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The Miller Ch. 01

By: lipspomegranate



"Master Millar, you know I am your man. I'm doing my best. But the men aren't happy and they're not listening. They want better conditions, Master. They're talking strike." John Lachey held his hat in his hands and hoped that the Master would give him some kind of concession or offering to take back to his disgruntled mill workers before the threat of strike action became a reality. 

But Master Millar did not become a wealthy and powerful man by being soft. As the epitome of the rising middle class, Hamilton Millar had reached his position by being smart, opportunistic and ruthless. He saw good business as being able to identify a need and supply it. Hence, his cotton mill was one of the busiest in the north of England. To this end, it was his practice to find out the needs and desires of those he did business with and then use them to his advantage.

So as his lead man in the mill sat there informing him of the increasing agitation of his workers, Hamilton was considering how best to handle the situation. "Tell the men that you have spoken with me and I have listened." He sat back in his leather bound arm chair, his long, thick fingers tapping the tempo of his thoughts on the side rests. "Tell them that I am working on a range of improvements for them designed to bring some comfort and improvement to their lot. Tell them that the welfare of my workers is important to me. You need to pacify the men, John, until I can work out how best to deal with this."

"Master, the men don't want words no more. They want action. They are talking big, Master, and I have nothing to give them by way of answers. With all due respect, Master, nice words aren't going to matter a fig to them. They want some meat for their meal. They want rest breaks. They want more coin, Master."

Instead of responding to his visitor, Hamilton rang for his head steward. Franklin appeared at the door formally. "Master?"

"Bring my wife here, please," Hamilton ordered.

John Lachey moved uncomfortably in his chair. "Master Millar... it is not necessary... I do not need..."

"Stop." Hamilton's voice was low but carried the authority of a judge's gavel striking the bench. "You are my man. You represent my interests to my workers. In return, I will look after you as promised. As my wife is an extension of me, so too is it her duty to take care of you." As he completed this statement, Vivian Millar entered in a simple green gown, her blond hair piled into a chignon at the nape of her neck, and a jade pendant hanging at the base of her throat by a thin black velvet ribbon.

"My Lord?" She inquired of her husband before her eyes rested on John Lachey, sitting with his cap placed in his lap to hide the stiff response to the woman who had just entered. She smiled warmly and approached him. "So pleased to see you again, Mr Lachey."

"My pet, John is taking care of our interests with the workers, but they are somewhat discontent right now." Hamilton looked at his obedient wife and explained, "I think we need to show John how much his efforts are appreciated, and that we understand his needs."

Vivian nodded compliantly. "Of course, my Lord." She then lifted her skirts and kneeled before the mill's lead man, whose eyes were now arrested by the soft lips of his boss's wife, and the full bosom straining against the low neckline of her gown. He knew that she had given birth recently and that her tits were likely full with milk, and that the body beneath her gown was resplendent with the curves of motherhood. John Lachey's cock throbbed as he watched Vivian Millar remove his hands from his lap and set about undoing the tie of his pants. "Mr Lachey, allow me to show you how important you are to my husband and myself." Without waiting for further permission, Vivian's head dropped into his lap and her warm mouth sank down on his rigid prick. He watched the bobbing head of the talented Mrs Millar as she wrapped her soft pink lips around his shaft and sucked in a way his recently deceased wife never had. 

John Lachey had been singled out as lead man in the last twelve months and his monthly visits to his Master's house had always ended in the same way, with his boss's young wife kneeling before him, sucking expertly on his prick whilst his boss looked on approvingly. Unable to withstand her ministrations, Lachey would inevitably cry out with some embarrassment, "I'm sorry!" before shooting his load into the lady's mouth. He would always leave with an uncomfortable sense of having given up something, usually his men's position in negotiations, and was perpetually conflicted about his role. But there was no doubting that he spent the better part of the next week after visiting his boss, reliving the wonderment of having Vivian Millar's pink lips around his shaft and could not, despite the internal conflict, bring himself to refuse the gesture or abdicate his position in the mill.

It was just as well too, because Hamilton Millar was not a man that would have accepted either. "Crisis momentarily averted, my pet." He stroked his wife's hair as she remained on her knees at his feet, as was his requirement of her when they were alone. "Now tell me what you have done about replacing Julia for us." Julia had been his wife's maid with extended domestic duties as required. Hamilton Millar did not run a conventional household, so the roles of his domestic staff were equally unconventional.

"My Lord," Vivian began, pressing her lips into her husband's palm. "We have a young woman coming today. I told you about her, I believe. She was orphaned and has only had one domestic position before."

"Yes, I remember." Hamilton reached down inside his wife's gown and grabbed her nipple, squeezing it until he could feel the warmth of milk leaking onto his fingers. "It was a very short-lived position and you say she does not come with a credible reference?"

His wife sucked the milk off the fingers her husband had slipped into her mouth and smiled her pleasure. "My Lord, it would seem, looking at her general situation, that this young woman might be in somewhat of a desperate situation." 

"How fortunate for us, my pet. In light of the disappointment of Julia, I believe I should like the final say on the appointment of this young woman. It would appear Julia had not been fully understanding of the requirements of her position, Vivian, and so I will take it upon myself to ensure that this young woman has no similar misconceptions about the nature of her role."

Vivian smiled up at her husband. "As you wish, my Lord. I am sure she will be grateful for your attention."

Her husband smiled back at her. "And if she is not, she will be made to be." He raised his wife by her elbow. "Come, my pet, you have pleased me this morning. Your tits are bursting. You may seek young Cedric now for some relief." 

His wife's eyes shone with delight. "Thank you, my Lord. I am full and somewhat uncomfortable. I will indeed call for Cedric." She kissed his palm again and withdrew from the room. 

Hamilton Millar watched his wife back out of the room with a great deal of satisfaction. He had paid her father for her handsomely and she had lived up to his expectations. It wasn't often he was wrong. And when he was, he didn't care, he just shifted the world around him until he was right.

The Miller Ch. 02



Margaret Frayne had walked from the train station since she could not stretch for the cost of a seat in a carriage. The wife of her previous employer had given her a few extra coins in her final pay, which Margaret suspected was the financial equivalent of her pity. Margaret had been deemed "unsuitable" for the position, the reason of which was left unstated, although both were aware that this was due to her ladyship's husband continually attempting to molest Margaret whilst she was at her duties. Margaret gave thanks that her ladyship chanced by the front parlour when she did, thus saving her virtue, although she did regret the loss of her position as a result. Lady Swansea had explained that this was "the best solution for all", and gave her a positive reference, but Margaret knew that a positive reference for a domestic helper that was relieved of her duties after only three months did not carry much authority. 

Now she was on her own. She no longer had the means of the orphanage to secure her another position. She must fend for herself. It was great luck that she had found the advertisement in the newspaper for a lady's maid with "no experience or references required". She had written immediately applying for the position, advising of her limited experience and her one reference. The following day a letter was delivered to the rooming house where Margaret was staying. A Mrs Millar wrote by return, enquiring of her background. Margaret's heart sank. Being illegitimate would always be a barrier to acceptance in good households. She advised this Mrs Millar that she was an orphaned girl with meagre experience, one reference and seeking a position wherein she could demonstrate her dedication to hard work and pleasing her employer. What a surprise that Mrs Millar responded with an invitation to attend an interview with her the next afternoon. 

So it was that Margaret stood at the doors to an impressive stone house, with large bay windows on each side of the ground floor, an ornate turret and the overwhelming smell of new money. Upon her knock, the door was opened by a middle-aged man whose formal posture was at odds with the informal nature of his gaze upon her. 

Margaret wondered if her illegitimacy was showing like a fallen petticoat hem. "I am Margaret Frayne. Mrs Millar is expecting me." 

"Come in, Miss Frayne. You are indeed expected." He stood by, allowing her into the formal entryway. "Let me take your coat. My name is Franklin and I am the Head Steward." Margaret shrugged out of her coat and glanced around nervously. "Please, follow me. I have been instructed to give you a tour of the house before taking you to the Mistress."

Compared to the Swansea's residence, the Millar's house was nothing to boast about. It was not so grand nor so ornate as her previous employers' home, yet this house was very tastefully appointed and featured furnishings in the latest silks and damasks. In fact, the contents of each parlour and the dining room itself were evidence that the house was designed to showcase the wealth of its owners in as tasteful a manner as possible. There was a basement, a ground floor featuring a front parlour, a dining room, a library (closed as the Master was at work) and, at the back, a ladies' morning room. An external wing at the rear of the house was where the buttery and the kitchen were located. On the first floor, explained Franklin, leading the way, was where the family's bedrooms were located, one for Master, one for the Mistress and of course the nursery. Off the nursery was the Nurse's room. The second floor was where her room would be located, he continued, surprising Margaret with the implied assumption of her employment. He led her into a room that was well lit by a large sash window and featuring an astonishingly fine four-poster bed. Margaret quickly noted the generosity of the room's furniture; a large vanity table, a wardrobe, a small writing desk and a low shelf. Compared to standard accommodations for domestic help this was almost opulent. How fortunate would she be to live like this! A four-poster bed no less and a gilded mirror! 

"You like the room then?" Franklin enquired, watching her contain her reaction.

"Oh yes," Margaret breathed. "It is very, very nice."

Franklin smiled at her. "You are joined on this floor by myself, across the way, and in the room down the end of the corridor on the left is the housekeeper and cook, Mrs Latimer. Cedric, the groom, is located in his own quarters next to the stable." Franklin gestured once more to the stairs. "It is now time you met the Mistress."

Curiously, however, Franklin did not announce her to the Mistress as she had been expecting, but rather gestured to the door of the Mistress's room and told her to enter when she was ready. Then he nodded at her and left her standing in the hallway listening to his departure down the stairs. Margaret rapped lightly on the door and waited. She heard "enter" and did so to find herself in the Mistress's sitting room and before her on the sofa was the most astonishing sight.

"I am sorry! So sorry. I had thought I heard enter!" Margret rushed back to the door to exit again, blinking away the sight of the lady's plump breast in the mouth of the young man on the couch next to her. 

"Margaret! Margaret, isn't it? I did say enter. Please, sit." Margaret turned around to find the lady of the house smiling and gesturing to an upright chair opposite the chaise upon which she was lounging with the young man. The young man did not stop his suckling on the lady's breast whilst Margaret entered again and took the proffered chair. Uncertainly, she kept her eyes cast down to her lap. 

"Do not be uncomfortable, Margaret. If you are to be my maid, then you will need to get used to seeing me in various stages of dress, and used to seeing Cedric here relieve me of some of the milk from my breasts. I have employed a nurse now to take over the feedings, but I find that measures must be taken to relieve the pressure on my breasts." Margaret raised her eyes to find Vivian Millar smiling at her. "You have no need to cast your eyes away, dear. Cedric does not mind. In fact, it would appear that he is enjoying it." Vivian nodded to the crotch of the young man attached to her breast and winked at Margaret. Indeed, Cedric's pole was erect and clearly straining against the fabric of his trousers.

"Cedric, thank you. I need to speak to Ms Frayne now, why don't you go and seek some relief from your discomfort. I will call you later if required." 

Cedric removed his mouth from her breast and licked the large brown nipple of the remnants of milk. "Yes, Mistress. Thank you." He stood up, nodded to Margaret and removed himself from the room. 

"That was Cedric, Margaret. He manages the horses, among other things. A useful boy, as my husband says." Vivian watched Margaret, as if assessing her response to what she had just witnessed. Margaret's mind was in some shock. She had never before struck a lady who was relaxed about the exposure of her breasts to the help, nor one who was so casual in her recognition of a male's appendage. "We are not conventional here, Margaret," Vivian explained, as if reading her thoughts. "Nothing about the way this house runs is as you would expect. You will have a choice, Margaret, to embrace the unconventional, understanding that we are all of one household who love and support each other in our own way, answering to one man, or else you may choose to go elsewhere and find something more in keeping with your expectations of what domestic service is." 

Margaret's vision of the upstairs bedroom with the lovely gilded mirror and large bed for herself was suddenly fading. Where would she go if they did not take her? "Madam, I am sure I do not judge the way my employer chooses to live. It is my position to accept my employer's choices and fulfil my role as best I can." 

Vivian Millar smiled and, as if suddenly remembering, put her breast back inside her chemise and did up the front of her bodice. "Exactly. This is how it should be. But Margaret, you would not be treated as just domestic help here. Surely you have seen your room? We take care of all those in our household. In return, you will take care of us, in whatever falls to your position. Obviously, there will be times when we ask a lot of you. Perhaps more than you might expect. But Mr Millar is especially careful to ensure that you will not want for anything material. You will not need to worry about money or clothing or food whilst you are here. You will be thoroughly taken care of. To this end, your wage would be forty pounds a year."

Margaret felt a sudden breathlessness. So much! It was virtually double the expectations of any lady's maid. "Madam, with such generous employers as yourself and the Master, I can guarantee you would not find me ungrateful. I will work to serve yourself and the Master in whatever way I can."

"Of course you will! It is important for you to understand, however, that complete compliance and total service is expected of the position, Margaret. You will answer directly to me and, as Head Steward, you will also answer to Franklin. However, we all answer to the Master. My husband has very strict ideas on the kind of behaviour he expects, Margaret. Should you show disrespect or disobedience, you would be punished by him. Possibly severely."

"Oh Madam! I would never be rude or disobedient to the Master or yourself!"

Vivian's grey eyes took a moment to assess the young woman before her. As if making up her mind, she stood suddenly. "Well, as long as you are clear on that. Now, let's go downstairs so that you may meet my husband."

The Master was seated behind a great desk in the library when they entered. Vivian Millar announced her as "Margaret Frayne, my Lord" before exiting the room backwards and closing the door behind her. Margaret was instantly nervous. The man behind the desk looked up at her in blatant assessment. His blue eyes moved idly from one length of her form to the other. He did not smile at her. He did not greet her in any way nor welcome her. The first thing he did say to her was "turn around". Margaret turned around immediately and stood with her back to him, recalling Vivian Millar's advice on complete obedience to the Master. As she stood, she could hear the Master move from behind his desk towards her. She sensed, rather than saw, the size of the man. He was tall and broad and the hands he placed on her arms felt strong. He turned her around again to face the desk then stood back. 

"Bend over the desk, Margaret." The order was delivered in a low tone, simply, as much an invitation as an order. "Stay bent over and do not move. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Margaret responded, remembering how she must embrace the unconventional and suspecting that this was as truly unconventional as placement interviews went.

The Master moved around behind her and Margaret drew her breath in shock as she felt him raise her skirts and lay them across her back, so that her rear, shielded only by the knotted kerchief, was exposed to him. 

"Margaret, has my wife explained how things are run here?" The Master was standing behind her, but without touching her. 

"Yes, Sir. I think so." Whilst alarmed, Margaret kept her mind firmly rested on the image of the lovely large bed and gilded mirror in the room above and on the forty pounds a year, for which any orphaned girl would gladly endure hardship to earn.

"What do you understand to be the most important point that my wife has raised with you, Margaret?" The Master stepped forward so that his thighs lightly touched her own. 

Margaret knew the question was the test. "Sir, if I accept a position here, I must expect the unconventional and that I must do everything asked of me otherwise I might be punished."

"Correction, Margaret. There is no "might", you will be punished should you not comply." Then Margaret felt the Master move forward and push himself against her so that she could feel his hardness prod her rear opening. Margaret repeated "forty pounds" to herself over and over again and tried also to ignore the growing wetness between her legs that was a symptom of her illegitimacy. "Tell me, Margaret, who rules the house in which you would work?"

"You do, Sir," she responded somewhat breathlessly. 

"Margaret, I am now going to run my fingers up your inner thigh and insert them into your cunt. What will you do, Margaret? Will you stand obediently or will you run and fend for yourself?"

Oh goodness! He wasn't going to touch her there, surely? Oh yes, he was! Margaret felt the Master's hand slide up against her inner thigh. Stay, she told herself. Stay. Oh yes, she would stay. The Master's fingers had edged aside the kerchief between her legs and she could feel one finger insert into her deepest secret place. Oh God, she was wet. He would know how wanton and wicked she truly was! The Master then inserted another finger inside her and he moved his fingers, pulling them roughly in and out of her cunny, till Margaret could no longer breathe properly and, against her will, her hips bucked against the Master's hand and she could only blush at the sound of the fingers sliding in and out of her slippery wet cunt.

"Oh, oh, oh no!" she cried, feeling an impending loss of control. 

"Cum for me, Margaret," the Master intoned. Before she could think of compliance as an option, an agonising explosion of pleasure erupted between her legs and Margaret collapsed against the desk, her knees quivering and shame flowering inside her. 

"Excellent, Margaret! You are a very compliant and obedient young woman. You will be a great asset to this house, I am sure. Stay there, please. Do not move your skirts from where they are."

Margaret listened as the Master moved to the doorway and summoned Franklin. A rush of humiliation filled her as she knew that, should he enter the room now, the Head Steward would see her like this, with her legs spread and her wet thatch exposed, her cunny juices dribbling down her thighs and the evidence of her illegitimate birthright for all to see. 

She heard the men enter the room, felt the Master's hand caress her bottom. "Margaret has agreed to take up position with us, Franklin. She is a very compliant and obedient young woman, as you can see in evidence here." Margaret felt the Master run a finger through her wet cunt lips. "She has just cum for me beautifully. Touch her cunt here, Franklin, and experience how hot and wet Margaret is capable of becoming. She was dripping before she came on my hand." The Master removed his hand and Margaret felt the void filled by two more fingers that slid through her cunt lips, briefly pinching her bud, and then wiping themselves against her ass cheeks.

"A great boon for us, Master," Franklin agreed, looking forward to the moment when he would get to share her with the Master. 

You may stand now, Margaret, and fix your skirts." Margaret did so, relieved to be able to cover herself. She turned to the Master as he informed her that Franklin would take her to fetch her things and that she would be paid as of today. 

Margaret's delight at the offered security overrode any misgivings about the nature of her employment. After all, if they were accepting of the symptoms of her illegitimacy, surely she could be happy here?

"Thank You, Sir."

"Not, Sir, Margaret. From now on you will call me Master."

"Yes, Master." 

Then suddenly Margaret saw the Master smile and it was like a deep well of honey in her belly.



The Miller Ch. 03



Franklin waited in Mrs Thurlow's parlour as Margaret collected her belongings from the room she had occupied for two weeks and finalised her outstanding board with the landlady. 

"A fresh start then, eh?" Franklin grinned at her as he loaded her bag and Margaret herself into the brougham. Margaret nodded and remained silent, an unease being in the presence of the head steward had overcome her since the Master had brought him into the office and the steward's fingers had brutally pinched Margaret's clit.

They had ridden together in silence on the way into town. Margaret had reflected with alarm on her predicament. Here she had a position that paid extraordinarily well but it was clear to her that unconventional didn't quite describe what was to be demanded of her. Lord Swansea's attentions had constituted some squeezing of her breasts or buttocks; yet despite his inclination, his hands had never penetrated beneath her petticoats. And she had thought herself lucky when Lady Swansea had intruded upon her husband's attempt upon her! It seemed clear to Margaret now that all domestic positions involved the risk of being put upon by the master of the house. Margaret could not face the uncertainty of losing her position. So, with a deep inward breath she asked herself the question: what would she give to ensure the security of a well paid position? With a warm flooding memory of her stint in Master's library and, with barely a hesitation beyond this, she told herself that yes, she would give up her body to Master Millar and be grateful for it. At forty pounds a year, she should be thankful to have been the one chosen. How easily and how quickly would any of the girls she knew from the orphanage have thrown themselves at the feet of her new employer and beg him to take them in exchange for the security of a good income, food, shelter and a position in a respectable house; and this apart from the fact that Master Millar was himself a handsome man. If a girl was to be ravished by her employer, Margaret thought practically, there were worse prospects than the tall, imposing form of the Master.

Hence the journey into town allowed Margaret to come to terms with her new obligations. It was just as well too, since the journey out of town had Franklin confronting her with exactly what those obligations might mean for her.

"Lift your skirts, Margaret." Franklin pulled the brougham over to the side of the avenue and looked pointedly towards Margaret's skirts.

Margaret thought perhaps she had misheard the instruction. "Lift my skirts, Sir?"

"That's what I said, girl. I wish to see your delightful calves. Pull up your skirts and lie them on your lap. Do it now." 

Somewhat afraid of the tone of the steward and resolved to ensure the security of her new position, Margaret did as was asked of her, raising her skirts up to her lap so that her stockinged legs were exposed. To her alarm, Franklin leaned over and ran his hands up her right calf. 

"Good girl, Margaret," he said, giving her leg a gentle squeeze. "You'll be taking instructions from me quite a lot and you will not always be comfortable with them. Obeying immediately is the best way to ensure that Master Millar is pleased with you. I would not like to have to report that you were not suitably respectful and compliant, Margaret." 

"I am sure I will always seek to be respectful and compliant, Sir," Margaret assured him desperately. 

"Show me then, Margaret, by opening those delightful thighs of yours." He pushed her skirts further up onto her lap and observed her drop each knee to the side so that her thighs were parted. "More, Margaret, as wide as they will go now." He took a knee in each hand and pushed her legs open, prompting a sharp gasp from Margaret. What did he want with her here, on the side of the road, where anyone might pass and see? The mere thought sent blushes down her neck and her anxiety escalated.

"Sir," she ventured, "what if someone should come by?"

But Franklin was not at all concerned. He laughed at her instead before leaning in, slipping his hand between her legs, inserting a finger in her wet cunny and whispering, "If someone were to come by, Margaret, then they would see you sitting here with your legs spread like a whore, my fingers in your cunt and know that very soon, if not today, then tomorrow, or the next day, or even next week, but very soon this same cunt that is dripping juices on my fingers, will be filled with my cock, a right befitting my position." A statement to which Margaret could not respond such was her shock and alarm. "Whilst your obvious fear is arousing to me, Margaret," Franklin grinned, "be comforted by the fact that you will enjoy every moment that I take you, as your wet cunt suggests."

As much as Margaret wished to deny it, she could not argue this point. Franklin's fingers between her legs became more insistent, roughly poking her hole, in and out, until her breathing began to catch and then she stopped, held her breath and cried out as her womb flooded with pleasure. Franklin extracted his fingers, sucked on them as he smirked at her and said, "Just a taster, Margaret. You will experience the full benefits of your position very soon." With that, he picked up the reins and guided the horses into a purposeful trot home.

Back at the house, Cedric was there to assist her down from the carriage. Franklin instructed him to take Margaret's bags up to her room and, as the young man did as he was bid, Franklin turned his attention to Margaret. "In this house, Margaret, you will be doing things for others, but others will also do things for you. In the event someone does something for you, such as Cedric carrying your belongings to your room, you are expected to demonstrate your gratitude on your knees and with your mouth."

Margaret had no trouble picturing herself on her knees as it was the easiest way of scrubbing floors. But demonstrating gratitude "with her mouth" puzzled her. Did he mean she was to kneel and express her thanks this way? Margaret knew instinctively that she was missing something. "Unconventional" was now a bell tolling a warning in her head. "Sir," she said, "I am not sure I understand this exactly. You wish me to kneel and say thank you?"

"Margaret, your mouth is designed for things other than speaking. You will learn this soon enough. Follow Cedric now and remain in the room with him until I join you. You will be shown what is expected when using your mouth to show gratitude." 

"Yes, Sir," Margaret responded with some trepidation. "Using her mouth" was now synonymous with some unknown horror, she was sure. Obediently, however, she made her way inside the house, following in the wake of Cedric for whom she must demonstrate a gratitude she was in danger of no longer feeling.

Margaret sat primly in an upright by the window waiting for Franklin. Cedric lounged against the door frame, having been appraised by Margaret of the steward's instruction. His wayward grin suggested an anticipation of Margaret's impending act of thanks that she did not share. The hard angle in his pants gave Margaret further cause to suspect that this ritual of gratitude would be as "unconventional" as the earlier lessons by both the Master and Franklin. 

When Franklin arrived he was bearing a sweet gift for her. "I thought you might enjoy this, Margaret. A boiled sweet made by Mrs Latimer. I raid her stores when she does not look, but I am sure she will not mind you sampling the excellence of her confectionary-making skills this once."

Margaret's delight was complete and her anxiety forgotten. What a rare delight! A red and pink hard confection wrapped tightly around a stick was handed to her. "Thank you so much, Franklin. I have never seen a sweet so pink or so big before!" Cedric's chuckle should have warned her, but Franklin smiled at her and encouraged her to try the sweet. "Suck on it, Margaret, with your whole mouth. Savour its sweetness. Can you fit it all in? I am sure you do not need to concern yourself with manners here. You are among friends. I would take great pleasure in seeing you enjoy this gift with your whole mouth."

The sticky sweetness filled her mouth and Margaret could not remember ever experiencing such a taste before, such exquisite sweet delight on the tongue. So grateful she was to Franklin for his kind gift, that she sought to please him by indeed sucking on the lolly with her entire mouth, as he wished. She closed her eyes and focused on the smooth feel of the hard confection against her tongue and committed to memory the syrupy sweetness filling her mouth. Suddenly, to her surprise, the confection was being removed from her mouth and from her hand. 

"That's enough for now, Margaret. You may have it back once you have demonstrated gratitude to Cedric for carrying your bags."

"Sir, I do not understand what you wish me to do. Indeed, I am very thankful to Cedric for carrying my things up." With a sense of frustration, Margaret turned to Cedric. "I am very grateful, Cedric. Thank you." 

"Cedric, prepare yourself to be thanked appropriately." At the steward's instruction, Cedric undid the tie to his pants and allowed them to drop to the floor. He stood with his feet slightly apart, his cock in a burgeoning state of arousal. Margaret's face drained of colour as a growing understanding took hold. "Do you understand now, Margaret?"

A film of tears appeared in Margaret's eyes and she blinked it quickly away. "You wish me to put his thing in my mouth?" 

Franklin gripped her savagely by the chin and forced her to look at him. "Two things, Margaret, before we go any further: I am 'Sir'. You will address me as such each and every time you speak to me, understand?"

"Yes, Sir." The poor girl mumbled through a mouth twisted by Franklin's grip and clearly fighting the onset of tears.

"Secondly, Margaret. It is not a thing. It is a cock. Using the correct term is showing the appropriate respect." He let go of her face. "So tell me, Margaret, where do I want you to place your mouth?"

Margaret could no longer fight the tears as they fell and her obedient response was a veritable moan of resignation. "On his cock, Sir."

"That's right, Margaret. You will take Cedric's cock in your mouth and suck on it with the same skill and pleasure that you demonstrated with the confectionary. The same gratitude that you felt for this gift, you will now demonstrate towards Cedric for his kindness towards you, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." With shaking hands, Margaret wiped away her tears. 

"On your knees now, Margaret, and demonstrate your gratitude as you will be expected to demonstrate it throughout your time here." Franklin placed a firm hand on her shoulder and applied gentle downward pressure, until Margaret was kneeling before Cedric's now fully stiff member bouncing provocatively before her. "You will not require your hands," Franklin advised as she went to hold the prick in place. "Simply open your mouth, Margaret, and encase his cock. You will control the movement with your mouth only."

With her eyes closed, Margaret took the young cock in her mouth and, reconnecting with the image of the long, thick, hard lolly, sucked on its length with gumption. In truth, she enjoyed the smooth hardness of Cedric's cock and, conversely, the rough sprawl of hair that smothered her nose when she sucked in his entire length and buried her face in his groin. She applied a rhythm and sought, with purpose, to suck her way into Cedric and Franklin's good books. If this is how she must show gratitude in the Millar house, then she would make sure that her efforts at gratitude could not be doubted, nor criticised as being without sincerity. She would suck and lick and adore each and every cock for which she must be grateful, with the level of sincerity that forty pounds a year can buy from an orphaned female.

In the background, she could hear Franklin's murmurs of approval and Cedric's sporadic moans until she felt the cock in her mouth twitch and, to her horror, her mouth fill with a warm, salty liquid that seemed endlessly to seep from the cock's tip. Her cheeks full, she looked questioningly at Franklin for some guidance of what she was now to do. 

"Well done, Margaret. Now swallow Cedric's load. That way you are demonstrating both respect and an awareness of the honour he has given you by coming in your mouth."

Margaret shut her eyes tightly and swallowed with a grimace. It was not sweet tea. It was not mutton and potatoes. But it would be borne. For forty pounds a year, Margaret consoled herself silently, she would endure the cock sucking and the load swallowing with fortitude, if not eventually some pleasure. 

Franklin handed her back the lolly on the stick. "You may rest now, Margaret. You will bathe and be ready to assist at tea when called. Do you understand?"

Margaret took the sweet and nodded silently. She was beginning to understand a great deal more than she had ever expected.



The Miller Ch. 04



As it happened, the dour Mrs Latimer preferred Margaret to serve up the staff meal in the kitchen, rather than attending to the Master and the Mistress in the dining room. It seemed Mrs Latimer liked to take her praise directly from the Master and so explained to Margaret that, despite what Franklin might intend, there would be no-one but herself serving the Master and the Mistress their dinner. 

The staff meal was an uncomfortable affair with very little conversation. Franklin presided over the five of them with an air more reflective of a lord than a head steward. It was Margaret's first opportunity to meet the Millar's nurse, Anne, a woman perhaps ten years her senior, with a full bust, wide hips and a comely face. However pleasant the nurse appeared, she was not one for much talk and remained unanimated as she sipped her soup, cowed slightly as if shying away from attention. At the end of the meal, Margaret began to assist Mrs Latimer in clearing the dishes. Unexpectedly, however, Franklin put a restraining hand on her wrist, before directing his comments to the housekeeper. "Margaret is required in the library now, Mrs Latimer. I am afraid you are without assistance. Unless of course you would like Cedric to assist you?"

Cedric's pained look was met with a gleeful sneer from the housekeeper. "What a good idea. Come Cedric. You are mine tonight."

Margaret noted how the blood drained from the young man's face and that Franklin and Mrs Latimar appeared to share a look between them. She could not be afraid for Cedric, however, as her own anxiety of having to make another library appearance came to the fore.

Surprisingly, both the Mistress and the Master were in the library as Margaret entered on request. The Master spoke to her from his armchair by the fireplace, which remained unlit. "Good evening, Margaret. I hope you enjoyed your evening meal?" His wife sat on the settee opposite him.

"I did, Master. Thank you."

"My wife tells me that you were a little disconcerted this morning seeing young Cedric with his mouth on the Mistress' breast." 

Margaret was unsure how to respond to this statement. The Master was looking at her expectantly whilst Vivian Millar remained with her eyes on her husband. "Master, I was a little taken aback, to be sure, but the Mistress explained that Cedric offers her some relief from her motherhood symptoms."

The Master chuckled. "Motherhood symptoms? By this you mean the fact that her tits are full to the brim with milk?" Margaret blushed. "This is the case. However, Cedric has enough on his plate at the best of times and assisting my wife is the reason you have been employed." There was a moment of silence; Margaret waited in vain for clarity, whilst Vivian Millar finally turned towards her maid. "Come, sit yourself next to my wife, Margaret. You are about to learn one of your new duties."

There was nothing about this household that ceased to surprise Margaret. Now she was expected to sit on a settee next to the Mistress of the house! Did these people not care about their position in society that they placed their staff so intimately and so equally with themselves? Margaret seated herself timidly at the far end of the settee, vaguely worrying about sullying the expensive fabric with her skirt. 

The Master shifted his attention to his wife. "Vivien, remove your bodice. Margaret, help her." Obediently her Mistress turned to her for assistance in unfastening her bodice. "Next, remove the stays and petticoats," the Master instructed. Margaret, increasingly breathless and curiously excited, unhooked her Mistress' stays and untied her petticoats until the lady was left in her drawers and chemise. The chemise was of a fine cotton and scooped low around her neckline. Margaret could see now how wet the fabric was at the breasts and how it clung transparent to two large brown nipples.

"Vivian, your legs please." Understanding this was an implied instruction, Margaret watched her Mistress sit back and spread her legs wide open, so that her husband could observe the light thatch of hair exposed between the open inside seams of her drawers.

"Now your hair, Vivian." In response, the Mistress removed a number of pins from her hair until it fell in soft blonde waves past her shoulders. All this while Margaret kept looking for signs in her Mistress that she was uncomfortable with her husband's demands or that her compliance was under duress. But no, the Mistress performed all these tasks with seeming calm and contentment, as if her husband had been merely asking her to shift a vase on the table, or pass him the salt. She gave no mind to it at all that Margaret could observe, and the lady appeared as comfortable sitting before her in her drawers and chemise as if she had been sitting down for a cup of tea with Mrs Latimar, an activity Margaret knew was scheduled each morning. Despite herself, Margaret grew conscious of her own arousal, an arousal that heightened with each new instruction delivered by the Master from his armchair in a low and dispassionate voice. "Pull your mistress' breasts out of her chemise, Margaret."

Margaret's belly contracted with excitement. Inspired by the uncomplicated compliance of her Mistress, she leant forward and inserted a slightly sweaty palm into the chemise, cupped one of her Mistress's soft, warm breasts and lifted it clear of the neckline. She shifted herself closer to her mistress and savoured the feel of her hand wrapping around the other breast and lifting it over the neckline too. Margaret felt a warm flush through her abdomen. Her mistress was a picture of loveliness; her full, round breasts cresting her chemise, the tips of her nipples glistening with leaking milk, her hair loose and her splayed legs an invitation for the eyes to enter where her sex sat open. 

Margaret looked up to see that her Mistress was watching her with a smile. But it was the Master who spoke. "Margaret, Franklin has reported that you have nicely developed sucking instincts. This is good. There is more than cock that you will need to suck here. Right now you are to suck on your Mistress's right breast, swallowing the milk that you suck and giving your mistress some much needed relief. Do you understand?"

Too full of anticipation and desire, Margaret could only nod. 

"Yes, Master," her Mistress whispered to her with the slightest tone of admonishment.

"I mean, yes, Master," Margaret said quickly, grateful for the prompt. 

"Now suck me." Margaret felt her Mistress pull her head down towards her breast. 

Margaret seized the breast and encased the nipple area with her mouth. She had never sucked on a breast before, not that she recalled, but knew that babies responded instinctively and so would trust to her own instincts now. She used her tongue and lips to pull the nipple and tease it until it was hard and distended, at which point she pulled it into her mouth and sucked forth the warm flow of milk, letting it dribble down her chin as she paused to swallow, before continuing to drink. 

"Vivian, find out how much Margaret is enjoying herself."

Margaret felt her skirts shifted and her legs opened and the insertion of a finger, not brutal as the Master or Franklin's had been, but coaxing and gentle, nudging apart her cunt lips and flicking about in the fluids that had massed in her cunny.

"She is very wet, my Lord." 

Margaret knew it was true. To her shame, she was as aroused by her own spread legs and fingered cunt, as she was by the act of sucking on her Mistress's tit.

"Margaret, remove your clothes." Obediently, Margaret began disrobing. "From now on, please take note that undergarments will not be permitted to be worn whilst you work here, unless you have your monthly bleed, in which case Mrs Latimer will give you rags and you may wear your undergarments as normal. Apart from this time, however, you will ensure that your holes are available to be accessed at all times." 

"Holes, Master?" It was the plural form to which Margaret could not help but react. "You do not mean..."

"Your back passage will be used in the same way your cunt will be used. It is a particularly delightful experience to take a nice tight asshole. From here on in, Margaret, when you hear the directive, "asscunt open!" you will simply lift your skirts, bend over, reach behind and pull your asscheeks open so that whosoever might like, be it myself or Franklin or your Mistress-"

"My mistress?" How could her Mistress desire her back passage? What on earth could she do with it being without a man's particular equipment?

Master sprang out of his chair and delivered a resounding slap to Margaret's face. "Do not interrupt! Your Mistress delights in abusing the holes of others using the tools and toys she has at her disposal. You will not question what she does. You must simply submit to her, as you would to me, understanding that as my wife, she is an extension of myself. Do you consent to this, Margaret? It is a very important point."

She knew then that she had been employed less as a lady's maid, than as a domestic toy for the household. But her back passage! She could not fathom... could not begin to think what manner... what sense of...this is from whence she toileted! Margaret's mind went blank with the shock and incomprehension of such an act. Surely this was not regarded as pleasurable? It must be a punishment. But she would give them no cause to punish her. She would be the most perfect maid, and she had learnt to suck cock quickly and would gladly do it in order to avoid this... this unthinkable act. 

"Margaret? You are silent. If you do not consent to this, speak now. We shall pay you for the day and Franklin will drive you back into town tomorrow."

Margaret was yanked free from her verbal paralysis by the prospect of losing her employment. "Master, I will submit to you or the Mistress or Franklin with gratitude." It did not sound confident, but it was clearly uttered.

"Good girl. Then on your hands and knees now before your Mistress. It is time to demonstrate your commitment to your employers." The Master grabbed her hair and pulled her head forward into his wife's cunt opening. "Suck here now. Show your Mistress how appreciative you are of her faith in you, Margaret."

Margaret opened her mouth and sucked on the warm red folds and tight bud of her Mistress's cunt. As she worked her way with her tongue along the length of the folds, slipping it into the hot slit, her Mistress twisted her fingers through Margaret's hair, gripping the girl's head at both sides and guiding the location of Margaret's mouth on her cunt.

"Lick my cunt, Meg," her Mistress moaned, and Margaret in that moment had acquired a new name that immediately spoke of affection and acceptance. As a consequence, she was even more motivated to pleasure the writhing woman beneath her mouth. With enthusiasm did she bury her face into her Mistress's cunt and inhale her scent as she speared her tongue into the woman's hole, plunging it in and out as if a miniature cock. She could sense the desperation of the Mistress to gain release. Margaret was intent on getting her there and applied her whole mouth to the woman's mound like a suction cap and sucked vigorously on the woman's clit. 

As she sucked, Margaret felt her own cunt hole invaded by the rough fingers of the Master who violently rammed her sex with his hand. Despite the rough treatment, or because of it, Margaret could not be sure, she felt her body seep the fluid that belied its readiness. Reading her body, as if reading her thoughts, Master observed how ready she was to feel his cock for the first time. 

The Master grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. He leant forward so that she could feel his breath on her face. "Are you ready to take my cock, Margaret?"

"Yes, Master." 

"Excellent!"The Master shoved her face back in the Mistress's wet cunt. "I am going to fuck you whilst you pleasure your Mistress. You will not be allowed to cum yourself until she is taken care of, do you understand? If you cum before your Mistress, you will be severely punished."

Again, he yanked her head back. "I understand, Master. I will not cum until you let me."

"Good girl. Now spread your legs as you take care of your Mistress." Margaret reburied her face in the patiently waiting cunt of her Mistress, spreading her own legs as wide as possible whilst she anticipated the first penetration of a cock inside her. 

The Master massaged Margaret's cunt, spreading the lubrication that would assist his stiff rod to prick the maidenhead of his domestic servant. That she was a virgin, he had expected and to which he applied no value. It was not her purity he desired, it was her obedience. She would be developed into a compliant pleasure slut, willing to take any cock in the house and open to use by whomever and whenever. Anything short of this outcome was a failure and eventually the girl's employment would be terminated. Hamilton Millar demanded compliance in everyone, but in his women, he enjoyed compliance with a mixture of debasement and humiliation. The desirability of his wife, and the young girl diligently licking between her thighs, was measured by the extent to which they would go to please him. His wife already understood the benefits of ensuring her husband's needs were met first and foremost. That she applied herself with enthusiasm to meeting his perverted desires gave Hamilton enormous satisfaction. Now he wanted a second cunt in the house to abuse, to watch one cunt fuck and suck the other cunt, to see tits squashed against tits and the soft lines of female bodies twisted and gyrating together for his viewing pleasure. His wife, he knew, craved a woman's touch as much as she wanted a man's and was another reason why he regarded her now as having been an excellent purchase. 

So far Margaret had submitted to all that had been thrust upon her. That she was now eagerly sucking on his wife's cunt was a great indicator that she would be willing to comply with all that was in store for her. Hamilton was hopeful. This thought pumped his rigid cock with more blood, so that his immediate reaction was to remove his hand and thrust his cock into the slick cunt before him in one quick movement. 

Margaret screamed. Her cunt had just been torn open. She could not believe the pain. She pushed away from her Mistress and tried to crawl away from the cock invading her desperately sore hole, but the Master had her by her hair and her hips and he continued to piston her cunt without a care for what she was enduring. Margaret gasped aloud as each violent thrusting of the Master's cock into her small body pushed her forward, mashing her face into her mistress' cunt so that she was forced to hold her breath. 

Hamilton watched as his cock emerged sheathed in blood before disappearing inside the neat cunt lips of the girl. She had a tight hole and every time he thrust into her, she unconsciously clenched against the pain and so squeezed his cock into a state of unbearable pleasure. He held her hair like the rein of a horse and powered his hips into her. 

Vivian's eyes shone with the satisfaction of seeing her own perversions enacted; she enjoyed the experience of her husband's cock inside her, but she enjoyed the experience of viewing her husband's cock inside someone else even more. That she was able to watch her husband's defilement of her maid, whilst her own cunt was skilfully eaten by the young victim, was almost too much to bear, and Vivian could feel the growing urgency of an impending orgasm. 

"I am going to cum, Meg," she announced and threw back her head against the settee as her pleasure exploded against the mouth of her maid. 

Margaret tasted the thick muskiness of her Mistress. The experience of having a woman's cunny in her mouth was one thing, but to feed from it, was another entirely. But it seemed feeding habits in the Millars' house were as unconventional as everything else, and something to which she must adjust. Whilst her Mistress laid back in a state of satiety and observed the pounding of Margaret's cunt through heavy-lidded eyes, her husband punctuated each forward drive of his cock with grunts and comments that she was "taking it like a good whore", that her cunt was "deliciously tight" and that soon she would "crave cock like a hunger".

The Master continued to abuse Margaret's cunt with his rough hammering of her hole, feeling the gradual build up in his balls, the pressure to explode inside her. "Steel yourself," was all he said, before he thrust himself deeply and violently into the bloodied cunt in his grip and unleashed his load , spurting his hot cum into the savaged sex of his servant. That the girl was crying and shuddering in the arms of his wife, whilst he stood over them with a bloodied cock dripping with his seed, aroused him still more, to the extent that he began to feel his softening cock start to stiffen again.

"Vivian, suck me clean then see that Margaret is able to bathe and rest."

"Yes, my Lord," his wife responded, gently moving Margaret to the side as she assumed her position on her knees in front of her husband. She licked clean the blood and cunt juices from her husband's cock and held it in her mouth by the cock head for his inspection. 

"Good, my pet. Now go and take care of Margaret." Hamilton tucked his cock back into his pants and dismissed the women with a curt nod.