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Calling all fans of period drama! Enter a world where noble lords surrender to pretty maids, and dominating ladies seduce the men who serve them. Their lust can be icy and dark, or subtle and sweet. Whether upstairs or down, who can resist the call of forbidden love? The manor house awaits. Are you ready to cross the threshold?
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Mind Your Manors © 2016 by Giselle Renarde
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.
Cover design © 2016 Giselle Renarde
First Edition 2016
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
You know that saying, “There might be snow on the rooftop, but there’s still fire in the furnace”? I know it’s about the passion of older individuals, but it always makes me think of the upper-classes as popularized in such period dramas as Upstairs, Downstairs and Downton Abbey. Just imagine the flames burning inside those stoic, emotionally unresponsive characters. They’re icy-cold on the outside, but inside they’re hot, hot, hot!
Mind Your Manors is inspired by the archetypes of manor houses and grand estates. In A Roll in the Hay, snooty Lady Angela has been out riding and she’s very disappointed to arrive at the stables only to find stable boy Frankie hasn’t completed his tasks for the day. It’s a good thing Frankie enjoys his share of erotic punishment, because Lady Angela loves to lay down the law.
Our next story is From the Manor Torn, whose title is playfully adapted from To the Manor Born. Remember that britcom from the late 70s/early80s, starring Penelope Keith and Peter Bowles? If you don’t, be sure to look it up. My version is a little zanier (okay, a LOT zanier), about an upper class lady who inexplicably moves into an urban high rise—with her butler, of course. But the love story isn’t what you’d expect!
Finally, we come to Serving the Master, a story in which a housemaid with a crush seduces the Master in his sleep, night after night. When he one day wakes up before the proceedings, he’s shocked to discover what this young woman’s been doing. And when he finds out why she’s been doing it, he’s even more surprised. You will be, too.
I’ve included my lesbian paranormal threesome story Oubliette as a special bonus for you. This one’s set in a castle that’s been converted into a fancy resort hotel. Saba and Miranda always fight on vacation, but this time they patch things up with the help of a mysterious stranger. Might not be the big house, but a castle’s definitely got the creep-factor going for it.
Three short stories from the manor house and one from a creepy castle. Hope you get your fill with this fabulously fancy fiction!
Lady Angela dismounted in typically fashion—that is to say regally, as though there were a stick jammed squarely up her rump. “I say!” she said. “Are you quite done mucking out my stalls? You’ve been at it for hours.”
“Begging your pardon, m’Lady,” Frankie grumbled. “Only, if you’ll recall, you asked me to fix the fence. If I hadn’t done that first, you’d be riding my backside about it all week. And if not that, you’d be riding me for something else altogether. It’s always something!”
“Seems so.” The lady glared at him with those icy blue eyes. She might even have been attractive if she wasn’t so demeaning. “Well, boy? Get a move on. I can’t dally all day.”
“Oh, is that so?” Frankie shot back. “The lady of leisure has some pressing engagement, does she? I’d never have guessed.”
“All my engagements are pressing,” she said, leading her chestnut mare into a clean stall. “Well, Frankie, you’ve done a perfectly wretched job.”
“Like hell I have!”
“I should be able to eat off this floor.”
He kicked a smattering of hay with the toe of his boot. “Have at it.”
A smirk bounced across her lips, and disappeared just as soon as it arrived. “My mare has to live in these quarters, Frankie.”
“Your mare lives a better life than half the tenants ‘round here.” He jammed his hay fork into the nearest bale. “It’s not all champagne and foie gras for us, you know.”
Pulling off her riding helmet, the lady shook out her gleaming blonde curls. “More’s the pity.”
“Let them eat cake, yeah?” He tossed his hair too. “I appreciate the sympathy, m’Lady.”
Lady Angela cocked her head, letting her golden locks fall over one shoulder. “Those are big words for a little boy.”
“Little?” Frankie laughed to cover his embarrassment. He might not be the tallest man in town, but he had ways of compensating.
“Let me guess,” Lady Angela tittered. “You’re big where it counts?”
“Your words, m’Lady. Not mine.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she raised her fine, fair brow. “Prove it.”
She shrugged, like it didn’t mean a thing. “If you’re so big, prove it to me.”
“Prove it?” Frankie’s throat ran dry. He tried to swallow, but he couldn’t. “How d’you expect me to do that, exactly?”
“Oh, I think you know what I’d suggest.” Lady Angela pulled the door closed on her mare’s stall and took a slow step forward. And another. She was always in control, that woman. Knew what she wanted, and took it.
The gleam in her eye burned bright when she grinned.
“She-Wolf,” Frankie hissed, like he could ward her off with words. “Demon’s-Bride.”
When she came closer, he backed away. Her expression darkened, but his recriminations had obviously not dissuaded her.
“You already have everything you need,” Frankie said. “What do you want with me?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh Frankie, my darling little man…”
“Why treat me this way?”
She said, “Simply because I can.”
Lady Angela’s mare whinnied behind her. The other horses joined in, thumping their hooves against the ground like a round of applause.
“You think you own this land and everything on it,” Frankie said. “Well, nobody owns the air I breathe or the sun that shines down on me. Nobody owns my heart.”
“Silly boy! I don’t need your heart.” Driving him into the storage stall, she grabbed his crotch through his trousers. “This is all I need. Just this.”
His knees gave out. “Well, it ain’t yours to have.”
He fell back on a hay bale, but Lady Angela didn’t release his erection. If she asked him whether it felt good, how could he deny it? He wouldn’t be so undeniably hard if her haughty attitude didn’t arouse him.
“Let’s take off these trousers, shall we?”
“No,” he said—though, goodness, it wasn’t easy.
Lady Angela laughed—cackled, really—and released his hardness.
“Oh, thank goodness.”
“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easily.” She heaved the stall door closed, flipping the latch to trap them both inside. “If you’d only give in, I wouldn’t have to take this approach.”
“What…” Frankie swallowed hard. “What approach?”
His cock hammered his trousers as she plucked a weathered riding crop off the wall. “Why, the disciplinarian approach, of course.”
Scuttling across the hay bale, he cowered at the side of the stall.
“Tell me, Frankie.” She smacked the slip of leather against her palm. “Will I be forced to break your spirit?”
“No, m’Lady,” he assured her. “You can beat me down, but I’ll never break.”
Lady Angela’s expression hardened. That obviously wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. When she trod closer, he wasn’t sure whether to feel cocky or afraid. She wouldn’t really use that thing, would she?
Cracking the crop, the graceful storm approached. “Well?”
“Do as you wish,” Frankie said. “I won’t back down.”
Lady Angela chortled. “Won’t you, now?”
She traced the crop’s leather tongue down his cheek. It tickled against his stubble as it licked his chin. The strange sensation made his skin tingle. He could feel his resistance breaking down. Maybe she didn’t need to break him. Maybe tenderness would do the trick.
He gulped as she traced the crop down his neck. “Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?” A keen grin broke across her lips.
The leather tongue descended his chest, following the path of buttons down his shirt. It didn’t stop when it reached his trousers. Lady Angela pressed the crop along his swollen shaft, up and down. He struggled not to moan.
“What have we here?” She smashed the instrument against his thick cock. The blow stung badly, even through layers of clothing. “I like what I see, my darling.”
He could barely breathe as she punished him, but he managed to push out the words, “I like it.”
She swatted his erection. “You like what, dear boy?”
“That.” He hissed when the leather tongue smacked his thigh. “I like being punished.”
“Is that why your behaviour is always so very naughty?”
She whipped him again, striking his balls this time. Pain coursed through his body so vividly he couldn’t see straight. When he looked at his employer, he saw a giddy blonde mare rather than a woman.
“You’ve gone quiet,” she said, in a tone that could be construed as concerned. “Wallowing in self-pity, are we?”
“No, m’Lady.” Frankie winced as he sat up straighter. “Criminy, you got me but good!”
“Did I?” A fierce grin bled across her lips. “Top-shelf.”
He shook his head. “How you can enjoy inflicting pain on another being, I’ll never understand.”
“Nor can I fathom how you revel in the pain I give you.” The lady shrugged. “But here we are, dear boy: a hand that’s found its perfect glove.”
To illustrate her point, she smacked the riding crop against the palm of her riding glove. When leather met leather, Frankie’s erection sprang into action. Frightening, it was—the sound of that instrument slicing through dusty stable air.
When the lady spotted his cock throbbing inside his trousers, her smile grew into a sneer. “Back for more, I see.”
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