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The Fall of the House of Melkham

By: Pussyrider



Brigid McAllister was just 13 when her Uncle Davie loaded her up onto the wagon near Clones and drove her into Dublin one misty June morning in 1907. She had no idea why they were going, and she imagined it was just a rare day out to the big city. She thought her widowed mam was silly sobbing over her and hugging her fit to crush her, telling her to be a good girl; after all, she'd only be away a short while. When they reached Dublin Davie took her into a bar, ordered himself a draught of ale and sat hunched talking in undertones to an unpleasant looking man in the corner. He had a long, thin, cruel face, and a narrow moustache with points at the end. It wasn't clear to Brigid what was happening, but she saw money change hands.

A short while later, Uncle Davie drained his ale pot, stood and leaned over her. "Now me fine girl, " he said, breathing the fumes of ale and pipe tobacco into her face, "You're to go with Mr Fergus here, and be a good girl, like your mammy said."

The child turned to stare at Mr Fergus in bewilderment. When she turned back, her uncle was already making for the door. "But Uncle Davie," she cried, "when will you be back for me? How long?"

Davie McAllister paused in the doorway, and glanced back at his niece, sheepishly. Then, without another word, he left. Tears of alarm springing into her eyes, Brigid tried to follow him, but the other man caught her by the arm and pulled her back. "Now look here, girly girl, don't you be causing a fuss now", he barked with false joviality. "Your uncle and me have done the deal fair and square, and I'm to be taking you to your nice new home."

Brigid sank to the floor beside him and sobbed. Casting his eyes around in embarrassment, Fergus pulled the girl to her feet and dragged her struggling and wailing from the pub. She was terrified; she had heard tales of how bad girls were sold to brothel keepers in Dublin to serve men's carnal desires, only to die maddened from syphilis and be condemned to the fires of Hell. Had she been a bad girl? She cold think of no other reason why her uncle had dealt with her so shamefully. She might have tried to break away from Fergus, but she was a country girl and all she knew of Dublin was bad. She hadn't the faintest idea how to find her way back to her little family cottage. So, sniffling to herself, she followed the man through the dirty, dusty, noisy streets of the capital, to a terrace of grand houses just off O'Connell Street. 

They descended a flight of iron steps and the man rapped on the door. It opened a moment later and, with barely a word, Fergus thrust Brigid into the hands of a tall, austere Englishman who told her sternly, "Stop your snivelling child, you're in the service of Lord and Lady Melkham now, you'll be well looked after here."

Brigid looked up at the new man, for a moment too afraid to cry. Then there was a flurry behind him and a small, furious woman pushed him roughly out of the way. "For heavens sake, Archibald, don't snap at the poor child like that, even a fool can see she's scared. You come here my duck." With that the woman snatched the confused Brigid from Archibald's hands, and hugged her to her warm breast, whispering sounds of comfort as the child sobbed into her apron.

Later that day, over a bowl of broth, Brigid learned that she was to be the new parlour maid to the Melkham household. The people she had already met were Mr Reeves, the family's butler, and his wife Constance, their cook. She was also introduced to a footman called Steven, not much older than her, and a girl of about 20, Alice, who was to show Brigid her duties. When Mr Reeves learned Brigid's name, he tutted and shook his head. "Oh no, no, that'll never do. From now on you'll answer to Emily." 

Brigid momentarily wondered who Emily was, then realised the man had just changed her name. She started to protest, but Mrs Reeves laid a hand on hers, and explained quietly, "The parlour maid in this household is always called Emily. It makes it easier for the Mistress, not having to remember new names when there's a change."

That night in bed, as Alice snored beside her, Emily as she now was cried herself to sleep. She told herself this was only temporary. Her mam would not allow Uncle Davie to get away with such villainy, she would come to get her little chicken any time now. Emily was never to see her mother again.

Emily picked up her new duties quickly enough, but ached for the beauty of her home. She met Lady Marina Melkham infrequently, Lord Roger even more rarely. Her Ladyship did not seem a happy person, very thin and always fretting. Emily wasn't sure what the Master did, just that he was something to do with the government. One morning, after she had been in the household for two months, she was told to help pack household items into tea chests, as the family was returning to England. For a while her heart soared. She would have to be released from her servitude now, they wouldn't make her leave her homeland. She sank into a depression when Alice told her what a daft notion that was, and of course she'd be going with them.

Five years later Emily had become used to life at Melkham Hall, set in the rolling Sussex Downs, but she still occasionally thought of her family back in Ireland, and whether she would ever rejoin them. She had risen in the household to personal maid to Lady Melkham, and she was relieved to at last have a bed to herself. She had got sick of having to share one bed with two other maids, Georgina and Susan. They were sweethearts, even though Georgina was engaged to be married, and many was the night that Emily had lay with a pillow over her head as the other two women slobbered over each other and made each other moan and cry out.

One night a few weeks earlier, when Georgina had slipped away to be with her man, Susan had turned to Emily for comfort. Emily had been very scared when she first felt the other girl's hand stroke her small breast through her flannel nightgown. They were both 18, but Susan was a big, strong girl. No other person had ever touched Emily so intimately, and at first she pretended to be asleep. She barely managed to suppress a whimper of fear as Emily's hands stroked up the insides of her legs. But then something strange had happened. As Susan's hair began to tickle Emily's legs, and the other girl licked the insides of her thighs, Emily's belly started to churn, and she felt an unaccustomed warmth rising through her body. 

When Susan's fingers first stroked, then pushed into, her cunny, Emily could no longer pretend sleep as she wriggled on the probing fingers and a moan escaped her lips. Susan grasped the girl's thighs and a moment later Emily felt the most indescribable sensation, as Susan's tongue stroked the length of her cunny opening then slid inside. Quite unable to help herself, Emily groaned loudly, and felt her bottom rising from the bed, pushing her more firmly onto Susan's face as her bedmate licked and probed at her, moaning her own encouragement. Very soon Emily felt her tummy clench, and then it seemed as though fireworks had exploded in her head as a fire shot through her body and she bucked her hips over and over onto Susan's probing tongue and hands. Emily sank back into her pillow, gasping for breath. By the time she had recovered her composure, Susan had already rolled over beside her and fallen asleep. 

Georgina had been back the next night, and Susan had not touched Emily again. The Irish girl felt very guilty about what had happened – even though it had not been of her doing, she knew that such unnatural acts were a sin. What made her feel even more guilty, however, was the awful excitement she had felt as Susan had made love to her, and how much she wanted those feelings again. She had tried to avoid being alone with Susan since the incident; but one day the other girl had cornered her in the scullery, and whispered to her that the next time Georgina was away she, Susan, wanted to fuck Emily good and proper.

Emily flattered herself that she had become something of a beauty. She was slight of build, no more than five feet tall, with long flowing hair the colour of burgundy, a turned-up nose and a pale complexion contrasting with a sea of freckles which ran from one ear to the other. Whenever she went into Melkham village the delivery boy at the grocer's shop went out of his way to flirt with her, and wax lyrical about her 'sweet Irish brogue', as he put it. She would giggle, and blush prettily, and tell him to be away with his malarkey. It was another boy she had on her mind though.

The household was not a happy one. It was clear that there was tension between the Master and Mistress. Lady Melkham looked thinner than ever, and ill, and seemed often to shed tears. She had been born in Germany, and the constant threat of war with the Kaiser's army could not be helping. The problem, however, was greater than that. According to Connie Reeves the couple had been trying for years to produce a son and heir, without success. Emily suspected that His Lordship blamed Lady Marina, and that this was the reason for his often foul moods and her sadness. She had also heard gossip of him keeping a mistress in London. He was tall and slim, in his mid 30s, good looking with sandy hair and an elegant moustache, and seemed to spend more and more time in town at his club. And everyone knew he had an eye for the ladies.

The one bright spot on the horizon was the return to Melkham of Master Jack. He was Lord Roger's 18-year old brother, the youngest of the four siblings and, as the only other male, heir to the estate. He was in his last year of study at Eton, the most prestigious school in all the Empire. It was the school's summer holiday, and Perkins, Lord Melkham's chauffeur, would be meeting Jack's train at Crowborough that very afternoon. When Emily had arrived at Melkham as a terrified child Jack, the same age as she, had been the first person other than Connie Reeves to really be nice to her, and had made her feel welcomed at his ancestral home. A bond had formed between them, to an unusual degree for a member of the aristocracy and a common servant. Emily really liked Jack, and felt uplifted by his imminent return. Occasionally, she even let herself dream that one day...but of course, that was quite impossible.

As he sat in the back of his brother's new Daimler, Jack breathed a huge sigh of relief at being home. He did not enjoy the discipline of Eton, and was looking forward to long, lazy summer days back at his old home. Of course, what he was looking forward to even more was seeing his little Brigid again. He smiled; he was the only one who ever called Emily that, and he knew she liked him for it. The question was, how much did she like him? 

Jack thought he had been in love with Brigid almost since the first time he'd laid eyes on the tiny red-haired girl who Roger and Marina had brought back with them from Ireland, all frightened big brown eyes and apologies, petrified that she would make a mistake. He'd never had the courage to tell her how he felt though, let alone do anything about it. At just under six feet tall, athletic with fine blond hair and a face which on a female would be called pretty, a champion swimmer and captain of the cricket XI, Jack could have had any of the silly girls who worked in the shops and cafés in Eton, and preened every time a senior boy from the College walked through the door. He could equally have had any of the nancy boys at the school, but that wasn't his taste. Despite his evident attractiveness, Jack had been with a woman only once. That had been a month before, on his 18th birthday when Roger had taken him up to the West End to celebrate. The evening had ended with a visit to an apartment in Piccadilly, where Roger had paid a tart to relieve his young brother of his virginity. She had been a sweetie, but old enough to be Jack's dear departed mother. He had enjoyed his first fuck, but all in all he had found the experience embarrassing and shabby. It certainly wasn't something he'd be telling Brigid about!

As the motor pulled up on the gravel drive outside the front door of Melkham Hall, old Reeves, Roger's butler, was there to greet Jack. He pumped his hand enthusiastically and ordered Steven, the footman, to take the Young Master's luggage to his room. As Jack entered the drawing room he saw Emily standing nervously in the shadows. With a broad grin, he said, "Well, top o' da mornin' to yez miz Brigid, an' how's moi sweet Oirish colleen dis foine day?"

The girl couldn't help giggling at his greeting and, making a mock curtsey, she said, "Well, thank you sir. Certainly in better health than your Irish accent. " Then Jack rushed forward and hugged her, pulling her tight to him, and whispering very close to her ear, "Oh Brigid, it's good to see you again, you don't know how much I've missed you." She hugged him back, pleased but surprised: throughout their years of friendship, Jack had never been quite this affectionate before. She felt her heart racing against his chest.

They were still hugging each other almost a minute later when Reeves entered the room. The two youths sprung apart guiltily. The butler pretended to have noticed nothing amiss but, turning to the girl, said coldly, "Emily, I'm sure you must have some work to be getting on with – elsewhere."

With one thing and another, it was not until evening that Emily saw Jack again. She was in the habit of taking a walk around the gardens of the estate before retiring to her bed. As she made her way towards the servants' entrance, in the twilight she noticed the red bloom of a cigarette, then saw it was Jack, sitting on the wooden bench beside the main entrance to the Hall. She approached and boldly, without invitation, sat beside him. Nodding at the cigarette in his hand, she said, "I didn't know you'd taken to smoking."

He chuckled and replied, "Oh yes, I've got into all sorts of bad habits. I need the love of a good woman to set me right." Emily felt herself blushing, and looked away from him. After a minute or so of silence, just as she was preparing to stand and leave, Jack asked, "Brigid, when is your day off?"

She turned back to him. "It varies, depending on Her Ladyship's diary. As it happens, this week it's the day after tomorrow."

"Well," Jack said in an authoritative tone, "the day after tomorrow, you and I are going to walk together along the riverbank, to the old bathing pool, and talk about old times." He wanted to say 'and the future', but didn't dare.

Emily looked startled. "What, just you and me? Alone together? Well, I don't know, oughtn't we to be chaperoned?"

Jack gave an astonished laugh. "Bridge, for heaven's sake, this is the 20th Century, and it's me, Jack. I'm not going to throw you to the ground and ravish you. Well, not unless you want me to, anyway!" Emily should have been scandalised by his words, but she couldn't stop herself laughing. Jack reached out and took her hand. "Please Bridge. We haven't seen each other for so long, and it would be nice to catch up on our...friendship." Shaking her head and laughing, Emily could not but accede to such a heartfelt plea.

In truth, neither of them could bear the long wait until their stroll. They saw little of each other the next day, as Roger spent a rare day at the Hall, and he and Jack went fishing. On Emily's day off they were both up early. Jack told his family at breakfast that he intended to spend a day hiking in the hills, and Emily had mentioned to Lady Marina that she intended to visit Melkham Market. Then, like naughty children, they met in the apple orchard and slipped out of the back gate and down to the river. As they walked, they reminisced about happy days they had spent in the past, and Jack told Emily tales of his life at Eton. When he casually reached out and took Emily's hand she blushed but said nothing, and they continued to walk hand in hand like young lovers. When they reached the bathing hole, they sat on the old fallen tree there, two feet apart.

Emily stretched and yawned, throwing back her head to let the warm sun bath her face. Glancing at the cool river, she said, "Oh, it's so hot today! For two pins I'd take off my stockings and dip my feet in there."

Jack grinned. "Well, why don't you? I'm going to." He was already kicking off his walking boots. A moment later he dropped down on the riverbank and slipped his feet into the river. "Come on, coward," he called. 

Emily knew she shouldn't be so bold, not in a man's presence; but the water did look so inviting and, after all, it was only Jack. Turning her back on him she lifted her dress, unclipped her stockings and rolled them down, then joined him. In the heat of the day, the water was icy cold. "Oh God, that's so nice" she groaned, leaning back on her hands and closing her eyes. She heard a movement beside her, and opened her eyes to find Jack's face an inch from her own. Next thing she knew, they were kissing.

Emily had never kissed a boy before, and her eyes widened in shock as he pushed his tongue between her lips. That was one of the things the whore had taught Jack, and as he explored Emily's mouth, then stroked her tongue with his own, he could see she was enjoying the sensation as much as he had. Lifting his feet from the water, he gently eased Emily onto her back, and cupped a hand around one of her boobies.

Emily's eyes flickered open again. This was moving far too fast, and if she let it go on she would lose control of herself. Pulling her feet out of the water, she scuttled out from underneath Jack, and backwards across the grass bank. "Jack hung his head. "I'm sorry Bridge, I truly didn't mean to do that, but I couldn't help myself. You're just so beautiful."

Emily gazed at him, very aware of her thumping heart and her accelerated breathing. Jack had never spoken to her like that before. "Am I?" she said in wonderment.

Jack squatted beside her and lifted one of her feet, drying it with the sleeve of his jacket. "Yes, you are. Very beautiful. You have such lovely, tiny white feet." Emily watched passively as Jack lifted her foot to his lips and kissed the toes. He sucked her big toe into his mouth, then each of the others, before stroking his tongue up to her instep. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words wouldn't come. She lay back, an arm thrown across her eyes, as Jack's tongue progressed to her heel, then onto her ankle. Emily felt her own hand cup her breast and begin to squeeze. The feelings Jack was creating in her reminded her of that night with Susan.

Jack knew what he was doing was wrong, but really could not stop himself. Gradually, he pushed Emily's dress up past her dimpled knees, and his tongue followed. She squirmed and gave a little moan as he licked the back of one knee, stroking the other lightly with his fingers. Emily was aware that Jack's tongue was getting nearer and nearer to her love hole, just as Susan's had done when it had given her so much pleasure that night...Without warning Emily leapt to her feet and cried, "No!" She sat on the tree trunk and buried her face in her hands.

Jack slumped back on the ground, and asked, "Why? I do love you, you know Brigid, I mean I really love you."

She raised her face, damp with tears, to look at him. "I know you do. But, fond of you as I am Jack, the first man who takes me will be the man I marry, and that won't be you."

He sat up straight then and frowned. "Why? Why won't it be me? Is there someone else?"

Emily stared at him as at a lunatic. "No of course there isn't, but...oh Jack, be sensible, you're the master and I'm the servant. How could someone like me ever marry someone like you?"

He stood over her then, angry. "Why can't you? I'll marry who I dashed well choose, and no blighter will tell me otherwise. I never asked to be a member of the bloody aristocracy, after I finish university I'm going to work for my living, not spend all my time lazing at my club or hunting and fishing. I mean look at Lord Arthurdale, he married his maid only last year."


The Fall of the House of Melkham



Emily stood now, also angry. "Aye, and I've heard the Master and Mistress talk about how he's been shunned by decent society ever since. The man's a laughing stock."

Jack spun away from her. "To hell with society – there's nothing decent about it. If it won't accept you as my wife and equal, then I reject it. I mean it Brigid!"

The girl sat back down on the log, shaking her head sadly. "No, once you finish with Eton and Cambridge you'll do the Season and marry some brainless deb, and I'll probably end up marrying the grocer's delivery boy from the village. And I'm not going to be a rich man's strumpet." Jack slumped beside her, staring at his bare feet, all the fight gone out of him. Emily could see tears forming in his clear blue eyes. Gently she said, "I'm sorry my poor, sweet Jackie. I do so want to make you happy." 

She put her arms around him and they began kissing again. Nearly overbalancing, Emily dropped one of her arms, which accidentally fell into Jack's lap. She could feel that inside his trousers he was stiff, and she knew well enough from the old family farm that that was what happened to males when they got sexually excited. It occurred to her that she could give Jack a few minutes of pleasure and comfort without surrendering her honour to him.

Jack gasped into Emily's mouth as he felt her fumbling with the fly buttons of his trousers. Then he sighed as her warm fingers pulled out his tool and wrapped around it. He started to say, "Brigid, you don't have to..." but she shushed him. She continued to kiss him, slowly rubbing her hand up and down his engorged member. Emily felt as if it was scorching her fingers. She had never even seen a man's cock before, and as she glanced down at Jack's, caught in her shuttling hand, she was entranced by the sight. As if hypnotised she fell to her knees before him, gazing at it. Without any conscious thought she leant forward and kissed the tip, then closed her mouth over it.

Jack looked down in amazement as Emily started to suck his manhood. Her tongue stroked the sensitive underside and he gasped, "Jesus Brigid! Oh Christ!" He slipped to the ground with a thump, but still Emily continued to lick his prick, pumping the lower portion with one hand and stroking his balls with the other. He held on as long as he could, but at last, with a huge gasp, he released a fountain of jism. 

At the last moment Emily felt his cock twitching against the roof of her mouth and released it, but she continued to stroke her hand along it until the last spasms of Jack's orgasm had died away. Then, as he watched her dazedly, she lifted her sticky hand to her lips, licked his cum from her fingers, and swallowed it. Then she smiled at him, and whispered, "You taste sweet, my Jackie." Her face felt flushed, and her cunny was almost as wet as that night when Susan had feasted on it.

They kissed a while longer, while Emily played with Jack's cock and made him cum again. Reluctantly she let him slip his hand under her dress and cup the bare flesh of her breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb, but she would allow him to go no further. Then they walked slowly back to Melkham Hall, arm in arm. After one final kiss, Emily made her way back to the house while Jack headed off towards the hills.

When Emily arrived in the kitchen, Steven told her the Mistress wanted her. She was rather annoyed, it being her day off, but walked up the stairs to Lady Marina's sitting room. On the stairs she passed Mr Reeves, and was surprised at the way he scuttled past her, ignoring her greeting.

On entering the sitting room she was alarmed to see the Master also there, standing staring out of the window, his back to the room. Lady Marina looked sternly at her maid and, motioning to the settee opposite her, said, "Sit down Emily." The girl did so, wondering what she had done wrong. They couldn't possibly know about her shenanigans with Jack. Lady Marina cast a nervous glance at her husband's back, then faced Emily. "As you are aware, His Lordship and I are without a child. This is a source of great sadness for us." She took a deep breath, then continued. "We have now decided, in the interests of everybody who is associated with Melkham, that it is essential that we produce an heir. For this we need to use a surrogate to bear the child."

Confused, Emily asked what a surrogate was. Lord Roger whipped round to face her, and snapped, "A substitute for Lady Marina. In point of fact, you."

Emily stared from one to the other, still uncomprehending. "Me? But how can I...oh God. You mean you want Lord Roger to..." As the full horror of her situation hit her, Emily tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears. "But ma'am, I can't, I'm a virgin, I feel nothing for Lord Roger." 

Lady Marina looked wretched, but Lord Roger strode forward into the room. Leaning towards the girl, he sneered, "What dies that matter? It's me who has to do the work, you just lie there with your legs open. Even a virgin knows that."

Emily stared at her Mistress in terrified disbelief. "Please, your Ladyship, you can't let him do this to me." A thought occurred to her. "How do you know it's not his fault you can't have a child?"

Lady Marina cast a poisonous glance at her husband, and he, looking away, replied, "That it is not me is beyond any doubt."

Lady Marina turned back to Emily. "You will of course be paid for this service. At 10.30 tonight, Reeves will come and collect you from your room and take you to Lord Roger's apartments. Once...the deed is done, you will be conducted to new accommodation where you will live until our child is born. You will then resume your household duties."

Emily felt as if she was in some living nightmare. Desperately she wheedled, "But there must be someone else, someone outside the household you can use."

Lord Roger leant over her, his face inches from hers. "Don't be stupid girl. Why do you think you're going to be locked away? Do you think we want to announce it in The Times that I'm having to fuck a servant because my wife can't give me a child? No, it has to be someone here. Georgina's to be married, so that won't do, and Susan's an ugly fat pig, so it has to be you. Besides," he added with a horrible smirk, "I think I could quite enjoy poking you, and I assure you you'll enjoy it."

Feeling the colour rising to her cheeks, Emily leapt to her feet. "I'm your employee, not your slave. You can't make me do this."

Lord Roger emitted a harsh, braying laugh. "What, are you planning to leave our service? I could put you out on the street tomorrow and you wouldn't survive a week. Dump you in the East End, you filthy little trollop, and you'd soon be fucking seamen for a shilling a time. Instead you're going to be in a nice warm bed with a member of the aristocracy and be paid a damn sight more than a shilling. You've been selected to mother a future master of Melkham, girl – you should feel honoured!"

Emily felt her knees giving way beneath her. She fell at Lady Marina's feet, sobbing into her skirts. "Please Your Ladyship, please Sir, don't make me do this, I beg of you. In the name of humanity, you can't." The woman pushed her away roughly, and she landed in a heap on the carpet. She was then dismissed and, almost blind with her tears, Emily made her way to the servants' quarters. When she came face-to-face with Mr Reeves, she screamed into his face, "What are you, a butler or a fucking whoremonger?"

She explained the situation in a few words to Connie Reeves, who hugged her and looked at her husband as at the devil incarnate. In a dangerously calm voice, she told him, "Archibald, you cannot allow that man to do this to this girl."

Reeves refused to look at his wife, but said, "She'll do as she's told, as we all do." He breathed a huge sigh, and turned to face them. "Look, I've tried to talk to him, told him it was wrong. He said that if I intended to poke my nose into his business I could pack my bags tomorrow. Do you want to be out of work?"

Connie glared at him, and snarled, "I'm not sure I want to work for a family that inflicts adulterous rape on a poor innocent girl."

That evening Emily went to bed at eight o'clock, and lay shivering, praying that the Melkhams would realise the insanity of their plan. She had tried to see Jack, but failed. Surely he didn't know what was going on, he would never allow it. As the clock on the stable tower stuck 10.30 she heard the door of her room open and began to cry. Snivelling like a child she allowed Reeves to take her hand and lead her barefoot along the passage and down the stairs to His Lordship's bedroom. She was not a religious girl, but as they descended the stairs she began to mutter a prayer under her breath. Lord Roger had a huge double bed. Reeves pointed to it and Emily reluctantly lay down. He turned to leave but, at the door, glanced back at her and whispered, "I'm sorry child." 

Emily lay sucking her thumb – she hadn't done that since she was nine years old – and whimpering. After a few minutes a side door opened and Lord Roger walked in. He was wearing a silk dressing gown; he stood by the bed and removed it, revealing his naked form. The girl gasped in shock as she saw his semi-erect member – it was as long as Jack's, but much thicker and more powerful. Lord Roger grinned at her expression, and said, "Yes, I thought you'd like that. Now, off with your nightgown and let's get to it."

Emily sat up on her knees, whether to argue with him or to make one more appeal to his better nature she wasn't sure. But eve as she opened her mouth to speak, he gave her a vicious backhanded slap across her face, knocking her flat on her back, and roared, "Off, I said!" Momentarily dazed, Emily watched as he reached out his hands, took hold of the neck of her nightdress and, by sheer brute force, ripped it in two. He stood back, breathing heavily but looking satisfied, and said, "Well, what a pretty little furry pussy. Mmm, I shall enjoy giving that a good pounding."

As he climbed onto the bed, Emily instinctively backed away from him. Turning onto all fours she tried to dive away, to escape, but Lord Roger caught her by the hair and pulled her sharply back, making her scream as a white heat tore across her head. She tried to fight him off but he was so much bigger and stronger, and easily pinned her on her back. He roughly forced her legs apart with his knees then she watched in disgust as he raised two fingers to his mouth and spat on them. A moment later Emily screamed again as she felt an urgent pressure on her cunny lips and the fingers were forced inside her. Her assailant fell on her and smacked his lips onto hers, his bristling moustache scratching her and his tongue pushing deep into her mouth. With his free hand he gripped one of her breasts and began to squeeze.

In spite of her terror and revulsion, Emily began to feel something else. She realised with a terrible shock that, as His Lordship fucked his fingers into her, she was beginning to feel the same warm glow that she had felt when Susan had invaded her pussy. She tried to deny it to herself, but could not. Her belly was churning, her entire body was tingling and her nipples were standing proud and erect. She felt hot tears prick her eyes at the way in which her body was betraying her but, unable to help herself, she found she was actually thrusting her hips at Lord Roger's probing fingers, and a moment later she gave a hoarse cry as her pussy swelled with her own juices and lights popped behind her eyelids. Lord Roger lifted his mouth from hers and, with a leer, said, "My, you're a quick one. Oh well, at least you're good and ready for me now."

Still weak and light-headed from her orgasm, Emily felt unable to resist as her conqueror lifted her legs until her toes were pointing at the ceiling and slipped his knees under her pert bottom. Then with an almighty thrust he entered her, driving the air from her body. As Lord Roger pounded away at her, Emily tried to hate it, but again found her body was burning with the arousal of what was happening. His huge cock stretched her pussy walls wide, and she found herself panting and sighing as he thrust into her. In desperation she closed her eyes and imagined that it was her beloved Jack, not his hateful brother, who was doing this to her. Without realising it, she began to mutter, "Oh God yes, oh Jack yes, do me."

Her tormentor grinned and, even as he continued to fuck her,. snarled, "That's it m'dear, you just imagine it's young Jack giving you the best rogering you'll ever have." Again her body gave in against her will to the sensual, powerful pleasure being inflicted on it, and she wailed and kicked her legs against Lord Roger's chest as her orgasm flowed over her in great, crashing waves, leaving her gasping for breath and almost senseless. Moments later she felt his release into her, and was certain that he had indeed impregnated her.

His Lordship gave Emily a few minutes to recover, then pulled on his dressing gown and rang for Reeves. The butler stared in horror at the naked young girl spread-eagled on the bed, Lord Roger's juice glistening between her legs. He wrapped a blanket around her, and escorted her to the very top of the house. Whimpering at the way she had been so ill used, Emily collapsed onto the small bed she saw in one corner and was asleep within minutes.

When she awoke, still naked, her cunny ached terribly from the thrashing it had received from Lord Roger. Wincing, she looked around her. She was in a small room, in the attic to judge from the angle of the ceiling. There was only one small window, too high for her to see through even if she stood on a chair. She tried the door handle, but it was firmly locked. Looking around her she saw the room was decently furnished, including a bookshelf with several volumes. Even her clothes had been brought there, she noticed. A side door led to a small bathroom. So, this was to be her prison for the next nine months. She fell onto the bed again and wept bitterly.

At ten o'clock Emily heard the key in the door click, and Susan appeared with a tray of food and drink. She walked over to the girl and stroked her forehead tenderly. "Are you all right, my dear? It's a cruel trick they've played on you. Bastards!" For a moment Emily thought Susan might help her to escape, but the other girl shook her head. "It'd be more than my life's worth, it really would. I'm afraid you'll just have to make the best of it. I mean, you're not going to have to work, you've got better accommodation than I have, and all your meals'll be brought to you." 

Emily felt tears forming in her eyes and sniffed. Susan hugged the smaller girl to her. "There, there, sweetheart, don't you cry." Emily hardly noticed that Susan's hand was no longer stroking her hair, but had now moved down to caress her breast. She looked up to say something, and Susan chose that moment to kiss her. Emily was shocked, but Susan's kiss was so much sweeter than Lord Roger's, and somehow comforting. She allowed the other girl to ease her back onto the bed, and to continue stroking her boobie. Susan's mouth gradually left Emily's mouth and travelled down to her throat, then down again, to her chest. She moaned as Susan fastened her lips to a breast, and began to flick Emily's stiffened nipple with her tongue. 

It was wrong, Emily knew it was, but after her rough handling the previous night Susan's loving touches really were making her feel better. She felt Susan's hand tickle across her tummy and, automatically, her legs opened. The other girl murmured, "Mmm, you're so hairy down here, much more than me or Georgina." Then she attached her mouth to Emily's other breast. A moment later her fingers entered Emily's pussy. Even though it still burned from Lord Roger's use of it, Susan's touch seemed to soothe Emily, and before long she was rocking back and forth on Susan's fingers as they stroked and tweaked at her. She cried out as another finger was inserted. Susan paused and asked coyly, "Do you want me to stop, my love?"

Emily gasped, "Oh God, no, please don't stop." She pressed herself more firmly onto the other girl's probing hand. Susan's tongue tickled Emily's belly button then, as Emily had secretly hoped she would, she began to lick and kiss her lover's red-haired pussy. Emily groaned loudly and, pressing her feet to the bed, lifted her backside until she was almost sitting on Susan's face. She curled her fingers into Susan's hair, as if trying to pull the woman's entire head inside her. She came, but still Susan lapped at her, and stroked her with her long fingers. Susan was moaning herself with arousal, and Emily experienced the most amazing feeling - her lover had pushed one of her fingers into Emily's bottom, and was worming it around inside her, even as she continued to probe her pussy with the other hand. Emily felt impaled, but the effect was dramatic. Sobbing with the strength of her release, she exploded into probably the biggest orgasm she had experienced until that moment, bucking so wildly that Susan had trouble keeping her mouth and fingers in contact with the girl's straining pussy. Emily sank back into her pillow and Susan was on her, kissing her again. Emily sucked at Susan's tongue, and tasted her own bitter-sweet juices.

Susan helped the dazed Emily to eat some breakfast, then headed for the door. Before she left she said with a chuckle, "That's twice I've done you. Tomorrow you can lick me out."

Susan brought all Emily's meals, and she waited until the evening before she made the other girl pleasure her. Without so much as a word she stripped off her clothes, pulled Emily's nightgown over her head and lay beside her on the narrow bed. They kissed and cuddled, and Emily marvelled at the feel of Susan's big, soft boobies rubbing up against her own small, firm peaks. Susan's nipples were enormous, and bright pink. Dipping her head Emily greedily fed one into her mouth. She found sucking Susan's dug a comfort, much as a baby suckling its mother's milk. 

Experimentally she reached her hand down and found Susan's mound, covered in wispy dark hair. She ran a finger along Susan's pussy and her lover squeaked into her mouth. Then Emily inserted a finger and Susan sighted happily. As Susan had done the previous day, Emily kissed her way down Susan's body until her head nestled between the other girl's legs, her fingers still stroking Susan's slippery pussy. Emily had never seen another girl's cunny, and was surprised how pretty it looked, almost like pink rose petals. She had been very nervous about what Susan expected of her, but as she moved her face close she inhaled a rich, musky aroma. It smelt beautiful, and just the sense of it set Emily's juices flowing. She pressed her lips against Susan's slit and flicked out her tongue. Her lover gasped, and whispered "Please". 

With that Emily set about her task with vigour, pleasuring Susan not just with tongue, but with her entire face – her lips, her nose, even her chin. She noticed a large grey-white dot, which she guessed must be the fabled love button. Sure enough, when she pressed it Susan began writhing madly, panting and groaning all the more. Emily continued to stroke the button as she licked Susan's slit and caressed her pussy lips, until the girl screamed hoarsely, her hips began lifting up and down, and her thighs wrapped tightly about Emily's head, trapping her face in the other girl's cunt. Emily smiled to herself as she tasted a richer, stronger juice flood into Susan's pussy.

As Susan subsided, Emily withdrew her face, pleased that she had given as much pleasure as she had received. But then Emily looked down at her with a glassy stare and muttered, "Together." Emily did not understand, but Susan pulled her around, and suddenly their faces were buried inside each other. Emily could not believe the waves of sheer pleasure which surged through her as she lapped at Susan and was lapped at at the same time. It felt as if she was experiencing one long orgasm which lasted for hours, days, years, and it was clear from the squishiness of Susan's cunt, and her ecstatic cries, that she felt the same. Afterwards, as they lay naked in each other's arms, both trembling with emotion, Emily kissed Susan, then asked her, "Does Jack know what they've done to me?"




The Fall of the House of Melkham



Susan shook her head. "He was told you were called away urgently to look after a sick relative. He doesn't believe it – he knows you've got no relatives – but he doesn't know where you can be. He and Lord Roger had a huge row about it, and Master Jack stormed out. He's staying with his aunt in London now." 

Emily asked, "Would you smuggle a letter out of the house for me? To Jack?"

Susan was shaking her head before Emily even finished speaking. "I daren't. I swear the Master seems to be mad for this baby. I truly believe that if I betrayed him, he'd kill me." Emily said she understood, and suppressed her bitter tears until Susan had left.

Every day of Emily's confinement Susan brought her meals. The only other person she saw was a doctor who occasionally called to check on her health, and had clearly been bought off. She and Susan made love not every day, but most, although less so as Emily's belly began to swell with the child growing inside her. Increasingly, Emily made love to Susan. She found that her hand was so slim that it would slip entirely into Susan, who writhed and moaned like a mad thing as Emily fucked her with it. In truth, Emily didn't even really like the other girl very much, but the passion between them seemed to keep her sane, and she loved the comfort she received from sucking her lover's huge breasts. Many was the night, though, that she cried for Jack, and dreamed that he would come and rescue her. She often thought of killing the baby as well. It would be easy enough, but she knew that, without that thing in her body, her life wouldn't be worth a brass farthing to the Melkhams, and she would never see freedom again. Besides, her situation was not the fault of that innocent child.

Four months into her pregnancy, Emily was awoken late at night by the sound of pounding on the door of her apartment. It opened and, in the light from the hallway, she saw the figure of Lord Roger. She shielded her eyes as he switched on the light in her room. He had been very proud when Melkham Hall had become one of the first houses in the county to have electricity installed. He swayed a little, and closed the door behind him with exaggerated care. It was clear that he was drunk. "Hello m'dear," he slurred. "Got a little treat for you. I've decided I want another go at that pretty little pussy of yours. Doc Middleton says it's safe in your condition, so get your nightdress off and your legs open for my great shaft." He sniggered as if he had made a terribly good joke.

Emily stared at Lord Roger with alarm. She still remembered with horror the night that he had raped her. That her body had derived some pleasure from the attack had been beyond her control, and she desperately did not want to repeat the experience. She sat up on her knees in her bed and lifted a teacup which was next to her, brandishing it at him. "You stay away from me you bastard" she growled in a low voice. The man just laughed, and swiped the cup out of her hand, breaking it. As he reached for her nightdress, to tear it as he had done before, Emily fought him. Small as she was, and despite her pregnancy, she fought with the strength of a tigress, and her adversary was drunk. She began to feel she was winning when, with a mighty heave, Lord Roger swung her from the bed and hurled her across the room. 

She shrieked as she hit the wall, and slumped to the floor in a daze. Inside her, she was sure she felt the baby kick. Lord Roger advanced on her menacingly, snarling and undoing his trousers – and at that moment the door burst open. Emily realised with a huge shock that it was Jack standing there, in pyjamas and a dressing gown. He stared at her in disbelief, then at his brother. He cried, "Roger, what in god's name have you done, are you insane?" He crouched beside Emily, and stretched an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him, murmuring, "Brigid, my love, are you all right?"

Emily screamed again as Roger grabbed Jack by the collar and dragged him around, away from her. Jack threw a punch but missed, and Roger caught him a heavy blow in the stomach. Jack fell to the floor gasping, and his brother, a murderous gleam in his eye, advanced on him. Emily struggled to her feet, feeling she must do something to aid the man she loved. Casting wildly around, she saw a milk jug on her dinner tray. She lifted it and, as Roger raised his foot to kick the winded Jack, she crashed the jug down on the attacker's head.

Lord Roger swung in fury to face her. He reached behind his head and stared in amazement at the smear of blood which had come from a gash opened by the shattered jug. He swayed again and Emily seized her moment. Lifting the largest volume she could see from her bookshelf, she smashed it with all her strength into Lord Roger's face. He staggered back with a stunned expression, fell against the wall, then dropped to the floor. Jack scrambled across to his brother. Emily thought he was unconscious, then realised with a shock that his eyes were still open. She glanced at the wall where Lord Roger had fallen, and noticed a large slash of red across the corner of a marble mantelpiece. Jack inspected his brother then sat back on his heels and whispered, "He's dead."

Emily's hands flew to her mouth. "No, he can't be. Oh Mary, mother of God, I've killed him, they'll hang me for it."

Jack's face was white with shock, but he had a determined look about him. "Not if I have anything to do with it they won't. I'm going back to my room to dress. You get dressed too and get some clothes together, I'll bring a bag for you to put them in. Don't argue Brigid, there's no time, just do it." Before he left, Jack dragged an eiderdown from the bed and covered Roger's body with it.

They took the Daimler and huddled together behind the steering wheel draped in car blankets, Emily refusing to be apart from Jack even to sit in the shelter of the enclosed passenger compartment. By dawn they had reached the London docks. Jack booked a room in a boarding house with some of the £500 he had stolen from Roger's safe. Then he put the exhausted mother-to-be to bed and went to look for a passage out of England.

The following evening, 'Mr Jackson' stood with his 'son' on the deck of a passenger ship and gazed at the twinkling lights on the distant shore of Ireland. It was a small ship, cramped, but the Portuguese captain had not been one to ask too many questions when he saw the colour of Jack's cash. Brigid – she had abandoned Emily for ever - shed a silent tear as she looked on her homeland for possibly the last time, and another for her beautiful long locks, which Jack had cut of when he returned to the boarding house with a parcel of boy's clothes for her to change into. She hadn't even smiled when he had joked "Perhaps we'll have more luck than Dr Crippen and Ethel Le Neve."

The papers had been full of the foul, unprovoked murder of a blameless member of the government by a scurrilous Irish maid, but there had been no mention of Jack's involvement. As they made their way to their tiny cabin, he vaguely wondered how long it would take them to find the Daimler in the backwater of the Thames where he had pushed it. He hoped long enough for them to finish their passage. They sat on the bed and Jack put his arm around Brigid's shoulder. She turned to him, and said, "You remember I once said that the first man that takes me will be the man I marry? Well, that wasn't true, but the man I marry will be the first man I willingly give myself to." 

While Jack was still digesting her words, Brigid stood up and stripped out of her disguise. She stood before him in all her pregnant glory; being so small of frame, her bump already looked enormous. Thinking of her slumped against the wall, Jack reached out and touched her naked belly. "Do you think the baby's all right?"

Brigid smiled, and placed her hand over his. "Oh sure, he'll be fine, he's a fighter this one."

Jack smiled back and looked at her properly for the first time. "My God, you are so beautiful. I love you so very much, my sweet darling." As his now fiancée knelt before him and began to unfasten his clothes, he asked nervously, "Er, with your condition, how are we going to, um..."

Brigid smiled, and murmured, "I've been thinking about that." When Jack was also naked, she took a blanket and knelt on it, stretching her arms across the bed and smiling over her shoulder. Jack nodded his understanding and knelt behind her. She shivered as he traced a finger down her knobbly backbone, and into the opening of the crack between her bum cheeks. Then she sighed in happiness as he reached around her and cupped her breasts, tweaking her small nipples between his fingers and pressing his lips to her neck.

Jack grunted as he entered her, and she pushed back onto him, her first true lover. They quickly found a rhythm, and moved together as if with long practise, Jack probing deep into her and whispering his devotion to her in her ear as they made love. She would never think of it as fucking, not with him. As her climax approached, she removed one of Jack's hands from her breast and moved it down between her legs. He quickly found her clitty, and tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks as he stroked it, and she felt her insides catch fire once more, but with more heat and passion than she had ever known. She cried out as the full force of it hit her, making her head spin and her body throb, and she continued to push back at Jack until he joined her in ecstasy, he laughing with joy and she sobbing with the same emotion as he released his love into her.

Melkham paid a heavy toll in the Great War which burst to life two years later. Of the 200-odd young men who had cheerfully signed up for the newly-formed Melkham Fusiliers battalion, less than a dozen survived past the Battle of Passchendaele. With the population of the town reduced to the old, the sick and the very young through the hostilities, hard winters saw off many who stayed behind. Lady Marina, who had worn widow's black and shut herself away since the day her husband died, succumbed to the dreadful influenza epidemic of 1918, and was laid to rest alongside Lord Roger. With no immediate heir, it was assumed that the family of one of Lord Roger's sisters would take over Melkham Hall, but to the shock and outrage of the local population the family decided to place it on the market.

The estate was bought by a mysterious young Englishman who had lived overseas for some years. Mr John Summers was tall and good looking, with blond hair and a neat beard. His wife, Brigitte, was tiny, almost birdlike, but strikingly beautiful with flowing dark red hair. She had a rather exotic accent, half Irish, half American. They had three children, the oldest of whom was a boy of six or seven years of age, with sandy hair, very affectionate towards his mother. One of the family's first acts was to re-employ Constance Reeves, by then a widow, as their housekeeper. Strangely, on first meeting Mrs Summers the old lady had burst into tears and hugged her, as if they were the oldest of friends.

There was much speculation about the source of the Summers' considerable wealth. Some said they had made their fortune in the Brazilian rubber trade; others that it had come from the armaments industry, when America joined the war on the side of Britain. Some even speculated that John Summers had served a British spy in the Kaiser's Germany. But it wasn't the done thing to ask questions, and the community were just happy that a substantial amount of the money went towards the rebuilding of the spirit of the town. There were a few older townsfolk who looked closely at the popular, loving young couple and had their own ideas about their background; but they kept them to themselves.