Grice's face was a picture, beetroot red, it looked like the proverbial smacked arse. He had first started to borrow her ladyship's clothing some eighteenth months back; now he wondered if his little perversion would see him dismissed from 22 years of loyal family service.
"Begging your pardon, my Lady, I promise you won't ever see me dressed like that again. May I go carry out my duties?" He blurted.
"Yes of course, but do borrow some of Charles's trousers before you leave, I would hate the rest of the household seeing you in this state" She answered curtly.
Striding over to the wardrobe, with a little more pace than befits my status, she thought, the good lady scrummaged around and found a pair of her husbands cavalry twill trousers. She was disturbed that her breathing was shallow. A keen gardener and accomplished horsewoman, surely she she was physically fit? Surely she shouldn't be panting to this extent over the incident? Surely?
Grice too, was having problems of self control. His eyes had been on his employers derriere as she strode away; firm buttocks rotating under the fine fabric of a Thai silk gown had brought a stir to his manhood. Oh Christ, he thought, looking down at his tumescent penis, I'm in deep shit now. His member was half gorged with blood, the foreskin beginning to unfold slowly from the helmet.
Lady Hampton-Lessing turned around with the trousers in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other. She felt her throat go dry and her heart leap as she beheld the sight of her Butler's swollen genitals. My god, she thought, the bastards turned me on. A 41 year old commoner, with a gut that's seen it's fair share of beer, has actually aroused my blue blooded pussy!
"Sorry, ever so Sorry, Ma'am" stammered Grice, who now was surely facing the sack. No, it's her who's facing your sack, said the demon in his head, and your balls and your cock!
"Oh don't be such a lettuce, Grice" Her ladyship scolded. "Under the circumstances, it is entirely natural for one to become, er, excited, is it not?"
