Prudence D'Orvell drew up outside The imposing entrance to Mannerly Hall in her Riley, the navy blue car covered with a fine layer of dust and bird lime, having been parked at the local rail station for the past few weeks, its driver having been on one of her regular jaunts on the boat-train to Europe. Prudence stepped out, a footman maintaining a look of studied nonchalance whilst his inner thoughts admired the elegant and assertive woman, knowing she viewed him and the dwindling household staff with dismissive contempt. She gave him a surly glance and threw the keys to him as a maid scurried to take her bags.
"Get that cleaned up, I'll be needing it again later." He took the keys and sniffed at her wafting scent on getting in the car, a half erection swelling as he watched her shapely figure glide elegantly to the door, on starting the Riley to drive it to the garage at the rear. She had a reputation for being a wild and decadent woman amongst that dwindling staff, where lewd rumours abounded, and why shouldn't she be that way, it was argued amongst the female staff; this was the 1930's after all, and she was a woman of means and substance.
Mannerly Hall was a fine stately home which had been the home of the D'Orvell family for centuries. It had until recent times, always had a full compliment of household staff, but the maintenance of it, and the running costs were astronomical, and Prudence had better and more interesting things to do with her inheritance money than maintain a staid tradition, by haemorrhaging her shrinking funds into the house. She also owned a more modest but comfortably sized house on the Dorset coast, and had recently diverted much needed funds in acquiring a mews house in Chelsea; the latter secured at a knock-down price, after securing the services of a property agent, exposed of sexual desires which could ruin him, at one of her debauched parties at the former.
Prudence was only slightly disenchanted by the musty smell of impending decay that brought her mind back to the millstone that the house had become, ascending the ornate staircase with a vigour that betrayed her optimistic and scheming mood to the following maid. Prudence checked her steps without looking back, finding her within earshot.
"Has Master D'Orvell's health deteriorated much since I've been away? He was so poorly when I left." The young lady answered, a little bemused, as Mr D'Orvell always appeared to be in rude health to her and anyone else who encountered him, but Prudence, and Miss Anthea Strake, her middle aged Lady in Waiting and confidant, always insisted he was ill, so it had to be true.
"I'm... I'm not sure Madam, I've not seen him about the house too often since you've been away." Prudence smiled to herself, knowing Anthea will have kept his movements restricted until the staff had all left for the night; none resided at the hall anymore, other than Miss Strake.
"Then he's obviously got worse since I've been gone, it's a good thing he'll be convalescing in Europe within the next week." Her grin broadened on knowing the maid would broadcast the news to all she came in contact with, and it would become as good as the gospel truth in their minds. Oh yes, her husband was going to Europe, but he wouldn't be convalescing, he'd be put to good use by some very matriarchal ladies in Berlin.
Prudence's desire to be rid of the burden of the grand house, was as keen as it was to be rid of her husband. She had been married into the D'Orvell family as a matter of convenience, and the acquisition of the stately pile, along with a timid husband some years her junior, had heralded a sound and eternally beneficial financial future. She had dominated her husband with consummate ease from the onset, and times had been good at the Hall; she being party to a large inheritance from her husband's parents when they departed, and relieving him of his share by guile and strength of imposition. He was indeed in rude physical health, but was weak of mind when confronted by the sharply assertive Prudence. However, the great crash of 1931 had seen her lose much of that wealth, and the dereliction of duties by serving staff, as wage levels made opportunities elsewhere more viable when in comparison with previous decades, meant the availability of near slave labour was no longer there.
Her wimpy husband Horace D'Orvell, had simply bowed to her assertiveness in fear at first, but was soon taught to respect her sexually dominant desires, soon becoming enslaved by his own sexual weaknesses under enforced education by cane and whip, and learning very early in the marriage that he would have to share her favours with the frequent male companions she chose. He also found himself shared with her dominant friends, including Madam Strake, who was his servant in name only, and made good use of him. Prudence had designs on the stately home, which she would be unable to sell on in this climate, which required that Horace was out of the way; she made sure though, that the house was kept well insured, in keeping with her plan.
Prudence turned to the maid as they stood by the door of one of the rooms she was no longer required to enter, whilst performing her ever decreasing duties.
"That will be all." The maid left the bags by the door, and descended the stairs to prepare for her departure home, eager to tell the footman of Horace's impending departure before he too, left for home after polishing the Riley. Prudence watched the maid descend, then opened the door, her cunt tingling at what she had to tell Anthea... and her wimp of a husband. She opened the door to the refreshing waft of cigarette smoke and Anthea's eau de parfum, strong and somewhat overpowering, in keeping with her nature. The shapely middle aged woman sat with her broad thighs exposed, a black silk negligee gracing her full breasts and displaying her mature nipples in a perfect silhouette, her contented smile beaming down from the red lips below her tightly bunned brunette hair. Horace knelt at her feet, his half erect cock poking from beneath the frilled hem of a short black maid's skirt, as he eagerly polished one of Anthea's spiked heels. The doleful tones of one of Chopin's piano arrangements, crackled from the gramophone to compliment the atmosphere.
Anthea's eyes lit up on seeing Prudence, and she stood immediately, embracing her with a hug as Horace remained on his knees below them as they caressed, insignificant and of secondary importance to anything in the lives of the dominant women who stood above him. Prudence looked down at her pathetic excuse for a husband, sneering as he bowed his head in not daring to impose on her senses in any way, but his cock rising to lift the skirt; the pink bell unable to hide the anticipation of humiliations he always faced on her return. He knew his place alright, and was soundly reminded of it eternally.
"I see we've been playing 'Maids and Mistress's' again, has he been put to good use while I've been away?" Anthea grinned as she toed the underside of his standing bell with the toe of her heeled shoe.
