The New Serving Maid Pt. 08 by Altissimus,Altissimus

Author’s note:

Thank you to all of you that have stayed with this series so far – I am very grateful and honoured.

This chapter drifts away from the ‘lesbian’ theme that has been predominant to this point. I know this will disappoint some of you, and I apologise – that was the story always to be told, and Lit has no ‘bi-sexual’ category.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

Tags: submission, dominance, oral, first time [kinda], romance, nineteenth century, maid

Copyright © 2023. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorised use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.

Part 8

The library was my solitude. I sat for some time in the chair by the window, the cherub’s wing in my hands, alone with my thoughts and the promise he had made, joyfulness and fear oscillating within me.

“Mrs. Dempster said you would be here.”

I glanced up, startled from my reverie, my heart full at the sight of her and flush from my recent encounter. “Oh, Lucy! He kissed me!”

She crouched beside my chair, looking up at me as she took my hands in hers, the broken wing in the centre of our clasp. “That is wonderful, Emily, I’m so pleased for you!”

I could not help but smile down at her. “He said he would have taken me to his room, but for the arrival of his friends,” and my stomach squirmed again at the thought.

“Oh, gosh, that’s delightful!” and her enthusiasm was so genuine, so infectious, that for a moment it allayed my fears.

But then I looked over at the window and the beautiful grounds beyond. “What if he doesn’t like me, Lucy?” the tremble of my voice betrayed my anxiety. “I am… not experienced in the ways of men. Will he not be disappointed with me?”

“Oh, darling girl, do not worry yourself over that,” her voice was earnest, her manner calm and reassuring. “He has not pursued you all this time purely for your carnal skills,” she said, a teasing smile flicking across her lips. “Which, by the way, are far less lacking than your adorably-furrowed brow suggests.” She paused for emphasis, “I should know.”

I blushed, lowering my eyes. Then my head came up as I realised what she had said. “Pursued me?”

“What would you call it?” she replied, frankly.

It would not have occurred to me to have called it that. Had he pursued me? Had our encounters not been simply a progression of chance interactions? But perhaps I had been naïve; who else had the power to request my presence so many times in such a short period? My stomach fluttered with nervousness; not a great improvement over the squirming.

Lucy squeezed my hands as she saw the consternation on my face. “All will be well, Emily, you will see. But for now, you must come. His guests have arrived and there is much to do. Mrs. Dempster is in need of both of us, I fear.”

I rose, taking a moment to carefully sequester the cherub’s wing behind a nearby book, hidden from sight. Lucy observed, one eyebrow raised sardonically. I reddened, not answering her unasked question: knowing her she had probably already deduced the answer.

“Never a good idea to keep Mrs. Dempster waiting,” I suggested, to distract.

“I would say indeed not!” laughed Lucy, and together we left the library, leaving behind the cherub’s wing but taking my memories of a single, fervent kiss.

*

The remainder of the day was a flurry of activity at Laxton. The guest rooms in the main house were quickly filled, and I learned that a further array of rooms were located in an annexe behind the stables – an area I had not yet had reason to explore. All in all, Mr. Mills had welcomed some score and two guests, and the entire staff were kept busy with seeing to their needs. Footmen traipsed here and there with luggage, and I heard comment that the stables were full with the visiting carriages and horses. The maids were sent to direct guests to their rooms, fetch refreshments, and ensure all were welcomed and settled. Each of us was tasked generally with the hospitality, but also we were assigned a guest, and mine was a fine-seeming gentleman by the name of Mr. Andrews. He was a handsome man of, I envisaged, some thirty years – though not as handsome as Mr. Mills, of course.

I showed him to the Cerulean Room in the main house, a footman carrying some rather large trunks behind us. I did not envy him this task.

“Are all the rooms named after colours?” Mr. Andrews asked with a gently teasing tone.

I smiled at him, liking his easy manner. “Just the guest bedrooms, sir.”

“But ‘cerulean’!” he commented with an exaggerated air of resignation, “Alas, my waistcoats will all clash.”

A giggle escaped despite myself, and he smiled in response, having seemingly achieved his aim. “I do not think you will be spending too much time in your room, sir.”

“And likely not wearing too much when I am,” he replied, his tone now playful.

I lowered my eyes. “I could not comment, sir.” We arrived at his room a moment later. “Here we are,” I said, opening the door, “and I believe you will find this decor goes with most things.” I smiled, mischievously, “Indeed, if your waistcoats clash I would not look to the room for the fault.”

“You are a sharp one,” he chuckled as he stepped in, looking about himself. “It is indeed pleasant, Emily.” He turned to me then, taking my hand in his and bowing to brush his lips across my knuckles. “As are you.”

I blushed, gently disengaging my hand. “You are too kind, sir.” I took a moment to show him the various features: most of the rooms had an en-suite bathroom (which, I had learnt, was almost unknown outside of Laxton – quelle surprise), and I made him aware of the operation of the shower, the location of the drinks cabinet, the rope one pulled to call for a maid and other such domestic comforts.

“I hope to see you again,” he said with a smile as I finished my tour.

“You will, sir,” I assured him, “I have been assigned to you.”

“How delightful! I knew I would enjoy the visit this week, but now doubly so.” He gestured to the rope that tied this room to the bells arrayed in the central servant hall. “So, I merely pull this and it is you that comes?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Any time of the day or night?” he asked, his tone playful once more.

“There may be a quite a large delay if I am asleep, sir. But we do have night staff on duty.”

“I would expect nothing but the finest service from Edward, and as usual, he has not failed to deliver.”

It took me a full moment to realise he was referring to Mr. Mills, and my astonishment at learning his first name must have been evident to Mr. Andrews, for he raised his eyebrows in an inquiring manner. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all, sir,” I hastened to reassure him. “Just a stray thought. I apologise for being distracted.”

“A distraction you most certainly are, Emily.”

I blushed then, and hid it with a curtsy. “If you need anything, sir, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Thank you, I will.” He stood tall, watching me as I left, until the closing door hid him from sight.

“He seemed to like you.”

I started, not having heard Lucy’s approach. “You made me jump!” I accused.

“Only because you were fixated on our Mr. Andrews,” Lucy teased, walking away down the hall.

“I was not!” I denied, my cheeks heating as I hurried to catch her.

“And there I thought you were enamoured with Mr. Mills. Alas, such fleeting interest. I will make him aware. He will be so disappointed.”

“Don’t you dare!” I hissed at her. “I was not fixated on Mr. Andrews!”

She giggled, and I realised only then that she was teasing me.

“That was mean!” I sulked.

She nudged me with her shoulder as we walked, “I am sorry, Emily,” and her tone was genuinely contrite. She sighed. “I have been assigned a boring oaf of a man, fat and ugly, and I was so hoping to get one like yours instead.”

“Oh, that’s a shame for you.”

“Yes, well. It is what it is.”

I hesitated a moment, but in the end I voiced my concern; Lucy, of all people, would know how best to respond. “Mr. Andrews is charming,” I began carefully.

“…But?” she supplied, with her usual perception.

“…But quite… friendly,” I chose my word cautiously.

Lucy stopped in the hallway, turning to me, making me stop too. “Emily, several of Mr. Mills friends have visited before and enjoy the… company of the maids at Laxton.”

“Oh,” I said as I realised what she meant, my voice small.

She reached for my hand, holding it firmly as she studied me, “You do not need to do anything you do not wish to do.”

“Will he not… expect something?” I asked, torn horribly between not wanting to let down Mr. Mills, yet not at all drawn to Mr. Andrews, however nice he seemed.

“If he does, Emily, I’m sure he will find it with one of the other maids. Many will be keen. I wouldn’t mind, for one. He is handsome enough.”

“Oh, perfect, Lucy! Why don’t we just swop? I would be quite content with a boring oaf!”

She smiled at me, squeezing my hand. “Alas, I am stuck with him, Emily. And besides, you would not want him either. But it doesn’t matter; I’m sure those that are interested will find a way over the next few days. That’s usually what happens.” She squeezed my hand again. “Just remember: there is never an obligation to do anything you don’t wish to.”

I nodded, thinking that there was only one man I wanted anything to do with, and he was not in the room I had just left.

She smiled at me and we continued on down the hallway, returning to the servant’s hall, many tasks still left to do in the day.

After dinner that evening, Mr. Mills and his friends retired to the larger of the sitting rooms to play cards and drink. He was wearing his deep-blue waistcoat and cravat that he had worn when he had visited my room some days previously, along with an evening jacket in black. It suited him most well.

I, along with Lucy and most of the other girls, attended to the guests with silver trays bearing crystal goblets with brandy, wine and such. The room was full of blue-grey cigar and pipe smoke, though I observed Mr. Mills did not appear to favour that particular pleasure.

I was aware of him at every moment, and perhaps he knew I was there too, though he did not look my way. It was one of the other girls whom he asked for a drink, a girl I didn’t know very well by the name of Anita. She was a little taller than me but not as pretty as Lucy, yet she had a cheerful demeanour and seemed to smile easily.

Mr. Andrews was there too, of course, and he often found a reason to speak to me. He introduced me to the three other men around his card table, and I found myself blushing under their admiring gazes. I left to fetch them drinks and heard one say, “You always get the prettiest ones, Charles.”

The evening wore on, and though it was easy work there was not much of it, given the number of maids present. The cigar smoke irritated my eyes, but in truth I would not rather have been elsewhere, for he was here.

I felt Lucy approach my side. “Your eyes have scarcely left him all evening.” her voice pitched low, for my ears alone.

I started, unaware that I had been staring at him, looking down in embarrassment.

She laid her hand gently on my arm and smiled at me when I glanced at her. “Do not worry that he is ignoring you; I promise he is as aware of you as you are of him.”

“He asked Anita to fetch his whisky,” my voice sounding perhaps a little peeved.

“I expect on purpose,” she replied frankly. “Oh, he could’ve asked you, but, if he had, would you have merely smiled and said ‘yes, sir’?”

I frowned at her, not understanding. “Of course I would.”

“Mmm. And would you have also blushed, possibly called him ‘master’, and stared at him like a love-sick puppy while you tripped and spilt his drink all over the playing cards?” she smiled at me gently, to take any sting from her words.

“Oh, you!” I protested half-heartedly. I would have liked to think I would have acted with composure and grace, but I could not deny the validity of her premise. I did not entirely trust myself in his presence.

She glanced subtly behind me. “Mr. Andrews is coming our way. I think he wants you.”

I hid a small sigh and turned as he approached.

“Emily, my dear, the evening is growing late and I had a long journey today. I could not possibly find my way through this maze back to my sky-blue room. Would you be so kind as to escort me?”

I smiled, “Of course, sir.”

He offered me his arm like the gentleman he was, and taking it I accompanied him from the room.

I glanced back shortly before the door, and Mr. Mills had looked up and was watching me. I could not discern his expression, and then Mr. Andrews had led me out.

“Have you been long at Laxton?” he asked, as we made our way through the various halls towards his room.

“No, sir. Barely a fortnight.”

“How are you finding it so far?”

I smiled to myself as I considered his question, thinking how much I could tell him were I so inclined. “It has been wonderful, sir. I count myself most fortunate.”

“It is Laxton that is fortunate, Emily.” He sounded earnest.

“Thank you, sir, you are most kind.”

We arrived at his room shortly thereafter. He opened the door and paused in the threshold. “Would you care to come in and keep me company for a while?”

I hesitated, his offer seeming genuine and light, consistent with what Lucy had told me earlier about the choice always being mine. I realised I had no wish to be rude, but neither did I particularly wish his company.

He seemed to know. “Another time, perhaps,” he said with a smile.

His graceful perception was a relief, yet I felt I had disappointed him. “I apologise, sir.”

He gently took my hand in his and once more bent to brush his lips over it. “A lady as lovely as you need never apologise.” I was sure that wasn’t true – either part of it – but it was most smoothly delivered.

“Thank you, sir, you are too kind.” I almost suggested he asked Lucy, for she had expressed her interest in him, but I knew I could not do so without confirming with her first.

He straightened, but did not let loose my hand. “Emily…” his brow furrowed slightly, as his demeanour turned more serious. “You have told me you are new to Laxton, and so I say this candidly: I hope you did not find my invitation improper.” I made to reply but he was not done. “I am aware the… culture here is, perhaps, far freer than one might find elsewhere, but please do not think I would ever treat you poorly.” He squeezed my hand gently, and released it.

“Sir, I would never think that of you,” and it was easy to say so, for despite my concern over his invitation, he had never acted as less than a gentleman.

He nodded. “Then I will bid you a fair evening, and perhaps see you on the morrow?”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night,” he replied, stepping into his room and closing his door softly.

I wondered what then to do. On the one hand, with Mr. Andrews turning in I was probably free to return to my room; on the other, the evening was not that late and both Lucy and Mr. Mills were probably still in the sitting room. I wandered down the hallway, trying to decide.

A noise disturbed my thoughts, coming from a side room as I passed. I could not place it at first, but it sounded perhaps as though someone might be choking. Quickly I opened the door, not thinking to knock, for after all it was a drawing room and not a bedroom I was entering, and I was concerned that someone may be in distress. But the sight that met my eyes was far from what I had expected.

Standing in the room was one of Mr. Mills’ guests, his trousers open and pushed down to mid-thigh, and on her knees before him, her back mostly to me, was one of Laxton’s maids. I was unable to discern which in the brief glimpse I had, for with a muttered ‘Sorry’ I backed quickly out of the room. I was not sure either of them heard me, or, if they had, that they cared.

Softly closing the door, I carried on down the hallway, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

I was not so naïve that I hadn’t deduced what she was doing, and images of the encounter flashed across my mind – his hand possessively in her hair, her skirt rucked up as though it had been recently disarrayed, one of her hands pressed to his bare thigh while her other I hadn’t seen, but it took little imagination to deduce where it had been. And the sounds she had made, deep in her throat; sucking, a little choking even, and underneath a gentle hum. The latter puzzled me. She obviously wasn’t singing to him. I made a mental note to ask Lucy. Yet the maid hadn’t seemed distressed by the choking, either; and nor had he. Perhaps this was an inevitable consequence of the biology of it, yet one that did not seem to appeal to me.

What I had witnessed was an obvious extension of the licking that Lucy and I had become quite adept at – well, Lucy had started adept at it, but I felt I had, by now, enough practice to also be quite proficient – simply with different anatomy. I wondered if all men liked such things, and decided that it was highly likely they did.

The thought crossed my mind of being on my knees before Mr. Mills, performing a similar service, and I almost missed a step as my legs suddenly felt weak. I reasoned I would not mind so much choking a little around him, if it meant I could taste him in the way that maid had clearly been doing with Mr Mills’ guest. Yet despite my earlier conversation with Lucy my fears of him finding me inexperienced and disappointing had not been allayed, and here was another task I had no familiarity with. I resolved to ask Lucy for her advice, as soon as the opportunity presented itself; for if Mr. Mills intended at some point to deliver on his promise, I must needs learn quickly. I greatly feared him finding me inadequate, and anything I could prepare to ensure that did not happen I would, I promised myself, most certainly do.

I walked back into the sitting room, momentarily surprised that my feet had led me there, rather than returning to my room. It had not been a conscious thought, so caught up had I been in reflecting on the recent encounter I had witnessed.

Mr. Mills sat where he had before, and as I entered he looked up, seeing me. Again I could not easily read the expression on his face, so inscrutable he was. Many of the maids were still present in the room, though there were fewer than before. I spied Lucy and crossed to her.

“I was not sure I would see you back this evening,” she said, as I approached.

“Why?” I wondered if she’d thought I would take up Mr. Andrews offer of keeping him company.

“Oh, I thought you might have used the opportunity to escape, and go to our room.”

“I did think of it. I’m not quite sure why I came back,” I admitted.

“I expect the reason is sitting over there,” she smiled at me.

“Lucy, um…”

She saw my evident hesitation and took my hand in hers. “No one can hear us if we talk softly,” and, to be sure, the room was full of conversation and laughter.

I smiled at her. “I had two things to ask you.” She nodded, listening. “Mr. Andrews asked me to keep him company.” Her brow furrowed a little. “Oh, he was quite the gentleman, and showed no offence when I declined him.”

“I should expect not, Emily. He has a kind reputation.”

“Yes, indeed, I think it is well deserved, from what little I have seen of him. But I did think I could suggest to him that you might wish to keep him company. I didn’t, as I hadn’t asked you. Would you have preferred I had?”

She smiled at me. “Most thoughtful, Emily, but no need; I enjoy the chase too much.”

I was not immediately sure I knew what she meant by that, but accepted her answer and was glad I had asked.

“The second thing?” she prompted me.

“Ah, well,” I felt my cheeks colouring. “On my way back, I stumbled across a… couple, and they were…”

“…Having sex?” she finished, one eyebrow raised and an amused expression curling the corners of her mouth.

“Well, not exactly. She was on his knees, and… um…”

“Sucking him?” I blushed, nodding. “You’re so adorable, Emily! And, given what you’ve told me, I assume you’ve not done that?”

“No, never. Is that bad?”

“Of course it isn’t! There’s a first time for everything, after all. Do you think you would like to do it?”

I found it odd that she asked me that. Wasn’t it to be expected? I recalled Mr. Mills’ words to me in the library. It is my strongest belief that anything that occurs at Laxton does with the fullest consent of those involved. I thought on Mr. Andrews’ manner, the evident willingness of the couple I had encountered, my earlier conversation with Lucy in the hallway outside Mr. Andrews’ room, and Lucy’s question now. It seemed everything supported Mr. Mills’ assertion, and I felt foolish for ever thinking differently.

Lucy was watching me. I nodded a little, then added, “If it were with him. But, Lucy, I don’t know how.”

She smiled at me. “It’s actually quite easy. Even easier than with girls, in many ways. The secret, the really important thing, is to want to, to enjoy it. If you are enthusiastic in your efforts, that is enough for any man to appreciate it, in my experience.”

I reflected on what she said, imagining myself on my knees before Mr. Mills. “I don’t think that will be a problem, with him.” I pushed my thighs together a little, my stomach squirming. “Oh, but… what about the choking? And she seemed to be humming?”

She grinned at me. “Quite an encounter you chanced upon, I presume?” I blushed again, not fully understanding what she meant. “It’s possible that the length of a man can cause girls some discomfort,” she said, matter-of-factly. “The best advice I can give you is to do what you’re comfortable with. In terms of practical tips, you can place your hand on him to stop him going too deep into your mouth. He’ll like it if you rub him there too. If you want to take him deeper, you need to concentrate on breathing out and opening your throat. The more you can open to him, the easier it is to take him deeper.”

There was a lot to process there, but I nodded, my thoughts full of what she had described as I imagined myself kneeling before Mr. Mills.

“As for the humming, I wouldn’t worry about that just yet. Perhaps after you’ve had the opportunity to…” she smirked at me, “…practice a little. But the humming, as I understand it, is quite pleasurable for the man – it causes vibrations, if you think about it.”

I thought about it, and my eyes widened in understanding. “Thank you, Lucy. I’m not sure when I’ll ever get the chance to put your advice into practice, but…”

We were interrupted by Anita approaching, the girl that had been serving Mr. Mills’ table. “Emily, Mr. Mills has requested that you turn down his sheets and pour his bath.” She smiled at us both, and left, her message delivered.

Lucy slowly raised an eyebrow at me, her expression significant. “I believe you were just saying…?”

I blushed, my shock at Anita’s sudden message mixing with my embarrassment at Lucy’s implication. “I’m just turning down his sheet.”

“And pouring his bath,” Lucy reminded, helpfully.

I recalled how I had been caught out before in his rooms, and had never had cause to enter his bathroom. “Is there anything I need to know to do this? Tell me, quickly.”

“Nothing; there are taps on his bath that are clear enough. I believe he likes it about the same temperature as we have our shower. The bed will have been made up today, so simply present it with one corner folded back.”

“Thank you, Lucy. You are such a wonderful friend. I’ll see you back in our room, later.” I smiled at her, and walked to the door.

“That, I very much doubt,” I heard her address my back, her voice loud enough for others to easily hear. I blushed hard, and kept my eyes down as I crossed the room.

*

I had not long been in his room before I heard the door open and him enter.

Having already turned down the sheet on his bed, I was in the bathroom ensuring the water temperature was correct. The bath was enormous and only half-full, the taps that Lucy had mentioned making the feat a simple one, though its size meaning that it had taken a while. I recalled that at home, we needs must heat water over the fire for a bath, and it was a laborious exercise. Here, hot water was dispensed merely by turning a handle, such was the wonderful sophistication of Laxton.

Leaving the en-suite, I entered his bedroom and immediately curtsied. “Apologies, sir, but I have not yet finished with your bath.”

“There’s no rush, Emily,” he replied, sounding weary. He was in the process of taking off the black jacket he had worn that evening, leaving him in his shirt, waistcoat and cravat, the way I was used to seeing him. He laid the jacket over the back of one of the chairs.

“I think I invited too many people,” he said, and I was surprised he would share such a view with me. “The invitations rather got away from me. And, if I’m honest, I much prefer smaller groups.”

“They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, sir,” I offered. “Did you win your game of cards?”

He chuckled. “No; we lost almost all of the hands. I am down some fifteen guineas, I believe.”

“Oh, that is a shame, sir.”

“Well, I was rather distracted this evening.”

“There were a lot of people there. I could well imagine the distractions, sir.”

“There was only one distraction,” he ran his eyes over me, and I blushed in response.

“I now feel I owe you fifteen guineas, sir. Alas, I do not have that much money.”

He raised an eyebrow slowly. “I expect you could find some other way of making it up to me.”

I felt my cheeks heat further, not sure how to respond. I suddenly remembered I had left the bath running – never a risk at home. “Oh, the bath!” I returned quickly to the taps, dreading that I had now flooded his bathroom – such would have been my luck. But I had over-estimated the water flow, and fortunately the bath was just becoming perfectly full. I turned the taps off, conscious that he had followed me into the bathroom, and was leaning against the door jamb, watching me.

“Your bath is ready, sir,” I said, suddenly very aware that we were alone together, and in his bathroom, too.

He straightened and began to unbutton his waistcoat. “I was not sure I would see you again this evening, after you’d left with Charlie.”

It took me a moment to realise he was referring to Mr. Andrews. “I did consider going back to my room, sir, but I felt I may yet be needed by the other guests.” Mostly true.

He smiled slightly, slipping his waistcoat from his shoulders and laying it across a chair near the door. “Charles is quite popular with the maids here. I thought you would like him.”

“I do, sir. He is a gentleman, and seems very kind.”

He chuckled softly. “That isn’t quite what I meant.”

“Yes, sir, I know,” I said quietly, and his eyes snapped to mine. I hesitated a moment, but in the end asked what had been on my mind. “Did you choose me specifically to attend to Mr. Andrews?”

“No,” he said quickly, “Mrs. Dempster handles such things.” He began to unbutton his shirt, his smooth chest gradually appearing.

“I had assumed as much, sir, but I wasn’t sure. Mr. Andrews did invite me to spend some time with him, but I… declined.” I squirmed slightly, “I hope he is not disappointed, sir.”

“I expect he’s extremely disappointed, Emily.” I glanced at him, concerned that he felt I had not been sufficiently hospitable. “But I, on the other hand, am not. And Charlie will no doubt find some other company. I did happen to notice Lucy looking at him.” He pulled his shirt from his shoulders, dropping it over the waistcoat. I could not help but run my eyes over his naked chest and arms, and the lean musculature he showed. I swallowed nervously, conscious I had never before been in the presence of a man so clad. Or unclad.

The small voice in my head reminded me that wasn’t entirely true, and provided the accompanying memory of his gorgeous bottom, perfectly naked. I must needs amend my thought with a ‘…while he was awake’.

It was an effort to recall what he had been saying. “I am glad you are not disappointed, sir,” I said, my voice small. “And you are very perceptive; Lucy commented to me that she liked him.”

“There we are then,” he said, sitting on the chair and pulling off his shoes. He looked up at me. “I expect several of my friends, and yours, will find themselves together over the next few days.”

I squirmed slightly, thinking of the encounter I had already seen.

“Do you think less of Laxton for such a thing?” he asked.

I frowned, considering. I admitted that I had shied away a little from considering how many of the maids would be… entertaining guests in that way over the week, but knowing how much they seemed to gossip about this footman or that, how eager Tracy and Annie were to talk about the various men they had known, it didn’t strike me as surprising. Or Lucy, for that matter, talking about ‘chasing’ Mr. Andrews. I recalled what I had seen in the greenhouse on only my second day, and how much both participants had clearly enjoyed themselves. No, I could not judge my friends for their interests, nor for the other girls I had heard talk about such things.

In but two weeks I too had seemed to spend an inordinate amount of it naked, and it seemed rather hypocritical to consider that others shouldn’t, if they so wished.

“I do not, sir.” I replied, answering him. “I believe you once said ‘Laxton is all about taking the pleasures we can find,’ and I cannot criticise that ethos.” As I said it, I realised it was true. My family may have been devout to the extreme, and unlikely to understand or approve. But they were not here and I was, and if Lucy and Mrs. Dempster (and, in no small part, Mr. Mills himself) had taught me anything in the time I had been here, there was a world of pleasure to be had at Laxton, and I had merely scratched the surface of it.

What harm was there in that?

I wondered, then, of the concepts of propriety and reserve, the expected behaviours of society, and the affront some manifested when those wholly unconnected to them behaved in a way of which they disapproved. How trite it all suddenly seemed, and how much more enlightened Laxton was.

He stood once more, naked from the waist up, wearing only his trousers, his feet bare. “I am glad you approve, Emily. And now, I really do need my bath. It has been a long day.”

“Of course, sir. I will leave you to it.” I curtsied, sad that I could not more enjoy the view he had afforded me.

“The choice is yours, but I would prefer you to stay,” he said softly.

I froze in mid-curtsy, looking up at him in surprise. His face was guarded, his expression careful. He made no move toward me, standing tall with his hands casually in the pockets of his trousers. I felt my stomach squirm.

“I do on occasion shower with Lucy,” I offered tentatively, as I slowly straightened from my curtsy.

“So I’ve heard,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement.

I blinked at him, “You’d heard?”

“It is not difficult to keep track of things at Laxton, if you know the right people to talk to. And even easier to stay informed, if your subject of interest is a girl called Emily.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what the gossip would say about me, sir,” I said, walking around the bathtub as I considered it, and stopping near him. It was a little disconcerting to be told that I was so often discussed.

“Would you care to hear?”

I thought about it briefly. “I’m not sure I would, sir.”

He smiled. “I have never heard a bad word about you, Emily.”

That was reassuring, and I felt my curiosity return. Yet, I could not bring myself to enquire. “I don’t think it is my business what people say about me behind my back, sir. If they wanted me to know, they would tell me, wouldn’t they?”

His smile became a chuckle. “A pragmatic way of looking at it, Emily.” His hands moved to the buttons of his trousers, and he caught my eye. “Last chance,” he said, and slowly began to unbutton them.

I swallowed nervously as my eyes followed his hands, his trousers opening a little at a time, showing a thin trail of hair that followed down from his navel and became more apparent as each button was slipped. I found myself wishing to follow it to its natural conclusion.

“You wish me to stay?” I asked, uncertain, and it was an effort to raise my eyes to his face.

“I do,” he said, pausing with his trousers slightly unfastened, giving me time to make my decision.

“I would like to stay, sir.”

He smiled and slipped the next button. “I am glad you have made a decision, because the bath will be getting cold.”

It was too awkward to stand opposite him, watching him disrobe, so I passed him and sat on the chair, resting my hands in my lap. When I looked again his trousers were unfastened, and he pushed them down his legs without embarrassment, revealing his naked bottom to my eyes. He pulled them from one leg and then the other as I ran my gaze over his nudity, clenching my hands together as I watched.

“It seems only fair that I am naked before you, given our second encounter,” he said, his back to me as he stepped into the bath. He sighed softly, settling himself into the water.

My cheeks flushed at his words, remembering how he had watched me across his book, the extent to which I had revealed myself to him. I couldn’t quite reconcile that as comparable to briefly seeing his ass as he stepped into the bath, but to be fair it was true that he was fully naked, and I was not. This was a total reversal of the dichotomy I had often experienced at Laxton, and I realised I had erred previously in my thinking. For despite his being naked and me fully clothed, he seemed most at ease, and I was the one feeling uncomfortable. Evidently it was not merely clothes that gave, or removed, power.

We sat in silence for a long moment, he relaxing with his eyes closed, laying back in the bath, while I reflected on being alone with him, the nakedness he had briefly shown me, and what might yet happen this evening.

“It’s not about them talking ‘behind your back’, you know,” he said after a while, his eyes still closed. “There is nothing malicious in it. People merely discuss things that interest them, and you seem to interest everyone.”

“I’m sure I don’t know why, sir,” I said, this conversation doing little to allay my current discomfort.

“I think that’s part of your appeal, Emily. You are stunningly beautiful, yet you don’t carry yourself with arrogance or entitlement. You are delightfully intelligent, yet you listen humbly and respectfully.” He opened his eyes and glanced at me. “In short, you don’t see yourself the way others see you, and it makes you modest and self-effacing, which only adds to your many charms.”

I squirmed on my chair and blushed deeply. “I am not sure that can be true, sir, though it is kind of you to say.”

He rested his head back against the bath, closing his eyes again, a smile playing across his lips. “I rest my case.”

No suitable response came to mind, so I said nothing. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment to be so esteemed.

“Lucy calls you ‘adorable’, and Mrs. Dempster is extremely fond of you. I’ve hardly heard her talk of anyone the way she talks of you.”

I squirmed again, glad his eyes were closed and couldn’t see my awkwardness. “They are both very kind to me, sir.” Well, perhaps ‘kind’ wasn’t quite the word in Mrs. Dempster’s case, I thought, remembering how she had treated me in her office. I pressed my thighs together, suddenly conscious of how aroused I was, and not merely from memories of Mrs. Dempster.

“You’ve made quite the impression in just two weeks, Emily.”

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, feeling uneasy. I had evidently been put under quite the scrutiny, and that was an unexpected shock. To have been so discussed was disconcerting, though I was much relieved their opinions of me were high. Yet that, too, was disconcerting, for I could not help but feel their judgements misplaced, and that all I could do now was fail to meet their expectations. I sighed softly.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I heard that.”

“I apologise, sir.”

He grinned easily at me. “You’re sitting there thinking that we’re all wrong, you’re not as good as we think you are, and it makes you uncomfortable.”

I blushed to be so easily read, embarrassed to be so caught out. “Not that you’re wrong, sir!” I protested.

“You don’t think we’re wrong?”

“No sir, of course not.”

“So you agree you are adorable, beautiful and intelligent?”

“Oh…!” I squirmed, caught out by my own deference. I lifted my chin. “You are all entitled to your opinions, sir, of course; I just happen to believe you are all a little mistaken.”

He chuckled. “And now her chin comes up. I love that expression you get; that look in your eyes.” I blinked at the non sequitur. “It usually pre-empts a sharp retort that leaves me floundering. Yet not on this occasion, it seems.”

I found myself glaring at him, completely wrong-footed by his casual appraisal of me; aggravated by his confidence as he lay naked before me. How could he talk so, when he was nude and I was not? I was quite sure I couldn’t, were our roles reversed.

He grinned again. “You are a fiery little thing, aren’t you?”

I lowered my eyes, trying hard to control myself. He had disarmed me at every turn; so much for the intelligence he claimed I had. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I never know what to say around you. Perhaps I am not as intelligent as you think.”

“It’s merely inequality, Emily, and that is nothing more than a perception. Why don’t you join me in the bath? I’m sure that will help.”

I felt my cheeks reddening, quite sure it wouldn’t. I glanced at the bath; there was certainly room for me, but not without us touching.

“You… you wish for me to join you in the bath?”

“I do.”

I swallowed nervously, standing and beginning to unlace my bodice, conscious of his eyes on me.

He waited until I’d removed it and laid it over his shirt on the chair, before he spoke again. “Only if you desire to, Emily.”

I looked at him, then slowly lifted my hands and deliberately began to unbutton my blouse. He’d seen me naked before, of course, but that meant nothing to my nervousness now.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said, his voice carrying an imperative tone for the first time since he’d entered his rooms.

“I would like to join you in the bath, Master.” All it seemed to take was a slightly commanding voice, and my mind simply assumed that term of address. What did that say about me, I wondered? I finished unbuttoning my blouse as I considered this thought, wondering who beside him, Mrs. Dempster and Lucy could engender such a response from me. I worried that anyone could, which would make me vulnerable; I hoped it was only they, and because I so allowed it. Desired it.

He said nothing more, merely watching me as I toed off my shoes and unfastened my skirt, and I found myself more content than I would have expected to be alone and naked with him. Perhaps because he was naked already. Yes, there was an equality in this after all, and one that surprisingly served to calm some of my nerves.

I carefully folded my clothes, placing them on the chair, conscious of his eyes on me all the while. Then I stepped into the bath. The water hid little of him, his nakedness apparent to my eyes where before, as I had sat on the chair, the bath itself had covered him.

His manhood was evident, drawing my eyes as it lay between his legs, appearing to float a little in the water. I had not expected it would float; such an incongruous thought. He was not fully aroused, though not small either. I was no expert but perhaps, I thought, he was at least a little excited. Either that or the water added an aspect of magnification; I hoped it added an aspect of magnification, for if it did not, he was intimidating indeed.

I sat down slowly, the water levels rising a little as I did so until it came fully up to the edge of the bath. He spread his legs for me and I sat between his feet, resting my calves over his knees – it was either that or sit with my knees under my chest, unless I wished to nestle my feet into his groin. I did not.

The bath was sized that we could sit such while being relatively prone, the water coming almost up to my chin. At first I was very aware of how exposed we were to each other, how his skin touched mine, but it was so warm and pleasurable that I could not help but sight in contentment. His eyes were closed again and I copied him, closing mine, relieved to not be under his scrutiny for a moment. This bath was considerably larger than the copper tub we had at home, and I relaxed into it as I realised with surprise that this was the first time in my life that I had been so submerged in warm water. The way we do things at Laxton…

We sat together in silence for some minutes. I revelled in the luxury of the bath. I’d much enjoyed the showers at Laxton – we had nothing similar at home, and, besides, Lucy (or Mrs Dempster, for that matter) always seemed to make them more… memorable – but could not deny that I preferred baths, and Mr. Mills’ bath in particular, it seemed. I opened my eyes to regard the subject of my thoughts, only to find him already watching me.

“How do you like my bath?” he asked, as our eyes made contact.

I was grateful that the question allowed me to think, avoiding the inevitable blush that would have come had I dwelled a moment longer on his eyes. “I like it very fine, sir.”

“Good. Truth be told I prefer showers, but after a day like this, not moving seemed a more preferable option.”

“I had just been reflecting that I preferred baths, sir, but the showers at Laxton have been wonderful too.”

“Especially if Lucy is present?”

I smiled, “Indeed, sir.”

“Or Mrs. Dempster?”

I blanched, registered only shock at his words. How could he have known?

It must’ve been Lucy, I reasoned, answering my own question. And I had thought her circumspect in her confidences. “Lucy must share with you a great deal, sir,” and my tone sounded bitter, despite myself.

He lifted a hand, one finger raised. “Do not do Lucy a disservice, Emily. You are quite incorrect. I have discussed you with Lucy on a couple of occasions, and both times she has been discreet, as she always is. You are quite wise in trusting her as you do. No, I heard this from Eleanor herself.”

It was a great relief to hear him talk of Lucy so, and I immediately felt chagrined for thinking badly of her. It was also strange to think that Mrs. Dempster had played with me to the extent she had, and only now did I know her first name. I had learnt some little of her past from the doctor, and now her name from Mr. Mills, and it served only to emphasise how little I really knew about those that I lived with. Yet this did not bother me overly, for largely I trusted my instincts, and Mr. Mills had just restored my faith in Lucy. I would continue to trust my instincts, I decided, and in time I would learn more about all of them.

I wondered then what else Mrs. Dempster had told him, thinking of my last visit to her office. I quailed inside, wondering if Mr. Mills knew that I had tasted the doctor’s cum from within her, and whether he would react poorly were he to know. Somehow, my being with Lucy or Mrs. Dempster did not matter to him, whereas he had asked more about Mr. Andrews.

Asked, yes, I reflected; but not shown any great concern. He had said he wasn’t disappointed that I wasn’t with Mr. Andrews, but that could be taken a number of ways. He’d seemed also to expect that I would have been with Mr. Andrews, expressing his surprise that I had returned to the sitting room. Perhaps, indeed, he did not mind with whom I spent my time.

I frowned, wondering if this was generosity or indifference. He certainly didn’t seem indifferent, and neither had he ever appeared jealous. This was a good thing, wasn’t it? Did I wish him to feel more… possessive?

“You are analysing again,” he said, his lips twitching in an amused smile.

“Apologies, sir. I do have a habit of that.” I blushed, yet again, as he so often seemed to make me do.

“Tell me what you were thinking,” he said.

I squirmed, the water sloshing slightly over the lip of the bath. I stilled quickly, not aware my discomfort would have such an obvious effect.

He slipped his hands beneath the water, taking my ankle in one hand and resting my heel on his thigh. I froze, my breath catching, then his other hand began to massage my foot, beneath the surface of the water, his thumb pushing gently into my arch, rubbing up towards my toes. A small sigh escaped me at his touch.

“You like that?”

“Yes, sir,” I admitted.

“Relax, Emily.”

With an effort I forced myself to relax again, and gave myself over to his ministrations. His fingers continued to work into my foot, and now I found it calming.

“You were about to tell me your thoughts.”

That was much less calming. He must’ve felt me tense again, for once more he murmured, “Relax.”

Once more I forced myself to relax, using the time to consider my reply to him. “I… I was wondering how much Mrs. Dempster had shared with you, sir.” That answer seemed safe, and was true enough.

“She and I have always talked quite frankly, actually. I’ve known her a good many years.” His hand continued to massage me, his touch firm enough to not tickle. “She related to me that she had quite enjoyed playing with you, on more than one occasion.”

I felt my cheeks redden, hating again that I seemed to blush so often around him. But then, I supposed, I was naked in the bath with him, and he was casually discussing my sexual activities with another woman. Perhaps, on this occasion more than any other, a blush could be considered justified.

“She said, if I remember correctly, that you were ‘naturally submissive’.” He released my foot, reaching for my other ankle and again placing my heel on his thigh, as he began anew. His eyes met mine as he said, “I believe I was already aware of that fact.”

“Yes, Master,” I acknowledged, fighting the urge to squirm once more.

“I like it when you call me that,” he said, acknowledging the term of address for the first time of our acquaintance.

“I cannot help it, Master,” I replied, honestly.

“I know,” and his candid acceptance merely served to emphasise his dominance of me.

He released my foot again. “It is time to get out,” he said, his tone suddenly deeper, huskier. He placed both hands on the side of the bath and lifted himself, his body suddenly free of the water as the level plunged abruptly.

My eyes were drawn to his nakedness as he stepped from the bath, walking unashamedly to pull his robe from behind the bathroom door. He turned to me, his body briefly exposed, before he wrapped it about himself and tied it with a belt at his waist.

“Come here, Emily,” he said, lifting a thick towel from where it rested on a pipe, and I knew it would be warm, and far softer than the ones in the maid’s washroom.

I rose and stepped from the bath, conscious of his eyes upon me. But he wrapped me in the towel, holding it about me, his hand clenching the thick material directly below my chin.

“I have wanted you since I first saw you,” he said quietly, his other hand reaching up to cup my cheek softly. I pushed gently into his hand, captivated by his eyes. He bent and brushed my lips with his, before his mouth parted and his tongue sought entrance. I opened to him and he kissed me, gently, lightly, stroking my face with his fingers as he did so.

He leant back slowly, breaking the kiss, his eyes dark with emotion as he studied me. “At first, it was just your beauty that called to me. But then it was the aura of innocence that you wear so unconsciously. And later, your mind, and…” he smiled, “…your fiery spirit. You have drawn me in, Emily.”

I could only gaze up at him; I had no words.

He took me into his arms and kissed me again, deeply this time and lingeringly, and I pushed myself against him and whimpered my arousal. He broke the kiss, cupping my chin gently in his fingers and lifting my face to his. “I made you a promise that I would make you mine.”

“I already am yours, Master. I have been since our first encounter,” and though I had already confessed this to myself, it was so much more to say it to him. I felt the truth of my words within my heart, and hoped only that he would find me pleasing.

Suddenly he stooped, his arms going about my legs and shoulders, and then he was lifting me, cradled against his him, and carrying me like I weighed nothing to him. I rested my head against his shoulder, my hand slipping inside the opening of his robe to lay against the bare skin of his chest, and he took me to his bed.

He laid me upon it and opened my towel, feasting his eyes on my nakedness as he slowly untied the sash of his robe. I watched as he slipped his robe from his shoulders, making no attempt to cover myself, wanting him to be in no doubt that everything I had was his. My eyes took in the glorious sight of his body, his strong shoulders and chest, his growing hardness, and though a tremble of trepidation ran through me, I knew I could trust him not to hurt me. I pushed aside my fears, blessing Lucy that she had, in some small way, helped prepare me for this moment.

Naked, he bowed over me, his lips pressing against my stomach in a simple kiss that set my nerves a-fire. “I’m going to be gentle with you, Emily,” he murmured against my skin.

My body was ready for him, wanting him, and I thought of Mrs. Dempster and her toy, remembering how it felt within me. “Only to start with, please, Master,” I said recklessly, and he inhaled sharply, his eyes fired with lust.

“You test my control, girl, and that is something I’m not sure I’ve ever said.”

“I will not run from you, Master,” I promised him, knowing it was now true. “I am so sorry about last time.”

“No apologies, Emily. We will start anew. Now.”

“Yes, Master,” and my body shivered in anticipation.

He moved over me then, one knee on the bed to support himself as he lowered to kiss me, his tongue seeking mine hungrily. Our bodies didn’t touch as he held himself with his hands either side of me, yet his manhood brushed across my hip, a reminder of how naked we both were, sending a shiver through me. I was able to run my hands up over his chest as he kissed me, feeling his body for the first time. His skin was smooth and warm, still slightly damp from the bath, his muscles strong beneath my fingers. I wanted so badly to pull him against me, to feel him over me, but despite his assertion a moment before he was still very much in control.

I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

He moved to my breast, flicking his tongue across my nipple before taking it into his mouth, and I gasped as he sucked, his tongue rubbing across me as he did. My hands slid into his hair of their own accord, pulling him to me, my back arching to push my breast to his mouth, and he responded by sucking harder, making me whimper with arousal.

He released my nipple with a final lick, moving lower, and placed a kiss on my belly. Then he knelt before the bed, sliding his strong arms beneath my legs. I gasped with surprise as he pulled me forward towards him, lifting my legs over his shoulders as he did so, and my breath caught as his mouth pushed against me, my back arching again in pleasure at the feel of it.

He licked me, rubbing his face against my folds as he did so. I was struck by how much different he felt than Lucy. Where she was soft, he was hard: his chin, his shoulders beneath my thighs, his fingers holding my legs captive; even his lips felt firmer than hers ever had. The slight stubble on his face rubbed against me, and it was abrasive enough to stimulate with a counter-point to the gentleness of his tongue, pushing inside my hole, licking at my folds. I whimpered, and I could not help myself; my fingers slid into his thick hair, holding him to me as my hips bucked.

He teased me for what seemed an age: licking my vulva, rubbing his face against me, pushing his tongue inside. My breathing became ragged and I tried to pull his mouth to where I wanted it, where I needed it for my release. But he resisted, and I dared not displease him by insisting. I released his hair, instead clutching my hands into the towel on which I lay, giving myself over to the exquisite torment he continued to inflict upon me.

It was some time before he was satisfied that he had teased me for long enough, but suddenly his mouth moved to my clit, and I gasped as he found it. My arousal rapidly peaked, held beneath the edge of release for so long, and he sucked my clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over it, the sensation almost more than I could bear. I felt him slide a finger inside me as he licked, rapidly, back and forth across my clit, and it was too much after being toyed with for so long, and at last I could cry out my release.

My pussy clenched around his finger as my climax hit, but he didn’t stop licking me and I cried out again at the intensity of it, torn between pulling him harder against me and pushing him away. But I gave myself over to him completely and soon he had me writhing beneath him as another orgasm crashed over me, following rapidly on the heels of the first.

It felt like I could not draw breath enough for the cries I was making while he licked me, my body so aroused that it was almost painful, and then his finger rubbed inside me, up against the spot within me that Mrs. Dempster’s wooden toy had found, and my whole body tensed before I came, harder than before, with a gush of liquid over his hand and face.

Afterwards I lay limp beneath him, a small sob escaping from the intensity of my orgasm, my body still shuddering in the aftermath of the experience. I felt him lick me gently, carefully avoiding my over-stimulated clit.

“I hadn’t expected that,” I heard him murmur against me.

I froze, fearing I had done something wrong. “Master?” But then I realised his voice had held something akin to awe, and I felt some hope that, perhaps, he was not displeased.

He looked up at me, his face wet with my juices. “Did you know you gushed when you came?”

If I had blushed before it was nothing to what I did then, for it felt like my whole body had reddened in embarrassment. “I don’t know what that means,” I said in small voice, mortified by his question and my own naivety.

He grinned at me. “It means you’re lucky. Not every girl does that.”

“Oh,” I said in a small voice, still embarrassed beyond belief, my hands clutching at the towel on which I lay, longing to pull it over myself, to hide myself. It was an effort to abstain.

His grin widened as he enjoyed my reaction. “It means you came really hard, Emily. I love that I was able to make you do that.”

I thought back to Mrs. Dempster’s exclamation of ‘Oh! Delightful!’ when she’d used her toy on me, and how it had felt similar to the experience I had just had. Perhaps it was not a bad thing after all – and, besides, my body was still trembling with pleasurable after-shocks, despite my humiliation.

He leant forward and kissed my pussy almost reverently, rubbing his face against me a little as he did so. My hips twitched, so sensitive did I feel, but I could not deny his kiss felt pleasurable.

“Is it a good thing then?” I asked tentatively.

“It’s a wonderful thing,” he replied, and licked me slowly.

I shivered beneath his tongue, the tension I had felt easing at his words, his obvious sincerity and the pleasure he had taken in me.

“I’m going to make you do it again,” he said, his eyes twinkling at me.

“Oh, Master, I don’t think I can!” I admitted, my body feeling drained, albeit most contentedly.

“Oh, I know you need some time to recover. I didn’t mean today,” he said airily, and I squirmed at the promise his reply suggested. “But I definitely want to see you do that again.”

“Yes, Master,” I whispered, still not sure quite how to feel about ‘gushing’. I found the name objectionable. It wasn’t even particularly accurate. I supposed ‘perhaps a little excessive flooding completely outside of my control’ didn’t have quite the same ring to it. “At least I was lying on the towel, Master,” I said, grumpily.

He chuckled softly and rose, lifting me up the bed as he did so, pulling the towel from beneath me and letting it drop to the floor. “I’ve never washed sheets in my life, Emily,” he said, lying down beside me. “But I would, if that was the price to pay for making you come like that again.” He smiled down at me. “I think Lucy is completely right, Emily: you are absolutely adorable.”

I blushed again, hiding my face against his chest.

His hand came up under my chin, lifting my face to his, and he kissed me gently. “Do you recall my mentioning beauty and exquisite pleasure?”

I thought back to his words, when we had talked in his room before. “And a little pain, Master.”

He grinned his wonderfully cheeky grin. “And a little pain.” His hand fell to my breast and he tweaked my nipple. I yelped softly in surprise, but couldn’t help but find the sensation arousing, my nipple tingling from the sensation. “Thank you for the prompt,” and his grin widened as I glared at him. “But I was really focusing on the first two. You are the epitome of beauty, Emily, and you have just demonstrated your capacity for exquisite pleasure.”

“Again you have the advantage of me, Master. I never know how to respond when you say such things.”

“Then just lie there and look beautiful and mysterious,” he advised, smiling, and kissed me again.

I opened to him, meeting his tongue with mine, one arm sliding around his neck. I pressed myself against him, loving the feeling of our bodies touching.

His hand caressed down my flank before cupping my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, still tingling from his tweak of a moment before. I moaned into his kiss, realising that this was exactly how it should be, how different it was to being with Lucy, and how both were so wonderful yet in such a different way.

He turned towards me more and I felt his hardness against my thigh. My body tensed in reflex, but I fought against it, deliberately choosing to relax. I wanted this, I wanted him, and I was not to let some distant memory from my past dare to intrude on this moment.

He’d paused as I tensed, and now he broke the kiss and looked down at me tenderly. “I felt that,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I began, “I…”

He placed his fingertip on my lips, forestalling me. “I felt you tense, and then relax yourself. I am honoured that you trust me so. I will be gentle with you, Emily, I promise,” and then he smiled at me, his eyes sparkling playfully. “…at first,” he added, inadvertently (perhaps) echoing exactly what Mrs. Dempster had said to me. I wondered briefly how much she had told him – but then I had, recklessly, requested of him myself to not be too gentle.

I pulled him toward me then. “Please, Master,” I beseeched him, for I was ready for him and in that moment there was nothing I wanted more than for him to make me his, to feel him inside me. It was almost like he was my first, and in many ways, he was.

But he was more experienced than I, and did not rush. “Take me in your hand, Emily. I wish to feel your touch.”

Eagerly I slipped my hand down to him, feeling his hardness as I closed my fingers gently, almost reverently about him. I marvelled at how soft he felt and yet how hard and unyielding he was beneath.

“More firmly, Emily. You cannot hurt me there.”

I gripped more tightly, conscious that despite his words I knew a man’s testicles to be particularly vulnerable. I had assumed his cock would be too, but evidently I had been wrong. I squeezed him with my fingers, curious as to how he would feel, how he would react. He merely sighed in pleasure, his hips moving a little against my hand, his cock sliding within the hold of my fingers.

“Mmm,” he murmured, “that feels nice.”

I smiled up at him, grateful to him for teaching me what he liked.

“Move your hand slowly up and down, if you wish.”

I stroked him as he bid me, enraptured by the feel of him within my hand. I could not take my eyes from him, the perfect elegance that was his smooth cock, far more beautiful than Mrs. Dempster’s toy. I suddenly had a strong urge to take him into my mouth, to kiss and lick and taste him. I was about to voice my desire, but he spoke again.

“I want you to gently guide me into you,” he said, moving his body over me, supporting his weight on his hands either side of me.

“Yes, Master,” and the thought of tasting him was forgotten in my eagerness to feel him inside me. I spread my legs to accommodate him as he moved between my thighs, much of my nervousness returning at that moment. But nothing was to stop me now; of that, I was determined.

He held himself over me in such a way that it was a simple task to rub the head of him against my folds, and we both gasped at the initial contact.

“You feel divine,” he whispered, looking down at me, and his words gave me the confidence to slowly ease the tip of him into my hole.

I felt his hips push forward the barest amount, felt him penetrate me, and my breath caught in my throat as my body came alive at the sensations.

He pushed again, another mere inch, then withdrew a little. I whimpered, lifting my hips to him, seeking more.

He simply smiled, holding himself at my entrance for a moment, before relenting and once more pushing further into me.

I closed my eyes against the overwhelming feeling, spreading my legs wider beneath him, angling my hips to meet his. He slid more into me then, stretching me open. I could feel every inch of him as he pushed inside me, the warmth of him – so different to Lucy’s cucumber, or even Mrs. Dempster’s wooden toy – the way he seemed to pulsate and throb within me, the ridged feel of his cock as he pressed, so slowly, ever deeper.

An overwhelming feeling of fullness came upon me and I clutched at him, lost in the sensation, my hips bucking up against him. He held himself with perfect control, the only touch between us his cock inside my body and my hands gripping desperately on his shoulders.

“Please, Master,” I begged, not even sure I knew what I was asking for, and he responded by penetrating me further, his every movement still so maddeningly slow, so in control, that I whimpered with need and frustration.

I wanted to feel him fully within me, and I pushed up against him again.

And damn him if he didn’t respond by pulling away, sliding himself from me until only his tip was inside me.

“Oh!” I gasped, the feeling of loss so aggravating, when all I wanted was to feel him within my body. “You are teasing me! Please, Master, please!”

He chuckled softly – the nerve of the man – then pushed his hips forward, and I cried out in delight and passion as I felt him fill me completely, his hips pushed firmly against mine.

My arousal was so great that I almost orgasmed then, never feeling so full. There was no comparison between him and the toys I had had within me before: he was so much more. My hands clutched more tightly on his firm shoulders as I wallowed in the feeling of him within me, and in that moment I realised how he had incited me to want every inch of him inside me. He had deliberately teased and played with me, only to have me beg him to fill me.

And I knew why he had done so, for my past, my demons, had never stood a chance to rear their evil heads. Even at that moment, recognising what he had done, I felt nothing but fervent passion for him.

I opened my eyes and found his. “Thank you, Master,” I whispered, putting as much love into my words as I could.

He smiled at me, saying nothing. Instead, he pulled from me a little, before once more pushing within, though this time there was no teasing. I gasped at the sensation, my eyes closing of their own volition, my back arching with pleasure.

“Yes…” I whispered, and again he withdrew, and again he thrust into me. My gasps turned to small cries as repeatedly he entered me, each thrust completing me in ways I could not have possibly dreamed, and my legs lifted to either side of him, brushing his hips, the better that I could offer my body to him.

“Mmm, just like that,” I heard him say, and his hips thrust forward harder, the angle now perfect, his cock pushing into me more deeply than before. I cried out in pleasure, unable to restrain myself, and with only two or three more thrusts he brought me to orgasm. Again I cried out, sobbing, never having experienced anything like what he had shown me. It was almost too much, too intense, and I lost myself in my climax, as my release broke over me.

If for some reason I thought he might stop he soon showed me I was wrong, for his thrusts grew more rapid, more insistent, and it was all I could do to ride the wave of pleasure that he forced me to endure. I was so aroused that each thrust threatened to push me into a new orgasm, as he penetrated me, again and again. I came a second time, my cries now almost soundless as I gasped for breath, the passion I felt overwhelming all else, and still he thrust into me.

“Please, Master, please,” I heard myself beg him, the unbearable intensity driving my pleading.

Now I could hear him grunt with the effort as he drove into me, his promise of fucking me harder completely fulfilled, and my body writhed beneath him in pleasure. It was just one long orgasm, seemingly with no end, lost in the bliss of him inside me.

His thrusts abruptly changed, growing shorter, deeper, his cock suddenly seeming to swell inside me, and I felt him as he spurted within me, the sensation of his seed splashing inside me pushing me into an even greater climax.

He shuddered over me as he came, his hips now locked against mine, and at long last I felt his weight over me as he lowered himself onto my body. Oh, but it was a wonderful sensation to feel him on me, adding to the fullness of him inside me, and my body shuddered in response to his. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tightly to me, and I knew in that moment that he had made me his; completely his, forever.

*

We lay together for some moments, our breathing slowly returning to normal.

His cock slowly softened inside me, a sense of both loss and completion accompanying the sensation.

He raised himself a little, supporting his weight on his hands once more, and smiled down at me. “How are you feeling?”

I was feeling so much it was difficult to form a simple reply. I settled with a simple, “Incredibly content, Master.”

He grinned. “Good,” he said, and carefully eased himself off me, lying down beside me on his back. I snuggled into his chest, my arm draped across him.

“That was wonderful, Master, thank you.”

“No ghosts from your past?”

“Not even a whisper, Master.”

“Good,” he said again firmly, evidently satisfied.

My head lay on his shoulder, but my eyes could not but help but roam down to his cock. He wasn’t fully soft, and again I had the urge to taste him. I hadn’t done that yet, and did not want the opportunity to pass me by. I wasn’t sure if he’d allow it though, if he was as sensitive as I was after what we’d just done.

“Master?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you mind if…” It was harder to ask him than I’d anticipated. I tried again. “Please may I taste you?”

“Hmm?”

I took that as a ‘yes’. He could always stop me if he didn’t want me to. I sat up, gently taking his cock in my fingers. I felt him briefly tense before relaxing again beneath my touch, but he made no attempt to stop me. His cock felt sticky with our combined juices, and I saw that some of his cum was on his tip, and a little down the side. I couldn’t help myself and leant forward, flicking my tongue over the end of him, tasting him.

I heard him take in a sharp breath; evidently he was sensitive. I softened my tongue, licking him slowly, and lowered my mouth gently over him. I ran my tongue down the sides of him, tasting the saltiness of his cum mixed with the residue of my own wetness, and felt the silky-smoothness of his cock as it filled my mouth.

“Mmm,” I murmured around him, closing my eyes to savour the sensation.

“…Emily…” he whispered, his hand sliding gently into my hair.

It wasn’t a sound of protest, and the arousal in his tone delighted me. I took him deeper into my mouth, my lips nuzzling against the base of him, and while I was exploring, it seemed the perfect opportunity to try something else. I reached gently between his legs, my small hand cupping his balls, wanting to feel them. My touch was as gentle as I could make it, yet his hips still twitched beneath me.

“That tickles.”

His response made me glance up at him in amusement, my mouth too full of his cock to be able to smile. I hadn’t intended to tickle him. My fingers closed around him more firmly, though still ensuring I was most gentle. He sighed again, a contented sound, and one so pleasing to my ears.

I suddenly realised that it was more difficult to have him in my mouth and still feel the base of him with my lips; he was growing hard again, and that excited me. I thought back to the encounter I had stumbled across between the maid and the guest, my subsequent conversation with Lucy, but I had come this far and he did not seem to be complaining.

My tongue rubbed across him as I increased the pressure of my mouth, sucking him, drawing him further in. He was growing harder with each passing moment, and I had to pull back to catch my breath.

I licked around the top of him before sliding my mouth over him once again, and this time he hit the back of my throat before I had come close to the base of him. My body jerked in response as I struggled against my gag reflex, and, panicking for a moment, I fought desperately to open my throat as Lucy had advised. The sensation eased immediately and I was able to go a little deeper, before drawing back off him to take another breath.

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, sliding my hand up and down as he had shown me, while I considered what I had learnt. “Forgive me, Master, this is my first time. I can do this better.”

He made a noise of surprise. “Your first time?” and his question sounded almost incredulous.

I glanced up at him. “Yes, Master. But I will do my best to learn.”

“You’re already better than many, Emily. I love that this is your first time.” He grinned. “Please feel free to practice as much as you want. I will bear it, as I must.”

I knew he was teasing me, but his words encouraged me. More, even, for they infused me with a warm glow of satisfaction, and I eagerly took him into my mouth again. This time I judged better the moment I anticipated him hitting my throat, and I opened as much as I could in advance, determined to take him fully into me. He was as hard as he’d ever been, and I felt the head of him push into my throat well before my lips touched his base.

I drew back from him, stroking upwards with my hand as I did so, determined to accomplish my goal. For some moments I simply played with him a little, taking him less far into my mouth and rising up again, licking and tasting him each time, swirling my tongue around the tip of him. I delighted in each noise he gave me, each sigh its own reward.

Feeling ready to try again, I took a breath and closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of him as I slid down his hardness. I marvelled at how soft he felt beneath my tongue, yet how hard too, and I once again opened my throat to him as I lowered my mouth. Determined, I pushed lower, so close to the base of him, but my throat convulsed around him and I could not help but choke. Pulling up swiftly, tears in my eyes, I slid my hand up and down his cock, now slick with my saliva, as I drew a steadying breath.

“I am sorry, Master. I can do this,” I was resolute, my hand stroking him as I prepared myself for another attempt.

“Emily, I don’t know what your goal is, but I should warn you: if you keep doing this you’re going to make me come.”

His words only served to spur me, and I immediately took him into my mouth once again. I desperately wanted to make him come, to please him. I admit that my motivation was also to taste him – I longed to feel him erupt inside my mouth, to have that experience, and for it to be with him this first time. And every other time, for that matter.

He filled my mouth so completely, and I licked him a while as I prepared myself. I pushed down, determined, as he once more slid into my throat. He moaned with pleasure, a truly wonderful sound, but again my throat convulsed around him and I had to pull back.

I could not seem to get further than three-quarters down him, and it was frustrating me. But I looked up at him as I took him into my mouth again, and saw he was watching me with an expression of such obvious enjoyment, such pleasure, that I realised my efforts were sufficient. Perhaps it was ambitious to take all of him into me on my first attempt, and in that moment I settled for a different goal: I wanted to make him come.

My hand slid up and down him as I licked everywhere I could reach; sucking him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip of him and sliding him once more into briefly into my throat, before easing off him to breathe again. Each time I did this he moaned with pleasure, and he was so hard within my hand.

Again I slid down him, meeting my hand on the base of him with my lips, my own saliva making him slick and easier than before to take into my mouth. He gasped, his hips bucking beneath me, and perhaps this meant that he was close. I sucked him hard as I drew my lips up his thick shaft, swirled my tongue around his head and descended again.

He gasped again, a higher pitch, his hips bucking beneath me, and I felt his cock throb within my hand, my mouth. Then he was coming, a gush of his seed splashing against my tongue. It caught me by surprise, and another spurt followed immediately. I closed my eyes to better concentrate on the feel of it, sliding back up until just the head of him was in my mouth, so that I could catch his cum more fully on my tongue.

Oh, the taste of him! His cum was so thick; salty and creamy, and I swirled it across my tongue as he shot a final spurt into my mouth. There was so much now that I had to swallow, and I lifted off him as I did so, feeling the mouthful of his cum slip deliciously down my throat.

It was wonderful to know I had caused this, that he had found me pleasing enough to bring him to climax. I licked the head of him again, finding a trace of his seed that I had missed, and he jerked within my hand.

“Too sensitive,” he gasped, and I smiled, relenting. Instead, I rubbed the length of him against my cheek, placing a kiss on the base of his shaft.

It still surprised me how silky-smooth he felt, and I stroked him against my face as I purred my pleasure at the sensation.

“…Emily…” he breathed, reaching for me, pulling me against him, my body sliding deliciously over him as he sought my mouth with his. He kissed me deeply, one hand sliding down my back to push against the top of my ass, and I returned his kiss with a most-contented whimper.

“I am sorry I did not take you all the way in, Master. I will learn though, if you’re willing to… endure.”

He grinned his wonderful grin as I gazed down at him, and this time there was no teasing in his voice. “Whenever you should so wish, Emily. That was one of the best experiences I’ve had.”

“Really, Master?” I asked in a small voice, not quite believing him.

He shook his head in exasperation. “I will spank you if you do not start to accept it when I say such things to you!”

I smiled back at him. “Yes, Master, I am sorry.”

He grunted, pulling my head down to his shoulder. “That was truly wonderful, Emily, and I mean it with every fibre of my being.”

“Will you please spank me if I start to accept it, too?” I asked, mischievously.

He pushed his fingers into my hair, holding me to him tightly. “I can tell you’re going to need a spanking at least once a week.”

I closed my eyes, losing myself in the feel of him against my body. “At least, Master,” I murmured sleepily, and though I had intended to savour every moment I could with him, it was only a short time before sleep claimed us both.

*

The sunlight suddenly streamed into the room, awakening me. It took me a moment to recall where I was, disorientated as I awoke. I felt a body pushed against my back, one arm draped lazily across my hip, and I remembered.

I blinked slowly, the bright light momentarily dazzling me.

With a start I came fully awake as I realised someone else was here, and I was naked in the master of Laxton’s bed!

“Shh, it’s me,” came a whispered voice I knew extremely well.

“Lucy!” I exclaimed, and then, with a whisper, “Were you on the rota for this morning?”

“After Anita came to us last night I thought it prudent to make a swop,” she said quietly, coming to kneel at the side of the bed, her hand reaching for mine across the crumpled sheet.

Our hands met, our fingers entwining. “Oh, I’m so glad you did!” I breathed, yet the room was so silent she heard me easily. “I would have died from embarrassment to have been found here by another.”

She squeezed my fingers gently. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful. I presume you had a good evening?”

“Oh Lucy!” I whispered, “It was amazing!”

“I am awake too, you know,” he muttered from behind me.

I glanced at Lucy and we both giggled.

“Good morning, sir,” Lucy said, brightly.

“Hmmph,” and his hand slid up to cup my breast as Lucy looked on, smiling. I squirmed at the pleasure of his touch and knew Lucy was watching, but he simply dropped his arm to my waist, pulled me back firmly against him, and then cupped my breast again.

“I will leave you both,” Lucy said, rising.

I nodded, understanding, but sorry to see her leave.

“Did you bring breakfast for two?” he asked, his breath against my neck.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Then stay. We can share.”

“Oh, thank you, Master!” I turned to him, smiling, to see he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. His hand slid around me, laying against my bottom, and pulled me against him again. I felt his hardness push against my thighs and gasped softly.

“I should probably fold down the sheets…” Lucy commented wistfully.

“She’s such an exhibitionist, Master,” I whispered.

“And a voyeur, too, it seems,” he replied, finally opening his eyes to look past me at Lucy.

“Laxton is about taking the pleasures we can find, sir,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “I believe you told me that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, closing his eyes again. “And why not?”

Why not, indeed. I snuggled up against him, lifting my leg to let his hardness slip between my thighs, pressing up against my pussy, my arousal already building.

His cock twitched between my legs. “Emily… if you do that, Lucy will have to watch me fuck you.”

Shivering at the image his words had created, I glanced over my shoulder at Lucy. Her eyes were sparkling; evidence, I knew, of her own arousal.

I suddenly felt emboldened, my arousal increasing. “Laxton is about taking the pleasures we can find, Master,” I said clearly, repeating Lucy’s words, making my decision.

“Oh, my,” breathed Lucy, and he opened his eyes and looked at me fully, his expression suddenly sharpening with desire.

“Lucy,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Yes, sir?”

“Strip.”

I looked at her in surprise, but she merely smiled. “Yes, sir,” and I watched as her fingers began unlacing her bodice.

He lay his hand against my cheek, turning my face back to his. Then he rolled me onto my back, laying over me. “What a minx you are, Emily,” he murmured, bending to take my nipple into his mouth.

I gasped, my back arching in pleasure, struggling to keep my eyes open, to watch Lucy as she slipped her blouse from her shoulders, and let her skirt drop to the floor.

There was nothing more perfect than sharing myself with the two people I loved the most.

“Where would you like me, sir?” she asked, stepping to the edge of the bed, as naked as I.

He knelt up between my legs, his manhood hard and exposed to us both. He slipped his hands beneath my spread thighs, pulling me down the bed toward him. “I want you up there,” he said, indicating the top of the bed with his chin. “Hold her hands.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. I whimpered at his words, stretching my arms up in preparation for her, as Lucy knelt on the bed and crawled above me. I felt both her hands entwine about mine, and then she pushed my hands into the bed, holding me tightly. “Your master wishes you pinned, Emily,” she murmured to me, and I gasped at her words, squirming in pleasure beneath her grip, even as he looked at Lucy and grinned.

He lowered his mouth to me then, licking my wetness, and I gasped again, my back arching. His tongue worked quickly across me, pushing briefly into my hole before slipping up between my labia and flicking over my clit.

Having Lucy hold my hands only served to increase the intensity in ways I could never have imagined.

He looked up at Lucy from between my legs, his eyes sparkling. “Did you know she gushes?”

I heard Lucy gasp in surprise even as I squirmed in embarrassment to have such a comment made about me. “No! I didn’t!”

“Mmm-hmm,” he confirmed, his tongue lashing across my clit once more. I cried out, the intensity overwhelming.

“Girls who hold back from their mistresses get punished,” she said to me, her tone only half-playful.

Oh, but I was so aroused. “I’m sorry, Mistress!” I gasped, my body writhing as he licked me more.

It was all too much already, and I cried out as I came beneath his tongue.

“That is so sexy,” Lucy breathed, watching me.

“Isn’t it, though?” he agreed, and I shuddered as their words fed fuel to the fire of my orgasm.

He knelt up between my thighs, taking himself in his hand and rubbing the head of his cock against my wetness. My body was still shuddering from the orgasm he had brought me to as he pushed inside me, and my sex clenched around him even as he penetrated me. I could only whimper and close my eyes, my hands clenching at Lucy as he began to slowly move within me.

“Tell me how it feels, Emily,” Lucy commanded, using the tone she knew I could not but obey.

I cringed at the thought of having to verbalise such a thing, even as he continued to slide in and out of me. Lucy’s hands pinned mine more firmly, a subtle insistence that I was to answer.

“He… I can feel him stretching me, Mistress,” the need to articulate what was happening making me somehow even more aware of it. “When he pushes… inside me… it makes me… so full,” I said between gasps. It made me feel more exposed, vulnerable, to have to tell what I was experiencing, but too there was a great intimacy in sharing this with those who I cared most deeply about, and this only served to accentuate the sensations.

“How does he feel, Emily?” she asked, her voice quiet but insistent.

“He feels so hard, Mistress…” my voice tailed off as my own pleasure overwhelmed me, and I could say no more. I could only focus on him moving within me, the feel of his body rocking over me, and I lost myself to the pleasure he brought me.

Eventually I felt him push hard inside me, holding himself deep within me for a moment as his cock seemed to swell and throb, before once more I experienced the blissful sensation of his orgasm erupting within my body. I was adrift in my own ecstasy, unaware of how long we had been joined, or of how many times he had made me reach my own climax. The knowledge that Lucy had been here too, holding my hands, was like a blanket of warmth around me, supporting me, and I knew myself to be safe and cared for. It was pleasure as I had never known it, and I felt tears slip from my closed eyes at the beauty of it all.

He lay over me, gently kissing and licking my tears from my cheeks, and when I finally opened my eyes it was to see him smiling softly down at me.

Afterwards we lay together, me in the middle with him pushed against my back, Lucy facing me and gently stroking me. I couldn’t remember ever feeling more content, more fulfilled than in that moment. The sunlight through the window lit the room and seemed to make her skin glow, and it was yet another beauty that I could happily gaze at for hours.

Eventually we would no doubt explore the breakfast tray, but it seemed none of us were in a rush to move.

* * *