Historical Fiction, Erotic Fiction
Deeping Hall
Magic is at work when Jane slips into the wife’s gown to help her master remember his love one last time
If you look for Deeping Hall now you won’t find it.
Before the Great War it thrived under the ownership of Sir Gerald Devonshire. I had gone to work there as an under house maid in 1910. I was full of expectation as I arrived with my modest belongings at the sunlit hall on the Norfolk Broads. The work was hard but I was happy. I hardly saw Sir Gerald in those days. The other staff said he had a ferocious temper and it was best to keep out of his way.
I made friends with Joe who was Sir Gerald’s chauffeur. We got off on the wrong foot as I couldn’t understand his Sheffield accent and he thought I was mocking him. But I wasn’t. I admired him. He was so handsome. He liked to talk in a broader accent just to make me smile. Once when Sir Gerald was away he took me out in the car. We parked down a remote country lane. I wouldn’t have used this language then but I have become bolder with the passing years and it is true to say that he fucked me. I have never known such pleasure. It was my first time. Finally, after experiencing his cock deep inside me he pulled out and came over my abdomen. As it ran down into my pubic hair he leant forward and licked my soaking cunt.
In 1914 Joe went to war. I was the saddest I had ever been. Work at the house became harder as more and more staff left. Slowly I came more into the sphere of Sir Gerald. One night I was asked to take him a decanter of port. Nervously I entered the drawing room and placed it on a small side table beside the settee where he was sitting. The room was very gloomy and there was barely a glow from the fire. Sir Gerald, who was by now a man of seventy, was dressed for dinner. He sat staring forlornly at the hearth.
‘Well pour me a glass you stupid girl.’
I poured out a glass a port. My hand was shaking with terror at the way he had shouted at me but there was a strength inside me that did not allow myself to be spoken to in this way.
‘I am sorry Sir Gerald but if you speak to me like that I can quite easily go and leave you to fend for yourself.’
Rather than the roar which I expected his tone was almost mellow.
‘That’s the spirit girl. Don’t listen to an old fuddy duddy like me.’ He smiled and patted the seat. ‘Come and sit beside me and tell me how things are in the Hall.’
So I sat beside him and nervously sipped the port he offered me. I told him I had a name, Jane.
After giving him a description of the ruinous state of the Hall I concluded by saying that even the maze was overgrown.
‘Baker not doing his job in the garden? I’ll have him flogged.’
‘We no longer have a head gardener Sir Gerald. Baker died on the Somme.’
He wasn’t listening to me.
‘The wonderful maze. I met Lucy there for the first time. Splendid girl. Did you ever meet her Jane? ‘
‘No sir. I never knew her.’
‘Pity. You would have liked her. That’s her up there.’ He pointed to a painting of a beautiful dark-haired woman in a long red dress. ‘Marvellous isn’t she?’
‘Very beautiful sir.’ The room was so gloomy I had barely been aware of the painting.
‘It’s too cold. Put a few more logs on the fire.’
‘There are no more logs sir.’
‘Well break a chair and throw it on. Can’t be getting cold at my age.
When the fine chair was burning in the grate and I had returned to Sir Gerald he looked at me and held my hands. There were tears in his eyes.
‘I miss her so much. Even after all these years the pain is almost too much too bear. I wonder…’ He became tentative. ‘I wonder if you would mind wearing her dress just for one night. For tonight. That is all I ask of you.’
He was whispering now and the tears flowed down his cheeks.
In his bed room there was a dressing room leading off. He opened a wardrobe and there was the dress. A little faded but it still looked magnificent.
‘I will await you in the bedchamber. Take your time putting on the dress. I have waited so many years for this moment a few minutes longer will not matter.
It was so strange changing out of my servant’s uniform into this beautiful gown, I took off my dress and hung it up, standing in my white underwear and black stockings. I pulled the red dress over my head and moved in front of the cheval mirror. I could have sworn I was different. It wasn’t just the dress but my face seemed to have changed. I smiled and the face smiled back at me. I undid my dark hair and it flowed down over my shoulders. There were shoes there so I put those on as well.
When I walked into the bedchamber Sir Gerald was sitting on the edge of the bed. I was shocked to see that he was no longer old, but a man in his late twenties. He sat there in his trousers and white shirt lit only by an oil lamp which lent an eerie glow to the whole room. Upon my entrance he stood and faced me with a beaming smile.
‘Lucy. At last. After all these years.’ He walked towards me with outstretched arms. He hugged and squeezed and kissed me. He took me to the bed and laid me down on my back. It was a very uneasy feeling. Part of me was Jane but another part was Lucy and I felt wanton and needed to please Sir Gerald. To do whatever he wanted. He turned me over and pulled up the dress and eased down my knickers.
‘What a perfect bottom you have Lucy. He had taken a hairbrush and proceeded to beat me most vehemently. Though I had never endured this before the Lucy part of me was obviously used to it and seemed to relish it as did I eventually. It excited me and I felt a glorious warming in my cunt. Eventually Sir Gerald turned me on my back and sat over my waist with his erect cock inches from my face.
I needed no coaxing and within seconds I had taken it in my mouth, an action which disgusted me and pleased me at the same time. He held my wrists and stretched my arms back on the pillows as he thrust deep into my mouth causing me to choke, which gave him great pleasure. He clearly had no wish to conclude his business yet and nor did I.
Releasing my hands he went to my cunt which by now was a soaking mess. He buried his face there and drank greedily. Making slurping noise he worked his tongue in and out of my hole and around my clitoris which upon touching it almost sent me into a paroxysm of utter wonderment.
He pulled his face away which was drenched in my juices. There was a strange bewilderment and frenzy in his expression which made me fearful.
‘And now Lucy the time has come for us to be reunited.’ he said, holding his cock and bending it down towards my slit. He immediately thrust inside me driving it all the way inside my cunt until it could go no deeper. As he did this he roared like some demented beast. In and out he went, fucking me harder and harder.
His hands were around my throat. Tighter and tighter they clasped. Pleasurable to start with, but then I feared for my life. I suddenly realised he wished to kill me. His face was crazed like a mad man. Just as I felt I was about to lose consciousness he came with one final thrust. He cried out more in pain than pleasure and then lay slumped on top of me.
Once I had recovered my senses I looked down at Sir Gerald, whose head was resting on my breasts. He did not stir. He did not breathe. For he was dead. What is more, he was once again, old Sir Gerald.
My scream could be heard across the Broads.
Sir Gerald was buried in the village churchyard. A distant relative inherited the Hall and sold it shortly afterwards. It was demolished a few years later.
I still have the dress and wear it sometimes for Joe, who happily returned from the War.
When I am gone I will leave the dress for my daughter Geraldine.
