Mystery Weekend

Mystery Weekend

I put down my copy of 'Murder in the Library' and gave a sigh.  It hadn't been the butler.  I was sure it would have been, but it turned out that Sir Graham Forbes was really The Honorable Cynthia Smythe in disguise and she was really the love child of Edith Blogg the cook.  Well who would have guessed it?  Well the dashing Roderick Storm of course.  He solved all the murders.  Although he really hated doing it as the murderer would be hanged and plead for mercy and Roderick was a gentle soul beneath.  Gentle but with a will of iron.  The murderer was always carted off in cuffs.

I got ready to go into the library where I was assistant librarian.  Not for the first time I wished I lived back in the old days, when murders were only committed in detective stories and films were all in black and white.  Nice romantic comedies in black and white set in old country houses.  I particularly liked it when the leading man, Cary Grant perhaps, came over to the dark plain librarian, took off her glasses, untied her hair and said, "Why Miss ApThomas, you're beautiful."

Not that the heroine would have been called Miss ApThomas, the rather strange Welsh surname with which I was blessed.

During tea break I spread the papers out as usual to look for somewhere nice for my holidays.  Holidays on my own as usual of course.  Well I had no boyfriend, no real friends either as well, acquaintances of course but no real friends.  Somehow I never seemed to make friends.  Too shy, too withdrawn, I don't know.  So I had to look for holidays suitable for singles.  Holidays where I wouldn't be out of place.

Beach holidays in Greece or Ibiza would be no good.  For a start they were boring, and secondly I didn't like beaches.  It would have to be some sort of activity holiday.

It was no good.  There was nothing.  Then Rupert came into my life.  He was a regular at the library.  Late thirties, early forties maybe, dark hair, handsome face – am I describing Cary Grant?  Perhaps I am - well that’s the way I thought of him.

“Hello Megan,” he said, he knew I was called Megan because we wore little name badges, “Going somewhere nice on holiday.”

I sighed, “I can’t find the holiday I want,” I said, “you know what I would like – I nice country house weekend.”

Rupert’s eyes opened wide and a smile appeared on his face as if a sudden thought had just occurred to him, “Why didn’t you say so before, Megan, a friend of mine runs just that sort of thing.  It’s a Country House Mystery weekend at his house called The Manor out in The Black Mountains.  It’s a speciality holiday business.  Look – I’m going there next weekend, why don’t you come?”

It sounded just the thing.  I let Rupert arrange everything.  He even wanted to pay for me, but I said no, I would pay my own way.

Ty Bach Manor was a rather desolate place tucked away in the middle of the Mynydd Du range and accessible only by a long drive over a rutted track.  The site of the Country House Mystery Weekend, it was built in the Victorian Gothic style.  I had expected on entering the building to be greeted by some sort of ancient retainer.  However all there was was a table set out with some envelopes.  A couple in their mid-thirties were staring at them.

"Hello," I said, "I'm Megan; you must be here for the mystery weekend as well."

The girl looked up.  She had a wide slightly supercilious smile and piercing blue eyes, "Hi. I'm Henrietta," she said, "and this is Monty.  Say hello Monty."

Monty looked up.  He had dressed in nineteen thirties style, in Oxford bags and a striped blazer.  He sported a nineteen thirties style moustache.  He had obviously decided to come in character.  I doubted that his real name was Monty.

"Well hello," he said and his voice oozed from his mouth like syrup as he drawled in his old fashioned "posh" as my mother used to call that now fast disappearing home counties accent, "you have to take your envelope."

I looked down at a small Victorian mahogany table.  On it were laid out half a dozen or so foolscap envelopes with names written on them in old-fashioned ink using a copperplate hand.  The period atmosphere was being maintained.

One of them was marked "Miss Megan ApThomas" I picked it up, slit it open with the letter opener provided and read the contents.  It said simply "The Victorian Room".

"We're in the Japanese Room," pronounced Henrietta, "I suppose we had better see if we can find it."

They set off across the hallway and up the stairs.  I followed.  It was a large gothic mansion, wood panelled and rather dimly lit.  The carpeting was thick, red and faded and the walls were decorated with paintings of the British classical school - Sir Lawrence Alma Tadema depicting roman ladies disporting themselves with next to nothing on.  At the top of the stairs was a long corridor at the end of which I found the Victorian room.  It was open.  There was no key.  I went in expecting perhaps another envelope with more instructions, but nothing but a small invitation card reading "Dinner at eight.  The dining room."

I looked at my watch.  It was seven.  Time to unpack and bathe before dinner.

The room was large and indeed Victorian, furnished with a heavy oak Welsh dresser, a dressing table and a half tester.  On the small table beside the bed there was an old Bakelite valve wireless.  As I walked towards it the voice of Al Bowlly crooned out singing 'Love is the Sweetest Thing'.  I just love those old big band songs.

The bathroom was ensuite.  As the house had obviously been built before such luxuries as bathrooms had been invented it had clearly been converted from the adjoining bedroom.  It was large, panelled in wood and floored with old fashioned linoleum on which were scattered several rugs.  In the middle was an enormous free standing roll top cast iron bath with clawed feet.  There was no shower.  A large full length mirror occupied the wall opposite the door.

I smiled to myself.  The period atmosphere was impressive and I was going to enjoy lounging in that huge bath.

I did.  Gallons of steaming water poured out of the huge brass taps.  I stood in the bath soaping myself down and admiring my naked body in the wall mirror.  I liked admiring my body.  I am petite, slim and dark with pert little breasts and an even perter behind.  Megan Fach, my ma used to call me, Little Megan, but in my very private fantasies I liked to think of myself as sexy little Megan.

I stood in the bath lathering myself with the old fashioned Pears soap provided and singing along to Al when suddenly the music was interrupted.

“Megan,” a voice suddenly materialized out of nowhere.  A rich, manly voice.  Not Rupert – deeper, richer, more authoritative.  At least I thought it was out of nowhere until I decided it must be coming through the old wireless and there was an extension speaker in the bathroom.

“Megan!”  The voice repeated.

“Er… Yes,” I mumbled.  Was there a microphone?  Was the voice expecting me to speak?

“Good.  Welcome to Country House Holidays Megan.  Here are your instructions for the first night.”

“Instructions?” it seemed a bit weird.

“This is to be a nineteen thirties weekend Megan, and you must act like a guest at a nineteen thirties country house weekend.  Can you do that Megan?”

“Er yes!”

Now I understood.  I was thrilled.  This was going to be a really exciting weekend with everybody playing a part.

“Good Megan!  Now put down your sponge, get out the bath, get dressed and run along down to the dining room.  The other guests are already assembling for dinner.”

It was only as I left the room and was on my way down to the dining room that the thought struck me.

However had the owner of the voice known that I was in the bath?

The other guests were already there by the time I arrived in the dining room.  As well as the somewhat overpowering Henrietta and the egregious Monty, whom I had met already, there were two girls.  One slightly older was tall and imposing; her hair was black and cut short in a page boy style.  She spoke in a clipped authoritative voice.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, "you must be Megan the librarian.  I am Irene, and this is my friend Angharad."

She turned to the buxom blonde girl with her, dressed like a nineteen thirties vamp.  They seemed to have all been given their parts as well.

"Pleased to meet you," said Angharad, her voice deep and rather sexy.  Oh gosh.  Had I found a girl's voice sexy!

Then I saw Rupert, looking more than ever the sort who would have taken my glasses off and said, 'Oh my Miss ApThomas, you're beautiful,' coming over.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," he said in his accent which I would describe as Oxbridge English, "Irene, Angharad - I should have introduced you – this is Megan."

"And can I introduce Professor Plomb," I looked at the small round florid faced, plethoric gentleman with excessive embonpoint and even more excessive hair.  Sadly his hair, although excessively long, came from the sides and back of his head as he was totally bald on top.  He must have made that name up.  Surely.

The professor eyed me up and down and licked his thick lascivious lips.

"Noswaith da Megan fach," he said in a rather squeaky voice.

Oh no!  He was going to speak Welsh at me!

"Iechyd da," I responded reaching the limit of my knowledge of the crack-jawed language, but was rescued by the unctious Monty.

"No yakki-da's round here," he said, we don't want you two conspiring together!"

As if!  The thought of conspiring with the lecherous looking toad filled me with horror.

So the seven of us sat down to dinner.  Where it had come from I've no idea, but there it was set out on the table for us to help ourselves.

It was then that we got our orders.

There was a loud crackle from the radiogram in the corner and suddenly there was an announcement, 'This is the BBC Light Programme welcome to Country House Mystery Weekends.   Soon you will learn what part you are to play in the weekend.  For one or more of you it may turn out to be not quite what you expected?  Well you will find yourselves embroiled in a strange and fascinating mystery where all may not be what it seems."

"Oh," said Angharad, "Weird," she looked rather nervous.

I went back to my room after the meal and pondered, waiting all the time for the voice over the wireless, but nothing came.  Then there was a knock on the door.  I opened it and standing outside in her nightie was Angharad.

"Can we talk?" she asked conspiratorially in a strong sing-song Cardiff accent.

"Of course," I replied not knowing if this was spontaneous, or whether she was following the instructions of The Voice.

She came in and sat down on the bed.  Even under the bedroom light her thin white cotton nightie was disconcertingly see through and I could see the dark outline of her nipples through the translucent material.  I tried not to look.

"You not findin' this place, well, a bit bloody scary?" she said.

"No - it's just a bit of fun."

"I mean this place.  It's givin' me the bleedin' ‘eeby jeebies.  And the people. They're a bit weird as well.  I'm tellin' you there’s somethin’ funny occurin’ ‘ere.  I'm scared to go to bed."

"Well haven't you got Irene with you."

"I sometimes think she's the weirdest of the lot," she leant over towards me, the low cut front of her nightie gaping to give a glimpse of her nut brown nipples, "You know what?  I'd rather be stayin' with you.  To tell the truth," she said, "I'm scared.  I've this terrible feelin' something really awful is goin' to 'appen."

"Get along with you now," I said, determined not to be spooked. 

Angharad shrugged her shoulders, "'Ave it your way," she said, but if I was you I'd be ‘idin' under the blankets in this room," and marching towards the door she left.

It had all been a bit spooky.  Pondering over what Angharad had said, I started to get ready for bed, folding up my skirt and hanging up my blouse in the same methodical way I had for years.  Picking up my wash bag, and dressed only in my undies I crossed the room and walked through into the bathroom.

As I switched on the light I stopped dead in my tracks.  The bath was full of steaming hot water and lying in it quite naked and quite lifeless was Angharad.

I screamed.  I'm not quite sure why I did.  It was I suppose a mystery weekend and maybe a 'dead' body was part of the mystery.  But I had been unnerved by Angharad's visit and it had been such a shock.  One minute she had been going out the door and no more than two minutes later she was lying lifeless in the bath.  And naked.  Somehow I hadn't expected to find a naked body.  The words of Angharad's premonition came back to me.  Something awful had happened.

I rushed back out into the bedroom and out into the corridor still screaming.  Doors opened, people came pouring out, and there standing in front of me dressed in her nightie just as she had been when she left a few minutes earlier was Angharad. 

"’Ere?  What's occurrin' 'ere?" asked Angharad looking petrified.

"You're dead.  And you're naked," I exclaimed.

"No I'm bloody well not," she answered, "and you're the one standin' there in the almost bleedin'  altogether?”

 

“You’re dead.  In the bath!” I screamed.

“What’s the matter?” asked Rupert.

“It’s this lady,” answered the Professor, “I think she’s had a nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare.  It’s true I’m telling you.  Angharad is dead in the bath.”

They followed me back into the room of course and into the bathroom.

It was empty.  No bathwater.  No Angharad.

“Stupid woman,” snapped Irene, “frightening the wits out of poor Angharad.”

“But she was there.  I’m telling you,” I cried.

“Hysteric,” pronounced the Professor as if that settled it.

They filed out and I heard a voice mutter, “Overactive imagination.  Probably not too stable.  No wonder she’s got no friends.”

I stayed in my room shaking with fright and the overt animosity of the other guests, when the sound of Al Bowlly came over the speaker again, “Love is the sweetest thing…” and then the voice. 

“Relax Megan, relax.  Fill the bath with lovely steaming water.  Pour in the scented oils.  Lie and relax.”

The voice was soft and as scented as smooth as the oils themselves.  And I knew it was right.  I needed to shake off the fright.  I needed to relax.

I was still trying to understand the strange appearance and disappearance of Angharad as I filled the bath again with steaming water and stepped in.

I lay in the hot water and the voice came over the speaker again, soft, deep, persuasive.

"Relax, Megan, relax.  That's right.  Close your eyes and dream.  Dream of what might be when the man of your dreams appears."

And I closed my eyes and let my mind fill with the fantasy of my perfect man.  Then the voice came again.  I was filled with a perfect calm.

"Relax Megan.  Feel the tension flow out of your muscles.  You can feel it can't you Megan.  Open your mind.  Let the calm flood in.  Feel every muscle relax.  Feel your mind relax."

And I opened my mind and a great feeling of calm came over me.

“Come Megan.  Put on your robe, close your eyes and come into your room.”

The voice was right again.  I stepped out the bath and warm and relaxed I donned the silken robe and stepped through the door.  Eyes tight closed.

"Megan.  Come to me."

And I heard the voice of Al Bowlly as it came through the speaker:

“Love is the sweetest thing,

What else on earth could ever bring,

Such happiness to ev'rything,

As Love's old story.”

“Come Megan, did you ever wonder what it would be like, to step naked from the bath, to be greeted by the warmth of the love of a stranger.  To give yourself to that love.  To put yourself into the power of that love?”

And as he said those words I knew that I had.  I knew that I had with an intensity and certainty that I had never known before.

“Yes, oh yes,” I said.

“And are your going to lay yourself open to that love, Megan, to bare all for that love, to do its every bidding.”

“Oh yes,” I said, with my eyes still closed, bathed in the luxury of that voice. 

“Oh Megan,” said the voice, “you’re beautiful.  And it is right that you will bare everything for me.”

"Yes, I will."

And I felt the silken robe slip from my shoulders, run sensuously over my bare flesh to lie pooled at my feet.

And it was right to be naked.

"Bared to perfection," said the voice.

And he was right.  To bare all was perfect.  To be naked was what I desired most.  Only total nakedness would bring the solace I so yearned for.

And the voice said, “Megan, you are naked  and you are mine now, are you not?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Completely.”

“Completely.”

“Megan, you have given your naked body to me and it is now mine to command.  Is it not?”

“Oh yes, yes!”

"And you will play your role this weekend as I instruct."

"Yes!"

"Sleep now Megan," said the voice, "and with that sleep empty your mind of all that has happened and wake calm, contented and submissive.  For it is your role to do at all times as instructed.  For only with total obedience comes calm and peace.  What does obedience bring?"

"Calm and peace."

"Remember that Megan.  Remember that at all times.  Now keep still, keep quiet Megan and do as I say."

And he gave me my instructions

I trembled as following the instructions I felt my hand move lightly down across my abdomen and my two fingers land lightly against my vaginal lips.

I gasped and my heart beat ten to the dozen as the fingers separated my labia and explored the private area between.  I wanted to say something, to do something, but I had been ordered to keep quiet and stay still.  And those instructions held me fixed to the spot: I had no will to disobey them.

I placed my finger upon my pleasure spot and a great wave of erotic pleasure swept through me.

"That is for your pleasure Megan."

"Yes."

"You are not permitted to pleasure unless specifically ordered."

"Yes."

"That pleasure spot holds the memory of all that happens here Megan.  You will not remember what happens until you feel it.  And you are not permitted to do that until told to.  When you do so you will wake up and remember everything.  Do you understand, Megan?"

"Yes.  I understand."

And with that the voice faded.  The sound of old song increased until it flooded the room, but I remained transfixed with my eyes closed for a long time afterwards.

I woke the following morning with a feeling of perfect calm.  Something had been troubling me the previous night, but I couldn't remember what it was.  Something to do with Angharad.  She had come to see me and...  It was no good; I couldn't remember anything after that.

Then there was a knock on the door again.  I opened it.  Angharad was standing there.

She looked round furtively, "Can I come in?" she said.

"Of course," Angharad crept into the room like a furtive rabbit.

"What is it?"

"We need to be keep our eyes open" She said, "We need to stick together."

"What?."

"Them.  The others.  They're funny.  They're always whispering.”

I stared at her.  What was this about?  Was this play acting for the mystery?  But there was a real look of anxiety on her face.  I could feel my heart thumping.  The old feelings of fear and anxiety swept through me.

"Don't you feel it?" She said.

"Feel what?"

"There's something evil about this place.  I'm scared."

Then suddenly the music started again, ‘Love is the sweetest thing...’ And the voice suddenly came through.

"Hello Angharad, shouldn't you be at breakfast?" It said.

I stared at the radio.  “The radio.  It’s speaking to you Angharad,” I said.  She looked wildly about her, backed out of the room and ran off down the corridor.

I stared after her, a sudden knot forming in my stomach as I felt the anxiety building inside me.  My heart was beating ten to the dozen and my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth.

 

Then the voice continued, "Relax Megan, relax, feel the music relax you.  Do just as I say."

And I suddenly felt waves of calm pass over me.  I would do anything to achieve that calm.  It was so wonderful to bask in the calm of this voice.  To put myself entirely in its hands.  To not have to worry about Angharad.

"Are you relaxed Megan?  Do you hear the music?"

"Yes."

"Will you do just as I say?"

Of course I would, "Yes."

"You had better go to breakfast then.  Does that make you feel anxious Megan.  Meeting those people."

"Yes."

And I started towards the door.

"Wait, Does the music not relax you."

"Yes"

"When you hear that music do you not feel how perfect it would be to throw off all restrictions, to strip yourself bare of the heavy weight of such anxiety."

And as he spoke it seemed to me as if he was right, as if my clothes weighed like a heavy suit of armour on me, constricting me, pressing down on my mind.

"When you are tense Megan.  When the music starts and your clothes constrict you.  Relax.  Strip yourself bare.  Let all see you for what you are."

And he was right.  Of course.

"Go now Megan and serve my guests.  Remember it is your role to serve.  To be obedient.  It is so stressful not to serve.  So calming to obey.  They are waiting.”

Breakfast was in the dining room and I was the last guest to arrive.  The guests were seated at the table.

"Come on woman!" Said the professor licking his fat lips, “We’re waiting for our breakfast.”

“Waiting?”

“Yes woman,” said the Professor, “you’re supposed to serve us breakfast.”

“Me?  Why me?”

“You’re the servant round here.”

I looked wildly at their faces.  The tension growing within me.  Is this what Angharad had warned me about?

“Oh yes, Megan,” said the voice and I heard the music start again, and I realized.  I was there to serve.  It was so calming to obey.  I was there to do their bidding.  The music played and the more it played the more my clothes weighed me down.  I had to cast them off.  I knew what I had to do to achieve that perfect calm.  I had to throw off my restrictions, to strip myself bare.

I tool off my shoes, and immediately I felt more relaxed.  I had to contonue.  I took off blouse, and my skirt.

"That's right Megan," came the voice, "throw off that anxiety.  Only when completely bared will you feel complete calm.

I unhooked my bra and cast it aside.  The effect was wonderful.  The sense of well being I felt as the cool breeze passed over my bare nipples was exhilarating.

All that was left now was to remove my panties.  I pulled them down, and as they slipped down over my thighs and past my knees and round my ankles.  Only one more thing was required for complete ecstasy.  I stepped out of them and threw them aside, and standing naked as the day I was born I stood arms stretched out to either side and basked in the feeling of delight and wonder that my nakedness brought me.

I now knew I was ready to serve.

"What are your orders Professor?"

“That’s better,” said the Professor, “obedience is best Megan.  When you are naked you must obey.  See how very easy it is when you do exactly as you are told.”

“Yes Professor.”

“You may call me ‘Sir’ Megan.”

“Yes Sir, certainly Sir.”

“Now serve us breakfast Megan.”

“Yes Sir.”

It was a pleasure to serve them.  It was so right. So comforting, and so liberating to be so completely naked as I did so.

“Well done Megan,” said the Professor, “now go back to your room and rest.  You’ve a busy day ahead of you.  You want to rest and free your mind of all this.”

“Yes Sir,” and I returned to my room and lay down on my bed and closed my mind to drift into peaceful sleep.

‘Ring ring…” the sharp tone of my little alarm clock woke me from my slumbers.  I looked at it in amazement.  Ten o’clock!  What was I doing sleeping till that time!

I grabbed my clothes and rushed down to breakfast.

“Well hello Slugabed,” said Monty, “you’d better grab a bite before it’s all gone.  I don’t know where that serving girl has disappeared to.”

I poured myself some juice and grabbed some toast.  What serving girl.  I didn't know we had a serving girl.

“Well, what are we going to do today?” he asked in his unctuous voice.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I didn’t know we had anything on.”

“Well you certainly won’t,” replied Monty, “come out into the garden.  It’s a lovely day.  We’re having champagne on the lawn.”

“I followed them out and sat in a deckchair.”

“Angharad is bringing the drinks,” said Monty, "she's the new serving girl," and as he said so Angharad appeared carrying a silver tray with champagne glasses.

I stared at her open mouthed.  She was quite naked.  I looked round at everyone else.  No-one was reacting.  I looked back at Angharad.  She was really quite beautiful when naked.  Her full breasts jutted out like big cuddly bumpers;they were more than full, they were positively enormous.  I watched her from behind as she bent over to give the Professor a drink.  Her bottom was quite big as well, chubby, pink and quite alluring.  She came over to me.

"Champagne Miss?" She enquired.

"Call me Megan," I said, my voice croaking a bit as I spoke.

"Oh no Miss, that would never do Miss."

"What on earth are you doing naked, Angharad?  Are you all right?" I asked.

"Naked?" Angharad replied, almost as if in a trance.

"Oh Angharad likes to be naked.  It makes you feel good, doesn't it Angharad?" said Monty.

"Yes Sir," Angharad replied.

And I watched her as she walked back into the house, her bare hips swaying from side to side as she walked in a way I found incredibly sexy.                      

As she went in through the door I turned to the person who had just sat down next to me.  It was Angharad.  And she was dressed normally.     

                                                                                                                                                                                         "Hi Megan," she said, " lovely day isn't it?"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

I rushed back to my room, my heart pounding.  Why had Angharad been naked?  How had she suddenly appeared next to me?  What was going on?  I felt feelings of panic and disorientation welling up inside me.

Suddenly the voice came on the radio again.

"Relax, Megan, relax.  There is nothing to worry about."

The song started up again, "Love is the sweetest thing..."

And it felt so very very sleepy.

"You know what you need to do to relax, Megan."

"Yes."

"What is that, Megan."

"I need to throw off my inhibitions."

"That's right Megan."

I kicked off my shoes, and suddenly I felt so much better.

"That was good Megan.  Don't you find getting stripped eases the tension Megan.  That's what you need to ease the tension Megan.  It's really sexy to take off your clothes one by one to the music with people watching.  You want to be sexy, don't you Megan?  You want people to admire your naked body more than anything.""

That was it.  That was what I needed.  Stripped ease.  Striptease.  And it was so relaxing.  And it felt so sexy as I gyrated my hips to the music and unbuttoned mu blouse.

"You enjoy this, don't you Megan.  You really enjoy it.  It's what you really want to do when you hear the music."

Dancing rhytmically to the music I took off my skirt.  It was so sexy.  Waves of pleasure and contentment passed over me.  I just had to continue.

"That's right Megan.  When you are anxious.  When you hear the music. Throw off those inhibitions.  Strip yourself bare.  You'll feel so good.  So very very good."

And it was.

"Have you finished, Megan?  Have you stripped yourself bare Megan?"

"Yes."

"Completely bare Megan."

"Yes."

"And does it feel good?"

"Yes."

"And do you know what must you do when you are completely bare Megan?"

And I knew exactly what I had to do.

"I must do as I am told."

"You must obey Megan.  You are bare and you must obey.  It will feel so sexy to obey Megan.  It will feel so very very sexy."

Now relax Megan and when you wake your mind will be empty of these things.  Won't it Megan.

"Yes..."

I woke up suddenly.  I was lying on the bed with nothing on.  I must have lain down for a rest and fallen asleep.  I felt vaguely uneasy about something that had happened earlier, something to do with Angharad, but I couldn't remember what it was.

Then I seemed to recall a strange dream, a strange but very erotic dream.  But as was so often the case with dreams the memory of it would not come back to me.

I dressed and went downstairs.  Lunch was being served on the lawn.  A trestle table was set out.  Nearby a small stage or podium had been set up.

I sat down beside Monty.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"Oh, that's for the show," he said.

"What show?"

"You'll see.  Yes you'll find out soon enough.  Here's Angharad with the lunch."

I looked round.  Angharad was bringing plates of sandwiches.  I gasped for she had on not one single stitch of clothing.  I had a sudden sense of deja vu.  Hadn't Angharad served us before naked.  I had a strange idea that that had been a dream.  Or was that reality and this a dream.

"Would you like some cucumber sandwiches Miss," said Angharad.

"Angharad!" I said, "you've got nothing on!"

"Yes Miss," she repied, "I'm honoured to serve you with nothing on.  It's so great an honour," she spoke monotonously as if in a trance.

"Monty," I said, "do somehting."

"Oh, let her be," he said, " she likes to do this.  You like it don't you Angharad."

"Oh yes.  It is an honour for me."

She bent over me to put the sandwiches on my plate.  Her large bare bosoms hung down.  From that distance I could see that her nipples looked red and sore.  I looked at her face.  Her eyes seemed watery as if she had been recently crying.

What was going on!  It was all so strange.  Those old feelings of anxiety seemed to well up at me.  I looked in panic round the table.  Faces stared back: Monty, Henrietta, The Professor, Irene, Angharad.

Angharad!  She was seated at the table eating.  Fully clothed.  I looked round panic stricken.  Was I hallucinating?  Where was the naked figure who had just been serving us.

I opened my mouth but no words came out.  Waves of panic swept over me.  Then the music started: "Love is the sweetest thing..." And immediately I felt a great sense of calm.  It settled on me overwhelming me with peace.  Of course!  Now I knew what to do.  I was too inhibited.  I must throw off my inhibitions.  I must strip naked.

I went and stood on the little stage and my hips started to sway to the music as I unbuttoned my blouse.  It was so good to throw off my clothes with people watching.  It was so sexy.  So very very sexy.

Hands started to clap rhythmically in time to the gyration of my hips.  Slowly I let my skirt slip down my legs to the floor and I stood there in my lacy bra and pants beating out the rhythm of the music with my hips.

It felt so good, but how much better to be naked.  I unhooked my bra and shook my breasts free.  A cheer went up from the audience.  It was so sexy standing there shaking my breasts in time to the music.  I hooked my thumbs in my panties and slowly wriggled them down, over my thighs, past my knees, until they were round my ankles.  I stepped out of them.  I had done it.  I was completely bare before and audience and it was wonderful. 

Then the girl called Angharad was standing in front of me.  She had two tassles in her hands.  She clipped one onto my right nipple and one onto my left nipple.  They felt tight on my sensitive virgin nipples but the sensation was rather sexy at the same time.  Then she took out a tassled girdle and tied it round my waist.

"Well you can't dance completely naked can you," she said.

But I could dance with my tassles.  And how I did!  They swung round and round and jiggled up and down.  It was so exhilarating, so sexy, so wonderful.  I was desperate for release, release of the pent up desire within me, but I wasn't allowed to, I wasn't allowed to until...

Suddenly the music stopped.  The sound of a old gramophone needle going round and round on a 78 record could be heard.

And then the voice, "What are you waiting for Megan."

I couldn't wait.  My hand went down between my legs and my fingers sought out the release I craved.

 The spell was broken.  I looked wildly round.  I was standing next to naked on a podium in front of everybody, and they were laughing.  Whatever had I been thinking of standing up there and doing a striptease for them.  No wonder they were laughing at the embarrassed little naked figure trying to cover herslef with her hands.

I made a grab for my knickers, stepped into them and pulled them up,  then I grabbed my bra and yanked the tassles off.

Ow!  They'd been held in place by gripping onto my nipples.  Pulling them off brought tears to my eyes.

I grabbed the rest of my clothes, and with the laughter ringing in my ears I scuttled back to my room.

I lay down on the bed and wept.

"Oh Megan," the voice came, and immediately I felt better, "relax Megan, relax."

"Yes."

"Arr you completely relaxed."

"Yes."

"Did you enjoy that Megan?"

"I don't know."

"Were you embarrassed Megan?"

"Yes."

"You were, weren't you Megan.  You were really really embarrassed.  You stripped naked in front of all those people and it was so embarrassing"

"Yes."

"You know Megan.  You should forget all about it."

"Yes I'll forget all about it."

"Except you'll remember the feeling of embarrassment won't you Megan."

"Yes."

"You'll never forget that will you Megan?  When you meet the others you'll remember feeling really really embarrassed, but you won't know why.  Will you Megan."

"I won't know why."

"Your face will go bright red and you'll cringe with that feeling of embarrassment you remember, but you won't know why."

"Yes."

"Now relax Megan.  Go to sleep.  And when you wake you'll have forgotten all about it."

I woke in time for dinner.  I seemed to have had a strange dream.  It must have been a strange one because my face went bright red whenever I thought about it.  But whatever it was, just like so many dreams it hovered just out of reach of my memory.

I went down to dinner.  As I walked through the door five faces turned to look at me.  For some reason as soon as I saw them waves of dreadful embarrassment swept over me.  I felt completely naked.  The blood rushed to my face and my body started to shake with embarrassment.  The others started to giggle, then to laugh and then to lose control in fits of laughter.

I had no idea why they were laughing at me, but I turned and ran back to my room.  For some reason my nipples were red and sore.

I lay on my bed and sobbed.  Why did I feel so embarrassed when people looked at me?  Why did I feel as if I had no clothes on?

There was a knock on the door and Angharad came in.  She looked strange. Almost like she was in a trance.

"Is everything all right lady librarian?" She asked.

I nodded dumbly.

"Well I think you need a little attention."

And. Suddenly the music started again and the relaxation flooded over me.

And to my amazement she started unbuttoning my blouse.

"That's nice, isn't it?" she said, "we don't want these dreadful things on."

"I don't," I replied.

And I didn't,of course not.  I could only be relaxed without them.  How could I have forgotten that!

Angharad continued undressing me until I was standing in bra and pants.

"Wouldn't it be lovely to take off your bra," she said.

I did, and it was lovely.

"What lovely little nipples," she said, "why don't you play with them?"

And I toyed with my nipples until they stood out firm and hard.

"That was nice.  You enjoyed that didn't you?"

I nodded.

"Now your panties.  Pull them down."

I slid them down trembling slightly with mounting sexual excitement.  Somehow I knew what was coming next.

"Right down Megan."

With a sudden gasp of excitement I felt Angharad's hand on my stomach and her fingers start to walk themselves down to my forbidden zone.

That's what my mother had called it.  The area that I wasn't allowed to touch.

"I'm not allowed to touch there," I said, with a mixture of mounting tension and anxiety.

"Listen to the music," said Angharad, "it will keep you relaxed.  It's telling me that I'm allowed to touch there, that it's good to touch there."

And as she said those words I felt her fingers gently probe.  Then suddenly a rush of such excitement and pleasure as I had never experienced before as her fingers toyed me.

Angharad saw my reaction.

"That's the spot," she said, "and the music is telling you that you want it.  And you will feel such pleasure as you have never felt before.  Listen to the music Megan.  You so want it.  Listen, Megan, listen.  It will give you so much pleasure.  But you're not allowed to Megan until you are given permission.  Do you understand Megan?  You cannot experience all that pleasure until you are given permission"

"Yes,' I answered.

And with that she left.  She was right.  I wanted it so much.  But it was forbidden.  The music was telling me but I was not allowed to, and as the music stopped a strange tiredness came over me.  I lay back on my bed and slept, and didn't wake until the following day.

When I woke I tried to remember what had happened in the strange dream I had had, but it kept eluding me, just at the very edge of my memory.  It must have been a strange dream though because I felt an overwhelming urge to play with myself between the legs.  With that forbidden spot, that spot that I wasn't even allowed to name.

I lay on my back and opened my legs wide.  The temptation was so strong, but whenever I tried I couldn't force my hand to touch there.  It was forbidden.

I suddenly felt very very hungry.  It was late at night and I hadn't eaten since lunch time.  I thought of going back down to the dining room to get something to eat, and suddenly I flushed bright red.  It was so embarrassing.  I'd done something so embarrassing last time I was there and I couldn't remember what it was.

But there'll be nobody there I told myself, at this time of night.  You can just sneak in and grab something to eat.

Quietly I tiptoed down the stairs and into to dining room.  The lights were out.  I crept in in the deep black dark.  Suddenly the lights blazed on.  They were all sitting there.  All that is except Angharad who was standing on the podium stark naked except for tassels clipped to her nipples and a narrow girdle round her waist.

Suddenly the embarrassment flooded back over me.  Why was I so embarrassed?  The lights went out again and I stood rooted to the spot.  Two seconds later the lights came back on.  They were all sitting at the table, including Angharad, and she was fully dressed.

What was going on!  Waves of panic mixed with shame and embarrassment passed over me.  That is until the music started and I heard the voice.

"Relax Megan, it's all right.  You just need to throw off your inhibitions, Megan, throw off your inhibitions."

Almost immediately I felt better.  Of course.  My clothes were the cause of my anxiety.  I just had to get rid of them.  How good it would be to dance naked for these people.  How relaxing.  How enjoyable.  I stood on the podium and once again, in time to the music, I stripped slowly and completely.  And the more I stripped, the more I ached to experience the pleasure.  But it was forbidden.

At last I stood completely naked before everybody longing to give myself the ultimate pleasure.

The girl called Angharad stood up and came over to me.  I felt her hand touch my stomach.  I was rooted to the spot as her fingers felt down between my legs.  I felt them separate my private lips, and suddenly:

"Now, Megan," she said, "Now."

I had been given permission.  Suddenly I was released the invisible restraint that had been holding me back was broken.

Immediately a huge wave of pent up pleasure struck me, as if a damn had just burst and all that tight introverted emotion had been released in one great surge of passion.  No longer was anything forbidden.  My hand was on my pleasure spot and in my cave of treasures before I knew what I was doing.  Regardless of who was there or who was watching I lay back, opened my legs and worked my pleasure spot until the passion surged and surged. 

I had never had a climax before.  Never experienced anything like it, and once I had experienced it I wanted it again and again.  Only when I was sated did I look up and see the figures applauding.

The music had stopped; what I thought had been a dream had been transmorphed into reality.

I was wet with sweat and soaking with exhaustion, and I had just pleasured myself in front of an appreciative audience.

And what is more I suddenly remembered everything as if a great veil had been lifted from a forgotten dream.  I was mortified.  I had thought I had been embarrassed before, but this was something different.  I'd pleasured myself to orgasm stark naked in front of an audience.

I remembered it all now.  I'd been slowly led and persuaded into doing a striptease and putting on a sex show for everybody.

I looked wildly round at the audience, at Henrietta and Monty, at the professor, at Irene, at the two Angharads.  I started to feel faint, the blood rushed to my cheeks.  I felt faint and my heart beat ten to the dozen.  And as I slid slowly to the floor I knew no more.

The following day I said goodbye to all my new friends at The Manor.  I had had a wonderful weekend and felt so much more liberated than the shy little librarian I had been when I had arrived two days earlier.

We had had so much fun.  Some of the days must have been a bit over the top though because I just couldn't for the life of me remember what we had done the previous night.  Everybody kept telling me how much I'd enjpyed myself and how much pleasure I'd given them, but I coudn't remember doing anything.

At times sudden fleeting recollections came back to me like a half remembered dream, only to vanish into obscurity again as soon as I tried to concentrate on them.

I went home.  The library was going to be a different place in future.  I had been told to put some modernisations in place and now was the time.

A little light music in the background was the thing. Not this modern bip bop stuff, quite wrong for a library, no I would pipe in music from Golden Oldies Radio.  The music of a gentler more refined age.  Music which I hoped would bring lots of attention to our library.  Which of course it did, but not in quite the way I expected.

I didn't quite realise what was going to happen.  It was when the programme on nineteen thirties songs started that I started to feel funny.  Al Bowlly came on to sing.  Well, he had always been one of my favourites, and when he started with "Love is the sweetest thing...", it really made me feel so good.  It was then that I understood why I was so uptight, why I was always so shy and anxious, it was my clothes that were restricting me.

The words echoed through my head telling me what to do, and of course I did as I was told.  Those had been my instructions.  Of course.  It made me feel calm, at peace with the world happy.  And as I took off each item of clothing, standing in the table in the middle of the library, swinging my hips in time to the music, I felt more and more content.  And eventually I stood there, on the table, stark naked.

Immediately a great rush of pleasure swept through me, but at the same time the veil cleared from my eyes and I saw myself standing on a library table, and I was nude.  Completely nude.

What had I done.  Why had I done it.  Suffenly it all came back to me as if a great hidden box of memories had been opened.

The time I had spent in the house.  The orders I had been given there.  The orders I had been given when I left.

I don't know if anyone in the world has ever been as red as I went at that moment.  My blush spread from my face, down over my pert little breatst, with their pert little nipples, down over my stomach, covering even my bare bottom and my bare legs.  My mouth went dry, my legs trembled; my embarrassment, my humiliation, was so complete I was just rooted frozen to the spot: stark naked, bright pink, hand still between my legs  while they gently led me back into my office.

********

Rupert looked at the account of the naked librarian in the paper.  It was one of those sensationalist tabloid papers that didn't hesitate to publish pictures that it thought in the national interest, and the picture someone had thoughtfully taken of the naked librarian was deemed to be definitely in the national interest.  It was fortunate that her hand was covering her naughtier parts  as that meant that the picture could be printed in its entirety without blurring.

He smiled to himself.  Megan had been so easy to target that weekend.  So submissive, so suggestible, so repressed.  He did so enjoy making shy, inhibited women strip naked for him.  They were so much more embarrassed when they realised what they had done!  And the idea of using the song to control her memory of events had been brilliant. 

The Angharad twins hadn't been so easy, perhaps because there were two of them, but once under his control he had been able to use them to perfection.  How his customers had enjoyed the show!

How he wished they had been there in the libraray though.  It must have been so funny when she woke up.

He looked at his little screen showing the bathroom of the Victorian room.  Oh good!  It was in use.

He put on his deep and persuasive voice.

"Hello Tina," he said, "I do hope you are enjoying your bath."