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The Maid's Tale Ch. 01

By: christinamonroe



According to Mary's birth certificate she was born in the Year of Our Lord 1863 in the parish of Rothsmere: her mother, a dairymaid, died shortly after birth and she never knew her father-there were rumours that it was someone up at the big manor house but this wasn't known for sure. She was sent to the workhouse, and her early years were hazy. At the age of five she started attending the local school where she learned to read and write after a fashion. At eleven, her schooling finished and she was given a job in the manor house as the junior maid, getting up at 5am and fetching coal by the bucketful to allow the housemaids to get the fires lit before the family got up in the morning. For the rest of the day she fetched and carried and worked in the scullery. Mary knew no other life, and it contented her for several years, sleeping in a little attic beneath the eaves, doing her duties as best she could. She hardly ever saw her Master and his family, spending most of their time as they did up in London, and she scurried past if she should meet them on the stairs, too afraid to look up, too scared that they might find her wanting and send her away. Eventually, at the age of 18, she got promotion of a sort to housemaid, and among her new duties, she was in charge of cleaning the masters study and laying his fire in the winter mornings. 

One morning, so cold that her breath froze into a white plume in her little attic, she was laying the fire in her Masters study, working quickly despite her numb fingers, hoping to get the room warmed before he arrived to deal with his papers. She was kneeling at the hearth, her long skirts tucked tightly around her, when she heard the door open and the floorboards creak. She looked around, and her master stood there, tall and broad, a manly figure dressed in tight breeches, wearing only an open necked shirt despite the cold. She knew he must be in his forties, his children were grown, but he looked younger, his skin unlined and his figure tall and muscular. 

'Mary, isn't it?' he asked, and she nodded silently, not knowing how to respond to this man who controlled all their lives and wondering how he knew her name. 

'Mr Barlow has spoken of you' he continued, referring to the butler, a man almost as grand as the Master. 'A good worker says Mr Barlow'.

Mary nodded again, and then thinking she should say something, mumbled a quiet word of thanks. 'See that you keep working hard Mary, or we will punish you. You don't want to go back to the work house do you?' and with that quiet threat hanging over her he strode over to his desk and started scratching away with the quill, signing his documents and rustling papers. 

Mary stood up indignantly, so annoyed was she at this threat; she worked long and hard, and this was unfair. He seemed to sense the change in her and looked over, smiling lazily. 'Yes?' he asked, and his eyes dropped, his gaze raking over Mary's quivering body, eying her slowly up and down until she stammered an excuse and left, gathering her cleaning tools quickly.

Closing the door, she leant against the wall outside, her breath coming in frightened little gasps. What had just happened? His eyes had lingered on her, and, remembering his look, she felt a strange ache begin deep inside.

That night in her room, tired though she was, she stood in front of her dresser, trying to see what had triggered such a longing look from her master. She had a mass of long blonde hair that she wore tightly coiled under her maids cap, and at night, when she let it loose, it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back in a shimmering waterfall. She was tall for a woman, and her hard work had made her slim and firm. 

She knew it was sinful, but as she undressed, removing her tight bodice, she looked down at her breasts, full and rounded. Thinking about him, she cupped them in her hands feeling their weight. The memory of his smile and the touch of her fingers sent a tingling sensation through her and hesitantly she gently rubbed at her nipples, teasing them until they stood proud. The strange ache in her belly grew once more and without thinking, she smoothed her hands down her slim waist and stroked her hips, her fingertips beginning to delve into the soft pale curls at the base of her belly. She looked around, knowing that she was alone but scared that somehow someone would find out. Her fingers probed between her legs, deep into the warmth and wetness that lay there. She had never touched herself there before, but instinct guided her hand and she found a small hard nub deep within the folds of flesh that responded to her touch, seeming to grow under her eager fingers. Rubbing harder now, and faster, her legs began to tremble, and she lay quickly on her narrow bed, spreading her thighs, never stopping her manipulations until suddenly, her back arched and she felt an overwhelming sensation of pleasure rise from her. Biting her lip to stop herself crying out, she lay back, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Her last conscious thought, before drifting off in sleepy satisfaction, was how much she wanted her masters hands touching her in the same way.

The next morning, Mary found herself lingering over her duties and arrived at the study later than usual. She had only just begun to lay the fire when she heard footsteps behind her. An aching sensation once again moved through her belly as she waited for him to speak. 'You're late, Mary. I wanted to work here today' he commented, his voice low.

'I'm sorry sir, cook wanted the floor cleaned' she tried to explain, but he interrupted harshly 'Who's more important, your Master or cook? I think you need to be punished'.

'Oh, please Sir, it won't happen again' she begged, knowing it was useless, and tried to rise from her knees. He moved beside her, and pushed her back down. 'Bend forward' he demanded, and mindlessly she obeyed. She felt his hand stroke the outline of her rounded bottom, firm beneath her gathered skirts. 'Now, I don't normally believe in corporal punishment, Mary, but you're only a child. I think you need a good smack to help you understand that I am your Master, and you obey me in everything. Is that clear?'

She nodded, then his hand struck sharply and she gasped in pain. 'I said, is that clear?' and another sharp blow accompanied his words. 'Yes, sir' she stammered, 'I'll obey you in everything'

'Good girl' he replied, and after the first two strikes, his movements changed, becoming more caressing, rubbing lightly at her curved rump, easing the tingling he'd created.

'I think this skirt needs to come up' he decided, and he swept the skirt and her petticoats upwards, exposing her underclothes. Easing these down over her hips, he saw the red marks on her buttocks and smiled to himself. Mary quivered, staying silent, willing him to touch her. Without thinking she moved closer, raising her bottom for more. For the first time she felt his hand on her naked skin, warm and dry, strong fingers probing between her legs as she had done the night before. Instinctively she parted her thighs to let his fingers in deeper, pushing back on his hand so that his fingertips could explore the folds of flesh and find the pleasure nub she had found. He did so easily, caressing her with an expertise that left her breathless, soon in a heady whirl of arousal. Then his fingers moved again, this time probing deeper. She felt a sharp stab of pain, quickly extinguished by waves of pleasure as he moved his fingers inside her.

He watched her dispassionately as she rocked back and forth, driving his fingers into her sex, and listened to her low gasps. She was his now, he knew that, and he could do whatever he wanted with her. He enjoyed housemaids, so eager to do well and please him. From taking his first maid at the age of 16, he knew he got more pleasure from them than he ever did with his wife. Smiling to himself, he withdrew his fingers and licked at them, tasting her juices. 

'Back to work, Mary. Don't be late tomorrow or I shall have to punish you again' he stood up, and looking around she saw a bulge at the juncture of this muscular thighs, distorting the smooth line of his clothes. He caught the angle of her gaze, and smiled. 'I'll have a little job for you tomorrow' he told her. On unsteady legs, she left the room quietly, feeling the wetness between her legs trickling.

Later that night, she lay in bed thinking. She couldn't do that with him again, she decided. This must be what the other maids had whispered about, half-understood words to her, and why they had giggled and blushed whenever the butchers and bakers delivery boys arrived. The pastor had talked about sins of the flesh, and this must be it. She deserved to be punished: the master's wife had given her the job, and now she betrayed that trust by allowing the master to touch her in her most private places. What's more, she had enjoyed it, she had wanted more and the mysterious bulge in his breeches had excited her. The other maids had talked about men's parts: she was a country girl; she knew what lay inside there and what he was going to do with it and she wanted that. Then she groaned, she was a sinner, and she should go and pray extra hard this Sunday.

Next day, she arrived at her usual time in his study. He was already there, seated on the sofa, one leg casually draped over the arm. He was reading a letter, 'From your mistress,' he said briskly, shaking the letter at her, 'She's staying in London for the season'.

Mary felt a brief stab of relief. At least she wouldn't have to face the wife of the man who had explored her intimately. Then she saw his face and knew instantly that this meant her torment wasn't over: he was going to touch her again, whenever and wherever he wanted. 

She moved over to the fireplace, and made to start her work, but he stood up, blocking her path.

She tried to step away, escaping his touch, but their eyes met and suddenly she felt her whole body responding to him: aroused, sensual, willing him to touch her. His eyes seemed to both caress and command taking away all her determination to keep her distance.

'Turn around' he demanded. She could hear his breathing, soft and low. Felt him bend closer over her, caught her breath as his lips brushed lightly across the back of her neck. She wanted to feel his lips on hers and tried to turn, but his hands held her shoulders firmly.

'Stay where you are' he spoke harshly. His hands slid around her waist, and she could feel his body pressing against her. There was a strange pressure pushing insistently at her lower back. He plucked at the ties of her bodice, and automatically her hands lifted to help him undo the tight stays and release her young breasts. His hands drifted over her body, caressing her waist.

Mary let out a low groan of excitement as his fingers climbed higher, so so slowly, grazing her soft flesh with tenderness, teasing and arousing with each butterfly touch. His hands closed about her breasts, capturing them as she pressed herself tighter on to him. He squeezed gently, capturing her nipples between his fingers. She could feel his maleness pressing, and she moved her bottom against him, feeling his cock rear up hard and firm. She knew she wanted him inside her, hot and hard. 

Undoing her skirts, he let them fall to the ground. Her petticoats and underclothes soon followed, and she stood naked in front of him. He examined her naked figure closely: she was lithe, almost aristocratic in bearing with firm, high breasts, tipped in rosy pink. He moved in behind her again, pressing close, undoing the buttons of his fly to let his aching cock loose. With one hand still playing with her breasts, the other explored her moist and tender sex, a fingertip drawing patterns in the sweet wet ooze that glistened on the coral-pink folds of her labia. Her body was shaking, and suddenly he slid the tip of his cock into her welcoming entrance. With a second thrust he was buried deep inside her, the fat hardness of his shaft driving into her. His hands held her hips, guiding her movements, her rounded buttocks resting against his flat, taut stomach. He guided her to the sofa, still inside her, and bent her over the arm. Thankfully she rested her body weight on her arms, raising her buttocks high in the air and he carried on thrusting deeply into her. Her legs were beginning to tremble, the now familiar warmth rising inside her. 

He released his grip of her hips slightly, and she felt his fingers trace a line down, delving between her buttocks, nudging at the amber furrow between. His fingertip slid, very lightly, lingering over the tightly closed bud of her anus. She trembled, knowing this was wrong, but seeking for new sensations, new pleasures. Slowly he pressed, gently persuading her tight anus to open. As his finger slid in, she shivered in a private ecstasy. The double torment of his thrusting cock and his finger working together inside her left her helpless, carried away by waves of pleasure. 

'Touch yourself' he demanded 'I want to see you touch yourself the way you do when you're alone'.

She moved to obey, reaching down with one hand to feel her own wetness, and this was too much for her. She cried out, and his hand left her hips to cover her mouth. 'Be quiet' he ordered, stifling her gasps of excitement.

She felt his movements quicken, his cock moving rapidly. Suddenly he withdrew, and she heard him groan, then felt a spurt of warm fluid splash across her buttocks. 

She stayed still, bent over the sofa arm, her buttocks raised, waiting for orders. Then she felt his hands on her thighs, slowly rubbing his seed into her, pushing his fingers again into her warm, tight sex. She shivered-this was too soon, she couldn't bear any more of this slow, sensual caress. He felt her try and move away, and laid his left arm across her back, capturing her in position whilst his right hand continued to finger her. He watched intently as his fingers slide inside her reddened vagina, enjoying the silky smoothness, and the scent of arousal. 

He heard her breathing begin to come in animal gasps, and he knew she was close to her crisis once more. Then he stopped suddenly, leaving her unfulfilled, enjoying the groan of frustration that came from her.

'Get dressed' he ordered, 'I want this study cleaned thoroughly'.

She looked at him in bewilderment, not understanding the change of mood. 

'Are you looking for punishment, Mary?' he asked, 'You follow my orders in all things, is that clear?'

And then she knew. She was his, a plaything for him to do with as he wished. She realised too that she wanted him, and wanted his orders. Trembling, she dressed slowly, and began to dust, wondering to herself what other orders he had for her.

The Maid's Tale Ch. 02



As Mary left the room, confused and dazed, her Master leaned back in his seat. Stroking his moustache, he inhaled the lingering scent of her from his fingers. He knew that this young woman would prove an interesting diversion. It had been a long time since he had found a maid with a sensuality to match his own. She may have been an innocent, untouched, but now he knew that she would want to explore, that she would be whoever he wanted her to be, do whatever he wanted her to do. He thought back over all the women he had possessed, many of them maids from this House. Only one, he considered, came close to matching Mary's fervour. Strange, he thought, that one had had the same tall stature, the same wealth of long hair the colour of sun-kissed wheat....

Meanwhile, Mary made her way down to the kitchens where she knew Cook would be waiting for her with a list of duties. She felt a deep hunger, a longing to finish what her Master had started, a need to reach that peak of pleasure that he had cruelly denied her. But she had no time; her duties were endless, even minutes spent in the privy were begrudged, but she didn't think she could wait until nightfall and the silence of her attic room. Luck was on her side today, however, as Cook laid out her errands for the day.

She was to take a packed lunch down to the far pasture where Mr Brook, the chief groom and the stable lads were exercising the horses. They knew lunch was coming; she was to set off without delay. It was a long walk, at least a mile and difficult going in winter, but Mary welcomed the diversion. She knew she had to pass through a small copse of trees before reaching the pasture-that would afford her the privacy she needed. She fetched a warm cloak and hefted the baskets that Cook had packed-pastries, cooked meat, cheese and bread. Setting off at a brisk pace, bright in her red cloak, she enjoyed the walk. The day was cold but the winter sun was bright and she relished the chance to be out in the clean crisp air. She couldn't take her mind off her master's behaviour that morning. Why had he stopped? Was that her punishment? She could feel the moisture still between her legs, and she speeded up, a desire to touch herself there growing stronger. Reaching the small wood, she soon found a clearing created by the felling of a huge oak. The trunk lay neglected, and this was perfect seating for her. She was warm after her walk, and didn't feel the cold as she slowly lifted her petticoats and began to fumble in her underclothes.

Unbeknown to Mary, Mr Brook the groom had sent one of his lads to meet her. He knew the maids sometimes had funny ideas about the wood and, being a thoughtful man, he dispatched Jack, the youngest stable boy, to guide the maid through the trees. Jack had spotted her red cloak from afar and had altered direction to meet her. Jack was a quiet boy, only 19, but good with the horses: he claimed gypsy ancestry and knew plant lore, curing them where others had failed.

From the direction the girl in the red cloak had taken, Jack knew she was headed for the oak clearing and made his way there, grumbling a little at being away from his beloved horses.

He saw Mary sitting on the tree trunk, facing away from him, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. She appeared to be rubbing at her belly, and he heard a low moan escape her lips. Was she hurt? He wondered, and made to step forward. Then he realised that her legs were spread apart, her petticoats raised and her hand was buried between her legs. He edged slowly around the clearing, hidden in the trees until he could get a clearer view of what was happening. What he saw shocked him beyond all imagining. Mary had her knees drawn up and her thighs spread. He could see wet pink folds, half hidden by her frantically rubbing fingers; her fingers seem to dip inside her, Mary pushing her fingers in deeper and deeper. He gasped out loud at such an erotic display. Mary, in her throes of ecstasy, heard and her eyes flew open. She saw the tall young stable boy in front of her, staring at her private parts so lewdly exposed, his hand covering his groin, beginning to rub at what lay there. Shocked, she tried to pull down her skirts, but he stepped forward to stop her.

'Please' he said 'please don't stop. I want to watch, I won't hurt you, I just want to watch'.

He raised his eyes to her face and she saw desire there. He moved closer and knelt in front of her. In a daze, she pulled her skirts up again, spreading her thighs. For the first time, Jack smelt the rich tang of an aroused woman and this overpowered him; a heady musky scent, he wanted to taste it, to drown in it. He leaned in closer, his face between her thighs, watching her fingers stroke the fleshy lips of her sex. 

'Can I touch you?' he asked quietly 'I just want to touch,,,I won't hurt you,' and he lifted a fingertip to join hers, stroking at the pink folds and crevices, reaching deeper into her vagina, feeling the wetness there. His fingers didn't have the expertise of her Masters, but she was so sensitive that any touch would have her crying out in passion.

Mary groaned-she pulled her thighs back as far as she could to allow his fingers better access. As she held her lips apart for him he began to probe her deeper and deeper. She could feel her passion building, and felt release coming. Then he stopped. Opening her eyes, she watched him move closer, and suddenly she felt his mouth on her, his tongue licking at her sex, sucking at the folds of flesh. This feeling was like nothing she had experienced. His lips moved over her mound and kissed the crisp curls of hair, and then back to that nub of tissue that seemed the centre of her pleasure, provoking irresistible sensations that made her forget all about her Master, all about her work. Her hands found their way down to the back of his head, pushing him deeper into her, holding him tightly in the fragrant glade of her sex, sucking and licking at her womanhood. She reached her climax, her pelvis rocking against him, and the pleasure seeming to go on and on, not fading, until at last she was exhausted and had to push him away.

Jack stood up, his face smeared in her juices, his eyes glazed with longing; his cock was hard, almost painful. He had never been with a woman, but the other stable hands, all older, had talked a lot, and for the first time he understood the hold that these fragile creatures had. Looking down at Mary, her legs were still lewdly held apart, her breathing coming in short gasps; he wanted to bury his cock in her to the hilt, to feel her engulf him. She looked up and smiled; it was if she knew what he wanted and she reached for him, freeing his cock herself and running her small hands up and down the shaft. She hadn't seen her Masters cock yet, only felt it inside her and she wanted to learn what she could from this boy.

His erection was so firm that it stood flat and tight against his stomach, rigid and unyielding, smooth as carved stone. She ran her fingertips around the tip and watched him shudder, then started to caress his shaft with short, light strokes. She could feel it twitch between her fingers, and suddenly knew she wanted him to plunge into her. Leaning back on the old oak trunk, resting on her elbows, her thighs spread in invitation, she guided him into the entrance and felt the weight of him against her. Pushing himself against her, he groaned as he felt the incredible heat of her, the wetness and slipperiness that surrounded him. All too soon, the feeling was too much and he erupted, flooding her with his seed.

For a moment he rested against her, then stood up, still trembling slightly. 

He watched as she wiped herself carefully, shuddering whenever she inadvertently touched her sex, knowing that she still wanted more. She smiled at him and he knew then that this was going to be only the first time. Settling her skirts, she made to get up to collect the baskets. 

He took them from her, and silently, not needing to talk, they went to take lunch to the rest of the stablemen. 



The Maid's Tale Ch. 03



Late one evening, Mary lay alone in her solitary narrow bed, thinking. She was confused: it had been days since her Master had come anywhere close to her. She had cleaned his study assiduously, but he wasn't there. She had gone as late in the morning as she dared, tempting the Housekeeper's wrath, hoping that he would be waiting for her but to no avail. Her newly aroused passions had threatened to over whelm her. She had felt like creeping out of the House to find Jack; she knew he wanted her but her common sense held her back-what if they were caught? This would get her the sack without references-she would starve. She had tried to hold off the feelings of longing by exploring herself, by touching and playing with the warm, moist folds of her sex but this was a poor substitute-even with her relative inexperience she knew that to feel another's touch was much more exciting.

She had enjoyed her meeting with Jack-she knew that she had been in control, she had been the one leading him and tempting him and this had made her feel powerful, heightening the erotic experience for her. The stable and outdoor staff only came in to the House for dinner in the evenings-this was her only chance to see him but in front of the entire household retinue she couldn't pass on a message to him. She sighed, her fingers beginning the now familiar slide down her flat stomach to burrow in the warm scented flesh of her sex, dreaming of her Masters cock. Images of Jack swam in front of her eyes and the two of them seemed to merge into one; Jack's eagerness and desire, and her Masters ability to create the hot, feverish need in her.

At dinner the next evening, she saw Jack enter with the other outdoors staff. They took their places silently, and bowed their head for Grace, intoned sonorously by Mr Barlow, the butler. The lowliest of the stable lads, Jack sat at the bottom of the table. Mary's position, as a maid of several years experience, was higher, but his continued glances in her direction didn't go un-noticed. 

Next morning, Mary went to her Master's study to carry out her morning tasks, and was taken aback when she saw him sat in his place at the desk. Blushing furiously as he looked up at her, and mumbling a quick 'excuse me, sir' she went to deposit the scuttle of coal by the fireplace.

She heard his chair scrape across the floor as he stood up. 'It appears you have an admirer' he smiled, moving over to her, 'I hear Jack can't keep his eyes off you'.

Wondering how this had come to his attention, she knew that it wouldn't be wise to let her Master know of her relationship, such as it was, between Jack and herself. Lowering her eyes, she replied 'He hasn't spoken to me, sir', hoping that her Master would accept this.

He reached over and to her surprise, gently stroked Mary's cheek with a finger. 'He would be a fool if he didn't want to gaze on such a lovely face', and Mary felt herself melting at this bewildering turn of events; one day summarily dismissed, the next being adored. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. As he looked into them, deep blue, wide and trusting, he was struck by such a shock of familiarity that he was momentarily jolted. Who did she remind him of? It was a question that had been troubling him for days now. But he couldn't resist her any longer: her slim, responsive body, her soft lips and her eagerness to please him.

He leaned in to kiss her, their lips meeting and gently he began to explore her mouth with the tip of his tongue, lightly teasing, nibbling at her lips, and tasting the sweetness of her. She felt his arms wrap around her and for a moment, she relaxed into his embrace, her body pressed against his, trembling a little with desire. Then she became afraid, suddenly, convinced that he would somehow, with physical contact, sense her liaison with Jack, and she tried to pull away. 

' I'm sorry,' she whispered, but, as she saw the expression on his face cloud over, she realised that she had made a mistake. She sought escape, quickly turning, trying to move away, trying to leave the room. 'Sorry for what, Mary?' he asked harshly, 'You're mine, remember?'

He moved quickly and grabbed her around the arm, pushing her hard up against the wall. His fingers were gripping her upper arms, biting into the tender flesh. He pushed roughly and her head hit the firm plaster of the wall painfully, but he appeared not to notice. Her cap dislodged, and her hair fell from its binding, long tresses of blonde framing her wary face. He held her there with the weight of his own body. But then it didn't matter to Mary if it hurt, for his lips were on her own once again, and her desires swept over her, unstoppable. This time the kiss was hard and forceful. His tongue was in her mouth, his body was pressed against her own and his hands were already at her breasts and her waist, gripping the skin beneath her skirts as well. She was helpless to fight against him, not simply because he was physically stronger than her, but because she seemed to lose all will to fight in the face of his determined lust. She felt her own passions begin to rise to meet his, and felt her thighs spread as he forced a knee between her legs. 

She did try to struggle after a moment, briefly, ineffectually, as her wits had returned and that sensible part of her brain told her this was wrong and he shouldn't do this. So she tried to pull her face away from his, and tried to push him from her, but his teeth clenched and anger flared again in his eyes. He gripped her shoulders with a brutal force as he pushed her once more against the wall, this time with a deliberate attempt to shock her. Her head hit the wall again, and she moaned in sudden pain, but he took this as encouragement and he gave her no time to recover, reaching up with one hand to entwine it in her long hair at the back of her head and pulling down hard. She whimpered out loud, but could not get out any further sound, for his mouth covered hers, his tongue probing; she stopped struggling and kissed back, mirroring the movements of his lips and tongue with her own.

She was gasping for breath by the time he pulled his face away from hers and she took advantage of the respite merely to draw back air deeply into her lungs, her eyes locked onto his face somewhat fearfully. She saw a cruel amusement in his expression, as if he had always known she would respond to such harsh treatment, as if he had expected nothing less. One hand still entwined in her long hair, the other clutched roughly at her breast so that she could not help but utter a low sound of surprised pain mingled with pleasure. As she stared up at him in that moment of respite, he still pushing his body against hers and she subsequently pinned to the wall, his hand on her breast, the other painfully pulling her head back by her hair, she knew that much as she was scared of him, knowing that he controlled her life, she wanted him. She wanted him inside her, to feel the weight of him on her body, to do whatever he wanted her to do. 

He grabbed her wrist as he stepped away from her, not saying a word, just pulling her suddenly, sharply forward, so that she stumbled. His hands caught her and he manoeuvred her on the sofa, pushing her down, her face smothered in a soft cushion, her cries going unheard. She knew by now that he wouldn't wait to see if she was comfortable or if she was unhurt. He would satisfy his own desires and he would use her to do so; if it hurt her or if it pleasured her seemed to be entirely irrelevant. 

She tried to turn, but he was on her before she could do so. He swept her skirts above her waist, exposing her firm buttocks. Holding her down with one muscular arm he struck her hard, watching in satisfaction as a red mark bloomed swiftly on the white flesh. He felt her stiffen and smother her cries of pain in the cushion. Another blow followed, and more until she was crying hot tears. Only then he relented, and releasing his hold he gently turned her over. 

'Don't you see yet, Mary?' he asked' 'you are mine. You do as you are told. What you want is of no consequence. Is that clear?'

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with the ball of his thumb, and again she was confused by this sudden volte-face. In turn gentle and brutal, caresses followed by blows. Her mind was confused, but her body betrayed her again. She nuzzled her cheek under his hand, wanting his touch. He kissed her cheek, and then his mouth trailed a line of gentle kisses and nibbles down the side of her neck. He licked delicately at her ear, and she squirmed at this half-tickling, half-erotic touch. 

'Take your clothes off Mary' he demanded, and she stood up to comply. Loosening her stays, she let her clothes fall until she stood naked for the first time in front of him. He admired the high thrusting breasts, her rosy pink nipples that appeared to push forward to be sucked, and the delicate fair curls at the base of her stomach that glistened with the juices of her arousal. She was a little ashamed that she wanted him so much after the way he had behaved, but her body quivered, and she couldn't help but notice the bulge in his breeches. She wanted to release his cock in the way that she had done with Jack, but she knew that her Master wouldn't like her behaving like that, so she stood waiting for him, urging him silently to touch her.

'Sit down, Mary' he ordered, and she positioned herself on the edge of the sofa. He knelt in front of her, his eyes almost level with her sex, enjoying the rich musky smell that rose from her. He forced her knees apart, the lips of her sex separating, exposing the pink crevices and folds within. 

'Touch yourself' he demanded, and in mimicry of her liaison with Jack, her Master watched as she began to manipulate her sex, her fingers dipping and stroking.

She watched him unbutton his breeches, and for the first time she saw his cock. Thick and hard, it rose from him, jutting out, the head angry and engorged. 

He stood up, and moved closer to her. Gripping her thighs and forcing them even wider apart, he positioned his cock at her entrance. With a powerful thrust of his pelvis, he drove into her, burying himself in her tight warmth.

He shoved into her, hard. All the way, all at once, so long, so thick, larger than Jack, larger than he had felt before, seeming to tear her open with the brutal suddenness of it. She cried out yet again, unintelligible words, she wasn't sure if she were trying to beg him to go slow, to have mercy upon her, or if she was trying to tell him she wanted it all the harder. What she wanted would make no difference anyway, he would take out his lust and his desires on her regardless, and now he pulled back and shoved into her again. He pumped himself in and out all the way with movements almost deliberately designed to hurt but she found herself pushing back against him, willingly raising her hips to meet his own.

She orgasmed almost immediately on his entry into her, a feeling of passion so intense it shocked her. She was ashamed, and yet, as he continued to thrust himself so deeply, so roughly, inside of her, she felt it build again, that now familiar sensation, and it only took a few strokes to bring her to climax. She tried to hide it, clutching at the cushions beneath her and biting back on her lip, but he felt her muscles gripping him, milking his cock. He did not slow or hesitate and continued to drive himself inside her.

The sensation was different now-no longer sharp peaks of pleasure but waves, rolling over her. Her hips continued to move with his, pushing against him as he dictated their speeds and movements. She did not try to hide the soft cries she involuntarily made with each hard thrust inside her. She felt as if she could hide nothing from him now, so she let him see the complete effect he was having on her. Her hands stopped clutching at the cushions and instead now she brought them up to his waist, clutching at him, as if he were the only thing she could cling onto to save herself from drowning in this experience. 

Sensible thoughts flickered through her head, momentarily there, then forgotten in the sensations of him; knowing but not caring that this was sinful, that he shouldn't be using her like this, only desperate now for him, pushing her hips towards his, clutching at his body, crying out with the pain and the pleasure of the feel of him, prepared to do anything for more of him, anything at all. She wanted his pleasure, she wanted to feel him inside her, this man who had made it very clear he cared little for her pleasures or pain and was concerned solely with using her for his own enjoyment. 

There was almost no warning for her second orgasm. Not a sharp peak of pleasure, but a long, drawn out shiver that left her so stunned, so shocked, that she felt the tears again at her eyes. He came himself then, as if he had waited entirely for that moment, forcing himself inside her deeply, she saw his jaw clench and felt his muscles tighten. Deep inside, she felt him jettison warm oily fluid that mingled with her own juices. She raised her hips to meet his, feeling the spasms inside her, the pumping ejaculation, as he made sure she took every drop he had and not a single spilled. Then he took a deep breath and pulled out from her, leaving her feeling bereft.

She continued lying there, naked, sticky, used. Her body felt exhausted, her mind was confused. She felt tears behind her eyes, she felt the dark shame now and the humiliation all the worse because she had so willingly participated in her own degradation. And yet for all her exhaustion, for all her confusion and shame and humiliation, her body also felt satiated. She felt satisfied and even, surprisingly, grateful.

After a moment, she sat up and reached for her skirts. 

'You're not finished yet,' he told her. She didn't know what he meant, so though she opened her mouth to speak, to ask, she just could not find the words.

' I don't understand...' she tried quietly, not sure if she meant it in regard to what he said, or rather to the entire experience. He only reached out one hand to her and now, after the desire was satiated and some sense of normality had returned, she flinched away from it. Yet he did not let her get too far, only taking hold of her shoulder and pushing her down onto the sofa again. 

'You're going to clean me up,' he said.

'To clean you...?' she stammered, not understanding even yet, sitting on the sofa edge once more. 

'You heard me,' he returned. 'Use your tongue. And do a good job, or else I'll see you learn the proper respect the hard way, do you understand me, Mary?'

She did understand now. Feeling sticky and sweaty and bruised all over, her eyes finally drawn to that which had impaled her. He was still mostly hard, covered liberally in her juices and his own. He moved closer to her and she took his cock in her mouth. Slowly, hesitantly, she began to use her tongue to clean the remains of their sex from his skin.

He looked down at her, watching the dipping movements of her head as she nuzzled in to him, licking at his cock, tasting the mingled juices and sweat. His hands moved to stroke her hair, holding her head gently but firmly, moving her slightly as he slowly thrust his cock into her mouth. Lost in the sensation, he threw his head back and began to think. He wanted to see her with another man; to see her perform for him, to degrade herself again as he knew she wanted to be. His mind began to work, making plans.



The Maid's Tale Ch. 04



Phillip, the fourth Baron Rothsmere, summoned Mr Barlow, his butler to his study one morning in early spring and remained ensconced with him there for some time. Mary was banished to the kitchens during this, forbidden to enter the room, and stood lethargically washing dishes, wondering what this was about. She was miserable; her Master hadn't paid her much attention since their last cataclysmic encounter and she hadn't seen Jack at all. Betsy, the kitchen maid was sympathetic. She and Mary were friends, both young; Betsy was a couple of years older than Mary, but at the age of 21 she had had no experience of men. But she knew that Mary was upset, and she knew that a man was involved and that Mary's deep sighs and sorrowful face were caused by his absence. Betsy resolved to try and talk to Mary about it: they had adjoining attic bedrooms so it would be easy to sneak in one night after work and talk quietly by candlelight.

Later that day, Mr Barlow made an announcement at supper. Mary was to be trained up as a serving maid; she was to be fitted with a formal uniform and he would teach her the proper serving of various dishes so that she would be of use when the Lady Rothsmere returned and the House opened for balls and banquets once more.

Mary's heart sank-Mr Barlow scared her sometimes, the way he looked at her, the way his eyes lingered on her body. She was beginning to understand the effect she had on men but she determined that she would look her plainest during the lessons, or ask that Betsy came along as well.

Mr Barlow, on the other hand, was very pleased with his mission; he had been procuring maids for his Master for many years and making it easier for him to pursue his interests. In return, the Baron often gave Barlow his cast-offs when the he was tired of them. Barlow was looking forward to this most recent strumpet-she was something special. 

It turned out that Mary liked her lessons: her mind was quick and she relished learning something new. Etiquette and manners came easily to her and she was soon ready for her new role.

Not long afterwards, the Baron announced that he would be entertaining an old friend for dinner; it was to be an informal occasion, and he required Mary to serve, this being good practice for her in her new role. 

On the evening of the dinner, Mr Barlow gave her final instructions and she set off to take her station in the small chamber. All went smoothly; the Baron's companion, Thomas, was a huge man, taller and broader than her Master, and to Mary it seemed strange that a cultured voice should come from such a bear of a man. He had apparently been an old school friend, and had been abroad for some time; the rumours were that he was a buccaneer and had been a slaver in America. Seeing him, Mary could believe that.  

They talked long into the night, drinking heavily, laughing more loudly and raucously as the evening progressed. Tired, Mary began to clear the dishes, and found that she was alone in the chamber; Mr Barlow had retired for the night. Standing still, she could hear no noise from the rest of the House. 

As she began hurriedly stacking the dishes, she became aware that both men were staring at her. For the first time that evening, the Baron addressed her directly. 'You've done well tonight Mary' he stated, 'I'm sure you won't mind serving us a little longer'.

Thinking that he meant serving the port, she moved over to the sideboard for the decanter, but she was stopped by a thick, muscular arm-the Baron's companion had blocked her way. 'Oh no, young lady,' he smiled, 'you can do better than that'. He wrapped his arm around her waist and swept her up against him. He nuzzled at her neck, nipping lightly at the soft skin, and his other arm came up to play with her breasts through the thick cloth of her bodice.

Mary started to struggle fiercely to escape his brute strength. He easily fended off her blows, and then flung her down on the tabletop. She lay there helpless for a moment, wondering wildly why her Master didn't help or intervene, then she saw him lean back in his chair, smiling, It struck her then that this had been planned; her Master had invited this man to the house to use her and he was going to watch her degradation.

The wind was knocked out of her, and the fight left her as she realised just how little she meant to her Master. She saw her attacker standing above her, one large hand reaching out to grasp her long hair near the roots, pulling her head back as he started to run the other one across her face. 

"No... no, please..." she pleaded, knowing this was of no use, knowing what was going to happen to her. He ignored her, and grabbed the neckline of her dress, ripping it open with a suddenness she didn't expect. He paused, his eyes roaming over her body now revealed through the tatters.

Mary felt her Master's eyes on her too; she was exposed to them both now, stretched across the dining table, and somehow, her mind revolting at the idea, she felt excited, knowing they were both looking at her body. She knew she should be struggling still, but the power and size of this man had done something to her, something she wanted to experience...

Then, he started to run his rough hand along her soft flesh. Roughly groping and grasping as he explored, the calloused fingertips rubbing and squeezing her firm breasts, leaving bright red marks as he drew each one taut. Pulling and pinching each nipple he made her gasp and moan; this was almost pain, but not quite, and her body was responding in a way she didn't expect as she was roughly fondled.

His hand moved lower, tracing along her stomach. Then, shocking her again, he covered her pubic mound with his large hand and began to probe. Mary cried out again, the intrusion making her jump, and she began to struggle again, but his other hand held her still as he continued to knead and rub. He was touching her, his thick fingers rubbing and exploring, encircling the taut nub of flesh that had brought her so much pleasure. Despite herself, Mary could feel her body respond, to feel her sex moisten and spread for him under the insistent pressure of his fingers. Her hips began to move, grinding her sex onto his hand. 

Then she felt a new sensation now: his finger probing deeper, sliding inside her. It felt so different from her own small fingers, different from her Masters. His thumb was still rubbing her, and his finger began to slide in and out, pumping into her, rougher than she had ever done to herself, but the feeling was overwhelming. She realised that her Master had come over to them and was holding her down, fondling her breasts while his guest fingered her brutally, and the thought of being used by both of them both shamed and excited her. 

Her passion was beginning to rise, and she flushed with a mixture of shame and desire. Then, suddenly, he pulled his hand away. Not quite knowing what she was doing, she cried out, begging him not to stop. 

He merely smiled, and started to unfasten his breeches. She knew what he was going to do, and her thighs spread, welcoming him, not needing her Masters restraining hands. His cock was as large as the rest of him, meaty and heavy. He moved in between her legs and wrapping his hand around his own shaft, he rubbed the head of it over her swollen lips, moistening the tip. 

She was scared and exhilarated, moaning at the touch of him, and then she felt him slide into her, stretching her, filling her as he pushed deeper and deeper. Her Master craned his neck to watch the fat hard cock penetrate her, then ease out again, the shaft covered with Mary's honeyed juices. In all his travels, he had never watched another man in action, and realised that this was as erotic as fucking her himself. He could feel his own erection rise and vowed to take her immediately she had been filled with this mans seed. 

Thomas indicated to him to pull Mary's legs back, and she felt as though she was split in two as his thick cock continued thrusting into her. His thumb never stopped his manipulations of her flesh and she could feel her pleasure peaking. Gasping and moaning as he took her roughly, she could hear the sticky sounds of her own juices, the wetness of her excitement. She saw her Master above her and watched as he lowered his head to take one of her hard nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking. It seemed that every nerve ending in Mary's body was concentrated at her crotch and her nipple, all being stimulated to a peak of excitement. Her moans were almost constant now, her hands buried in her Masters hair as she held him to her breasts. Her legs were spread willingly, no longer needing to be held apart, and she groaned with each dominant thrust of the invader as he filled her with his meat and used her.

He was breathing heavier now, pumping more quickly, his cock pummelling. Then, just as Mary thought she couldn't take any more, he buried it deep, throwing his head back as he let out a guttural cry. She could feel the spasms inside her, realising that he was filling her with his hot seed. It sent her over the edge as well, an orgasm consuming her body as he jerked and ground his thick root into her; the hot seed jetting out and overflowing from her quim.

He paused for a moment, and then withdrew, watching as his emission dripped from her flesh, now reddened and swollen. She lay dazed and in shock, and watched passively as he placed his slickened member, still semi-hard into his breeches. 

He pulled Mary to her feet and she could feel his sticky sperm oozing from her tender hole. Naked, clad only in the tattered remains of her uniform, she watched the men as they smiled at each other. 'I think its time we retired upstairs, Mary' her Master declared, and Mary began to wonder what else was in store for her that night. 



The Maid's Tale Ch. 05



She was led upstairs through the main hall and gallery, now dark and silent. Her ripped uniform gathered around her, her legs unsteady, the two men steered her to one of the West Wing bedrooms, far away from staff quarters, away from anybody who could have overheard. 

Both men quickly disrobed as they entered the room, pulling off their clothes and hers eagerly. Her Master pushed her gently over to the large 4-poster bed and made her bend over, resting her weight on her arms, her lovely rounded buttocks spreading for him. She could feel Thomas's juices cooling on her thighs, and then felt her Masters hands on her, separating her cheeks, delving between her legs, sliding over the warm flesh already lubricated with her juices and Thomas's seed. Quickly, without hesitation, Phillip drove his rigid erection into her, groaning with the need to possess her. 

Thomas climbed onto the bed kneeling in front of her, his cock semi-erect. He hadn't recovered yet from his orgasm in the dining room and was content to watch for a little while, enjoying the view of the maid's lovely face contorted in passion, and the gentle sway of her full breasts as they hung down, bouncing in time to Phillips thrusts. Phillip had little finesse, thought Thomas, and he resolved to give him some lessons in pleasuring a woman. Smiling inwardly, he thought about the likelihood of also teaching Phillip how to pleasure a man: he had noted how intensely Phillip had gazed at his cock whilst taking the maid downstairs. 

With this in mind, he motioned to Phillip to bring Mary on to the bed properly so that they could both get their fill of her. At Thomas's direction, Phillip lay flat on his back, his erection firmer than he had ever known. Mary sat astride him, and Phillips hands on her hips helped to raise her on his cock. Her thighs spread across his legs, she felt his cock enter more deeply than before, driving into her to the hilt. Thomas kneeled behind her, his hands snaking around her to caress her breasts, and slide down her stomach to finger her fleshy lips, stroking and pulling, rubbing her gently. Then he pushed her slowly forwards until her breasts were resting on Phillips chest and her buttocks were raised. He slid his finger down the deep cleft between her buttocks, the fingertips grazing lightly over the sensitive skin. Had she been fucked there yet? He wondered, and decided to try. Licking his fingers, he gently began to probe. Mary responded immediately; she wanted his fingers to explore and she rocked back slightly, the movement causing his fingertip to enter her warm tight entrance. 

She was in a daze; her senses heightened but yet not comprehending. On one level detached, she could see an image of herself on the bed, riding her master's cock, rocking backwards and forwards and feeling his companion fingering her most secret entrance, and on another level she was shocked by her brazenness, shocked by how much she wanted these two men to use her, to fill her with their seed, to order her to debase herself by acting the wanton for them. 

Now she could feel Thomas's finger buried deep inside her and he thrust in time to the driving of Phillip's cock. His other hand was curled around her hips playing relentlessly with her sex, fingering the erect nub of tissue that brought her to ecstasy. 

The feeling was overwhelming; it was too much for her and as the feeling rose up over her body she collapsed, breathing heavily across Phillip's chest, his cock still ploughing deep inside her. 

Thomas told Phillip to stop and withdraw; he had plans for the maid but it needed her to be more receptive; currently, her body was twitching and shivering with each tiny caress, overwhelmed by sensation. Lifting her gently, they lay her on the bed face down, her head sinking gratefully onto her arms. Nothing in the past few weeks had prepared her for this, her muscles were like a newborn babe, she had no control at all and they could have placed her in any position they required and she would have complied. 

As her breathing slowed a little, Thomas began to caress her plump rounded buttocks, his fingers tracing the now familiar path between them down to her receptive entrance. He pushed gently, and the tip of his finger entered. He could feel her tense but there was no real resistance and he pushed more firmly, exulting in the warmth of her. Gradually he risked another finger pushing in alongside the first. Phillip, entranced by the sight of Mary rocking slightly against the pressure, moved to get a clearer view and was rewarded with the sight of Thomas's vaunting erection, firm and rigid, the veins standing out proudly. Phillip had never been this close to another man before but he suddenly felt an urge to taste this man's cock. He looked up and saw desire glazing over Thomas's face. Phillip licked his lips nervously, then delicately licked at the tip of Thomas's cock, tasting for the first time bitter juices mingled with the sweet scent of Mary. Thomas made no sound, no movement at all except to continue to plough Mary's entrance with his two fingers. She had raised herself slightly; her hips were off the bed and she was moving in turn, thrusting backwards against them. Phillip, encouraged by this, moved his mouth to engulf Thomas, taking the bigger man's cock in the way that he himself wanted to be taken by his women. He heard Thomas groan, and looked up fearfully but Thomas had his head thrown back and his eyes closed.

Thomas began to move his hips now, his free hand coming round to grasp Phillip's head as he pumped his face on to his cock. Each time, with each thrust, he was forcing Phillip to take his cock a little deeper. Phillip was gagging a little, but soon learnt to time his breathing and relax. He heard Thomas moan again, deep and soft in his throat. For a moment, Phillip wondered how it must look from Thomas's point of view, kneeling behind a beautiful maidservant, fucking her secret entrance with his fingers and thrusting his cock into an old friends mouth.

Then suddenly Thomas asked him to stop. Bemused, Phillip pulled his mouth away and looked up at him. 'I want you to fuck her here' Thomas explained, and eagerly, Phillip climbed to his knees behind Mary. Thomas withdrew his fingers and took Phillips substantial erection in his hands. He guided it to Mary's tight hole and then watched as Phillip eased himself in, inch by inch. Mary was frightened; she had enjoyed a finger but this was too much, she was being stretched so tight. Then she felt Thomas's fingers playing with her again, circling and rubbing gently until she began to moan softly and unconsciously spread her thighs a little wider. 

She felt Phillip enter her deeply, drawing in her breath at the shock, then realised that he was filling her completely, touching her everywhere. 

He pulled back slightly, and then slammed into her again and she felt the slap of his scrotum against her buttocks. Bracing herself, she waited for the next thrust until soon Phillip was driving into her in a fury, overcome by the tightness of her entrance, the heat of her bowels. 

With a drawn out groan, she heard Phillip come, and then felt his hot seed pump inside her. 

She was close herself, and her fingers joined Thomas's playing with her fleshy sex until she too was groaning in release. As Phillip pulled out from her she felt his seed leak out, dribbling over her thighs. She fell forward again; her legs unable to carry her any longer, and wondered how much more she could take.



The Maid's Tale Ch. 06



The next morning Mary lay in bed listening to the sounds of the house stirring around her. She had crept out of the West Wing bedroom only scant hours before, her Master explaining that he had organised with Mr Barlow and the housekeeper that Mary was to get the day off after serving so late. Mary was beginning to realise that Mr Barlow knew exactly what form the service had taken, but at the moment, her mind was too dazed to dwell on it. 

Her limbs were heavy and aching pleasantly; the pain in her bottom was still present, a reminder of what had gone on before. They had taken her all night in different ways, one after the other until she had lost count. She had also seen something that she knew for certain was a sin; the two men had caressed each other, had sucked each other's cocks in the way they had demanded of her. Thomas had also tried to....no, it was too shocking to even think about it, but her mind drifted back to the look on her Masters face as he had felt Thomas's fingers playing with his entrance, and how excited she had felt when she saw Thomas's rigid cock sliding between her Masters buttocks as he knelt submissively in front of the bigger man. In all her 18 years, she had never heard tell of such a thing, and yet her mind kept returning to it.

It was strange staying in bed but she turned over, thumped her pillow into shape and settled down to catch up on sleep.

She awoke near noon. Not able to stay still any longer, she washed and dressed and went downstairs. Cook gave her some meat and bread, gossiping excitedly about the new arrival, the handsome buccaneer that was to stay for a few days. She asked Mary how he had enjoyed the food, and marvelled over his capacity for wine and port. Eventually, Mary managed to excuse herself. She decided to go for a walk to clear her head, feeling slightly guilty that she didn't take up her duties. She told herself firmly that she had the day off, a notion that was alien and unfamiliar, but she was determined to enjoy herself and set out stoutly. 

The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and she soon realised that this was no day for walking. She decided to stay close to the house, maybe to go around the gardens and enjoy the winter roses, but as she rounded the kitchen yard past the stables she saw Jack. He was busy with a horse, a bay gelding, looking worried as he ran his hands over the horse's legs. He didn't notice her at first, but the horse shimmied a little at her appearance and he turned to see the disturbance.

Jack gazed at her, stunned into silence by the sudden appearance of the woman he had been dreaming about for the past few weeks. Then she smiled, her sweet face lighting up as she said hello. He mumbled back, nervous of her at first, but soon they were talking, house gossip mostly, for Jack found it hard to approach the subject that was uppermost in his mind. 

Mary grew annoyed; it wasn't for her to ask him to go walking out and eventually she turned to go. 

'Please' he said desperately, not knowing what to say once more.

Mary looked at him, running her eyes over his body, slim and taut. 'What do you mean?' she replied, confused by this.

'Would you come walking with me next Sunday after church?' he stammered, astounded at his own forwardness. She smiled; yes, of course she would and they made arrangements to meet up. Sunday afternoon was the house servants' only free time. Mary had been used to staying in the House, she had no family to visit and she made use of the time by reading her Master's newspapers, given to the household staff after he had finished with them. It was good to practice her reading and she liked to learn of events. But now the prospect of walking with Jack seemed much more interesting. She had only to tell her Master of it, and was suddenly scared, wondering if he would approve.

She thought long and hard about how to approach the subject, and eventually decided that House gossip would be the best way. She confided in the Cook on her way back through the kitchen that Jack had asked her to go walking, knowing that very rapidly this would filter through to Mr Barlow. If her instincts were correct, she knew Mr Barlow was the master's link with the downstairs goings-on. 

The next morning, she resumed her duties and sure enough, when she went to the study her Master was waiting for her. She murmured a swift good morning and set to work on the fire. 'I hear that young Jack isn't just content with gazing at you now, Mary' he said, a tone of amusement in his voice. She turned to look at him, and then bowed her head. 'Yes, sir, he asked to go walking.' Hesitantly she carried on, 'if that's suitable....'

'Of course Mary' he laughed openly, 'you enjoy yourself' and with that he turned back to his news sheet.

Mary was a little confused. She knew that her Master couldn't acknowledge what was going on between them, but shouldn't he have objected to another member of the household seeking her company? Then she realised, as she had done before, that her Master regarded her as a toy for his pleasure, something to be used when the feeling took him. With this realisation, she decided to do exactly as he bid, and enjoy herself with Jack. 

What Mary didn't know however, was that her Master currently wasn't interested in her. Thomas's presence had opened new vistas of pleasure to explore and he wanted to do exactly that... 



The Maid's Tale Ch. 07



Mary could barely contain herself in church. She sat with the rest of the household servants, her head bowed demurely, hands folded in her lap and tried to concentrate on the pastor's voice intoning that day's sermon. But her mind kept drifting, thinking about Jack and his kind smile, his eager hands, his soft lips...

She shifted in her seats, this line of thought making her flustered, and Betsy, sitting next to her looked across at her. Betsy knew why Mary was so fidgety and smiled to herself. Mary was so sweet, so kind to Betsy and she deserved to meet a nice man to love. Betsy had no disillusions about herself; short and plump, her face friendly but plain, she would never meet a man to take care of her. Her nature was kind and she was a good worker; the best she could hope for was solid employment in the house, but sometimes, at night, when the house was quiet she would have liked someone to talk to, someone to call her own. At 21 years old, she could see no future for herself other than hard work in the house.

After the service, Mary, still in her good clothes, ran with unseemly haste to the oak clearing in the woods to meet Jack. He was already waiting for her, unfamiliar in his stiff collared shirt and jacket rather than his sturdy work clothes. He held out his arm for her and she threaded her own through his crooked elbow. Together they wandered slowly through the woods and onto country lanes, not following any route in particular but enjoying the country air, the sounds and sights of spring around them, and each other's company.

It was obvious to Mary that Jack was overwhelmed by her. He trembled when she touched his arm, stuttered whenever she smiled at him. She wondered what he would do if she should suddenly draw her skirts up and beg him to touch her in the way he did before, and as her mind drifted, she began drawing closer to him, her long thigh brushing against his as they walked, her arm pressing more firmly on his. Jack was aware of the sudden change in tension between them; he hadn't known how to approach her, how to tell her what he wanted but he began to see that she wanted it as much as he did. 

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he guided her across fields and into the shelter of a row of trees. They came to a stop under a large oak, it's new spring foliage sheltering them, overhanging branches forming a secret bower for them. Jack took off his jacket and spread it on the ground for Mary to sit. As he lowered himself down by her side, her slim arms came up and encircled him, drawing his head down to kiss her. His lips were surprisingly soft, and she enjoyed taking the lead, her tongue exploring his mouth. She felt his hands on her waist, and then slide up slowly until his hand cupped her full breasts beneath her thick coat. Pulling away, she unfastened her buttons to allow him easier access. Her best bodice was made of fine cotton, and as he played with her breasts, he could feel her nipples rise to a point, pushing against his palm. He lowered his mouth to kiss them, sucking gently through the bodice and her petticoats. Mary, frustrated by this gentle, slow action, pushed him away and began to disrobe. She wanted to feel his mouth on her flesh, to feel him biting and sucking hard. He watched as her body emerged from her petticoats, her breasts firm and full, her nipples erect in the brisk spring air. His eyes dropped to look at the dark cleft between her legs, and she turned around so he could see her rounded buttocks. 

Teasing him, she placed her hands on each cheek and separated them slightly, so he could see the cleft there, and bent forward slightly so he saw the deep wedge between her thighs. He moved forward and lifted a hand to touch her, feeling the heat and wetness. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her warmth envelope him, to lick at the sticky sweet juices that flowed from her. He guided her back to the jacket spread under the tree and laid her down, marvelling at her soft pale flesh so different from his own, sun hardened skin.

Her thighs parted automatically and he pushed them back further so her whole sex was exposed. He gazed on the folds of flesh, and the nub of tissue half hidden within. 

Mary relaxed back, her eyes closed, not caring that she was exposed to the world. The she felt Jack's warm breath on her, and a soft stroke on her sex. At first she didn't know if it was his fingers or his tongue, but then she felt him lapping at her, and probing between the folds of flesh with the tip of his tongue, flicking at the hidden nub of flesh until her breathing came in short gasps and she never wanted him to stop. She felt his fingers on her, spreading the fleshy lips apart and he sucked gently at her. Her juices were flowing now and he licked them away. His fingers were becoming more adventurous, entering her then withdrawing, tickling the cleft between her buttocks. Mary suddenly wanted him in her; she wanted to feel his cock in her, filling her, driving deep. Her sex felt engorged, throbbing for release. She opened her eyes and begged him to take her. As he hurriedly undressed, Mary lay back, her thighs still spread and played with herself lasciviously, knowing that Jack was excited by the sight of her finger buried in herself, encircling and rubbing at her flesh.

His cock was erect, straining, the engorged purple head slick with juices already. Mary wanted it inside her, and held back her thighs, opening herself as much as possible so he could enter her.

He took his cock in his hand and guided it to her entrance, then thrust inside into the haven of her sex. Mary gasped, feeling it massage her with a brutal tenderness as he drove into her deeply. One hand lay on her breasts, feeling for her nipples, and with the other he wound his fingers into the crisp curls at the base of her belly, letting one fingertip stray lower, playing with her until she reached her peak, squirming and whimpering in pleasure. He slowed for a moment, feeling her muscles clench around him and for a second he thought he was about to release himself. He desperately wanted to last longer this time, to revel in the heat of her and slowed to regain a little control.

He rocked back on his knees, his cock almost pulling out completely and watched as she quivered in the throes of her pleasure. Then he plunged back in, his hands moving to take hold of her ankles to support himself, spreading her legs widely in a deep V. He watched his cock as it drove into her slick with her juices until he couldn't hold back any longer. With a groan, he released a flood of hot viscous seed into her. Spent, he rested against her for a moment, and then pulled out, releasing a flood of his seed mixed with her juices. They lay on the makeshift blanket together, her head resting on his shoulder. He kissed her hair gently, and she nuzzled into him further for warmth. 

Soon the time came for them to return to duties, and reluctantly they dressed and walked back to the House. Mary could still feel the weight of him inside her, and she wondered again whether she should tell Jack of her relationship with her Master. She decided not to, what he didn't know wouldn't harm him.



The Maid's Tale Ch. 08



Mary missed Jack; she enjoyed his shy smile, and the diffidence with which he treated her. She knew she would see him again on her next free Sunday but that wasn't for almost a month. Until then, she kept the memory of his touch alive, lulling herself to sleep at night with thoughts of his lips on hers, and his hands exploring her tender body.

Her Master hadn't been around for the last few days; he was much taken with the company of his old friend and they spent many hours closeted together, playing billiards and drinking in the games room, or riding for miles until the horses returned lathered with sweat.

As a result of this, the house had been fairly quiet. Of course there was the day-to-day drudgery, the china to clean, the silver to keep polished with ashes and paper, but generally the House had the air of a holiday and relaxation. Mary had retired to her room at her usual time, but she wasn't weary; the lighter duties hadn't exhausted her youthful reserves and she was happy when Betsy knocked quietly at her door and slipped in for a natter. She and Betsy had grown up together in the House and she was very fond of her company. Mary's 19th birthday had come and gone almost un-noticed, apart from by Betsy. She had managed to save a small amount from her tiny wage and buy Mary ribbons for her Sunday dress. This act of kindness had sealed the girls friendship and now they were inseparable, giggling in corners together to the irritation of the other household staff.

Although it was late spring, the night air was crisp and, perched on the end of Mary's bed, Betsy started shivering a little in her fine cotton nightgown. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

'Well?' she asked' 'how are you and Jack getting on?'

Mary smiled. She knew Betsy well enough to tell her some of the details about Jack, but decided not to say anything about their Master-Betsy would be shocked at that.

'He's very sweet', she replied, 'he thinks I'm beautiful, and when he kisses me...' She smiled again, remembering the feel of his tongue against hers.

Betsy shivered again, partly because of the cold, but partly because of the look on Mary's face, a faraway gaze full of longing. 

Mary noticed the shiver, and shuffled over to the edge of the bed. 'Get in, 'she said, 'you must be cold'. She held back the corner of the coverlet so that Betsy could slide in beside her.

A little shy at first, Betsy did as she asked, and soon the two girls were cosy under the warm blankets. The bed was narrow, and Betsy was forced up against Mary, one arm across her stomach, and her head resting on Mary's shoulders. Automatically, Mary's arm had lifted and stretched across Betsy's sturdy shoulders, Mary's fingertips resting in Betsy's hair. 

'So...' asked Betsy, 'what else have you done besides get a kiss?'

Betsy could feel the curve of Mary's stomach beneath her arm, heat radiating through the thin nightdress. She had never been as close to someone before, never been so tempted to touch and she was confused by her feelings. The warmth of Mary's body seemed to permeate directly to the pit of Betsy's stomach, and subconsciously she moved a little closer. 

Mary felt Betsy's warm breath on her neck, and she could sense Betsy's face nuzzling into her. Suddenly shy, she found it hard to put into words what she wanted to say.

'He touched me...' she said slowly, 'He touched me...you know.'

Betsy didn't; she was plain, and lived her life almost exclusively in the House, but she could feel the tension in Mary's body and somehow this transmitted itself to her. 

'Where did he touch you?' she asked, moving closer to Mary, her lips almost brushing Mary's soft cheek. 'Tell me, I want to know.'

Mary felt her mouth go dry. She could feel Betsy's warm arm resting across her stomach, and for a brief instant had a vision of Betsy's fingertips edging down, slowly to explore in the way that Jack had done. 

'He touched me...under my petticoats' she gasped, not knowing the words, not knowing how to describe the feeling of Jack's fingers on her, caressing her most intimate parts. 

Betsy was shocked; she knew that this was where babies came from and that men enjoyed that sort of thing, but she had never thought that this was something a woman might like to do. Mary, though, had obviously enjoyed it; longing was oozing from her. 

At Mary's words, Betsy felt that strange heat begin to rise in her, a heat that appeared to originate from that unknown territory between her thighs; a region she had assiduously avoided since the minister had told them of the evil that arose from woman.  

'What did it feel like?' she asked, unconsciously pressing her thigh against Mary's, her hand curling round to stroke Mary's slim waist.

Still Mary couldn't find the words to describe the feelings of pleasure and of deep satisfaction. 

Betsy's hand was now stroking the side of Mary's waist, slowly upwards to her breast, just edging along the outer border. She felt Betsy's lips move on her cheek and, almost in a dream, heard Betsy say quietly 'Show me what he did, Mary'.

Mary turned in the bed and brought her face to Betsy's. In the dim candlelight she could see an almost feverish glitter in her friend's eyes, and a red glow in her cheeks. Betsy's breath was coming in short gasps, and she didn't relinquish her hold on Mary. Her hand slid around from Mary's waist and moved upwards to envelope one of her full soft breasts. 'Oh yes...' breathed Mary, conscious of her nipple hardening under Betsy's unskilled fingers. 

'Wait..' asked Mary, and sitting upright, she quickly drew her nightgown over her head. Betsy watched, fascinated, as she saw Mary naked for the first time, her long sinuous waist, her full breasts tipped in rosy pink nipples, now puckered and hardened. 

'You too,' said Mary, her hair dishevelled,' take off your nightgown'.

Betsy was shy still, but she heard the urgency in Mary's voice and climbed out of bed to rid herself of the full-length gown. Mary watched as Betsy revealed her body; her breasts were heavy, her nipples darker than Mary's and at the base of her belly there was an explosion of dark brown curls hiding the cleft of her sex.

Betsy slide back into bed to cover her nakedness, but Mary threw back the covers to expose them both to the crisp night air.

'Do you want to know what Jack does to me?' she murmured, burying her face in the side of Betsy's neck, and felt, rather than heard Betsy's frantic agreement.

Mary kissed Betsy gently; her lips leaving a feather light trail of caresses down the side of her neck. 

She could feel her breasts pressed against Betsy's, feel their soft flesh moulding together; the sensation was so different from the hard, muscular chest of her Master, or of Jack's, and she wanted to explore further. She wanted to know if she could give Betsy the same pleasure that she had been given, and slowly, she trailed her lips down to Betsy's breasts, lifting each one gently, feeling its heaviness. She brought her mouth down on Betsy's nipple, sucking gently, feeling the firm bud rise and flicked it lightly with the tip of her tongue to stimulate it further. She heard Betsy moan, an incoherent gasp, and this made Mary nip a little harder. She felt Betsy's body tense and her back arched as if to thrust her breast more deeply into Mary's mouth.

Mary's hand slowly descended, stroking at the rounded curve of Betsy's plump stomach, tickling lightly at her navel. Betsy said nothing, overwhelmed by the sensations and, encouraged, Mary edged her way down, entwining her fingers in the hair covering Betsy's plump mound. She pulled lightly, stroking and smoothing the curls, all the time reaching further, reaching for that moist slit that she knew was there. Her fingertips found it and she stroked lightly, just with the tip of a finger.

Betsy's eyes, closed in ecstasy, flew open in a panic. 'Oh no...Mary, you mustn't! 'Tis a sin....' 

Mary hushed her, stroking like she would a frightened kitten, cupping and caressing Betsy's breasts until the girl was almost purring under her soft hands. She whispered quiet words of encouragement in Betsy's ear, licking gently at her ear lobe, kissing her neck under she felt the tension leave Betsy's body and she could begin her exploration again.

This time, Betsy's body seemed to welcome her touch. Betsy's thighs parted, and Mary had room to delve her fingers between them, feeling the plump lips of her sex.

'I want to see' she whispered to Betsy, 'I want to see you down there' and she edged down the bed, settling herself between Betsy's thighs. Betsy, embarrassed, tried to cover herself, but Mary pulled her hands away. Mary gently pushed Betsy's legs wider apart, and watched as the outer lips of her sex spread and the pink inner surfaces were revealed. Already they were glistening with juices and Mary knew how Jack must have felt, for she wanted to taste those juices for herself. The opening of Betsy's vagina was a dark and mysterious shadow and looked like velvet. Slowly she reached forward and spread Betsy's lips wider, her fingers playing up and down the moist slit. She could see Betsy quiver, little shivers of sensation running down her thighs. Stretching more widely, she could see a firm nub of erect pink flesh standing proudly at the top of Betsy's sex, and Mary knew that this must be the seat of pleasure, the cause of all the urges that she had felt over the last few weeks. She let her fingers tickle this lightly, teasingly and heard Betsy gasp, her thighs jerk in sudden tremor. She lowered her head and took the nub of tissue in her mouth, rolling it lightly between her lips. She could smell Betsy's arousal, a deep musk that made Mary light-headed. She tried to replicate Jack's motions, to copy his tonguing and licked gently up and down the length of Betsy's slit, holding her thighs apart. She could feel Betsy begin to buck beneath her and knew that she was reaching her crisis. She heard Betsy moan, almost growling, meaningless sounds of urgency arising from her. Mary slowed a little, wanting to extend the pleasure further for her friend. She began to finger Betsy's sex again, running her fingertips up and down, scratching lightly at her labia. 

With a fingertip she probed the entrance to Betsy's vagina. She knew that she was the first to tread this path and that she must go gently, but Betsy's mewl of pleasure at being violated soon overrode Mary's intentions and she began thrusting her finger in deeply. She could feel the muscular walls gripping at her and caressed the folds and crevices inside. One finger didn't seem to be enough, and she slid her middle finger in alongside the first, her thumb resting lightly on Betsy's pleasure-nub. Betsy's flesh seemed to suck at her, to draw her in deeper and faster until her fingertips seemed almost to brush against Betsy's womb and both of them were panting with exertion. She began to rub frantically with her thumb, and knew that Betsy was about to spend. She saw Betsy's back arch again, and felt her muscles contract down around her fingers. Betsy had thrust her hand against her mouth to smother her cries of ecstasy, but she couldn't help writhing in the bed, her head moving from side to side as waves of sensation rolled over her. Mary could see her sweat-slick skin, and lowered her mouth to lick at Betsy's belly but this was too much for Betsy. Overwhelmed by the sensations that she had never before experienced she cried out, begging Mary to stop. Stretching out alongside her once more, Mary leant over her friend, and brought her lips down to hers, kissing her deeply. Betsy could taste her juices on Mary's tongue, and marvelled at the sea-salt tang.

Betsy's breathing slowed and eventually she could think coherently. She lay with her hand draped around Mary's slim shoulders, and knew that she wanted this to happen again. She wanted to explore Mary in the same way, to taste her flesh and feel her friend writhe beneath her tongue. She also knew that she wanted more; her young body had recovered quickly and she could feel desire rising in her again.

Turning her head, she kissed Mary with a sudden passion, exploring her mouth, tongues entwining. Her hands caressed Mary's body, feeling her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. She felt she could lose herself in Mary's soft scented flesh, and wanted to drown in the taste of her. She slid her hands down Mary's back and stroked her buttocks, cupping them, digging her fingers into the abundant flesh as she continued to kiss Mary passionately. Her fingers found the cleft between the mounds of flesh and she stroked gently, her fingertips brushing lightly. She felt Mary quiver in her arms and knew instinctively that she had touched something sensitive, something that Mary wanted to experience again. 

Mary was struggling to contain her desire, and when she felt Betsy tease her secret entrance she couldn't stand it any longer. She pushed Betsy flat on the bed and climbed on top of her, swinging her legs around so that her thighs straddled Betsy's face and Betsy's mound was directly beneath Mary's tongue. 

Mary lowered herself onto Betsy's face, and knew that this was what she wanted; she needed Betsy to lick at her sex, to explore with her tongue all her hidden crevices and taste her juices. Mary lowered her face and began to lap at Betsy, clinging to her thighs, her head bobbing between the plump lips, tonguing and nibbling at Betsy's flesh. Betsy mimicked Mary's movements. Unsure at first, knowing only that she wanted to taste Mary's womanhood, she was encouraged by the murmurs of pleasure that her endeavours caused. Betsy had an overwhelming desire to touch and feel and brought her hands up to caress Mary's buttocks, kneading gently at the smooth flesh, spreading her cheeks until she could see the deep shadowed cleft between them, and the puckered amber ring that nestled there. Without thinking, she reached for it with her tongue, licking, and running the tip of her tongue around it, feeling the tight muscles react under her probing. She felt Mary start suddenly, and then heard her voice whispering encouragement. 'Oh yes.. Oh yes please...don't stop...please' Mary was beside herself: this felt so good, better then Jack, better than her Master. 

Slowly, Betsy felt the tight ring dilate slightly under the pressure from her tongue. She pushed a finger into Mary's sex, feeling it delve deeply into the warmth, feeling the strength of Mary's vaginal muscles contracting. 

'Put a finger in me...' begged Mary, and Betsy knew what to do. Moistened with the juices from Mary's sex, she pushed her finger into the tight rosebud, slowly easing her way in. Her tongue continued to lick and tease, now slipping over Mary's moistened lips, now teasing at the tight pleasure nub. She could feel Mary pushing herself back against her, grinding her hips to force Betsy's finger further and deeper. Mary could no longer concentrate on anything apart from the feel of Betsy's hands caressing her private entrance, and her tongue licking frantically over her sex. She knew she was about to come, and knew that this was better than ever. The feeling rose over her, and she buried her face in Betsy's sex to hide her cries of pleasure. She felt her juices flow, and Betsy licked and swallowed, drinking them with sounds of pleasure. 

For a moment, the girls stayed mounted on top of one another, too weak to move. Then slowly, Betsy eased her finger from Mary, and they lay side-by-side, arms entwined, hoping that this was only the start of their explorations.



The Maid's Tale Ch. 09



Phillip, The Baron Rothsmere, stretched out his long legs and leaned back on the chaise-longue, watching the dying embers of the fire. It had been a busy few weeks. Thomas had been an entertaining houseguest, always full of ideas on how to occupy their time. Phillip had thought that he was an experienced man of the world, but Thomas had opened his eyes to a whole new wealth of adventures. Phillip knew would still always prefer the soft warmth of a woman, but now he had another avenue to continue exploring, and turned his mind to how best accomplish this.

Mary, on the other hand, was worried about Betsy. She had greatly enjoyed their time together, but she wasn't sure she wanted to continue. She had enjoyed the soft lapping tongue against her sex, the gentle probing and the butterfly light caresses, but knew that she really wanted the pounding of a solid meaty cock, filling and stretching her. Betsy had come to Mary's room a couple of times since their night together, and had been content to lie close, the girls caressing each other. However, Mary knew that Betsy wanted more, but her heart lay with Jack, and her lust with her Master. Mary may have been young, but at 19 she knew what she wanted, and that wasn't Betsy. She sighed, her heart heavy, and got on with scrubbing the dishes.

Barlow, the butler, had been passing word of Jack's interest in Mary to his master. Phillip was greatly interested in this; Barlow had told him they had gone for a walk after chapel unchaperoned. Surely Mary wouldn't have had the nerve to couple with Jack, considering her masters interest in her? Phillip remembered the pleasure he had got from outdoor coupling, both with his many women and more recently with Thomas: the feel of the breeze over his naked flesh, sweat cooling on bodies, the possibility of discovery heightening sexual tension. He could feel his manhood begin to stiffen at the thought of this, and wondered what position Jack had taken her in. Phillip knew she best liked being taken from behind, he thrusting deeply into her, admiring the smooth flaring curve of her hips, and she able to play with her sex, bringing herself to ecstasy. He could imagine the weight of her breasts as he leant forward to cup them, imagine the feel of her hair as he entangled his fingers in it to pull back her head and kiss the back of her neck and back. 

As he lay on the chaise, he felt his cock rise to attention, pushing almost painfully against his breeches. Loosening his fastenings, he released it, gently stroking the bulbous engorged helmet. Would he ever be free of the tyranny of his cock, this drive to fuck, to explore every aspect of his sexuality? He hoped not. Feeling his shaft stiffen under his touch, he began to manipulate his thick reed in earnest, slowly smoothing his fingers down to the base, caressing his testicles, feeling the weight of his globes, and back up, to rub over the slit, already oozing fluid at the tip of his manhood. He wondered vaguely where Mary was, wanting her lips on his cock, wanting to feel her tongue fluttering against his shaft, urging him to come. He groaned and closed his eyes, feeling his cock twitch eagerly. He needed to fuck, and didn't want to content himself with this lonely act of self-pleasure. With a determined effort, he released his hold, and refastened his breeches. The next day was Sunday: after church, the household staff was free for a couple of hours. He would seek out Mary then and relieve himself with her. 

At staff dinner on Saturday evening, Mary couldn't resist throwing glances down to Jack. He was seated with the other outdoor servants at the lowliest end if the table, but he smiled up at her, raising his glass in lazy salute. She realised that he still wanted her and smiled back. Betsy, catching this, frowned a little. She knew that Mary had lain with Jack, but surely now this didn't matter? Betsy, for the first time in her quiet existence, had become close to another: Mary didn't love her, but surely she could see how much Betsy cared about her? Betsy, in quiet agony, sighed, her head bowed, wondering what would happen between her and Mary. Who would Mary choose?

The vicar's long sermon had seemed to go on forever. Betsy hadn't been able to concentrate. She had tiptoed into Mary's room late on Saturday evening, only to be rebuffed by Mary, who told her that she was too tired. Betsy, unable to articulate her dismay, had returned to her own room, and spent the night in broken sleep, tossing and turning, wanting to feel Mary's lips on hers, to caress the smooth flesh of her only lover. But it was no use: she could feel Mary withdrawing from her. At dinner on Saturday, and again in church, Mary had deliberately taken her seat by one of the other staff and avoided any conversation with Betsy: it seemed as though Mary's choice had been made.

Mary, oblivious to Betsy's anguish, was again unable to concentrate on the vicar's words. She was thinking about Jack and counting the minutes to when she would be with him again. It wasn't long now-the vicar was drawing to a close and in unseemly haste, Mary raced back to the house, eschewing the gentle pace of the other house servants, and made her way to the wooded copse to find Jack. In her excitement, she didn't realise that her movements had been closely followed: Barlow was watching stealthily, and following orders, he relayed this back to his Master. Phillip, dressed in his riding gear, immediately set off to the copse. He wanted to see Mary: he had, unexpectedly, missed her company while occupied with Thomas. He had missed her eagerness, her unpractised caresses, and her wide blue eyes so gentle and strangely familiar.

Jack and Mary fell into one another's arms, hungry for each other after a months enforced separation. In the warmth of the early afternoon sun they undressed each other, Jack marvelled at the smoothness of her ivory skin, stroking the silky hair nestling under her arms, and nibbling at her rosy tipped breasts now taut with desire.

Mary's eager hands caressed Jack's strong shoulders, firm with young muscle. She held his head to her breast as he nuzzled like a hungry infant, drawing her nipples to aching peaks. She felt the thrust of his manhood pressing against her stomach, and parted her thighs, drawing her knees up so he could guide his throbbing manhood into her. Mary, awash with desire, was running with honeyed juices, and he slipped in easily. She groaned under the familiar weight of him, and arched her back to grind herself against his plunging body.

Suddenly, Betsy came to her mind; little Betsy who had licked and probed at her secret entrance, and had shown her a new route to pleasure. She laid her hands flat against Jacks shoulders and pushed him away a little; he slowed his thrusts and raised his head from her neck. 'I want you to do something for me Jack', she asked, and she eased herself out from under him. He knelt up, and watched as she turned over, thrusting her rounded buttocks high and slightly parting her knees.

Looking over her shoulders, she called to him. 'Touch me Jack', she commanded. He reached forward with both hands, and began to play with the firm flesh presented to him. As he fondled and caressed, his fingers slipped between the pale globes and nudged at her amber furrow. As Betsy had done before him, he felt Mary quiver under the touch, and knew that Mary wanted more. He slipped a finger into her glossy slit and using her juices as lubrication, he pushed gently, watching in fascination as her greedy entrance gave way. Mary groaned at the intrusion; half pleasure, half pain, wholly wonderful.

He watched as Mary's hand slipped between her thighs to play with herself, and found this lewd display so intensely erotic his cock reared up, the engorged head almost glistening. He pushed another finger inside her, feeling her ring contract tightly. Mary was lost in a dreamlike state-her mind awhirl with pleasure. Then she felt Jack remove his fingers and cried out in protest, only to mewl with delight when she felt the bulbous head of his cock press against her. There was a momentary pain as he entered but soon he was wholly inside her, marvelling at the tightness of her. Mary felt so full that she could hardly breathe, but her fingers didn't cease their manipulations of her own sex. This was so much better than before; her Master and his friend had each taken her this way, but they had been without care for her pleasure, rough and vigorous. Jack was determined that she would enjoy this as much as he, and his movements were slow and steady, his thrusts timed to her fingers movements. Jack could feel her tunnel begin to contract around his cock, and as he moved slowly, pulling back slightly, the sensation was overwhelming. He could feel his crisis approaching rapidly and knew he was going to spend, pumping his juices into her. Mary was close too, and the sudden sharp contraction of her muscles around him was all that Jack needed. Both of them cried out hoarsely, and Mary could feel his cock jerking inside her. 

As he pulled out from her, he could see his seed spilling from her, oozing slowly. He helped her settle again on her back to rest. Her legs were trembling still and her nipples were still stiff peaks of joy. He took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, sucking at them gently, tasting her juices. 

Phillip, watching from behind a tree at the edge of the clearing was shocked and aroused by what he saw. He knew where Jack's plundering cock had found pleasure, and was surprised that Mary had so readily allowed him to enter-indeed, she had seemed to welcome this, actively encouraging Jack to partake of that dark ecstasy. 

His own cock was again pressing painfully against his breeches. He wanted so much to join the young couple beneath the shelter of the trees. He had enjoyed watching the thrust of Jacks firm muscular buttocks and was wondering how far Jack could be encouraged in his explorations. He would have to play Master of the house and find out. His plans made, he turned quietly to leave, throwing one last glance at the two young lovers curled in each other's arms.



The Maid's Tale Ch. 10



When Barlow announced at dinner that Mary was to present herself to the Master in his study Mary was shocked. She immediately thought that he meant to assert his Master's rights over her again, and then realised he had no need to make his needs public. What did he want of her? She nervously asked Barlow if he knew why, and his sneering reply disturbed her more. 'I believe disciplinary action was mentioned' Barlow gloated. 'You didn't get permission to leave the House last weekend did you?'

At this, Mary's thoughts immediately turned to Jack. If the Baron knew that she had been absent, then maybe he knew about Jack and their relationship. Biting her lip nervously, she looked down at her uneaten dinner. 

The next morning at the appointed time, she stood waiting at the Master's study door in her best uniform, freshly cleaned and pressed. She knocked gently, and heard her Master's grim voice bid her enter. 

In the study, his slim young body trembling almost as much as hers, Jack stood facing the Master across his desk. Mary came to stand beside him, knowing that their association had come to their master's attention and they were at his mercy. Jack was 20, but beside his Master, he was as slim as a reed and looked younger.

Phillip, enjoying the young couple's apprehension, sat calmly, his fingers steepled, looking at them both. 

'Well Jack,' he spoke calmly, 'did you see Mary in the woods last Sunday?'

'Yes sir' Jack relied, his voice pitched low to hide the tremor.

'And did she have permission to absent herself from her duties?'

'I don't rightly know, sir' Jack spoke honestly. Permission had been the last thing on their minds when they had met in the wooded copse, so hungry and impatient for each other.

'She didn't have permission,' stated Phillip baldly, 'She's not a child. She knows what her duties are. She deserves to be punished, don't you think?'

Mary's head jerked upwards at the mention of punishment; she remembered her Masters last punishment session and how it had ended.

Jack was confused; he didn't want to condemn the woman he loved, but he couldn't risk his position. He looked at his Master. 'If you think so, sir' he said finally, avoiding Mary's eyes.

'I do think so, Jack. And you will be the one to administer the punishment.' With that, Phillip stood up from his seat, and once again, Mary was struck by 

the muscular leanness of his body, his long legs tightly encased in his britches, the cut emphasising the taut bulge of his crotch.

He motioned the young couple over to the chaise longue, and told Jack to sit himself down. Turning to Mary, he looked her up and down, and decided that the uniform would provide too much cushioning. 'Take it off, Mary,' he gestured to the bulky dress. Ignoring Jack's astonished gasp, Mary undressed slowly, eventually standing in front of the two men in her shift and petticoats.

'I said take it off Mary' Phillip repeated, 'All of it'.

Jack tried to rise in protest, but the Baron's heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he watched as Mary revealed herself to them. Dropping her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor, she stood naked, waiting passively for what was to come.

Despite his fear, Jack couldn't help but admire the smooth line of her waist, the heaviness of her rounded breasts. Her nipples hardening under their gaze, Mary looked directly at her Master. 'Now what should I do?' she asked, and Jack realised that maybe this wasn't the first time Mary had stood like this in front of the Baron. She was too familiar, too comfortable.

'You need to be spanked again, ' Phillip replied, confirming Jack's suspicions. He ordered her to climb onto the chaise, and kneel over Jacks knees, her buttocks comfortably in reach of Jacks strong right hand, her breasts falling into his lap. 

Jack's hand rose automatically to caress her plump buttocks. He could feel her quivering, and feel her quim pressed against his outer thigh. Despite his fears, despite the presence of their Master, his cock rose, half-hardening and stirring. 

'Punish her Jack' said Phillip, positioning himself at the end of the chaise so he could see Mary's bottom more clearly. 

With that, Jack's hand lifted and, half-heartedly, he spanked her lightly. He looked at Phillip, who insisted 'Harder. She's a bad girl and needs to be taught a lesson'.

Jack tried again, this time bringing his hand to her rump and leaving a faint reddening. 'Again,' demanded Phillip. So Jack did so, trying to be careful so as not to not cause pain, but watching the redness blossom on both cheeks. Suddenly, incredulously, he heard a faint whisper coming from Mary. 'Again, Jack, again....punish me again,' and he could feel her quim pushing against his thigh. He realised that Mary was enjoying this, that this wasn't real punishment for her. Looking at Phillip, watching that cruel handsome face gazing at Mary's luscious plump cheeks reddening under her lover's hand, he was struck by their similarity, both of them lustful and sensuous.

Phillip watched Mary grind her sex on Jack's thigh, and knew she needed to be taken. 

Reaching across, he caressed her rump, smoothing down the curves to between her thighs. Jack could only watch as his Masters fingers slid inside her, her sex lips parting, the musky scent of her arousal reaching both of them. Jack's erection continued to rise, and Mary could feel this nudging at her breasts. She lifted herself up slightly, and fumbling, she freed his cock from the tight confines of his britches. Her Masters fingers began to thrust inside her, slipping over and around her velvety lips. Mary's mouth closed around Jack's cock, caressing his shaft with her tongue, closing her eyes in enjoyment as she relished the taste of him, the tang of his juices and the smell of young sweat. Jack didn't know what to concentrate on; the erotic sight of his lover being fingered by their master, watching the stiff fingers slick with Mary's juices, or to enjoy the feel of her hot mouth and throat.

Then he realised that his Master had unfastened his britches to release his own cock. Jack saw the fat shaft of the man's cock, the thick veins bulging along its length and the bulbous helmet already glistening with juices. Phillip took the shaft in his free hand, easing it up and down. He couldn't reach Mary's sex in their current position, and stopped fingering her long enough to seat her on the floor, kneeling in front of Jack, her mouth still working on his Jack's cock.

Kneeling behind her, Phillip eased his cock into Mary with an effortless thrust, sliding into her tight sex. The two men were now in a position to watch each other, one fucking her, the other enjoying her mouth. Jack could feel her rhythms changing with Phillip's thrusts, her mouth being pushed further onto him with each deeper thrust of Phillip's cock. He felt disorientated; as the men looked at each other, it felt almost as though Phillip was thrusting in to him, so closely were the sensations matched. He could feel his head begin to swirl and knew that he was close to emptying his seed into her hungry mouth. Phillip knew from the changes in the young boy's expression that he was close to his crisis, and he pulled out from Mary so that he could watch.

Mary moved her mouth away from Jacks cock just enough for Phillip to see the spurts of white seed erupting, some landing in her mouth, others on her face and throat. She had hold of Jack's cock, controlling it, feeling it jerk under her fingers. Lovingly, she closed her lips over him again and sucked away the last few drops of his juice, giggling a little at his shivers. Jack leaned back and opened his eyes. He saw Mary, naked, still kneeling at his feet, her eyes glazed with passion, and their Master standing behind her, still fully dressed, holding his magnificent erection in his hand.

Half-dazed, he heard his Master's voice as if from far away. 'I think it's time for your punishment now, Jack'.

He moved slowly towards Jack, still holding his erect cock firmly in his hand, and guided it towards Jack's uncomprehending face. Holding the younger man's head, he tried to ease his cock between Jacks lips. Jack, overcome by shame at this, resisting this intrusion, shook his head, but his Master clamped his hands on either side of Jacks face and forced his thick cock between his lips. Knowing that there was nothing else he could do, Jack began to run his tongue over the head of Phillip's cock. He licked the cockhead, and then slowly ran his tongue down the shaft, trying to do everything that Mary had done to him, trying to please their Master. He could taste her on his Master's cock, taste her juices coating the thick shaft now forcing itself ever more deeply into his mouth. 

Mary watched silently, sitting close, so close that she could see the glisten of Jacks' saliva along her master's shaft, and see the crisp pubic hair at her Master's crotch tickle Jack's nose. Now determined to do his best, knowing that their future depended on pleasing their Master, Jack moved his tongue over the shaft, licking at the rim of the bulbous helmet, and down over the weighty sac. Philip closed his eyes: this boy was good, he thought, even Thomas's practiced tongue hadn't felt as good as this.  

Slowly, Jack's tongue made it's way back to the tip of Phillip's cock, and then he allowed Phillip to press ahead and ease the full length of his cock into Jacks waiting mouth. As he slid in, Jack continued to tease the shaft with his tongue, pressing it against his cheeks, teasing it with his teeth lightly until he heard his Master groan. 

Phillip began slowly to pump his cock into Jack, sliding in as deep as he could get it. There was resistance at first, and Jack began to choke and gasp; Phillip slowed a little to allow Jack to get used to the feeling and then pressed ahead, wanting to bury his cock deep in this boy's throat. 

Suddenly, Phillip began to shudder and Jack knew that he was about to come. Automatically, Jack's hands came up and clasped him tightly around the buttocks; forcing Phillip to erupt into the younger man's mouth. Phillip let out a low groan as small white streams began to seep out around the corners of Jack's mouth.

Jack slowly slid his mouth off of Phillip's shaft, letting the come drip from his lips onto Phillip's cock and balls.

He looked over towards Mary, her finger buried deeply in her sex, playing with herself as she had watched the two men in their private ecstasy. She leant across to him and kissed him on the lips, licking away their masters come from his mouth. 

The two men realised that Mary needed a release-she had watched them in their ecstasy and now needed more than that, she needed to take part again, to take centre stage between the two men who drove her to heights of passion.

Phillip guided her over to his desk and laid her on it, her legs held high above her, forcing her knees back almost parallel to her chest. This position exposed her sex fully, and the dark mysterious cleft of her buttocks. He could see her juices oozing from her, so excited had she been at the sight of the two men together. He ran his fingers slowly down her slit, probing gently between her engorged lips, then toyed with her tight amber rosebud, tickling gently until her ring relaxed under his fingertips.  

He eased a finger into her, swiftly followed by another. She began rocking slowly trying to force deeper penetration, her need so great that she didn't care that Jack was watching. 

Jack's excitement was growing again, his cock hardening in response to the images before him. Mary's eyes were closed; her head thrown back and her hands were playing with her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. Phillip was gazing down at her, then he looked up and over at Jack. Noticing Jack's youthful erection, he ordered to come over to the desk. He reached down and held Jack's cock in his left hand, smoothing down the length of his shaft. He knew Jack wanted to bury his cock in Mary, and slowly sliding his fingers from her, he guided the tip of Jack's cock to nuzzle against the tight amber rosebud he had been ploughing, Jack knew Mary wanted this, and he eased himself inside. Her eyes flew open at the sudden sensation of fullness and she groaned in pleasure. Phillip began to play with her clitoris, knowing that this would send her over the edge into bliss. He probed delicately at the lips of her sex, and then drove his fingers inside her, matching the thrusts of Jack's cock, feeling the wetness of heat of Mary's velvet lined sex.

Mary was in a daze, her head was filled with a whirl of imagery, a mist of want and need and desire surrounded her, and then she felt the feeling rise from her pelvis, washing over her in a flame of pleasure. She heard, from a distance, the sound of screaming, then realised that the sound came from her throat, an animal shriek of lust and fulfilment. The two men watched as she pulled frantically at her nipples and rolled her hips to better force their fingers and cock deeper inside her until she could take no more.

Jack came in a rush, his seed erupting into her bowels in a burning flood and he slumped over her, both of them panting and slick with sweat. 

Their master watched, envious of their youthful beauty and stamina. He knew that he would have to give up Mary soon; his wife had written from London saying that she and their daughter would be returning shortly after a successful season. It would be too difficult to carry on with Mary with more prying eyes around the House, and he knew that he should let her go with her chosen lover. He was jealous of Jack, that he should be given the honour of pleasuring this woman, but knew in his heart that this was right. Mary loved Jack; he had no illusions about that. Jack understood what type of woman Mary was, and that she wanted and needed sex as much as Phillip himself did. 

He found it hard to maintain the illusion of a strict master as he watched them dress and excuse themselves; Jack had proved to be a surprise, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the game, enjoying the feel of a man as much as a woman and Phillip found himself wanting to plan future assignations with the couple to explore this further. He knew that he should begin to distance himself though, he had grown closer to Mary than any other woman he had had over the years and would find it harder and harder to break with her if this carried on any more. Yet he couldn't quite find the strength to send her away; her gentleness, her sweetness contrasted so strongly with her earthly sensuality that she entranced him. May be it would be different when his wife returned and he had other distractions to occupy his time. As the young couple left his study, he held his hand to his face and inhaled the perfume of her sex that lingered there. He sighed, knowing that the end of this sweet interlude was close.



The Maid's Tale Ch. 11



The House at Rothsmere was in uproar: after a prolonged absence, the Baroness was returning from London with her daughter. The Barons daughter, Lady Victoria, was only a few months younger than Mary. At 18, she had been in London for her first season, enjoying all the gaiety the city had to offer. And now they were returning, full of news from the capital, of the new fashions and all the society gossip. The house staff had been run ragged with cleaning and polishing. Knowing that the Mistress had been staying in the grandest houses that London had to offer and determined that they wouldn't be found wanting the housekeeper had ordered a spring clean. Mary and Betsy were exhausted: Betsy still came to Mary's room for a late night chat, but they had had no further intimacies since their first few nights together. Betty had resigned herself to this, knowing that she would always want Mary, but accepting that Mary was not for her. 

She didn't know why Mary felt this way; surely she had enjoyed what they had done? What was so different between the caresses of a man and those of a woman? What had Jack to offer that Betsy couldn't? Knowing that she wasn't likely to find out, Betsy set to with her cleaning, rubbing vigorously with the ash-covered cloth to clean the silver in the great hall.

Mary, meanwhile, was accompanying the chimney sweep around the house, draping the furniture to protect it from the ashes. They had reached the Master's study, almost the last room to be sorted. Mary looked around her, taking in the familiar surroundings. The hearth, where she had first felt her Master's hands on her as she leant over to lay the fire: the wall, where he had pushed her in a rage: the chaise and the desk where she had been taken by both him and Jack, and where she had realised that she would always be a slave to her passions and desires. What had made the blood in her veins run so hotly? 

She shuddered, her thoughts turning to Jack. The stable hands were also busy, cleaning up the yard even though the mistress of the house didn't ride. She hadn't seen him for days, except at the stiff and formal staff dinners, and her Master was also keeping his distance. She understood why: she had taken her Mistress's place for a while, but not for much longer. She would miss him: he seemed to understand instinctively what she wanted, what she needed. No desire was too much for him and he revelled in it, enjoying all that her body had to offer. They were alike in that, both able to give in and release themselves to their passion. Jack understood this as well: he had accepted that the woman he loved had the same needs as he did, and that she enjoyed meeting those needs. Not for her the coy, affected shyness that a young woman was supposed to exhibit: Jack let her test the boundaries of her desire. She had been surprised at his reaction to their meeting with their Master: Jack had enjoyed every aspect of it, and had talked about it on the few occasions they had managed to speak together since. She knew that he was willing, eager, to go further, and wondered if she should tell her Master of this. She had seen what Phillip had enjoyed on her evening with his friend Thomas, and wanted to see both men together. 

That night, Betsy crept into her room again. The two girls lay together in Mary's narrow bed. Mary had enjoyed their past dalliances, but knew that it had meant more to Betsy than it did to her. Mindful of the other girl's feelings, she had tried not to upset her: Mary didn't want to lead Betsy on, or pretend that she felt something she didn't. But tonight, with both Jack and her master distant, she needed some human contact. 

Betsy, lying with her head on Mary's shoulder knew somehow what was going to happen. She felt Mary's hand stroke her shoulder and back tenderly, and Mary hadn't made a sound when Betsy had dared to reach up and caress Mary's breasts. 

Betsy tried to ask the question that had been on her mind for so long. Why did Mary want Jack so much? Mary tried to explain, but as before she couldn't find the words. She tried to tell of the sensation of being filled by a meaty cock, or the sweet weight of her lover pressing into her, inhaling the musky male scent that caused her so much excitement. She had revelled in the masculinity of her lovers, the hard iron of muscle in their shoulders, the crispness of the curls of hair on their chest and trailing down their flat stomachs. Betsy, who craved the soft warmth of womanly flesh, didn't understand much of this, but wanted to experience as much as possible. Begging Mary to help, she went in search of a substitute for the girls to use, returning with a silver-backed hairbrush, the only thing of value she owned. The handle was broad and rounded, nowhere near as thick as a man's cock, but enough for her.

Mary laid Betsy on her front, stroking her back and caressing her plump buttocks. She could feel Betsy trembling under her fingers and knew that this was partly fear, partly excitement. Betsy lifted her body slightly, the movement causing her buttocks to spread a little, exposing the deep cleft between them. Mary leaned in close to nuzzle, her fingers slipping down to delve in the wet folds of flesh at the juncture of Betsy's thighs, burrowing like a little animal there. She could feel the slippery heat, and, holding the hairbrush by the bristled end, she slid the handle down to Betsy's sex. The girl jumped slightly when she felt the cold silver against her, but it warmed in the heat of her body and Mary began to push it inside her. Betsy was on her hands and knees now, and Mary was able to reach under the plump girls body and caress her pleasure bud with her free hand. She was careful to pump slowly at first, knowing Betsy's inexperience, but soon began to pump harder, thrusting the brush deeper into Betsy, rubbing and stroking her clitoris. Betsy pushed her face into the pillow to stifle her cries; the sensations were overwhelming her.

Betsy came quickly, panting, but felt unfulfilled. She wanted more and Mary seemed to understand. 'It's not the same' she told Betsy, 'It's different with a man'.

Wondering how this was going to come about, Betsy drifted off to sleep. Mary, meanwhile, decided to ask Jack for a favour.

The next day, the housekeeper was still all-quiver, giving out orders left and right, and Mary took advantage of the confusion to slip out to the stables to see Jack. He was helping the farrier with the houses-several had thrown shoes and he was good at calming them. She stood at the door, the heat of the place forcing her back and he saw her standing there through the smoke. Outside, she was about to embrace him but thought better of it: others were watching and he was covered in ash and smelt of the fire-it was best not to give the housekeeper clues as to her whereabouts.

They spoke quickly in hushed voices. Jack was surprised at her request, but intrigued. Betsy had seemed like a quiet mouse to him, stumbling around, shrinking into her self. This, if Mary was telling truth, was a whole new side to her. They made plans for Jack to come to the girl's attic rooms. This was dangerous if they were caught, but there was no other place to go. It had to be soon; when the mistress returned with her retinue there would be many more spying eyes around. They decided on that evening. Jack, like the other stable lads, was free of duties after supper. He would wait for them in Mary's room. With that, Mary rushed back to her duties, and Jack to his. His mind began to wander, his cock half stiffening at the thought of what was to come.

After the farrier had finished, Jack took himself off for a bath-the servants bath-house was empty and the water cold, but he didn't mind. Changing into a clean shirt and britches, he went to the house for supper. Casting an eye up the table to where Betsy sat close to Mary, he wondered if she knew what was to happen that night.

He slipped out quickly after supper, forgoing the traditional cup of strong tea with which they ended their meal. With all the other servants occupied downstairs, the house was empty and he had no trouble reaching the small attic room unseen. Curling up on the narrow hard bed, he settled down to wait for the girls.

Later, much later, after Mary and Betsy had helped with the dishes and the silverware, they found him rolled in the blankets, his face relaxed in sleep. Betsy was shocked to see him there-Mary hadn't told her, thinking to surprise her. They spoke quietly so as not to wake him; at first Betsy was hesitant, she wanted to experience this, but she was scared. She knew that Mary was much prettier than she, and that Mary and Jack were lovers. What if Jack didn't want to, or couldn't make love to her? Mary, as always, reassured her, stroking her shoulders and back, caressing her hair. Jack had woken up during their exchange and saw the girls embracing. He watched Mary kiss Betsy, their tongues entwining, and smiled to see Betsy's hands lift slowly to undo Mary's bodice, releasing the breasts on which they had both suckled. Betsy lowered her head and took the stiff peak of Mary's nipple in her mouth, sucking gently. Mary's back arched, thrusting her breast closer to Betsy's face, feeling a sensation tugging in her stomach. Jack could contain himself no longer; with an extravagant yawn that announced he was awake, he sat up in bed and smiled at the girls who had sprung apart, startled. 

'Started without me then, girls?' he smiled, and Betsy knew then that this would work out.

Mary decided that this would be Betsy's night-they would concentrate on her pleasure. Undressing her gently, the young couple laid her on the bed. Jack was surprised at the voluptuousness of her body-he had thought her shapeless and bulky, but undressed she was curved and rounded, her breasts full. The two of them began to touch her, working slowly at first until she was writhing under their fingers. They stroked the insides of her arms, the under curves of her breasts, the plump, white thighs, even her feet. Slowly Mary began to concentrate on those areas that she knew gave Betsy the most pleasure-her breasts, her nipples, the side of her neck and her soft, downy stomach. Mary's fingers edged lower and lower and Jack watched, fascinated, as he saw his lover's fingers probing the girl's sex, her fingers dipping and sliding deep between the plump lips. 

Using Mary's fingers as a guide, he lowered his mouth, and Betsy felt his tongue on her, flicking at the pleasure nub that Mary had been so skilfully stroking. He knelt between her thighs, naked, and she saw his maleness for the first time, rising from the junction of his thighs, thick and powerful. Mary saw the direction of the girl's gaze, and reached down to take Jack's cock in her hand. 'Feel it. Betsy', she whispered, and guided the other girl's hand. Betsy's fingers curled around the stiff shaft and she could feel soft velvet skin over a core of iron, warm and solid. 

'Do you want this inside you?' asked Mary, and Betsy, not trusting her voice, nodded. She lay back on the pillow and parted her thighs. Mary, taking hold of his cock again, guided the bulbous tip to the entrance of Betsy's virgin womb. They could both see the oil-slick glisten of her arousal, and Mary rubbed the head of his cock over the entrance, and up quickly over Betsy's pleasure bud, coating it in the thick juices. 

Then he slipped the head inside her. Moving slowly, he eased himself in deeper, gradually pressing in until he was buried deeply inside. Betsy had winced a little, then realised that there was no pain, only an incredible feeling of fullness. Jack leaned over her, taking the weight of his upper body on his arms and began to rock into her. Soon she picked up the rhythm, thrusting back in time, rocking her pelvis against his. Jack lowered his head to nuzzle at her breasts, taking her nipples in his mouth and nibbling gently. He could feel her work-roughened hands pleading on his back, holding him tightly to her. 

Mary, kneeling on the floor at the side of the bed watched them intently. She wanted to join in, but knew for this first time, they should move slowly with Betsy. Besides, she was enjoying watching the sight of Jack's powerful cock plundering Betsy' sex, disappearing in side her, and hearing the thrusts of flesh against flesh.

She could hear Betsy's breathing come quicker and quicker, and knew that she was enjoying this. Then she heard Jack groan and saw his buttocks clench. She knew that he was spurting his juices deep into her friend, and that Betsy could feel them hot inside her. 

Jack slowed his movements, and rested his head for a moment against Betsy's full bosom, her arms still embracing him. He pulled out slowly from her, and Mary saw the trickle of white seed at the entrance to the girl's sex. 

Betsy almost cried out at the sudden feeling of loss, but Mary, who lay alongside her, kissing her cheek, took his place. The two girls smiled at each other-Mary knowing that Betsy know understood why Jack was the man for her, and that no other explanations were needed.

Jack dressed quickly, watching the girls caressing again. He wanted to stay, but couldn't risk being found in the servants quarters. Finding his way back to the stables, he drifted into a contented sleep. 



The Maid's Tale Ch. 12



Phillip was in an odd mood: unable to concentrate on paperwork, or his extensive library, he had tried riding his mood away. However, the sight of Jack, labouring over the horses, had brought back the tumult of feelings that writhed inside him. He was losing Mary: what had started as a casual dalliance with an available housemaid had turned into something Phillip had only experienced once before. A woman who met his desires and exceeded them: a woman in whom passion flowed, who was driven by her desires, who needed him as much as he needed her. But he knew that this was hopeless, with his wife and daughter back his life would be curtailed. He would have to give Mary to Jack and try to forget about her. The couple could be married and move far away, away from temptation.

On the day of his wife's return, the entire household was dressed in their best uniform. Standing to attention on the broad steps leading up to the entrance hall of the House they made a brave show. Mr Barlow, the impressive and stately butler stood waiting to greet the mistress. It was his right to open the door of the carriage for them and escort her to the hall where her husband, the Master, stood waiting. Mary, sunk in depths of misery, was waiting in line with the rest of the maids. She knew she had no right to the attentions of their master. She knew that she was lower than dirt, that she was only a servant. But over the last few months she had been closer to him than anybody else in her short life. She knew that their association had started due to a temporary lust on his part. But this had developed, and now she didn't know what to do. As a grown woman, she should have known her own mind, but she was confused. She loved Jack: he adored her, he knew of her sexual drive and how to satisfy her; he knew of her relationship with the Master and that hadn't bothered him: indeed, he had taken part himself, and talked of this frequently. But she didn't want to give up her relationship with Phillip; he satisfied a need in her, a need to be dominated and controlled, a need to be forced. She sighed heavily, confused and miserable. 

The carriage drew close, and stopped in a shower of gravel, the horses sweating in the summer haze.

The mistress descended, a stiff and formal figure in a high-necked matronly gown of dove-grey silk and taffeta. Mr Barlow welcomed her home, and she nodded condescendingly. Her daughter, slim and vital, pushed her way out of the carriage. Her long blonde hair coming loose, she ran up the steps to the house, ignoring the rules of decorum, and bypassing the servants.' Where's my papa?' she cried, her aristocratic tones ringing through the hall. Phillip stepped forward, his heart contracting at the sight of this, his only offspring, so lovely and so young. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Then, suddenly mindful of her manners in front of the Baroness, she drew back and dipped a perfect curtsy. 'How do you do, father?' she asked, the dimpling of her cheek the only sign that she was resisting a strong temptation to giggle. 

He looked down at her, her bright blonde hair trailing down her shoulders and back, and then stood back as she looked up at him. Her wide, trusting, deep blue eyes held nothing but love and adoration as she gazed at him, and he was struck by the feeling that he had been looked at this way before, by a woman with a similar face, a similar youthful body, and the same deep blue eyes. 

Then he knew. He knew what had been troubling him for the last few months, knew what had made him connect with a servant normally so far beneath him that she should have been nothing to him, but who had managed to take over his dreams. 

In shock, he took a step back. What had he done? He was stunned at the implications of his actions over the last few months, what he had done? 

His daughter, Victoria, named in honour of the Queen, did not realise that anything was amiss. She took hold of her father's hand and began regaling him with stories from London, of the handsome young beaux who had pressed their suit and asked her to dance at the many Balls she had attended, of the receptions she and the Baroness had been invited to and how much she had enjoyed London and all it's diversions. 

Phillip, his mind awhirl, was only required to join the monologue with an occasional nod or murmur of interest. He was trying to rid his mind of images of another young woman spread beneath him, her knees parted, her sex glistening with juices of arousal, panting for him to take her. He tried to forget about the times in which he had driven his cock deep into her, sliding into her velvet lined sex or her most secret entrance, listening to her moans of arousal. Remembering the times in which he had encouraged other men to take her while he watched, revelling in her desires, he almost groaned: what had he done? He tried to rationalise his feelings: he had had no way of knowing who she was, what she represented. She was simply a maid who had enjoyed his advances. 

Later that evening, after the family had been reunited, the master returned to his study for a moment's peace. What was he to do? Mary didn't know anything: she was an innocent in all of this. 

The next day, he summoned Mary to his study. Mr Barlow had passed on the order, surprised that the Master would take the risk now that the mistress was home. 

Mary, still miserable, stood, her eyes downcast in front of him. Her mood, however, couldn't dim the glory of her wealth of bright blonde hair or the glow of her deep blue eyes. 

Phillip desired her more than ever, knowing now that she was forbidden. She was almost as tall as he, a statuesque figure, slim and supple, with full, rounded breasts that he knew ached to be caressed. He knew every inch of her body: her curves, the fullness of her rounded buttocks, the deep amber furrow between them and the sweet, moistness of her welcoming sex. He wanted to find sustenance there one last time, to bury his aching cock into her, to feel her womanly warmth clench around him, drawing him deeper, milking him of his seed. He wanted to take her peaking nipples into his mouth, to suck them to tautness, to feel them firm and harden between his lips and feel her quiver beneath him. He wanted to feel her soft hands upon him, to caress his shaft, gently easing back his foreskin to reveal the bulbous engorged tip of his manhood that was intended for her. He needed to feel her lips engulf him, to feel the flutter of her tongue against his shaft, and to unload his seed into her mouth, watching her swallow it down. 

As these thoughts raced across his mind, Phillip could feel his cock rising. He wanted her; he wanted her so badly he didn't care if he was discovered; he wanted only to take her one last time. 

Keeping his eyes on his desk, he shuffled paperwork nervously. 'Mary' he started nervously. 'Mary, you know why I asked you here'.

She shook her head slowly, and he continued. 'I want you to leave the house,' he said, and looked up at her gasp of shock.

'We can't carry on, not with my wife home. I want you to go away, with Jack, start a family.'

He stood up and strode around the desk, reaching out for her. They embraced, and he could feel her shaking. Stroking her hair, he tried to soothe her, and bent his head to kiss her gently on the forehead. But Mary moved quickly, and his lips met hers. She drew his head down, and against his will, he kissed her deeply, feeling her hands bury under his jacket, unfastening the buttons and ties of his shirt. 'Please' she begged, 'just once more...'

He pushed her away, and Mary's hands fell. Ashamed of the naked need for him she had just exhibited, she sank on to the chaise, then watched astonished as he crossed the floor to turn the key in the lock. Returning, he knelt at her feet, his hands sliding up her legs. He knees parted of their own volition, and he caressed the smooth softness of her inner thighs. She moved her bottom to the edge of the seat and spread her thighs further for him, allowing him access to her sex. Holding back her skirts with one hand, he leaned forward and for the last time tasted her bittersweet juices on his tongue. Nibbling at her pleasure bud, he used the other hand to finger her, trailing his finger tips gently through her crisp curls, stroking the moistness of her lips, and pushing in to savour the heat of her, feeling her muscles gripping him tightly. He couldn't resist her any more. Scrabbling to undo his britches, he released his straining cock. He sat on the chaise and she mounted him, her thighs spread across his. She guided him into her, revelling in the meatiness of his thick shaft filling her. With his hands on her hips, she began to move slowly up and down, her muscles grasping him as they had done his fingers. Her breasts, confined in her bodice, were within reach of his mouth, and she undid her laces quickly. He felt as though he could drown in the warmth of her abundant flesh, nuzzling at her and sucking delicately on her pink nipples in turn.

He needed to thrust into her, harder and harder. Knowing that this was what she had wanted, he lifted her from him, and placed her kneeling on the edge of the chaise, her hands braced on the back of it. She leaned forward, her buttocks separating slightly, and he plunged deeply into her. Slamming harder and harder, her buttocks grinding against his flat stomach, he could feel himself coming. He groaned as his juices burst from him, erupting against the neck of her womb, filling her with his hot seed.

He withdrew slowly, his cock still half-erect, and she turned to smile at him. He helped her with her skirts, and then told her again gently that she must leave. She knew this was right; she couldn't stay here, not now. Jack was a good man and would take care of her. Phillip knew that she now accepted this, and with a final farewell kiss she left.

The next day, Mr Barlow called her to come to his private parlour. He had been issued with orders from his master. While he wasn't happy about them, he had to comply. His master knew that Barlow had often sampled his leftovers, but had warned him not to touch this one-all of Barlow's plans for her had been thwarted. He had also to give her money, and Barlow professional demeanour had been jolted when his Master told him how much she was to get. Jack, the stable lad, was also to be sent for, and he too was to receive a purse of sovereigns.

Mary and Jack left the house together, their feelings confused, but both were happy. Mary had grown up in the house, but now, as a woman, with her own man, she could go where she wanted, at no-ones beck and call. When they were settled, Betsy was to come and join them. Mary looked forward to the new chapter of her life but she knew that none of them would ever forget their master.