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Nine filthy tales of Victorian lust, depravity and desire. Beneath the veneer of civility and etiquette, the raging passions of the Victorian age flow deep. Each story in this mega-bundle tells of a young woman dominated and despoiled, but ultimately embracing the dark side of her soul, and embracing her sinful discipline.~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~She was so absorbed in her worrying that Mr. Miller's arrival took her by surprise. Mary gave a start as the door opened and she turned around to see the constable closing the door behind him. She turned back around quickly and fixed her eyes on her lap, ashamed and afraid. Mr. Miller didn't say anything as he walked over to his desk. The silence stretched for several moments and Mary had to suppress a shiver. She hated the uncertainty that came with the silence; she'd rather Mr. Miller yelled at her.Finally, Mr. Miller spoke. 'Miss Bennett,'' he began, voice cold and crisp, 'Mary. I do not know where to even begin.''Mary took a shuddering breath.'I did not want to believe it when Mrs. Jones told me, you know. I thought she had got it wrong. After all, Mary Bennett is a sweet girl, a polite young lady from a good family; she was not raised to be a thief.'' Mr. Miller spoke at a slow, even pace. Mary dug her fingernails into her palms and bit her lip. She was dangerously close to crying.'I know that the death of your parents has been hard for you. I understand that these must be hard times for you, but I cannot even begin to put into words how disappointed I am in you. I expected so much more from you, Mary.''Mary trembled on her seat. She tucked her chin against her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Whatever she had imagined Mr. Miller's disappointment would look and sound like earlier, the reality was a hundred times worse.'You should know by now that it is impossible to commit a crime without being caught in a small town such as this. You have disappointed me with your actions and your thoughtlessness.''Mary bit back a sob; she had never felt this bad, she would give anything to make it stop, to get away from Mr. Miller's harsh words.'Now, your punishment. I should send you to court where you will be charged according to the law and your punishment will be decided by the judge. However, I am willing to give you another option.''Mary straightened a bit in surprise. She hadn't even thought about going to court and the prospect seemed daunting. The judge might send her to jail and Mary knew that she wouldn't last a day. She was certain that whatever Mr. Miller had in mind was infinitely better than going to court.'You need to be disciplined for your actions. You need a firm hand.'' Mr. Miller paused and for the first time, Mary dared to look up. She still did not look Mr. Miller in the eye, but she let her gaze fall on his chest in anticipation.
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Victorian BDSM Mega Bundle
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Anna Austin
Written by Anna Austin
~~ All characters in this book are 18 or over. ~~
(Spanking The Maid - Part 1)
I had only been a maid in Lord Fanshawe’s household for a week, and so far it had been disastrous. I was trying my best; I really was; but I had always been naturally clumsy, and household service and clumsiness are not a good combination. In the space of a week I had spilled a tureen of soup all over the kitchen floor, scuffed the silverware by using the wrong brush, and broken a vase when it fell off the shelf I was dusting.
Each time, I had reported shamefaced to Mr Lovett the butler, and reported what had happened. The first time he had been mildly exasperated, but accepted my apology and told me not to let it happen again. The second time he had been rather annoyed, warning me that I’d better not make a habit of such behaviour. The third time he had been furious, giving me a real dressing down and telling me that if such irresponsible and reckless behaviour continued, I would not be long in Lord Fanshawe’s employ.
“Emma,” he had told me at the end of his long rant. “Young and inexperienced you may be, but that is no excuse for carelessness. You were lucky to be given this position in the first place, and if I’m forced to release you without a good reference, you may never get another chance like this again.”
He was right about me being lucky. I was an orphan, brought up in a workhouse until the age of eighteen, and then released into the big wide world with few skills and even fewer prospects. I had applied for a number of domestic servant jobs, but had been rejected out of hand. It seemed that most families looking for a servant were unwilling to consider a girl of such lowly station, preferring to employ women who had come from respectable working families who were used to service. I had almost given up, despairing of ever finding a position, when I had been called to interview at Lord Fanshawe’s estate. There were five other candidates, and unusually, Lord Fanshawe had conducted the interview himself.
He had called me into a small study, and I had found him sitting behind a carved wooden desk. He was a handsome man of around forty, with a full head of chestnut colored hair and a matching moustache. His eyes were a vivid blue, and his stare was so piercing that I had found it difficult to meet his gaze.
The interview passed in a blur, my nervousness becoming more pronounced with every minute I had to spend in the presence of the imposing aristocrat. Some of his questions seemed rather odd, but I did my best to answer them.
“So Emma, what quality would you say is most important in a maid?”
I thought about it for a moment.
Lord Fanshawe stroked his moustache. “Loyalty, eh? An interesting answer. Why is that important?”
“So that my employer – you, Sir, if you give me the job – knows that I’ll always do my best.”
“Hmm, and do you think that obedience is important too?”
“Oh! Yes, Sir. Very important. I’ve always been an obedient girl, and of course I’d always do anything you told me to.”
Lord Fanshawe has stared at me for a moment, making me feel rather uncomfortable. I blushed and averted my eyes.
“You would do anything I told you? Absolutely anything?” he asked. Something about his tone of voice gave me the impression that he considered this question to be very important.
“Of course, Sir,” I had answered. “After all, I’m the maid and you’re the master.”
This answer seemed to a satisfy him, and he had leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully stroking his moustache. “Thank you, Emma. You may go.”
I had scurried out of the room, convinced that I had made some kind of mistake and would once again lose out on the job. Instead, at the end of the day I was summoned by Mr Lovett and told that I had been appointed to the post of scullery maid, starting immediately. I was to fetch my belongings from my lodgings, and then hurry back.
“After all,” the butler had told me. “There’s work to be done!”
That had been a week ago, and my initial jubilation had long worn off. It appeared that I was not really cut out to be a maid, and if I made one more mistake I would be out on my ear.
Then, inevitably, I made one more mistake.
It was the worst yet. I was cleaning the pantry, scrubbing the floor amidst cuts of meat and loaves of bread. The floor was slippery where I had washed it, and I slipped, toppling over with a thump. As I fell, my pinafore caught the wine rack, and suddenly the bottles that had been set aside for dinner were crashing onto the floor, glass smashing around me. I was left sitting in a pool of expensive wine and broken glass, too stunned to move. That was how Mr Lovett – who had come running when he heard the crash – found me.
“You stupid girl!” he shouted, the veins on his forehead throbbing with anger. “Look what you’ve done! Do you have any idea how much that wine costs! Why, a single bottle of it would cost you a year’s wages! And you’ve just smashed half a dozen of them!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I burbled, tears welling in my eyes. “I’ll clean it up! I’ll fetch some more from the wine cellar, I’ll…”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Lovett interrupted. “In fact your days here are numbered. Go to your room and get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to speak to His Lordship. And I shall be recommending that he dismiss you from his service, with immediate effect.” With that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me still sitting amongst the spoiled wine and the shards of broken glass.
I gingerly picked myself up, and then ran to my room, tears streaming down my cheeks. I was devastated. I'd had a chance at a better life, but I had blown it. Soon I would be back out on the streets without a penny to my name, and with no prospects of a new job.
Then, I pulled myself together. After all, there was still a chance that Lord Fanshawe might not dismiss me. Or he might want to give me my notice in person, in which case I could throw myself on his mercy and appeal for one last chance. I dried my eyes and changed out of my wine sodden uniform, replacing it with a brand new outfit, one that I had not yet worn. Even if I did not make a very good maid, at least I could look the part.
A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. Mr Lovell the butler was standing there, a triumphant look on his mean little face.
“Lord Fanshawe will see you now,” he informed me pompously. “He’s in his study.”
I swept passed him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. I made my way to His Lordship’s study, and knocked on the door.
I went in, closing the door behind me.
Lord Fanshawe was sitting behind his desk, much as he had been when he had interviewed me a week before. These were different circumstances though, and I braced myself, ready for harsh words.
Instead, Lord Fanshawe simply sat there, looking at me with those piercing blue eyes of his. I began to feel rather self conscious. My new uniform was just a touch too tight, and showed off my rather curvy figure. I’d never been a skinny girl, and I had put on weight even over the last week, the food in the house being rather richer and more plentiful than the fare I was used to. Now Lord Fanshawe appeared to be eyeing my buxom body, almost like he wanted to eat me up! I blushed and looked down at my toes.
Finally, he spoke up. “Ah, Emma. It appears that there’s something of a problem. Old Lovett says that you’ve been damnably clumsy. Breaking things left, right and centre. Well, that won’t do, it won’t do at all. Whoever heard of a clumsy scullery maid?”
I took a deep breath. Here it comes, I thought. He’s going to sack me.
“I am, however prepared to give you another chance, but on one condition.”
I exhaled, relief flooding through me.
“Oh! Anything, Sir! I’d do anything to me given another chance!”
He stroked his moustache. “Absolutely anything?” he asked, echoing the question he had asked me during my interview.
“Yes, Sir! Whatever it is you want me to do, I’ll do it!”
He smiled. “Good. You see, I rather like the look of that lovely round arse of yours, and I’m absolutely dying to give it a spanking. In fact, I have been ever since I first set eyes on it.”
My jaw dropped. I stood there, absolutely speechless. He wanted to spank me?
Lord Fanshawe stood up, and indicated towards his desk.
“So let’s get started shall we? Put your hands on the desk and bend over, there’s a good girl.”
For a moment, I thought about turning around, walking out of the room, and never coming back. But something stopped me, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Was it because I was desperate to keep my job? Or perhaps it was because I had promised His Lordship my loyalty and obedience?
Or perhaps I wanted him to spank me?
It had never occurred to me before, but the thought of submitting to this powerful aristocrat, the idea of him disciplining me – it was actually rather exciting.
So, I did not turn and run out of the room. Instead I stepped forwards, placed my hands on the desk, and bent over.
“Good. Very good,” commented Lord Fanshawe, moving round to stand behind me. “Lets get rid of these, shall we?” He reached out and took hold of my panties, pulling them down so that they were around my ankles. I gasped slightly, but otherwise did not react. I had already mentally resigned myself to a spanking, and I suppose it did not make much difference whether my bottom was bare or not.
Lord Fanshawe stepped back, and I snatched a look at him as he stood behind me. He was admiring the view, but when he saw me looking he smiled.
“Now, Emma. You're a good girl. I knew that the first time I saw you. A good, obedient girl, with a nice round arse and big juicy titties. A good girl, but it would seem a bad maid. So, you must be disciplined. Before I begin though, I want you to promise me one thing. Whatever I ask of you, you will obey. Will you make that promise?”
I thought about it, and made a quick decision. After all, I was already bent over, my bottom bared for him, about to be given a spanking. What more could he ask of me?
“Yes, Sir,” I confirmed. “I will obey you.”
“Good. Now face forward.”
I did as he asked. My palms were sweaty, and I could feel them slipping on the varnished wood of the desk. I closed my eyes, and waited for the first blow to fall.
Pain exploded across my backside as Lord Fanshawe's hand dealt it a glancing blow. I let out little scream, more out of surprise than anything else. Then the pain began to set in, and I was sure that I could feel a dull glow spreading across my bottom as the skin turned red.
His Lordship delivered another strike, this time to the opposite cheek. I cried out a little louder this time, unable to help myself. It hurt, it really hurt! The skin on my bottom was smarting, and felt like it had been stung by a wasp. Clearly Lord Fanshawe took his discipline seriously.
“Cry out all you like, my dear,” he said from behind me. “No-one will hear you. I had this room sound-proofed. I could spank your bottom raw and you could scream blue murder, but no-one will come running.”
His voice suggested a certain twisted amusement at my predicament, but actually, the last thing I wanted was for someone to walk in on me getting spanked. It would be embarrassing, to say the least.
Another slap landed across my bare bottom, this time with even more force. Tears were now beginning to stream down my face, partly from the stinging pain in my backside, and partly from the humiliation. Half of me wanted the ordeal to be over, as quickly as possible.
Mixed in with the pain and humiliation, there was something else. A certain...excitement. A desire, perhaps, to be dominated. True, the pain itself was unpleasant, there was no denying that. But the thought of allowing herself to submit to His Lordship, the idea that I was his to do with as he pleased – well, that perhaps made up for the pain.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
This time, Lord Fanshawe unleashed a flurry of swats onto my bare arse, alternating between cheeks. With each one I let out a little whimper of pain, but I was starting to almost enjoy it. I looked off to one side and noticed that there was a mirror mounted on the wall, and in it, I could see both of our reflections. I could see the look of concentration in His Lordship's face as he stalked up and down behind me, deciding where to land the next blow. I could see as well a bulge in the crotch of his trousers, although in my innocence I did not yet fully appreciate what that meant. I could see too my round bottom, sticking out from the skirt of my maid's uniform. The skin was red and blotchy where he had struck me, but I didn't care. I found the idea of looking at myself as he spanked me strangely intoxicating. I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had never felt before, and I was trembling slightly, although not from cold or fear. What was happening to me? Why was being spanked having such a curious effect?
Yet another blow landed on my round backside, which by now was thoroughly smarting. I was beginning to notice another curious effect of the spanking; an increasing wetness between my legs, and a funny ache down there. It was not an unpleasant sensation, in fact, quite the opposite. Lord Fanshawe noticed it to, for he slid finger between my legs and began to rub my slit, which I must admit felt rather delicious.
“Why!” he exclaimed. “You dirty little whore! I do believe you are enjoying this. Your pussy is quite wet.” He withdrew his fingers from between my legs and gave them a quick sniff, before licking the beads of moisture from his skin. “Tasty too. But then, I’ve always enjoyed the taste of slut.”
I remained quiet, still bending down over the desk. I had no idea what was going to happen next, but I remembered my promise to his Lordship. Whatever he commanded, I would obey.
“Well,” he murmured, leaning forwards so that his moustache tickled my ear as he whispered to me. “Since I’ve just had a little taste of you, I think it only fair that you should have a taste of me. Get down on your knees, facing me.”
I hastened to obey, turning around and facing him, wincing slightly at the soreness of my bottom. I knelt, so that my face was at his waist height. I noticed that the bulge in his trousers was even more pronounced, and wondered what he was keeping down there. I was aware of course that men and women were anatomically different, but I was entirely innocent of the specifics. As it transpired, my innocence was not to last much longer.
Lord Fanshawe smiled down at me, his blue eyes shot with lust. “So Emma, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Are you ready?”
I looked around the room. “Someone you’d like me to meet? Who? Where is he?” I felt rather embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing me in my current predicament.
His Lordship chortled. “No, no. You needn’t worry. He’s right here, in my trousers. He’s called John Thomas, and he’s dying to meet you. Are you ready to meet him?”
I looked up, somewhat puzzled. What was he referring to? I suppose there was only one way to find out. “Yes, Sir. Whatever you desire.”
Lord Fanshawe reached down and began to unbutton his breeches, before reaching inside and and grasping whatever was contained with in. I gasped in wonder and admiration as he withdrew a long, rod-like implement, with a skin covered shaft leading to a gleaming red tip. A bead of moisture glistened at its point, and despite the shock and novelty, I rather liked the look of it.
“This is John Thomas” His Lordship said, holding the thick shaft in his hand. “Why don’t you say hello to him?”
“Hello, John Thomas” I replied, rather embarrassed by this pantomime.
“No, no, that won’t do,” his Lordship scolded me. “You see, John Thomas is rather European in his tastes. When meets someone new – especially if they’re a pretty girl – he like to be given a little kiss. Do you understand?”
I did. I leaned forward, and planted a kiss on the tip. The bead of moisture caught on my lips as I did so, and I licked it off. It tasted salty, but not unpleasant. John Thomas seemed to enjoy his kiss, for he twitched slightly. Lord Fanshawe gave a little moan.
“Again, kiss him again. For longer this time.”
I leaned forward and planted another kiss on the red tip of his rod, this time making a much longer, lingering contact. The feel of his John Thomas was smooth and hard against my lips, and I could see how taut and stretched the skin on the tip of it was. For some reason, kissing him like this was adding to my own excitement, and I could feel the wetness between by legs increasing.
“Again,” commanded his Lordship, “kiss him again. And this time, use your tongue, and don’t stop until I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord,” I murmured meekly, and hastened to obey. I leaned forward and planted another sloppy kiss on the end of his implement, before beginning to lick at it. I did this tentatively at first, just brushing it with the end of my tongue, but his Lordship jerked his hips forward as if to encourage me to a more enthusiastic approach. So I began to lap at it vigorously, licking it up and down as though it were a lollipop. To steady myself I caught hold of the long length of his Lordship’s shaft, and grasped it firmly whilst I concentrated on wetting his helmet with my tongue. I could feel his veins pulsing beneath my palm, my fingers barely fitting around his girth as I continued to pleasure him. His Lordship certainly was enjoying himself, for beads of sweat were forming on his brow, and he would occasionally emit a little groan. I looked up at him and his eyes fixed on mine, burning with a furious desire that was almost frightening. Who would have thought that having his John Thomas licked would have such an effect on a man?
His Lordship was only just getting started though, as I was soon to find out. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, forcing my head back.
“Open wide,” he ordered me, eyes blazing. “It hasn't taken you long to get a taste for cock. Now, lets see if you can swallow one.”
I did as I was told, opening my mouth wide. He was pulling my hair quite hard, and tears began to spill down my cheeks as I looked up at him. He shifted slightly so that his cock was hovering just in front of my mouth, and then with a wicked grin he suddenly slammed his hips forward, ramming his John Thomas straight into my gaping mouth.
I gagged for a moment, but actually the sensation wasn't too bad. His helmet rested on my tongue, filling my mouth with hard flesh, but still allowing me room to breath.
“Suck it, you little slut,” he commanded, in a tone that brooked no refusal. “Polish my cock with your mouth. That's your job isn't it, to clean and polish?”
I nodded, his big cock filling up my mouth as I bobbed my head up and down.
“Good, then get on with it.”
Hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence, I began to suck on his helmet, moving my head rhythmically up and down so that it slid backwards and forwards in my mouth. His Lordship still had a tight hold on my hair, and he used his grip to pull me forwards, forcing even more of his long shaft into my mouth and causing me to gag slightly. I tried to back away, but he held my head firmly in place. Saliva dribbled out of my mouth onto the floor, and tears were running in rivulets down my face. I looked up at him imploringly, unable to speak with a mouthful of his meat, my eyes pleading with him to go easy on me. He looked back down at me, a cruel grin on his face, and I could sense he wasn't in a merciful mood.
“You're going to have to take it I'm afraid, my dear,” he said with a chuckle. “I'm not going to let you off the hook. In fact, I'm going to shove John Thomas as far down your throat as he'll go. Here's a tip – get him wet, so he's nice and sticky and slippery. Then he'll go down a little easier.”
Tears began to roll down my cheeks as he thrust forwards again, forcing his cock even deeper into my open mouth. My jaws were aching and I couldn't breath properly, but I tried to follow his advice, allowing my saliva to flow over his shaft and helmet. He was now thrusting his cock back and forth into my moist orifice, pulling me towards him by my hair as he vigorously thrust his hips forward, each time forcing his shaft a a little deeper into my throat. Gradually, I managed to adapt, snatching little breaths as he slid out, and concentrating on not choking as he rammed it back in. Despite his rough treatment of me, I had no thought of trying to fight him off or escape. He was my Master, and I was his servant, and I had promised that I would obey his every command. If he wished to roughly use my mouth for his pleasure – well – that was his prerogative.
His Lordship gave a loud groan, and I looked up at him, still gobbling his cock as I did so. He looked back, his face flushed, a wild and untamed lust burning in his blue eyes. Sensing that It was the right thing to do, I once again grasped the thick root of his shaft with my hand and began to stroke it, jerking it back and forth as he continued to thrust into me. He seemed to be approaching some sort of peak, so I redoubled my efforts, somehow taking his huge length even further into my mouth, whilst at the same time lashing at his helmet with my tongue.
Finally, His Lordship gave a long drawn out groan and thrust his hips forwards, pulling my head towards him so that I swallowed him all the way to the hilt, the tip of his cock colliding with the back of my throat with a meaty 'thunk'. I felt his cock twitching and juddering in my mouth, and suddenly hot salty liquid was spurting out of it, coating my tongue and throat. I gagged for a moment, feeling like I was drowning in a sea of thick warm liquid, but them I recovered and began to swallow it down. It did not stop though, a seemingly endless torrent of his manly essence pumping into my willing orifice. I kept gulping it down, and finally the flood subsided, dying down to a trickle and them stopping all together. He withdrew his John Thomas from my mouth and I could see that a few drops were still oozing out of him, so I leaned forward and began to lick him clean, lapping up every last drop from his inflamed tip.
“Oh, you filthy little cum-slut,” Lord Fanshawe moaned, throwing his head back in ecstasy. “How exquisite that feels.” I kept licking, feeling rather proud and happy that my master was so pleased with me.
Finally, Lord Fanshawe gave one last sigh. “Stop. You may stop.” I pulled back from him, but remained kneeling on the floor. I watched curiously as he put a now rather deflated John Thomas back into his breeches and buttoned them back up. He wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow, and then addressed me again.
“You are a good girl, Emma, and an obedient servant. Tell me, are you a virgin?”
“I-I don't know what you mean Sir.” I really did not.
He smiled indulgently. “I mean, has any man ever put his cock in you?”
“Yes, Sir.” He frowned, but I continued. “You, just now, Sir.”
His Lordship's frown lifted, and he laughed. “No, you silly little girl. I mean, has any man ever put his cock between your legs? Penetrated your slit with it?”
“No, Sir” I answered truthfully. I had not even know that such a thing were possible, although now I had seen John Thomas in action – in the flesh, so to speak – it did make a kind of sense. “No man has ever done that.” I hesitated, and then asked him. “Would you like to?”
He laughed. “I would indeed, but some other gentleman I know would also be very interested in an obedient maiden like yourself, so for now I must decline.”
I must admit, I felt rather put out at this. I rather liked the idea of His Lordship stuffing his John Thomas into the hole between my legs – although I suspected it would be a rather tight fit.
His Lordship must have sensed my disappointment, because he gave a little chuckle.
“You really are a dirty little whore, aren't you? Well, I am not such a cruel Master as to take my pleasure but deny you yours. I bet that you're still nice and juicy between those plump little thighs of yours, hmm?”
I could still feel the dampness beading on my pussy lips. “Yes, Sir. I'm still really wet down there. “
“Good,” he replied. “Now, lie back on the ground, and I'll give your clit a damn good strumming.”
I wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but I did as he told me, lying back on the carpeted floor. He knelt down beside me and hitched my skirt up, before shoving his hand between my legs. His fingers probed the petals of my pussy lips, before seeking out the damp cleft between them.
“Hmmm,” he purred. “Still nice and slick and wet. But I'll bet I can make you wetter still.” He swirled his fingers around and pulled them out again, and then trailed them up to the nub that sat just above my slit, which seemed to be firmer and more prominent than usual. Perhaps this was another symptom of my excitement and arousal?
I gasped as his slick fingers came into contact with it. The sensation was divine and almost overwhelming, as if all the nerve-endings in my body were concentrated in this tiny expanse of flesh. He began to rub around it in circular motions, occasionally trailing a finger back down into my pussy, then bringing it back up to further lubricate my stiffening clit. Soon I was groaning and sighing with delight, amazed at the warm glow of pleasure that was beginning to spread through me, starting between my legs and sending tendrils of sensation throughout my body. I had never thought such a thing possible!
His Lordship began to speed up his circular stroking, applying more pressure as well. This sent me into fresh paroxysms of pleasure, and without even thinking I began to buck my hips upwards. This set my breasts bouncing under the tight fabric of my maid's uniform, and I saw Lord Fanshawe's eyes fix on them.
“Let's just set those big beauties free, shall we?”
Still stroking and caressing my clit, he reached down and unbuttoned my blouse, uncovering my tits. My nipples were hard and erect, and Lord Fanshawe bent over and began to suck on one of them, still frigging me as he did so. This only added to my pleasure, the twin delights of His Lordship's hand between my legs and hot tongue on nipple driving me into a frenzy of delight.
Suddenly, Lord Fanshawe sat back upright, and for a moment I thought that something might be wrong. Then I noticed that the bulge in his Lordship's breeches had returned.
“It would seem John Thomas is hungry for a second helping!” he exclaimed, and reached down and unbuttoned himself. His cock sprang back into view, and I marvelled at how quickly it had recovered. Truly, this was a magical thing!
Lord Fanshawe shifted his position slightly, manoeuvring himself so that his cock was hovering above my jiggling tits. He continued to pleasure me with his left hand, whilst stroking John Thomas with his right.
The sight of his big cock looming over me only increase my excitement, and with his finger busy on my clit I felt a wave of pent up feeling begin to grow within me, as though I were about to literally explode with pleasure. His Lordship's hand was now a blur between my legs, strumming my clit vigorously whilst his other hand was also jerking his cock back and forth with relentless force. Suddenly, he bent down between my legs, and latched onto my clit with his mouth, sucking on it hard. This pushed me over the edge, and the pent-up tension suddenly broke free within me, sending a wave of almost unbelievable pleasure flowing through my body. I cried out, unable to help myself as the wonderful sensation overcame me.
“Oh God, oh Yes, oh Sweet Jesus!”
His Lordship sat back up and rammed his hand back between my legs, sticking two of his fingers right up my slit. I could feel my tunnel tightening and convulsing around his hand as I shook and quivered, my body trembling uncontrollably.
My extreme excitement only seemed to stimulate His Lordship's appetites. He grabbed hold of his cock and began to ransack it back and forth once more, then suddenly he gave a cry and aimed it straight at my quivering tits. His sticky white liquid began to spurt once more, landing in huge droplets all over my breasts. Summoning my last ounce of strength, I reached up and rubbed the hot fluid into my nipples. Then my hands fell back down my my sides again as a sudden weakness overcame me, and I momentarily blacked out.
When I came to a few moments later Lord Fanshawe was sitting back behind his desk, looking for all the world like nothing untoward had occurred.
“Pick yourself up off the floor and get dressed,” he told me. “There's a good girl.”
I stood up, and retrieving my panties from the floor, pulled them back on. I buttoned my blouse back up too, the fabric sticking to my skin where I was covered with his Lordship's cock juice.
“Very good Emma,” Lord Fanshawe said dismissively. “You may go.” I hesitated, and his Lordship immediately picked up on my indecision. “Well, do you have something to say? Out with it girl!”
“Am I – am I to be dismissed Sir – from my post here, I mean?” After all, there was still the matter of the spilt wine.
Lord Fanshawe snorted with derision. “Dismissed! Good Lord, no. You see Emma, I value loyalty in a servant above all else, and you have certainly proved your loyalty and obedience today. Now, be off with you, and tell that old goat Lovett to come and see me. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind! Imagine, telling me I should sack the best maid in the house, Ludicrous.”
I almost skipped out of the room, as happy as I had ever been in my life – if rather sticky and sweaty.
I wondered, when would his Lordship summon me next?
I certainly hoped it would be soon. After all, I did not want to remain a virgin forever!
(Spanking The Maid part 2)
I had now been a maid in Lord Fanshawe's employ for a fortnight, and things were certainly looking up.
My first week as a scullery maid had been tricky, to say the least. I'm rather clumsy and accident prone, and I had made a number of mistakes, earning me the ire of Mr Lovett, the humourless and unlikeable butler. Finally, after a mishap involving the breakage of a number of bottles of expensive wine, Lovett had gone to His Lordship to recommend that he dismiss me.
Fearing the worst, I had paid a visit to Lord Fanshawe's study, prepared to be disciplined and perhaps even sacked. As it transpired, His Lordship had sought to punish me, but not at all in the way that I had expected. Rather than dismiss me from his service, he had instead bent me over his desk and spanked my bare bottom, a process that I had found painful but also rather exciting.
His Lordship had himself found the sight of my round arse turning red from his blows somewhat arousing, and had proceeded to introduce me to his John Thomas. First he had made me kiss and lick it, then he rammed it into my mouth and had vigorously fucked it until he spent his seed down my throat. Then he had put it between my tits and fucked them too, but not before he strummed my clit and fingered my pussy until I came as well
All in all, it was rather hard to think of his behaviour as a punishment. Best of all, he had not dismissed me, but had instead reprimanded the butler most severely!
So things were looking up. Mr Lovett was now rather distant and cold towards me, but when I made minor errors he no longer bawled at me, but instead sighed and helped me to correct my mistakes. Anyhow, I was now getting used to the chores required of me, and becoming rather better at them, so I was making fewer mistakes. Perhaps I was cut out to be a maid after all.
If there was one thing concerning me, it was that since he had used me in his study Lord Fanshawe had not called for me again. Indeed, I had not even seen him. Had I displeased him somehow? His Lordship had suggested that he would like to a repeat performance of our intimate encounter, and had also referred to some other gentlemen he would like to introduce me too. And yet I had not seen hide nor hair of him.
Well, that was not entirely true. In my dreams he came to me, and more than once this past week I had woken up with my sheets sopping wet and a dull ache between my legs. I must admit that on these occasions I had reached down and touched myself, and had reached a similar kind of climax with my own fingers as that which his Lordship had given me with his. It was not quite the same though, and I yearned for him to fuck me with his fingers once more.
Then, finally, the call came. I was stacking boxes in the pantry when Mr Lovett the butler appeared at the door and cleared his throat to get my attention.
I straightened up and brushed a few specks of dust off my pinafore.
“Yes, Mr Lovett?”
“His Lordship would to see you,” he replied, his voice cold. I wondered for a moment if he might have his suspicions about precisely what Lord Fanshawe wanted me for.
“Right away?” I asked.
“No. He said to come to his study in half an hour.”
That was good. It would give me time to get myself cleaned up.
I hurried out of the pantry, leaving old Lovett standing there scowling. I quickly went to my room, and pulled off the dusty clothes which I had been wearing to do my chores. I hastily splashed some soap and water on myself, making sure that I was as clean and fragrant as possible. I towelled myself dry, and then looked for another outfit to wear. I went with the same maid's uniform I had worn during my last encounter with his Lordship. I could not wear it for work as it was slightly too tight and restricted my movement – hardly helpful when bending down to polish floors or reaching up to dust shelves. But the tightness also accentuated my figure, showing off my buxom bosom and round arse. Not so good for maid's work – but perfect for the what I assumed Lord Fanshawe had in mind for me.
Thus suitably attired, I hurried up the stairs to His Lordship’s study.
“Enter.” Came the voice from within. I opened the door and stepped inside.
To my surprise, it was not just Lord Fanshawe who was awaiting me within. His Lordship was there, sitting behind the desk, his handsome face partly hidden by his bristling walrus moustache. But there was another gentleman there too, leaning against the mantelpiece.
He was a strange looking fellow, much taller than his Lordship, and rather raw boned and angular. His face was partly covered by a luxuriant beard, ans I took him to be a similar age as his Lordship – in his forties – but he was certainly nowhere near as handsome. From the manner of his dress I took him to be a Doctor, and my suspicions were confirmed when I noticed a medical case standing next to his Lordship’s desk.
“Aha,” said his Lordship, addressing the stranger rather than me. “This is the maid I was telling you about. Emma is her name.”
The Doctor did not bother to introduce himself, but instead fumbled around in his pocked and found a pair of spectacles, which he pushed onto his nose. He then peered through them at me, his gaze direct and rather searching. I dropped my own eyes to the floor, partly from deference, and partly from embarrassment. Why, I wondered, had Lord Fanshawe summoned a Doctor? Was he ill? Or perhaps he thought that I was in need of medical assistance?
After a moment, the Doctor removed his spectacles and replaced them in his pocket, before turning to address Lord Fanshawe. “You were right Your Lordship,” he proclaimed. “She is a fine specimen. Plenty of meat on her bones, like you described, and rather pretty in a common sort of way.”
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