To a wedding in Ireland last week: about as vanilla an affair as you can imagine, surrounded by friends and family. That didn’t start my mind drifting down kinky lines in our bedroom, though. See, we were up in the attic room of the large C19th house in which the reception had taken place. It was beautifully decorated; extremely comfortable; well-furnished save for the fact that the lock on the door didn’t work.
I’m sure that this was historically accurate, though, for this must have been the room in which the family’s maids lived. In those days, they’d have had hard twin beds rather than the king-sized comfort in which we snoozed. And the master of the house would have insisted that the door was unlocked – so that he could check their room if he required (had the pilfered any of the family silver? were there uninvited guests staying?), so that he could punish them when he needed, or so that he could take advantage of the girls as and when he wished.
I rather like the idea of there being two maids, by the way – beaten together or individually, or even (dare I be rude) one having to avert her eyes as their employer had his wicked way with her colleague and friend…
“That didn’t start my mind drifting down kinky lines in our bedroom, though.”
Really? ;))