I wrote this obscene one off to blow off steam.
Dubious consent, power imbalance, check the tags, caveat emptor xxx
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My father had secured me a position with the Cranwells as a maid of all work. It was only for a year, he'd promised. If I was a good girl, he'd arrange my marriage next year, once his commission came through from the navy. He was off for a tour in the Pacific he'd said, and it couldn't be helped.
I was entirely ignorant on my arrival, but within hours the other maids had warned me what to expect. That great house was a den of lust; the family and senior servants had their ways. The only taboo, the servants said, was the act of intercourse itself. Anything else...
There was no art with the men of Cranwell House, they were utterly selfish. Although I was a complete novice at pleasing a man, they expected me to kneel on demand and open my mouth for a face fuck, that's the only way I can describe it.
The first few times I was violently sick, they laughed at me and scolded me. I spent the evenings weeping quietly in the arms of my roommate. Neither of us had anywhere else to go. She was kind to me, soothed my tears of shame. Reminded me that this was only a means to an end. It was one year of my life, for the sake of my future, I knew I could get through it.
There was no question of shaming myself or my father by running away, I would have to do better, I would have to do well. I refused to rest until every room was done and every selfish prick satisfied. I practiced tickling the back of my throat with my fingers and toothbrush, eager to suppress my body's natural revulsion to make myself a better servant.
Whatever they made me do, one day I'd look back on all this as nothing but a necessary evil. I challenged myself to obey and please my betters in anticipation of the day I would obey and please the husband chosen for me.
That unquestioning devotion to duty was how I found myself with the Lady of the house, obediently kneeling in her enormous bed, holding on to the headboard with both hands, my whole body tight with anticipation as she explored me for the first time.
Did this count as intercourse? Was I breaking the rules of the house by submitting to her desire to enter me? Her finger drove firmly into my sex, too narrow to open me up of course but I could never call myself as a virgin again. She held her hand still, and flexed her finger, pushing up towards my arse. My whole body flushed with heat.
"Tell me what it feels like, Molly?" The question sounded so innocent. She might have asked me if my tea was sweet enough.
"It's against the rules..." I murmured.
"Try again," she snapped. The finger hooked sharply up and I yelped.
"Ow!" I lifted my hips, clutched the bed tighter. "I feel you inside me!"
"Better," she drawled lazily. She milked the tip of her finger against my rectum from the inside, tickling against the thin wall of innocent flesh. "Now?"
I shuddered with disgust. "It feels like you're up my..." My cheeks burned hotter with shame.
"Squeeze my finger."
I clenched as hard as I could.
"Now relax."
I gratefully obeyed.
"Again, Molly, squeeze!"
I clenched, this time a little longer.
"Good... good... now rest. You're a sweet little pet."
"Please," I begged, "please stop."
"Time to work a little bit harder. Squeeze just the same, but now in between squeezes you push. Bear down hard. Show me!"
I broke wind immediately with a little sob and she laughed, "good girl! Now squeeze! Now puuuush! Now squeeze! Good girl Molly, keep it up!"
I squeezed and pushed, squeezed and pushed, all the while she tickled the wall of my pussy, I could have died of shame. Pressure built, slow and steady and an ache deep inside that needed more than a finger.
"I need to pee..." I whimpered.
"Squeeze... puuuush.... Squeeze.... Keep squeezing.... there."
She stopped. Pulled her finger out. I felt so relieved and yet so very empty.
"Fetch me a box of red dining tapers. Just as you are."
I ran out of my lady's chamber naked, my pussy sodden, scurried down the back stairs to the butler's cupboard. On my way back upstairs a parlor maid saw me, averted her eyes and blessed herself.
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Since four that morning I'd been hard at work. Sweeping out fire places, carrying hot water up the stairs and piss pots down the stairs, scrubbing and cleaning, fetching and carrying. And before ten o'clock I'd reluctantly sucked off three men: Lord Cranwell, his son, and his son's valet. I'd been spooning soup into my tearful face when Lady Cranwell's chambermaid delivered a summons.
I expected some kind of reprimand, perhaps she'd gotten wind of what her husband and son were up to. Maybe she blamed me for their proclivities. I was torn between elation and despair. On one hand, I thought, I can't do this degrading work for another eleven months. On the other hand, if I was dismissed in disgrace I would end up in the workhouse.
That clearly wasn't the nature of the summons at all.
I had stood just inside the doorway, clutching nervous handfuls of my work apron. The chambermaid closed the door as she left.
The Lady set her needlepoint aside and stood, looking me up and down. Then approached me with an odd little smile on her face.
"I'm very pleased to hear of how well you're settling into my household, Molly," she had said.
I bobbed a little courtesy, acknowledging her praise.
"My chambermaid is a French girl named Stella, have you met?"
"No, Your Ladyship," I said honestly. I rarely socialized with the upstairs staff, unless it was on my knees in the scullery with the butler's cock in my mouth.
"You will refer to me as Miss Alice, or Alice from now on, do you understand, Molly?"
"Yes, Miss Alice." I frowned in confusion. She was the Lady Cranwell, and I was so far beneath her in station that to use her christian name seemed obscene.
"I have had to send Stella on an important errand this morning, and she won't be back until after supper time."
The Lady was too close for propriety, but it wasn't my place to step away. She inspected me, brushing a few stray crumbs off my bodice. Then she began to unfasten my gown, button by button, until all my dignity was reduced to a puddle of cheap grey cotton at my feet.