Donna and the Work of Art Donna’s new job led to a number of good things. The gallery in which she worked was nearer to my home than her own and so she was inclined more often to stay over with me. She’d stay a night or two and leave her laundry for me to do. I didn’t mind. I really enjoyed her company, her mind and her body. Another benefit was that she took me occasionally to exhibitions at the gallery where I met the o...

I am writing this chronicle in the year of our Lord 1805 and news has only recently been brought to England of Admiral Lord Nelson’s victory and tragic death at Trafalgar. The war is over. A sense of relief prevails. I am now 46 years old and in very different circumstances. I will not say yet where I am writing nor what those circumstances are, since that would be to pre-empt the tale. But let me return to my history. I...

You might find it easier to follow this series if you start at the first and read them in order. I hope you enjoy Donna, pointed to an article in another edition of the same red-top she had shown me in the pub on the day our friendship changed course so delightfully. ‘It says here, College, that the people of the west have a genetic propensity to eat fatty food and drink alcohol, whereas your Asian does not.’ As she said...

I first posted a series of tales about Donna on a blog called the Girls’ Coffee Shop. I have made them a little more suited to a site of this type. I hope you will see the jokes although I know most are peculiarly British in style. If you need any explanations, do please ask. I first met Donna one evening in my local pub. A colleague of mine, Nellie, serves behind the bar and you will learn a lot more about her as time pa...

Lady Broadmoor’s quarters were second only to the ‘bridal suite’ in opulence. Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows; a fire burned bright in the hearth; paper-shaded lanterns cast a soft glow over the satins and velvets of the furnishings. The bed was vast and clad in silk. Two side rooms housed a privy and a tub. There were fruits and sweetmeats on a small table near the sideboard, on which stood a silver wine bucket...

In the following months I entertained many guests at Mistress Pickles’ house and my First Lady was a regular visitor. She sometimes liked to take both Maria, to whom I had become exceeding close, and me to her room and we would entertain her together. Mistress Pickles’ salon had become well known amongst ladies of class and, of course, a certain inclination. One evening we were in the salon, playing charades as I recall,...

I would suggest you read the preceding 7 parts before this - it will help make sense of it. Once again, Jenkins provides her account. During the soiree that marked Madeleine’s ‘coming of age’ as it were, I felt proud to see her entertain her guest. She behaved with grace and charm such as one might expect of a lady of better birth or greater education. I confess freely that as I laced her into that corset it was my strong...

‘Your guest left a small present for you, my dear.’ This was Mistress Pickles speaking when later we met, I having been summonsed to her sitting room. Jenkins stood as silent as the grave in her habitual corner of the room. I was dressed and hair pinned and presentable. She handed me an envelope which I opened to find a sum of money the like of which I had never seen before. ‘You have clearly made an impression, Madeleine...

My Lady was most tender as we dried ourselves. Despite her earlier complaint of having been exhausted by our coupling she seemed, having taken the bubbling wine, to recover. We had sipped our wine seated facing each other, both naked, in the soft chairs the room provided. She had talked of her unhappy marriage to an elderly peer who, she said, preferred blasting pheasant from the face of the earth to enjoying her company....

‘Stand, girl.’ I stood and noticed she had unpinned her hair although I had not been aware of it. Her mane was dark and glossy in the subdued light of the room. She indicated a spot to her right where I should position myself and tapped my inner thighs to indicate I should spread my legs. When I had done so she first cupped my mound and then, slowly and cautiously, slid her finger under the sheer silk of my knickers and t...

At 7 of the evening on the day after my encounter with Mistress Pickles in her bedchamber, Jenkins came to my room and entered, as always, without knocking. I was wearing the new silk underwear I had been given. It was diaphanous and felt delicious against my skin. I was freshly bathed and my hair was pinned. I was rolling a stocking up my right leg as she entered and I looked up at her. ‘Continue.’ I ribboned the top of...

Jenkins Takes up the Narrative I was born 2 years before the old King died in 1760. I have no idea who my parents were for my first knowledge is of life in a poor house over which the Beadle, Mr Crabtree, and his wife held sway. They were cruel, miserly people and treated the deserted children under their care with hideous lack of concern. From the age of 4 I was required to undertake domestic duties and oft felt the stin...

You may care to read the first part of this story before embarking on this episode. It will explain the context. The following morning as instructed I found myself in Mistress Pickles’s bedchamber. 'Jenkins reports that you learn well and quickly. I knew you would. Come, girl, undress and show me what you have learned at her hands. I hastily removed my attire but slowed when she told me to take more time and to give her t...

My father, Josiah Clench, was a furniture maker. He died in the influenza epidemic of 1775. My mother and I had lived comfortably if not luxuriously and I had even been given some schooling, enough at least to write this chronicle. My parents had employed a cook and maid and we occupied a small house in Paddington Green, a small village just outside London. My mother was a seamstress and worked for a dressmaker, Mistress...

Dinner at the Athelstan Part 4   To see Judith and Sam sitting on that couch together would, had I been in different circumstances, have been one of the horniest sights I have ever witnessed. I’ve already described Judith’s stunning dress and the fact that she was sitting with that prosthesis still poking out from the folds of her dress was itself enough to set the pulse racing. To see Sam’s hand closed around it as they...