David Shaw, Victorian Messenger

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It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 answered an advertisement in a local newspaper for position of ‘messenger boy’ in a medium sized family firm serving local households in and around the Borough of Putney in south west London. The work would involve bicycling, delivering messages, small envelopes and collecting monies owed.

The advertisement called for someone who was clean, without facial hair, well presented and in good health. Unusually it asked for someone who was between five foot and five foot two inches in height and of slender build. I fitted the description down to the last letter. Although comparatively small and skinny I prided myself on my appearance and general cleanliness.

I entered the portals of ‘Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy’ on Upper Richmond Road, Putney and asked to speak to Mr. Herbert Maynard.

Mr Maynard was a small dapper man in his late forties only an inch or so taller than I and smelled heavily of ‘Eau de Cologne’.

“Come in Mr.Shaw, do come in and take a seat,” he said to me in a somewhat cautious and apprehensive way. “And what pray, made you reply to my advertisement in the Putney Recorder?”

“Well sir I am currently without work and I appear to fit the size and age category described and I can also ride a bicycle,” I blurted, trying to appear enthusiastic.

Mr Maynard asked me to stand up and remove my shirt.

“Hmmm.” he said looking me up and down slowly. He felt my shoulders and squeezed the muscles on my arms. “May I see your teeth?” he enquired. I smiled at him insanely as he looked inside my mouth. “And can I inspect your tongue?” he asked, clearly satisfied with everything he’d seen of me so far.

I stuck my tongue out and he smiled as he noticed its length. It was a family trait that although the Shaws were rather short their tongues were rather long.

Mr. Maynard asked if I had had any contagious diseases or suffered from any ‘transmitted’ maladies and I assured him that I was in the very pink of health.

He handed me a note to take to Doctor Rupert Jeffrey’s consulting rooms on Oakhill Road. I left him with the understanding that if I passed a simple medical examination I would be allowed to join the company as messenger for the area north of the river, beyond Putney Bridge.

Having passed my medical examination I was sent with my first message to deliver personally to Lady Philomena Onslow in Chester Court.

I arrived at exactly three o’clock, as instructed, at the imposing white stone and brick terraced Georgian house and rang the doorbell. I handed the housemaid my card and she quickly admonished me for using the main entrance and told me I should always use the side entrance which was reserved for tradesmen.

I parked my bike in the ‘area’ and nipped around to the smaller entrance. The housekeeper greeted me and told me that her ladyship would see me shortly. She led me into the entrance hall and told me to wait. The housekeeper was a severe looking woman who was clearly used to no nonsense. After several minutes a bell rang in the rear of the house, somewhere below stairs.

“That will be her ladyship now. Please follow me and do only address her as ‘m’am’ and not as ‘your ladyship’. Do you understand?” I replied that I did.

I followed the housekeeper upstairs and admired her large derriere which swivelled provocatively from side to side. She held up the skirts of her dark grey dress to one side and revealed the merest tantalising glimpse of starched pure white petticoat lace as she negotiated the stairs. I was transfixed by her movements.

“I gather from Blanchard that you are from Maynard’s; we had one last year and he was totally unsuitable. He lasted only for one session with Lady Philomena. We eventually sent a letter complaining of his lack of finesse.”

I could not make out what the housekeeper was talking about. As far as I was concerned I was delivering a message personally, by hand to Lady Onslow.

She took me into a small ante-chamber where I noticed everything was black and gold lacquered with swirling dragons and other Chinese motifs.

“Here are your clothes Chang,” said the housekeeper pulling open a drawer and handing me a red and gold silk waist coat which I immediately put on over my shirt.

“No Chang you don’t wear a shirt underneath it; it is to worn against your skin. Now get undressed quickly,” she admonished in curt tones.

I took off my shirt and put on the waistcoat. It was quite long and reached midway down my thighs. It had no buttons or ties and barely met at the front. I noticed it had two strange straps which hung down at the back. I’d say that they were large enough to get an arm or even a leg through them.

“Excuse Miss but why do you keep calling me Chang?”

“You will address me as Miss Prinddle and you are called Chang as that is the name Lady Philomena calls all her ‘underskirt boys’,” she continued, surveying my face which remained quizzical.

“Did they tell you nothing at Maynard’s? bahis siteleri Anyone would conclude that it was your first day with them,” Miss Prinddle looked me up and down and told me to finish with my undressing.

“Well off with you trousers, underpants and socks, quickly now,” she clearly was in complete control and I was forced to comply. All my instincts told me that I was not there to deliver a message but more likely to perform some sort of a service.

When I had stripped down to my underpants I became very embarrassed. Miss Prinddle appeared however to be used to such recalcitrance so in one fell swoop she whipped off my underwear and threw it on a pile with my other clothes.

“Where are the trousers to match this waistcoat?” I enquired innocently.

“Trousers? Trousers?” she laughed.

“You won’t need any trousers until you have finished. Understood?” she said as she knocked lightly on the drawing room door.

“Come,” came a haughty, educated voice from within.

I entered the room very much aware that my penis was beginning to stir and was becoming prominent through the opening in my new waistcoat.

There in front of me sipping tea was a largish woman in her late forties or early fifties.

She was sitting on a very sumptuous ornate sofa full of silk cushions and Indian shawls.

Her elaborate dress was of black shiny satin and reached down to the floor. I was later to learn that she was still in ‘half-mourning’ for her husband, Lord Bertram Onslow, who had died in India.

Her dress was vast and noticed; by the way it rustled and moved that it was clearly full of silk petticoats.

The room was full of exotic sculptures, Chinoiserie and silk hangings. The room was opulent but without appearing heavy. There was a fragrance of flowers hanging in the air.

“Ah Chang come over here boy,” she said in courteous tones.

I stood in front of her as I watched her eyes on my face and on my rigid penis.

“You may leave us now Prinddle,” the woman said to the housekeeper who turned and left the room. I heard her shut the door just as a mantle clock struck a-quarter-past-three.

“Stand closer boy, that’s it, so that I can touch you,” she said, her voice slightly quivering with excitement.

I moved forward and my erection appeared to grow in front of me and in front of her too. I looked away but saw a reflection of myself in a mirror and the scene appeared totally erotic. Here I was a 19 year old boy from ‘south of the river’ standing in front of Lady Philomena Onslow, widow of one of the most important men in Parliament, wearing only a waistcoat and my willy sticking out in a near horizontal position.

“Very good Chang; you are clearly ready for your underskirt duties,” said the grey haired woman with a sparkling smile on her face.

“May I touch Chang’s manhood?” the woman said to me as she cupped my balls and stroked my shaft with her black silk laced gloved hands.

The touch of cool smooth silk and the hardness of her finger nails through it made my now fully erect penis jerk around wildly. For some reason I stood to attention, just the way I had always been told to stand in the presence of the upper classes. Lady Onslow appeared to be enjoying handling my penis and I have to admit that standing there in front of her with my swollen purple head just inches from her smiling face made me want to squirt every ounce of semen out of me there and then.

My eyes rolled deliriously and I felt my tongue loll out of my mouth as she weighed my heavy balls between her fingers

I also admit that I was enjoying the lewd charade wherever it would lead.

I still didn’t understand this business about me being an ‘underskirt boy’? I was soon about to find out.

“Bring me those two stools please Chang,” the large bosomed lady told me, “and place each one by my feet.”

My heart trembled as I began to realise what my role might be.

I watched as she raised the hem of her full heavy jet black skirt and placed one foot, then the other, on the separate stools which were placed roughly two feet apart in front of her. I noticed that there was sufficiently width to allow a person of slim stature, such as myself, to squeeze between them.

“Now pull them nearer so that I may bend my knees a little,” she ordered with a natural air of authority.

I did as I was told and she raised her knees and parted her legs.

“Kneel on the floor in front of me, there’s a good Chang,” she said smiling and trying to reassure me that everything was fine.

From my vantage point in front of her I noticed that several ruffled layers of wide silk petticoat lace had spilled out from under the thick satin material of her dress hem and hung in an arc from ankle to ankle. The lace was very fine and intricate and must have cost a small fortune.

I instinctively averted my gaze. I had been well brought up and knew that if a woman should accidentally reveal any part of her undergarments a gentleman should cough and look the other way. This canlı bahis siteleri would alert the lady that she was being immodest and show that the ‘gentleman’ was indeed a gentleman.

I coughed then realised that I would be seeing far more of milady’s under trappings and that this was the main reason for my being alone with her.

“Right young man, under you go” she said sliding slowly forwards on the immense sofa so that her buttocks were perched on the edge of the seat.

I watched with silent awe as her knees parted further and more and more petticoat hems were revealed. Her ankles were encased in fine black silk stockings and she wore soft black suede slippers with little kitten-heels.

“Under you go Chang,” she said in a more commanding voice clearly wishing me to get on with my underskirt duties.

I shuffled forwards as she lifted her dress and petticoats and I saw where I was to place my face. Under her petticoats the air smelled musky; a sweet intensity pervaded my nostrils and I probed to find its source.

I had never ever seen a pair of woman’s bloomers before and hers were pure white silk with Calais lace and teardrop lace trimmed legs. There was layer upon layer of lace decorating every flounced edge of her bloomers and I wondered how so much lace could be worn without anyone being allowed to see it.

They were ‘open crotch’ and her black pubic hairs stood out amongst the many overlapping layers of lace and flounces which surrounded them. In the half-light I could see her labia were already glistening and waiting for my attentions.

“Tongue out Chang,” said Lady Philomena from outside the many layers of clothing I found myself within.

I felt intoxicated by the flesh above her stockings. It was very pale and cool and yielded to my face as I slid it further into her. Silk petticoats pulled my hair back and froufroued against my head. The swishing sound was deliciously sensuous as I pushed every further inside her magnificent dress.

My cheeks brushed against her inner thighs as she first squeezed me tightly then spread her legs further. I felt her guide the back of my tilted head into her and against her as I stuck out my tongue and slid it into her curls.

Under her petticoats I stared closely at her moist vagina. I had never ever seen a woman’s genitalia before and I was both embarrassed and excited at having one in front of me. I tried to focus on its several parts, gauging what I had to do. I now knew where to place my tongue.

“Oh Chang,” she murmured as I began licking her vaginal portals and pushed my tongue in between. Lady Onslow’s legs opened further as she pulled me into her

I had never ever tongued a woman in my life but I knew what to do. It was all instinctive and natural and I could tell by her moans and groans that I was doing what was required.

“Oh, a bit further up if you please,” said her Ladyship as I sensed that the small nub under its hood was particularly sensitive.

She cooed and mewed as I licked and lapped at her clitoris. We continued like this for many minutes as she held my head against her.

“Do not stop, never stop, Chang do you hear?” she told me, this time more sharply.

Her feet were off the stool and found the two straps on the back of my waistcoat. Clearly she had used them before. I felt the full weight of her heavy curvaceous legs on my back and I was instantly pulled more firmly into her.

All around me her smooth cool silk petticoats swished about and froufroued against me. I felt completely engulfed by an ocean of silk and lace.

My tongue was inside her and wiggling slowly and sensuously. Every flowing movement was greeted with an ‘ooh’ or an ‘aah’ or a moan. My nostrils snorted up the juices which dribbled out of her vagina and my head felt completely dizzy with her ‘natural’ odours. I never knew that women felt or tasted like this

My penis was fully erect and oozing precum. For a strange reason I hoped that I was not staining her Persian carpet. My upbringing would not allow me to damage the property of others, particularly my superiors.

“Oh Chang, deeper and quicker,” she whispered barely audible amongst the swishing sounds as petticoats slid over petticoats under her heavy black satin dress. By now she was jerking her pelvis against me. My face was covered with vaginal lubrication and I smelled entirely of Lady Onslow. Her fingers gripped the back of my head through her many layers of petticoat silk. I was painfully hot and perspired like fury as she used my face and tongue to bring herself to her inevitable crescendo.

“My clitoris dear Chang, concentrate on my clitoris, do you hear?” she shouted.

I knew now that she meant the tender spot above her opening and I was determined to do my best. From then onwards she would not escape my attentions. I nibbled, tongued, lapped, licked and probed her mercilessly. I even used my fingers on her.

“No hands Chang please, just your tongue,” I was admonished, and kept them on the floor to support me.

Lady canlı bahis Onslow was now cooing wildly. I heard her shriek out as she jerked herself ferociously against me. My nose slid up and down, into and out of her smooth slimy labia and against her most sensitive part. I felt that I was at the centre of a storm as her movements became more frenzied and pronounced.

My penis was dribbling precum as I persisted with my pleasuring of this lady, as she gripped my head.

Then all of a sudden she shivered then clamped her thighs to my head. I felt her judder, and then shudder then felt something well up inside her.

Everywhere shook and quivered as she screamed “Yes, bliss, yessss, oh bliss, yes.”

She seemed to quieten down and I continued with my licking but she pushed me away.

“Stay still Chang, too much, too much” she whispered with a voice which sounded miles away.

I knelt there for several minutes staring at her vagina with her legs lying across my back under her heavy dress and under many layers of white silk petticoats. My knees ached and I desired to stand up. She opened her legs and told me to back out slowly, which I did as she slid her heels out of my waistcoat straps.

In the cold light of day I noticed that she appeared tearful but thankful for my services. The mantle clock struck four o’clock.

“Thank you Chang you may go now,” she said noticing that my now flaccid penis had a thin string of semen hanging from it.

I left the room and there in the ante-chamber was Blanchard, the housemaid who had let me in when I had first arrived. I immediately covered my willy as I felt very embarrassed to be standing more or less naked in front of this woman of thirty or so.

“Come on Mr. Shaw, or shall we call you David? There’s no need to be all coy and bashful with me. I’ve seen several young men walk out of that room dressed the way you are and I care not a hoot, to tell the truth,” said Blanchard in her Cockney accent.

She took the waistcoat off me, folded it up and placed it back in the drawer. I couldn’t see my clothes anywhere so I asked Blanchard what had happened to them.

“Oh Elsie, the underpaid, is looking after them for you, in our bedroom on the top floor, in the attic,” she replied.

I asked her if she’d go and get them and she told me that it was probably quicker if we both went and collected them.

“In fact David why not get dressed in mine and Elsie’s room,” she said and smiled at me in a strange way.

“Up the backstairs with you,” she said as I followed her in my naked state.

I was afraid of meeting any other servants so I kept as close to her as possible and watched her buttocks and hint of white petticoat lace under her long maid servant’s uniform. My penis began to perk up at the sight in front of me.

We ascended the three flights of stairs in record time until we reached the attic bedroom where Elsie was waiting for us. Immediately I clutched my genitals at the sight of the young creature who could have been only eighteen sitting at a small dressing table combing her long blonde hair. She was also wearing a maid servant’s uniform but had not, as yet, put her hair up nor put her apron on.

“Hello young man, or shall we call you Chang,” she chortled then giggled loudly at my penis which was beginning to rise and point in her direction. I was somewhat put out by her remark and just wanted to retrieve my clothes and leave immediately.

“May I have my clothes now please,” I asked in my most impeccable English, trying to remain calm.

“You may, David,” said Blanchard, “but we’ll have some fun with you first,” she continued pointing to the double bed.

“On you get, on your back with your head at the foot of the bed,” said the housemaid.

At this point I felt quite afraid and wondered whether to just turn on my heels and flee. I could sense that both women knew how I felt and watched Elsie rush to the door and locked it. She hid the key in a drawer and I had no choice except to obey their command.

I climbed onto the iron bedstead and lay on top of the bedspread flat on my back with my hands still covering my private parts.

“No need for that David,” said Blanchard, “you’re with friends now, isn’t that right Elsie?” she continued and I saw Elsie nod then smile.

I watched as they stood on each side of the bed staring at my puny body and noticeable erection. They opened a cupboard and pulled out long strips of material, old pieces of curtains and the like.

With only a slight struggle I allowed them to tie my wrists to the lower bedposts and my ankles to the upper bedposts. For some obscure reason being fettered made my erection grow to its maximum length and girth.

“My word we are a big boy aren’t we?” said the eighteen year old to Blanchard who had removed her long starched apron and also her shoes.

“I’ll boss him first,” said Blanchard pulling seniority over her work colleague.

My face must have turned beetroot red as I watched the older housemaid pull up her black dress to reveal her cotton petticoats and her black cotton stockings. Her lacy frills were of much coarser design than Lady Onslow’s nevertheless the very presence of her underwear drove me wild with inexplicable lust.

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