning over the next card. She looked at me and smiled. “You want to know the same thing we all do. Will she love me forever?”

She paused a moment, looking at another card. “I believe she shall.”

Alice continued turning over cards until she came to one of a reaper labeled ‘Death’. It seemed ominous and frightening. “There is great change coming for you.”

“Does it mean someone will die?” I asked.

“Rarely. No. It rather tells of change, drastic change.”

She quickly turned over the remaining cards, shaking her head. “So much change that things become unclear.” She looked at me and smiled. “Not to worry, ’tis just a game, love. I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”

I must have been showing in my face the concern I felt in my heart. Her dismissal of the cards as a simple game did little to relieve my worries.

The mood was markedly darker now. We tried to lighten it again, and began chatting and giggling about anything but those cards. I learned as we sat entertaining ourselves in the parlor, waiting for the tom boys to come back, that tonight, the second night of the party, was what they referred to as Bedtime Story Night.

I wondered exactly what kind of bedtime story such women as these would want to hear. I became intrigued, anxious for nightfall, and the beginning of these stories.

Alice entertained us with whimsical songs and silly dances. She seemed to love the laughter and applause of even such a small group as we. She was a lovely girl, and I found myself hoping that somehow we could become friends.

I wondered what wonderful tales she might have to share. What things she had seen, and the kind people she had met. How had she learned that she desired only the touch of a woman? That had become a primary point of interest for me whenever I was among the like-minded. How had they come to know this about themselves? Had it been quite accidentally, as it had been for me? Had they perhaps always known? I wanted to ask time and again, but never had the courage. It seemed like a private thing that others would not want to discuss. How wrong I was.

Out of breath from dancing about, playing the fool, Alice sat down next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. “This is why Catherine invites me,” she said, “because I am such an entertainer.”

She laughed to herself. “Mark my words, ladies,” she went on, raising her voice above the others. “Before this get-together of hers ends, she’ll have me dancing and singing for you all.”

“Ah, and this party could not be complete without it,” one of the girls chimed back.

“But on her stage is where we love you most,” someone else laughed.

I wondered what that meant but did not press. Instead I found myself fascinated that this place evidently had a stage of its own. How expansive was this house, this mansion, that it had both a party hall and a theater? And all for the entertainment of guests. Catherine’s wealth must be fabulous indeed.

I looked at Alice for a long moment before I grabbed her hand and led her away from the main group. A few of the girls glanced at us with curiosity, but no one paid too much attention.

I had to know more about this girl. She was lively and happy, and she danced and seemed like such a free spirit. She smiled a pretty smile at me as I fought to keep my resolve.

“Have you always been this way?” I asked.

“This way?” she chuckled. “A fool, you mean?”

“No, like us. Wanting only a woman.”

Alice’s smile broadened. “Of course, silly girl.” She leaned close and playfully slapped at my hand. “What did you think? That Eliza seduced me? Corrupted my virtue and stole me away from my family?”

That was very much what I thought indeed. Alice was younger than I, and from my understanding had been a part of this small group of Catherine’s inner circle since she was but a girl.

“I guess I don’t know,” I finally said.

“My mother was a gypsy. My father…” She blushed slightly. “Well, he was a client, shall we say.”

I thought I understood, but hated to think what it meant.

“We’ve traveled all about America and Europe. And in all that time I never saw a boy who captured my interest. But girls.” She smiled wickedly. “Every type of girl I saw brought a quiver to my belly and…”

Alice glanced down for a second. “Well, you know,” she giggled and blushed. “I’ve no doubt that my mother knew something when I took up with Eliza. She had come to a show and used her money to visit me after we had finished for the night.”

She sighed softly and her smile was less brilliant. “My mother was not terribly disinclined toward inducting me into her nighttime profession. And I think she didn’t care if it was with men or with women.” Her smile quickly returned, “I was a spring-fresh flower of only twelve when Eliza met me.”

“Twelve?!” I said in shock. “And she, how old…”

“Twenty. Only twenty. I was not a mere child though. I’d seen the world already. And I knew I loved her right away.”

Alice held up her left hand and showed me a simple gold band around her ring finger. “She gave me this only a month after we met. I told my mother I had married, and had to stay when they moved on. I never told her it was Eliza who gave me the ring, but I think she knew. Still she let me stay — though, I’ve no doubt, after extracting a heavy price from Eliza. But she simply will not say it’s so.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I miss the crowds clapping for me,” she said with a smile. “But for Eliza, I would have given up anything. I still would.”

“And the fact that you are a gypsy, that does not cause problems for a woman of Eliza’s station?” I asked.

Alice smiled and glanced toward Sarah. “I think someone has been telling tales she should not have. She loves to tell Madeline’s lovers the sad story of Catherine. It’s not the same for her, though, for Catherine. She is the head of our, our club, I suppose you would call it. Appearances mean so much when all others are looking to you for guidance. Besides, she spends a great deal of time traveling and meeting with wealthy clients.”

“I see,” I said absently. It made sense in a way. Catherine indeed did seem to lead us. She was a very charismatic woman. I could hardly imagine not looking to her as I did.

She took my hand. “Come along… Liz, is it?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get back before someone decides to start a rumor about us. After all, you know how girls love to gossip.”

She winked and led me back the group. Of course I did not understand at that time that such a thing would not matter to anyone.

We talked and took turns telling stories of our first loves until the tom boys returned. I was all too happy to have Madeline back at my side. I felt less naked with her about.

“And what did you do to amuse yourselves?” Madeline asked me.

“Alice kept us entertained,” I replied.

“Ah, then you have had a treat, indeed,” Catherine said, having overheard. “Alice, dear, give us a song,” she called out to the girl.

Alice attempted to be modest, but it was obvious that she dearly wanted to do it. So, with only the slightest urging and with Catherine at the piano, Alice performed a richly comic song for us, eliciting laughter and cheers from everyone. Indeed, she had been right. Catherine did have her perform for us all.

When she was done with her silliness, she picked up the guitar again and sat strumming it for a long while before she started to sing again. It was a story she related, as if the composer longed for the beloved he could not have. Or at least so I thought. But Madeline leaned close to me and whispered that Alice had written it herself. Somehow knowing the song truly was sung from one woman to another made it even more enjoyable and poignant.

At dusk we were served our second formal meal in the house and, as on the night before, went long into the evening talking and laughing at the table. While we conversed, I learned that many of the guests had come from far away to be here, and this was why Catherine’s parties were such an event. One had come all the way from Virginia. I was learning that there were women like us all over this new nation.

With all a bit drunk from the wine, Catherine began tapping her fork against her glass as she stood. “Ladies,” she began, “and gentlemen.” A titter rose. “You now know what it’s time for, I trust. Looking about me, I see tired eyes and I think a good bedtime story should do you well.”

She led us out and back to the parlor that had become like a second home to us. Books lined one of the walls, and Catherine went to them, dragging her finger along the spines.

“What shall we have tonight?” she asked, turning toward the group and smiling. “The forbidden love of a queen and her ladies in waiting?”

“Only if it is the true tales of Lady Antoinette,” a voice called, referring to the French queen of some note and besmirched reputation. Catherine giggled a bit but said nothing.

“Are the rumors really true?” one of the women asked, a bit surprised.

“I prefer to think they are,” Alice laughed.

“Perhaps something more crass?” Catherine proposed, recapturing the women’s attention. “Two whores who leave behind their lives for each other?” Saying this, she playfully covered her mouth with both hands.

There was quite a reaction. It seemed that a goodly number some of the girls liked this idea.

“Ah, you filthy sluts, is that what you want? Lust? Wanton sex? Well, girls… I have just the tale for you all.” Catherine selected a book from the shelf and opened it at the ribbon marking a place. From within this larger volume, she withdrew a second, smaller book bound only in paper. Catherine pulled a pair of spectacles from her pocket and placed them on her face, pulling them to the tip of her nose with one finger. She looked over them at all of us as we sat in anticipation. I had to admit that even I was excited to hear what she had in store.

Madeline leaned close, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Don’t be shocked by anything,” she whispered.

Now I was a bit nervous. What could this story be?

“’Tis merely a story, dearest, meant only to titillate.”

I should have been excited by that, I suppose, but at the time the idea that I would be indulging in something whose sole purpose was to garner a sexual reaction mortified me. I blushed, but endeavored to remain expressionless.

Catherine began reading aloud. It seemed so innocent in the first few paragraphs. But as she went on, adding her own brand of drama with pauses and changes in tone and voice, I realized what this story was about.

It told the tale of two sisters who when very young had traveled to the new world with their parents. The family lived far from any city, and had nearly no visitors to their home. The girls had not even been to a small town until they were in their teens. Uninterested in anything they had seen, the sisters turned their unwholesome desires to one another.

I could scarce believe what I was hearing. As Catherine read, I found myself blushing uncontrollably. Madeline held me tighter and laid her head on my shoulder. I felt weak and, much to my shame, even aroused.

Glancing around, I saw that none of the other women showed any sign of offense. I was scandalized for them. Incest! Was nothing taboo to these people? Had they no shame? No dignity?

I almost couldn’t stand to even hear the story. I lowered my head and closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. What the girls did with one another seemed so wrong to me. I would not react the same today, of course, but at the time I was still a prisoner of the nuns’ teaching.

When Catherine finally closed the book, there was no applause. I looked up to find that this silence was not from disgust. It seemed that every woman there was in some state of undress. They were all fondling and kissing and caressing. I could scarce believe my eyes.

Toward the back of the room I saw a woman on a love seat with her head draped over the arm. She’d covered her face with her hand and I knew why when I saw another woman’s lower body protruding from beneath the first’s dress. I shied away.

Madeline kissed the back of my neck. I wondered, had she enjoyed that story? Did such things as incest excite her? I could hardly bear to know. Was this what it meant to be like us? That nothing need be forbidden? Wasn’t there anything that might offend our senses?

Sensing my resistance, Madeline turned me to face her. “Don’t let it trouble you, dear,” she whispered to me. “Remember, just a story. Besides, can’t you imagine the beauty of such love between sisters?”

I did not want to, not at all. And yet, indeed, I could. As I was growing up, there had been a young girl I looked upon as a sister. We were very close. And when I imagined her, somehow that did not seem as offensive. But she was not my true blood sister and so it did not seem so deviant.

Catherine seemed quite pleased with the reactions of the women to what she’d read. I wondered if she had a lover. I had never seen her with a woman. She met my eyes and looked at me for a long moment, perhaps contemplating her next move, before she stood and crossed the room to where two proper ladies lay in a pile of pillows making love. She knelt at their side, and they soon diverted from one another and invited her to join them, making a threesome.

It occurred to me then that perhaps Catherine had been contemplating that very thing with Madeline and I. Should I have been jealous? I did not know if I should, but I was not. I believed, as I became aware of Madeline’s tongue on my sex, that I would have welcomed her just as those other two had.

Laying my head back, I gazed up at the painted ceiling until my eyes fluttered closed and I began to rock my hips in time with Madeline. I wondered if she had brought the dildo with her. Part of me hoped she had, though would I ever be able to face these women again if she had brought it, and if we used it? Already I felt such shame to be making love before them all. But it seemed my shame came accompanied by lust. In these earliest years, I both loved and hated everything I experienced.

Madeline’s expert tongue sent waves of ecstasy through me. I lay still, however, as still as I could, trying to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible. I did not want to climax right away. I wanted to lie there listening to all these other women engaging in passion while Madeline made love to me.

At long last an orgasm exploded through me and Madeline pulled herself from beneath my dress and petticoats. She smiled down at me, then kissed me deeply. I thought I should have been disgusted tasting my own sex in her kiss, but I had never been. If I were truthful, I would have to say I rather enjoyed it.

Madeline slipped out of her breeches and moved until her knees were at either side of my head. She lowered her sex to my hungering lips and began to rock her hips against my face.

She moved more deliberately with every thrust. I looked up at her to see her eyes closed and her head tilted down. She grunted with her pleasure, and hearing it only stimulated me.

Madeline arched her back, continuing to rock her hips. She drew her hands up her body, cupping her breasts. I’d no notion of it before, but now saw that we had an audience. Some of the girls were quite satisfied to sit watching the others, us in particular. After all, Madeline was the love of Catherine’s life, as the story goes, and so there was great interest in what she did.

At long last, and yet all too soon, Madeline cried out, bringing an excited gasp from our onlookers. She ground her crotch deep into my face and I did all I could to draw it out for her as long as I could.

When at last she laid back against my legs, I pushed myself up and looked at the faces staring back at me. They began to clap enthusiastically. I collapsed against the love seat, utterly humiliated, and covered my face — not, however, before I caught site of Catherine happily cheering along with the others.

It seemed forever before Catherine stood over me, pulling my hands from my face. She smiled down at me. How could she not be jealous if indeed Madeline had been her deepest love? I waited for what I was sure would be a scolding from her, but it never came. She knelt beside me and Madeline sat up straddling my hip when I turned on my side.

“I had my doubts about you, dear,” said Catherine, “as I’ve had about all of her girls. Especially the French child,” she added, glancing up at my lover. “But I’ve come to look upon you quite fondly, and the only one I would have my beloved with.”

Then she stood and pulled Madeline close, kissing her deeply, eliciting whispers and giggles from the girls in the room.

Something about the casual freedoms Catherine took with my lover actually served to comfort me. As I lay trying not show my shame, Madeline slid behind me and wrapped her arm around my waist.

“Does she mean that?” I asked.

“There is no doubt. Catherine is a generous soul and wise beyond her years.”

I lay there a time wondering to myself if what Catherine had said to me explained how I felt for her. She had spoken of me in the past as a child, so did I look upon her as a mother? For so long, the nuns had been the nearest thing to a mother I’d had, but I felt as if I were somehow reborn since coming to Philadelphia. Was it Madeline or Catherine who had most shaped me? Indeed it was my Maddy who’d taught me the most about the passions women could experience, but what of our lives in the daytime? Outside of the bedroom? The sisterhood of girls and our secret sorority? Catherine was our mistress in this, our mother, our guide.

Madeline and I slid from the love seat and made ourselves comfortable on floor pillows that had been laid out for just such a thing. Catherine soon retired to her room, and little by little the other girls withdrew from lovemaking and began to fall to sleep.

I lay listening to the lovers’ whispers, knowing that Madeline had herself fallen asleep. What had I become, I wondered, and now that I was here, could I ever return to our home, to our lives?

All of these thoughts swarmed around my head, and yet somehow I managed to find sleep at a reasonable hour for this party.

I awoke to find Catherine smiling down on me. In one hand she held a cup of coffee, in the other a small cake.

She waited until I had sat up before offering me the cup. I sipped from it, then looked around. “Where is Maddy?” I asked.

“Out stretching her legs with the other boys.”

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“They don’t need a nurse maid, and besides, I’d rather like to spend some time with you, my newest daughter.”

This troubled me some but her tone did not seem to hide any secret hostility. “So, I’ve learned that our lovely Sarah has told you everything about Madeline and me?”

I nodded my head.

“You needn’t worry, dear. I wish her nothing but happiness.”

Again I nodded, then asked, “How many girls has she had?”

“Several. At least five besides you. The last was a very young French girl.”

“I think I met her,” I said quietly.

“She mistook the girl’s admiration of her. And besides the French are far more casually affectionate than we. But now, tell me more about you,” she insisted. “Even after the time we’ve had at my tavern, I feel I hardly know you.”

I looked away for a moment, wondering what parts of my story to tell and which parts were better left unsaid. After some thought, I began telling her about Molly first. Seeing tears well in my eyes, Catherine rubbed my shoulder. I did not cry, though. I had at least come that far.

I told her about my employer in Harrisburg, about my journey to the city and my year long, relentless search for others like myself. I spoke of my job as a seamstress, my home in the boarding house, and finally how Madeline and I had come together.

“She loves you very much,” Catherine told me once I had finished. “But you.” She tilted her head slightly. “She knows you do not feel the same.”

I felt the immediate need to defend myself. “But I do. When I dream of my future, I see myself only with her.” That much was true.

“Yes, but still.”

“I do have a sort of love for her,” I finally confessed. “But…” I trailed off.

“But it isn’t the same,” she finished for me. “Child, don’t you know? No two loves are ever the same, and besides you shall never know a love like your first. That first time, you love so fully and with such abandon. You love with your whole self, and then when your heart is broken, you learn to hold back a part of you. You learn to keep a part of you safe.”

I had never thought of it that way, but what she was saying made such sense that I adopted it as my new truth. “Is that how you felt for her?”

“I still feel it. You never quite fall out of love with your first either. Your first, this Molly, she will always hold a place in your heart that no other can ever take.”

That did not comfort me. I wondered if just hearing her name would hurt me forever, as it did even now. “You truly are as wise as Madeline says.”

“Come along, girl, the others have gathered in the dining room and I don’t want them to think you get any more special treatment than you already have.”

“But I do, don’t I?”

“It’s a secret, Elizabeth.” She pressed her finger to my lips and smiled. “Shh.”

I ate breakfast and the other girls and I talked for a while before we all began to roam the house. The parlor had but a single shelf of books. Catherine, however, possessed a vast library, and when I found it I could hardly believe my eyes. I ran from shelf to shelf, and even climbed the ladder, pushing myself along, surveying all the books. Oh, to have lived with such leisure as to be able to read to my heart’s content.

Eventually I came across a copy of the Bible. It would not have seemed so out of place in any other library. But here in Catherine’s den of wickedness, it simply did not belong.

I opened it. The nuns had originally taught us to read using the Bible, so I knew the tome well. It was so romantic. The thought of a loving God providing for us all, caring for us, looking after us. It was quaint and inviting. But I simply did not believe it. The same Bible that spoke of love also spoke of anger and judgement and condemnation. Most meaningful to me were the condemnations of love. How could we feel any love if it were unnatural?

After a moment of nostalgia, I returned the book to its place and left the library to seek Alice. Whatever she was doing, I was sure it had to be interesting.

In time I found her in the parlor playing guitar for a couple of the girls. Alice smiled at me when I entered the room and set the guitar down, much to the protest of her audience. She crossed the room and took my hands in hers.

“I know I shouldn’t,” she said, “though I cannot help but sing for them. Where have you been?”

“I found the library.”

“You can read?” she asked, evidently surprised.

I nodded.

“How truly wonderful. Eliza has tried to teach me, but it is very difficult.” She nodded toward the guitar. “I can read music, though, my mother taught me that.”

I couldn’t read a note. The nuns had no musical instruments and no way really to teach us. In this I believed I might have found a way to keep a connection with dear Alice. “If I were to teach you to read and write, would you then teach me to read music and play?”

“Really?” she exclaimed with delight. “Oh, that would be wonderful! We’ll start right away. Do you have Saturdays to yourself?”

I nodded. Madeline would give me any day I wanted. She always told me I needed friends.

Alice and I went to a love seat and sat talking until the tom boys returned from outside. I stood and took Madeline’s hand.

To my surprise, she led me from the parlor. “I have to warn you about tonight,” she said. What did this night hold, I wondered, that required more warning than the previous two?

“Tonight Catherine will provide for us a live showing of… there will be dildos. It will be a night of total debauchery and sin. You must not be shocked.”

In the light of a story centering around incest, I doubted anything I could see tonight would shock me greatly. I had seen, and used, a dildo. I had seen the orgy the night before. I had seen everything. I thought. At the time I imagined that there simply couldn’t have been any more to see, and I was not concerned at all that I would find myself offended.

“I doubt I could be,” I finally said.

“For as much as you’ve done, Liz, and for what you’ve seen, you are still a virtuous woman. A lady. You conduct yourself and carry yourself as such. I simply worry about you.”

I grinned at her. “But isn’t that the desire of all husbands? A lady on the street and a whore behind closed doors? Aren’t I whore enough for you? Don’t I indulge your every desire?” I moved closer, letting her feel my breath on her neck. “What could I see tonight that would shock me now?”

Madeline flashed a knowing smile but said no more.

We returned to the parlor and indulged in drink and smoke. The tom boys chatted, and we others sat in our own circle doing the same. We were all waiting for nightfall and the end of dinner. One could very nearly taste the excitement in the air.

This was the grand finale to a weekend of sin and wickedness. I was told that Catherine always did something different, and always it was absolutely hideous. They said this as if being hideous were a goal to strive for.

“What might it be tonight?” I asked.

Alice smiled wickedly. “I’ll never tell.”

I looked at her, surprised. “You?”

“I told you she invites me because I am so entertaining,” she giggled. “We’ve been practicing together, all of last week.”

“Eliza too?” I asked.

She nodded her head slowly.

Oh, I so wanted to press her. I had to know what this secret was. The other guests had seen such shows many times, I thought, but I could barely stand not knowing. They at least knew what to expect, I could not even dream.

Time passed so slowly for me then. Knowing it was little Alice who would provide the night’s entertainment made the anticipation even worse. Although merely sixteen, she truly was as worldly as a woman twice her age.

We enjoyed another long dinner, and when at last the clock struck ten, Catherine led us into the theater. The whole group gathered near the edge of the stage and waited, however impatiently, for the curtain to be raised.

Catherine made an announcement. “My friends, my children, you are all my dearest and closest friends, and… lovers,” she laughed. “Boys and girls who are for one reason or another close to my heart.” Her gaze fell to me. “And new friends.”

The servants began passing out flutes of champagne.

“Tonight,” said Catherine, after everyone was served, “I give you the very reason that you have all come. I give you my darling Alice and Eliza.” She raised her glass and we all joined her in the toast, most draining their glasses.

“Let the show begin!” Catherine shouted.

She stepped aside as the curtain was raised. On the stage Alice and Eliza knelt naked on a bed that rotated slowly on some sort of platform, giving us a view from every titillating angle. I joined in the applause, but a part of me was worried for Alice.

From beneath the blankets Eliza withdrew a dildo not unlike Madeline’s. It was larger, however, and seemed to be carved of jade. The belt to which it was attached was covered in velvet, but as the bed rotated I could see it was backed with leather.

“Luxury,” I whispered, and Madeline nodded against my shoulder. She held her arms tight around my waist, releasing me only to clap from time to time.

As I had often seen Madeline do, Eliza drew the dildo up her legs and fastened the belt. Was this the show, I wondered? They had built it up to be such a spectacle, but had these women, women of privilege, never seen such a thing?

Eliza rubbed the tip between Alice’s thighs, and the girl writhed in time. She was soaking up all of the reactions. As they turned in front of us, one of the girls began clapping in a slow rhythm, while another began to chant. “Fuck her,” she said, over and over again. Others joined in, and before I realized it, I too was chanting as was Madeline behind me.

With the most devious smile, Eliza pushed the member into the girl. Alice cried out, in pain I feared at first, but soon realized that was not the case. I felt a quiver in my belly as the bed rotated and I could clearly see the gleaming dildo moving in and out of the girl.

“Harder!” Alice screamed. “Deeper!”

She was putting on a show for us, and I was beginning to understand why Catherine’s parties could draw guests from so far away. This was such a wicked show but I was loving it.

They continued fucking, and Alice began to gasp and shout with each thrust. I was sure we would see her climax at any moment, when Eliza suddenly stopped and withdrew. Alice was grinning from ear to ear it seemed. Her eyes narrow and mischievous.

“What’s this then?” I spoke absently.

As I watched, little Alice turned, took the phallus in her hand, and began to suck it. This was positively scandalous, yet I found myself cheering with the others. Oh, what shame, but I wanted more.

Alice pulled her mouth from the dildo and rose up kissing Eliza deeply. They smiled for a moment at one another. Alice turned around again, remaining on all fours in front of her lover.

No one could have been exactly sure what was about to happen, but at least the others had some idea of what they might expect to see, while I did not.

Eliza poured an oil from a vial onto the phallus and carefully coated it. She then cleaned her hand, I thought, between Alice’s legs. They remained motionless for one full revolution of the platform before the girls all began to chant: “Do it – Do it – Do it!”

Suddenly Eliza thrust her hips forward, and Alice screamed at the top of her lungs. “More,” she cried, “all of it!!”

The women began to cheer wildly as the platform came around and I myself was feeling caught up in all of it. Then at last the platform turned enough so that I could see what they truly were doing.

Eliza was buggering the child with the dildo, as all those around me cheered them on. I suddenly felt weak and brought my hand to my chest. My knees seemed to give way from under me. I would have fallen had Madeline not caught me.

“Oh, Alice,” I whispered.

While continuing her thrusts, Eliza reached between the girl’s legs and began to massage her sex. Alice was bucking and moaning, begging for more until at last she cried out, clenching her fists on the blanket and squeezing her eyes tight. She pushed herself backward, hard against the dildo.

Eliza knew exactly what to do as she drew out the girl’s climax. At long last Alice fell forward on the bed. A moment passed and she rose up, taking a short bow before the crowd. The women were cheering and blowing her kisses.

As the curtain fell, I whispered once more, “Oh, Alice.”

How, I wondered, could I ever face her again? Could I even look at her now, having seen this? It seemed that to me Catherine had taken advantage of a child, and I ached for the girl. I was ashamed for her.

“She was doing only what she wanted,” Madeline murmured behind me, having sensed my thoughts. “Understand, she is a gypsy child. Different things are important to her than to you.”

“And you?” I asked, as I turned toward her.

“You were enjoying the spectacle at first, weren’t you? You did not think anything wrong with it. But it was the same Alice.”

“But Maddy… they…”

“Broke a terrible taboo?” Madeline hugged me close and began to whisper in my ear. “Alice loves nothing more than to put on a show for us. She is thrilled whether it is singing and dancing — or fucking.”

“Is that… what you want from me?” I asked.

I felt Madeline laugh slightly. She pulled back and smiled at me. “Of course not. You asked earlier if you were whore enough for me. I would never speak of you so crassly. But you do satisfy my every whim, and I could not ask for more.”

I felt relieved. I would do anything she asked of me, but now I could only pray that she did not ask this.

Officially the party had ended. But most of the guests, drunk and excited, retired to the parlor. I sat quietly on a love seat while Madeline talked with the other boys.

A door opened, and I looked over to find Alice standing there, still naked. Eliza soon joined her and they kissed, before Eliza went to join the toms in a shower of handshakes and congratulations.

Alice made her way straight to me, though. She boldly climbed up in to my lap and kissed me on the nose. Then she sat back and smiled sweetly. “They love me. No matter what I do. I know they love it,” she said quietly.

“Don’t you, you filthy whores?” she called, raising her voice and receiving soft laughter back. “But I really only care about you, your response. This was your first. Was it as terrible and wicked as we promised?”

“Indeed,” I answered, hardly able to look her in the eyes. It was not a lie, though. The show was everything I had been warned of and more.

“You… really like that?” I finally asked.

Alice wrinkled her forehead for a moment, looking puzzled, then covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, you hated it!” she whispered loudly. “You think me a filthy slut, don’t you?”

I did not. I thought all the rest of us to be filthy sluts, encouraging this girl to do such things.

“Are you ashamed of me?” she asked. “Or of yourself for enjoying the wickedness?”

I opened my mouth to answer but I could not. Sitting there in the dim candlelight of the parlor, I could see wisdom in her eyes. She began to look less like a child to me and more like a woman.

Alice did not wait for an answer. She quickly pushed her hand under my dress and between my nether lips, finding there what she expected. I did not need to answer. She nodded her head, satisfied, then said, “Will you still teach me to read?”

I could scarce look at her but my affection for the girl had not changed. “Will you still teach me music?”

A smile played at her lips. “I’m a gypsy, Liz,” she whispered in my ear. Feeling her breath against my neck caused my loins to ache. “Do you think anyone could really coax me into something I did not want?”

I had only heard of gypsies, never met one before, but what I knew told me they were more likely to fool someone than to be fooled themselves. Crafty people, they were said to be.

“I’m ashamed,” I confessed, “to feel so titillated by you.”

Alice chuckled, “Eliza loves to taste another woman in my kiss.”

My jaw dropped open and I blushed in humiliation. “Maddy!” I exclaimed, calling for her. A moment later Madeline stepped up to the love seat, looking first at Alice and then at me. She smiled and sat down beside us.

“Is she trying to seduce you?” she asked me.

Alice threw her head back and laughed. “You know me too well, Madeline.”

Maddy leaned close, whispering in my ear, “Do as you will with her. I won’t hold it against you.”

I wondered if she truly meant that. And if I could believe it, would she really still love me? My face betrayed my thoughts.

“How could I ever deny you such a lovely and nubile little creature?” said Maddy.

Alice grinned.

“When in Rome, my love, and here we are,” Madeline finished, then left me there with a naked girl in my lap, rocking her hips and rubbing her sex against my legs. My dress would smell of her for days, certainly Alice had to know that.

She leaned in and kissed me deeply, pushing her tongue into my mouth and caressing my shoulders. Such an aggressive child she was. I could hardly believe that she was only sixteen.

The girl coaxed me to the floor and began to undo my dress. She pulled it up, struggling to get it over my head. I was resistant but eventually allowed her to remove it. Alice pushed me back against the pillows, kissing me. She moved down my throat, sending quivers through my belly. She suckled and even gently bit my nipples.

I was moaning aloud, completely unaware that the boys had turned their attention to us. It was not until I opened my eyes and pushed myself up that I saw them. The heat of shame washed over me and I struggled, but Alice would not let me go. In the dim light I saw Madeline smiling and nodding her approval.

When at last Alice reached my sex I thought I could stand no more excitement. She sucked my clitoris into her mouth and pushed her fingers through my folds, stimulating me. I was growing near to completion when she paused. I looked down at her and she glanced up at me. The child folded her fingers together and shoved her entire, however small, hand all the way inside me.

I cried out, both in shock and ecstasy. Had it been Madeline doing such a thing I imagine I would have writhed in pain, but Alice was tiny and it seemed that her hand was the perfect size to fill me just to the blurred edge of pain and pleasure.

She shoved her hand more deeply within me and I welcomed it. I was rocking with her, moaning and nearly crying. My eyes opened and I looked toward Madeline who stood nearby, biting her lip in anticipation.

My climax quickly approached. Alice’s expert attention made it impossible to resist. I rocked faster and the girl matched me. We moved in unison, in perfect harmony, until the orgasm exploded through me and I cried out, begging for more.

She carried this on for so long that I thought I might die. At last, though, the final climax subsided, and Alice moved to lay next to me. I put my arm around her and she snuggled in. Eliza soon appeared over us and knelt down. She showed not the slightest shame in kissing the girl, in lapping my wetness from her chin and lips.

How can I ever go home? I asked myself.

Continue on to Chapter 5