Florence

This story contains: Female Desperation and Accidental Wetting
As Florence Galworth walked across the fields to Strechley Manor to attend Mrs. Millicent Blakley’s ‘at home’ morning, she wondered what was planned for this morning. Millicent Blakley was renowned locally for being slight unconventional, such as having ‘at homes’ in the morning as well as the afternoon, but Florence considered that overall she was lucky to such an entertaining family as neighbors. Mrs. Blakley’s two daughters, both comely blondes, were a renowned attraction for aspiring bachelors in the county, and Florence, who was slim and dark, and also a number of years older than the two sisters, was content to offer a more seriously minded alternative attraction for those who tired of idle chatter.Presenting herself at the Strechley Manor after a thirty minute walk on a morning when there was the first hint of autumn chill in the air, Florence found that a ‘tea morning’ was planned, Mrs. Blakley having just returned from a visit to London, and had acquired a number of rare and exotic blends with which to delight her guests. Florence, who previously had thought of tea as simply a drink that her maid brought as requested, felt herself very provincial as Millicent Blakley plied her with elegant bone china cups of green Chinese tea, smoky flavored Russian brew, various Indian blends, and then the bergamot scented blend that was the height of fashion in London. Florence was finishing her last cup, and admitting to Penelope, the younger of Mrs. Blakley’s daughters, that apart from the green tea, all were an improvement on the drink served by Agnes, her maid, when this idle female chatter was brought to an end by the entrance of Mr. Blakley and Captain Holt. Captain Holt had taken a lease on a property joining the Blakley’s, where he was convalescing after contracting a bout of fever while serving in Africa. He had called to inspect the Blakley’s carriage, recently returned from refurbishment, and of which Mrs. Blakley was inordinately proud, particularly the fine brocade seating. After all had exchanged pleasantries, and remarked on the fineness of the day, Millicent Blakley suggested they take full advantage of summer’s dying breaths, and go for a drive in the carriage. She and her daughters hurried away to revise their dress to suit such an outing, bidding Mr. Blakley to entertain Florence and Captain Holt in their absence. While Florence welcomed the chance of conversation with Captain Holt without either Charlotte or Penelope to divert his attentions, this prevented her from making any preparations of her own for the tour, as it would have been unthinkable of her to admit in front of the two men that she wished to retire and prepare herself for a journey. The beginning of the trip was much as Florence had hoped it would be; they were passing through fields where the last of the harvest was being gathered, and despite the idle chatter from the Blakley sisters, Captain Holt was paying more attention to Florence, asking her opinion as to the welfare of the farm workers in the area. For Florence, this idyll lasted for less than thirty minutes, during which time nature had taken its course and she began to become uncomfortably aware of the volume of tea she had consumed. She tried to put this out of her mind, but in such matters nature is not to be denied, and her discomfort increased considerably over the next ten minutes, such that she began to worry about the probable duration of their trip. Like any well brought–up lady, Florence knew that it was unthinkable for her to make any mention of her need in the present circumstances, when nothing could be done, and the presence of Captain Holt really made it impossible to mention at all. She hoped that when they returned to Strechley Manor she would be offered the chance to tidy herself after the journey in the Blakley’s new bathroom. In the meantime, she would have to bear her discomfort as best she could, something that most ladies of her generation had considerable experience of doing. Etiquette dictated that ladies should only cross their legs at the ankles, a decorous position, but not one that would give any assistance to Florence in her present predicament, but at least she was also required to keep her knees together, an attitude that gave her some comfort. The journey continued for another half hour, until they came to a crossroads, where the coachman asked Mrs. Blakley for directions. To Florence’s dismay, she told him to turn right and take the road through the valley and past the lake, a route that would take them considerably more than an hour to return to Strechley Manor. Florence was already struggling to restrain her need, for nature is remorseless on these occasions, and makes no allowances for polite society. Her hands were resting in her lap, but now she was twisting her fingers together, and an acute observer would have noticed the coincidence between the times when her hands were most tightly clasped and when she shifted her position on the seat. These actions were becoming more frequent as the journey continued, and the demands of nature became more imperative. The road was in poor condition here, which slowed the carriage and caused it to lurch and jolt over the pot–holes, both of which were increasing Florence’s misery, and she briefly contemplated the dreadful scenario where she might no longer be able to control her need, and would disgrace herself in the coach. The day had started warm enough for Florence to wear her summer clothes, a simple pale blue dress, with few underskirts, which would reveal any indiscretion the instant she stood up. The thought of this was enough to stiffen her resolve that no matter how long the journey, and how rough the ride, she would have to call upon hidden reserves of strength to control her bodily needs until she was back in Strechley Manor. So intensely did Florence need to ease herself, she could hardly maintain her still and decorous pose, wanting to both cross her legs in an un–ladylike manner and to constantly seek some position that afforded her the most comfort. Her hands were now clenched tightly together, and she was trying to discretely hold them against her stomach, where a throbbing ache was adding to her misery. So much concentration was needed for her to maintain her decency that she could no longer contribute much to the conversation. At times her stress was so great that she had to clench her teeth to prevent herself groaning aloud with the strain of controlling her body, and as these periods became longer, so she dreaded having to answer one of the others when she was in this state. She just noticed that Captain Holt had also fallen quiet, only occasionally interrupting the Blakley girls’ idle chatter. The remainder of the journey seemed endless, but eventually the carriage turned into the drive of Strechley Manor and Florence knew that while her ordeal was almost over, she would still have to wait until her hostess offered her the chance of the easement she so greatly desired. As she dismounted from the carriage, she realized that this was going to be a bigger hurdle than she had imagined. What she had been able to control sitting with her legs pressed together was almost unbearable standing, and even worse stepping down from the carriage or climbing the steps of Strechley Manor. She gasped involuntarily, and stumbled to a halt with her legs pressed together, her need suddenly so great that she felt sure she was about to disgrace herself. She had one hand in the pocket of her dress, holding her throbbing stomach, and, in panic, she pressed this between her legs in a desperate attempt to control herself. Thankfully the pocket was deep enough, and the dress loose enough, that she was able to manage this without her action being obvious to the rest to the party. She was not the first lady who had had to resort to such drastic measures to restrain nature, and the pockets of her dress had been made to allow this. Mrs. Blakley caught her arm. “Are you all right, my dear? Do you feel faint, perhaps you should rest a moment in the garden before entering?” The though of any delay horrified Florence, so with one final effort of will–power, she forced her body to resist what it most wanted to do, and continued into the house, trying to walk as naturally as possible. “I am just a little chilled and stiff from sitting so long in the carriage,” she replied, trying to keep the strain out of her voice. “Walking will soon put me right.” She had hoped that Captain Holt would offer his arm to support her, but he had remained in the carriage, saying he wished to inspect one of the horses with the groom. Now she could no longer sit with legs together, her need had become almost unbearable, and only by keeping one hand in her pocket and pressed hard into her most intimate place between her legs was she able to avoid disgracing herself as she walked. Helped by the older Blakley girl, who seemed unaware of the reason for Florence’s distress, she was just able to climb the front steps into the hall. To her horror, instead of suggesting she retired upstairs to ‘tidy herself’ after the journey, Mrs. Blakely was suggesting that she should rest in the sitting room while the maid brought tea to refresh her. What further misery she would have to suffer there she could not imagine; her body was at the limit of it’s endurance, and even sitting she would not long be able to prevent some dreadful indiscretion occurring. She was in such despair that she tried to find the courage to break all social conventions and openly admit her urgent need to ease herself, but this was prevented by Mrs. Blakley and her daughters leaving her alone while they divested themselves of their outdoor clothing. Virtually at the end of her endurance, Florence made one last, despairing, effort to control her needs, disregarding all good manners by sitting with her legs tightly crossed and both hands deep in her skirt pockets, pressing between her legs, hoping that this would allow her to regain enough control over her body to be able to sit more normally when the Blakleys returned. Concentrating every ounce of her being on remaining decent, she did not notice Mildred, Mrs. Blakley’s lady companion, enter the room. After many years in service she recognized Florence’s position as that of a lady in most urgent need of some privacy, and coughing discretely to announce her presence, suggested that Florence might wish to tidy her hair and wash her hands after her journey. Startled by Mildred’s appearance, Florence had jumped up in surprise and horror at being caught in such an embarrassing position, guiltily snatching her hands from her pockets, then having to double over with one hand jammed back in her pocket as the sudden movement was too much for her and she began to lose control. Horrified at the indiscretion that had occurred, she was hardly able to speak clearly enough the tell Mildred how welcome her offer would be, clenching her teeth in a most un–ladylike manner as she tried to stand up and behave normally. Mildred had not waited for an answer, as it was patently clear that Florence was in a most distraught condition, and she was only concerned in getting her to the bathroom before she disgraced herself and soiled the carpet, an event that seemed likely to happen at any moment. Not for the first time she marveled that the Blakley ladies seemed to be immune to the needs of nature, and thus insensitive to the needs of their lady visitors. Florence felt that she could not possibly manage to climb any more stairs, which put an almost unbearable strain on her body. Only by walking partly sideways, leaning heavily on Mildred, and pressing one hand into her pocket and between her legs with all her strength, was she able to reach the first landing, where she paused to regain her composure. The next stairs were steeper, putting even more strain on her agonized body, and then the upper hallway seemed endless. As Mildred opened the bathroom door for her, so the urgency of her need increased as she anticipated to relief she had so long been denied, and despite the pressure from her fingers there was a wetness between her legs as she began to lose control of herself. In panic she tried to run across the bathroom, starting to raise her skirts as she went, frantic to reach the WC before she soaked her dress. Mildred quickly closed the door, waiting silently outside, embarrassed that she had seen a young lady so openly revealing her need for relief. For Florence nothing mattered except reaching her destination before she further disgraced herself, collapsing on the WC and finally able to relax and allow her body to follow it’s natural desires, something that seemed to take forever, so long had she been restraining herself. Even when her relief was completed, the pain in her stomach had scarcely abated, but with her ordeal at last over she was able to begin to regain her composure. Her indiscretions as she had staggered across the bathroom had left splashes on the floor and round the WC, and the upper parts of her stockings and her underskirts were wet, though nothing showed on her dress. Noisily washing her hands, splashing water on the floor to disguise her indiscretions, she dried herself as best she could, twisting and turning in front of the mirror to see if there were any wet marks on the back of her dress. Only as she left the bathroom did she realize just how dreadfully she had behaved, so openly revealing her personal needs to Mildred, and she flushed with embarrassment when she found her waiting outside. Neither lady made any further reference to her behavior, because neither could think of any polite excuse for why Florence had behaved in such a manner, and to even hint at the real cause, which they were both aware of, would have been unthinkable. The return of the Blakley women saved them further embarrassment, and all were concerned as to her condition, though none seemed to have realized the true cause of her behavior. Mrs. Blakley, enthusiastic about the curative properties of tea, plied Florence with several more cups of the brew, which good manners demanded she drink. The arrival of a footman with apologies from Captain Holt, who’s clothing had been soiled by one of the horses, gave Florence the excuse to leave that she had been seeking, for she was already feeling a considerable need to ease herself again, and she longed for the comfort and privacy of her own home. Fearful of the long, uncomfortable walk home she had been anticipating, she gratefully accepted the offer of the Blakley’s carriage to take her home.
To be continued in: “Saved by His Horse”
Neil and Rosemary