Matilda The Maid Ch 02 The Portrait

MATILDA AT DYMOCK MANOR

CHAPTER 2: The Master's Portrait

Suddenly alone, Matilda was aware of her heart hammering in her chest, the pounding of blood around her body. She was aware of her nakedness. She could feel the burning of Mrs Smyth's handprints on her bottom, and the clutch of the old woman's hand on her private parts as though it was still there. Frozen to the spot and trembling, she looked around for something to cover herself. There were clothes on the shelves, but Mrs Smyth had told her to wait, not to dress herself. Was this another test? She looked at the wooden pillory with horror. She did not want to end up clamped in there.

Then she heard footsteps approaching up the corridor. Not Mrs Smyth's - these were lighter, almost skipping. More than one person, surely? Matilda looked round in a panic for somewhere to hide, some way of covering her nakedness...but too late. The door flung open and three servant girls came in, eyes bright, hands clapped to their mouths as they took in the sight of a naked, 18-year-old girl in the scullery.

"Well, look at you? Aren't you a fine one. I bet Mrs Smyth couldn't believe her luck when you rolled up!" said the first.

"Hold still, girl, this is cold!" said the second. Matilda only just had time to take in the bucket in her hand before ice cold water was flung over her head. She tried to shriek, but the shock took her breath away and all she could do was inhale. And then, they were upon her. Three pairs of hands, washcloths between them, rubbing at her skin. One on her shoulders and neck, working down her back; another with a firm grip of her arm, holding it out from her body and reaching along it, up towards her breasts. The third started at her feet, working up her legs, nudging them apart. The washcloth rubbed up her thighs, gentler than the girls rubbing at her top half. The touch of the cloth, and the girl's finger holding her thighs apart, made her breath even more ragged than the cold water had. A strange, tightening feeling was taking over deep inside her. Despite the mortification of her nakedness, she didn't want it to stop...

At that moment, the girl holding her arm out reached her left breast. Her wet hand cupped the delicate flesh, squeezing it gently, as the other hand squeezed and rubbed at the hard, pointy nipple. Matilda's knees trembled as the hand on her breast magnified the intensity of the ache inside her. Her eyes fluttered shut. A small moan came out of her mouth as the girl behind her cupped her buttocks, easing the smarting pain of her smacked cheeks with the cold washcloth. Then the third girl reached the top of her thighs, pushing them apart and reaching up with her curled forefinger, which disappeared inside her.

Matilda groaned and her knees buckled. That finger sent a warm, spreading glow from her very core right out to the tips of her fingers. The three girls caught her as she crumpled into their arms - and then, suddenly, she was aware of their laughter.

"Careful, Chloe, you'll bring her off if you carry on that way!" cackled the girl behind her, as she hoisted Matilda back to her feet.

"The mistress'll give you a dozen with the cane if she catches you..." said the second girl, her hands now under Matilda's arms.

Chloe, on her knees at Matilda's feet, looked up at her. Her cheeks were freckled and she had sparkling green eyes. She lifted her forefinger - the finger that had, until a moment ago, been curled up inside Matilda's most secret place - to her lips, and put it inside her mouth, sucking deeply, closing her eyes as though to savour the taste. "Mmmm," she groaned, then stood up, suddenly businesslike. She passed Matilda a small, rough towel. "Dry yourself, and then put this on. We'd best not take too long or the mistress will have us all for malingering."

Matilda was completely bewildered. The knot of aching need in her very core was still there, burning strongly. She wanted nothing more than to put Chloe's finger back where it had been, to get that feeling back. But three sets of eyes were on her, and she was suddenly all too aware that she was completely exposed. Her flesh was covered in goosebumps and she was shivering - not just from the cold. She started to dry herself on the towel, trying to hide her embarrassment as best she could, then reached for the dress Chloe was holding out.

It was a thin, black, maid's dress. Though the material was not fine, it was cut well, and as Matilda tied the laces it clung to her body. The skirt was cut just above the knee, and the bodice dipped at the front so that the tops of her breasts showed through. The dress pushed them up and together, accentuating their shape. There was a white apron which nipped in her waist and emphasised the swell of her hips. Chloe passed her a pair of maid's slippers - simple, thin things that would not stand up to outdoor wear. Matilda slipped them onto her feet.

"Let's go then," said Chloe. Matilda hesitated. "What is it?" asked Chloe.

"I...I...are there any drawers, please?" Matilda's cheeks flamed in embarrassment as she asked the question. Chloe just laughed.

"Oh no, we're not allowed. We must wear our dresses, aprons and slippers, and that's all we're allowed. It's what the Master wants. And what the Master wants, he gets." Knowing looks passed between the three maids at this. "Mistress told you to do as you're bid, I would think?" Chloe continued. Matilda nodded. "Well, you'd best do as you're bid then, hadn't you? That's how things work around here. We get on alright, so long as we do as we're bid. You'll get used to it."

Matilda wasn't sure she would ever get used to this strange place, where you were stripped naked as soon as you were through the door, washed down by three girls who touched your private places, and where you weren't allowed to wear your drawers. But her clothes were gone, and she couldn't walk far in these thin slippers - and even if she did run away, where would she go? In that moment, she resolved to try and make the best of her strange new situation. And the best way to do that, it seemed, was to do as she was told.

"I'm Chloe, as you've heard," said Chloe. Her round face and freckled cheeks were kind; her lips were full and pink, and her green eyes sparkled. "I've been here since my eighteenth birthday, a year and a half ago. This is Nancy," she indicated the small, dark-haired girl who had, just a moment ago, been cupping her bottom in her wet hands. "She come here last summer. And this is Sally." Sally was a bigger girl than the other two, with curly hair and mischievous grin. "Sally came about a month ago. And you are?"

"I'm Matilda. This is all very new and strange to me. I want to do the right thing. Please will you help me?"

The three girls exchanged glances again. Chloe, the oldest, appeared to be their spokesperson.

"You stick with me, Matilda. I'll see you right. We'd best get back to work. Nancy and Sally are in the kitchens washing after dinner. You can help me get the beds ready for the Master and his family."

Matilda followed Chloe out of the scullery. Nancy and Sally disappeared down to the right, whilst Chloe led the way to the left. She pushed through a heavy, wooden doorway, and the girls emerged into the main hallway of the house.

Matilda had never seen anything so grand in all her life. The hallway was vast - probably as big as the whole of their cottage at home. The wood panelled walls were hung with hunting trophies - several stags with full sets of antlers, wild boar with protruding tusks, a couple of wolves - and a whole armoury of spears, swords, maces and pikes. Lower down the wall was more riding and hunting gear: bridles, leather boots, riding crops and a set of long lunge whips. Two imposing sets of armour stood on either side of the room. The polished wooden floor was decorated with animal skins, including striped tigers and spotted leopards, with their heads still attached; Matilda was struck by the thought that they were growling at her.

Chloe led the way across the hall to one of the two sweeping staircases that descended from the balcony above. Their slippers made no sound, padding across the floor and on to the thick, soft carpet that ran down the middle of the stairs. They ascended to the landing, where Matilda got a better look at the glittering chandelier that hung directly over the middle of that vaulted hallway. Chloe looked back at her, half a smile on her lips.

"It's grand, isn't it?," she whispered. "See here. This is the Master."

Matilda looked where Chloe indicated. There, on the wall behind the balcony, was a life-sized oil painting of a man. He stood in a wild countryside landscape, one knee-length leather boot resting on the flank of a newly-killed stag. Matilda's eyes travelled upwards: his breeches were stretched over powerful thigh muscles, and her eyes grew wide as she took in the huge bulge between those dominant thighs. The red hunting jacket, smudged with dirt from the hard chase, showed off a mighty chest and arms which looked like they could snap a person in half. The Master's face was looking straight out from the painting, so that wherever you moved the eyes fixed you with their chilling, icy gaze. His expression was one of sneering control, as though everything those eyes looked at was beneath him and under his command.

Matilda was by turns terrified, intimidated and - she was shocked to discover - thrilled. That ache inside her, sparked by Chloe's probing finger, swelled up and blossomed through her body. One hand went to her belly, gently pressing on her flesh as though to contain the ache, the want, the need that was pressing outwards from her very core. She imagined what it might be like to be taken in those strong arms, pressed down to the floor by them. She imagined what she would find if she unlaced those riding breeches, to unleash the beast within...

"Matilda!" whispered Chloe. Startled from her reverie, Matilda's open mouth snapped shut and she whipped her hand away from her belly, where she had been kneading and squeezing at her flesh without realising what she was doing. She blushed again, feeling her cheeks burning with mortification at her lascivious behaviour. What would her mother think of her? Chloe smiled at her. "Come on, be quick. The Master's at supper. We have to make his chamber ready before he's done. There'll be hell to pay if it's not to his liking."

She led the way from the landing down another wood panelled corridor, stopping outside an imposing oak door studded with black bolts. She lifted the latch, swinging the heavy door forward and leading Matilda inside.

The Master's bedroom was just as impressive as the whole house had been. A fire blazed in the stone hearth, and the room was lit with candles in cast iron sconces. There was more riding gear in here - crops, whips, bridles and bits, leather harness straps and brass buckles. What could the Master want with all this in his bedroom? Matilda couldn't begin to imagine.

The four poster bed was enormous - big enough for an entire family, Matilda thought. The posts were carved into strange, twisting shapes; the canopy, bedspread and hangings were a deep, dark crimson. Matilda noticed more leather straps wrapped around the bedposts, whose purpose she could not fathom. But strangest of all was the item beyond the bed itself, standing in an alcove to the beyond the fireplace. A hinged wooden frame, with one hole in the middle and two smaller holes either side, and a padlock to secure the two sections together through an iron staple. There was one in the village square, "for drunkards and criminals" her father had said. It was a pillory. But what was a pillory doing in the Master bedroom of Dymock Manor?

Matilda's curiosity was interrupted by her companion. "Come on!" said Chloe. "We must feed the fire, sweep, prepare his things, turn down the bed and place the warming pan within. We must hurry!"

The reverie was broken, and the girls snapped into action. They added coals to the hearth and swept away fallen ash. Chloe showed Matilda where the Master kept his whisky and glasses, and they laid out the decanter with a fresh glass for his nightcap. Next they turned to the bed, rolling back the bedspread and tucking it in so that it would welcome him in. As they plumped the pillows, Matilda imagined the Master stripping off his clothes and sliding his muscled body between those sheets, resting his head upon those pillows. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over those strong arms, over that powerful chest, and down that stomach...she squeezed her thighs together as warmth spread from her core out to her toes, and was startled to feel wetness between them. What was happening to her?

Their final job was to prepare the warming pan for the bed. This warming pan consisted of two copper plates on the end of a wooden handle. A hinge opened the two plates for some coals from the fire; when the plates were snapped together, the pan was tucked into the bed to warm it for the Master's rest. Matilda held the wooden handle, whilst Chloe reached for the glowing red coals with the fire irons and dropped them carefully into the pan. Chloe then carefully swept up the ash, whilst Matilda eased the pan between the Master's sheets. She reached in to check that it was in position, sliding her palm down the sheets, imagining his body lying there, strong and sinuous in its animal warmth...

Matilda's fantasy was interrupted by a searing pain in her finger. Recoiling with a yelp, she realised at once that she had slid her hand too far down the handle, so that her skin brushed the hot metal of the pan. She could see the red mark and the blister starting to form already. Chloe was by her side in an instant.

"Here, let me," she said, and without any warning, she took Matilda's hand and put the burning finger between her lips, drawing it into her sweet, wet mouth. Matilda felt the girl's tongue swirl around her finger, lapping and licking at it, bathing the pain away. In fact, the pain vanished almost completely, as the warm glow which had been building inside her since the scullery rushed up her body, as though connected by lightning conductor to the finger throbbing between Chloe's soft lips. Matilda gasped for breath, her free hand gripping the Master's deep red sheets, her thighs clenched together as she felt an overwhelming tide of pleasure bubble up inside her, urging her to give in, to surrender to it...but, just at the moment where she thought she would give herself over to it, Chloe eased her finger out. She kissed the sore spot with her moist pink mouth. "Is that better?" she said.

Matilda struggled to find words, as the tide of her pleasure ebbed back into a low, throbbing ache inside her. "Y-yes. Thank you," she gasped.

Chloe smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Come on, let's go," she said, and led Matilda out of the bedroom.