Pulling her maid, Marie, to her feet from the small yellow settee before the dressing table, she pushed the startled girl toward George. All this time George had been preoccupied with thoughts of his latest acquisition, Odette was painting, powdering, lacing and decorating Marie to look as her. She looked awkward in her Mistress’ ice blue taffeta; the white, highly starched lace trimming the bodice and sleeves made her dingy skin seem all the more sallow, even under generous layers of rice powder. She started toward him, as ordered, arms held out at her sides for balance. The delicate high heeled slippers, much too small for her wide, flat feet, coupled with an over abundant blonde wig and an enormous picture hat dripping with white lace, pearls, and blue silk roses threatened to topple her at any moment. Odette had made quite an impression in that same outfit several weeks prior at their cousin’s garden party.

Odette slid her arm around Marie’s waist. "See, we could be sisters." Pulling her close, Odette kissed the hollow of her maid’s throat. "We could be the most interesting sisters." Marie lowered her eyes, red dots of color darkening her cheeks. "Come see what charms this common creature has been hiding." She pulled open the top few pearl buttons of Marie’s borrowed dress, then slid her hand on to her chest, lightly fingering Marie’s nipple. "Come Georgie, she will please you," She cupped and squeezed. "I know she pleases me." Marie, smile frozen in place, looked pale and dazed, her reluctant flesh swelling, nipple achingly hard beneath her Mistress’ expert manipulation.

Affecting a pleasant, noncommittal countenance so as not to frighten or insult the poor girl, he made a declining gesture. Her misfortune in being in his sister’s employ was not entirely from lack of good sense; any young woman born of the working class would make the same choice if offered. She could perhaps meet and marry a higher class servant, or, if wily enough, obtain a lover from the Gentry. Odette would allow neither; working them unmercifully in the household and the bed chamber when additional entertainment was needed. Like now. Another ploy to entice George into her bed. If (and when) a favorable eye was cast in her maid’s direction, she was quickly dispatched back to where she was obtained from; or, if her temperament warranted, a brothel. Marie’s days were surely numbered if he accepted; a sift and vigorous retribution if he refused. Regardless, the wench had no hope, and her fate, none of his concern.

"How can I resist such an enchanting sight!" Smiling in what he hoped to be a cordial manner he took then by the hand and kissed them both in turn. "But, alas, ladies, I must. Pressing matters call me elsewhere."

"Georgie!" she whined, forehead wrinkling. Shaking his head, he reaffirmed his position, bowed, then started for the door. Odette frowned, bit her lip—it wasn’t her, couldn’t be her. The incomparable Odette was irresistible! Did not her legion of lovers attest to that! Some of the richest and most powerful men in Europe as well as innumerable well endowed peasants, a parade of faceless penis’ to charm, conquer, discard; including members of her own family. She turned on Marie, eyes blazing. "YOU!! It’s YOUR fault!!!"

"No…no, Milady…I did as you asked!" she whined retreating a step, trembling hands pressed to her throat where, moments ago, her Mistress bestowed a passionate kiss.

Odette picked up her riding quirt, brandishing it near Marie’s stricken face. She lightly tapped each cheek with the braided leather end—right, left, right, left—punctuating each word. "You have no more grace than a drunken sow! You stupid creature! Yes, you still reek of the pig farm you came from! Take off my dress! OFF!! I shall have to burn it your stench is so strong! I should send you back to the sty where you belong, wallowing in your own filth, suckling your foul offspring and servicing all the dirty hogs! Down! DOWN!! Down, I say, on all fours, show me what an accommodating sow you are! Grunt! Squeal!!!"

George paused outside the closed door, listening to Odette’s tantrum. Tearing cloth, heavy breathing; a hiss and crack as leather connected with flesh, Marie’s muffled sobs. She dared not cry aloud for fear of further punishment. Odette’s ego knew no bounds in trying to entice him with her mirror’s image; didn’t she realize now that, as remarkable as she is, she did not possess what he required. His wants now resided on the third floor, waiting for what new exotic delicacies for supper.

Colley. That stablehand with the pleasing features and the bursting breeches; he seemed dull enough to do exactly as told, yet smart enough to recognize his position and not succumb to loose talk. A little wine, a hearty meal—with meat, no less—and he will be well primed to meet George’s sister’s demands, and, no doubt, she will have many. In her present excitable state, reinforcements might be required. George will clean him up and send him to Odette’s room. Or, better still, not make the effort to sanitize the lad; coarse, sweat soaked garments, beard stubble scraping tender skin; a little stable filth in the sheets could lend a bestial air to the proceedings that Odette surely could appreciate. More so to give her the feeling of rutting in the dung hill she constantly seemed so determined to throw herself into.

Yes, Colley.

George sighed. The summer months seemed unbearably long when his sister came to visit. Abandoning all constraints of society living in the city—chaperones, all ladies teas and charity functions; dinners, balls, and theater, multitudes in attendance with scores of fascinating men and few opportunities to fully indulge—Odette ran wild at George’s estate with little interference. Their parents, assured of George’s good sense and watchful eye, worried little about their spoiled, willful daughter while under his care. George worried little of their parents’ opinions, nor conventions, only appearances; appearances of propriety, to be exact. His nerves were decidedly frayed in trying insure that his passionate sister stirred up no more trouble than could be handled. Every summer Odette rode many lovers as hard and furious as the dapple gray stallion she dared to tame; and every fall she returned to the city to primly resume her social duties; sedate and sated, reputation as a proper young lady spotlessly intact. Then George could concentrate on his own proclivities.

A good plan, that; Colley had no difficulty understanding exactly what was required of him, and, from the sounds drifting down the corridors from Odette’s quarters, he assumed the task with much enthusiasm. Colley’s own urgent grunts, punctuated with deep, hearty laughter competed with Odette’s equally loud cries inspiring George’s own manhood to give them a standing ovation.

"A little night music, eh?" he chuckled, rubbing himself fondly. "A Farm Yard Duet in the key of R, for randy." Leaning back in his chair, he lit a small rum soaked cigar. His own pleasures can wait; he had made arrangements with Odette’s maid. Fortunate for Marie that Odette quickly lost interest in further tormenting the young girl when presented with a sturdy cocksman. Marie retreated to the kitchen where she found a hot meal but little sympathy from the household staff. No one wished to draw undue attention to themselves by being thought overly friendly with Mistress Odette’s servants; her temper was legendary and wrath greatly feared. Only the Master of the House smiled at her and whispered gently in her ear.