Author's Note: Thanks so much to all of you who have read, commented, and fav'd my story! I appreciate it very much. Please continue to overlook any historical errors or anachronisms; I apologize and try to avoid them as best I can.
In reply to some comments, no, nothing here is original or particularly creative, but I hope some of you will find some enjoyment all the same.
Happy reading!
Much love,
Emmeline
*
Eliza stared up at the butler, wondering if she had heard correctly. "Gone?" she echoed.
She had come downstairs to seek the earl out before dinner, determined to demand her stolen money back.
"Yes, Miss Lockhart. The earl has departed for a short time, but I am to inform you that you are welcome to take your meals in the dining room if you should choose."
The butler raised an eyebrow, and she realized she was scowling at him.
"Thank you, but I prefer to dine alone in the kitchen or with the children in the nursery," she replied stiffly.
The butler nodded, his face neutral. "As you wish."
How could Rockdale be gone already? He had just returned! The man defied understanding.
Uneasy, Eliza spent her time in the nursery with the children as much as possible. She kept a wary eye out for George the footman, but succeeded in avoiding him for the most part.
Each night, she locked her chamber door and dragged a chair in front of it. She had even purloined a heavy bronze candlestick and a small kitchen knife to use as weapons if the occasion should arise.
One rainy afternoon, the children played in the nursery, and Eliza stared, unseeing, out the window, her mood dark and brooding.
"Something has put the spark out of you, girl," observed Mary, the nursery maid.
Eliza bit her lip. The urge to confess everything was almost overpowering. She tried a wan smile instead. "Oh, I'm fine."
Her friend harrumphed and pinned Eliza with a searching look. "His lordship's been gone over a week now."
Eliza struggled to keep a straight face. "Has he?" she said weakly.
Mary's expression softened. "Don't lose yer heart to him, lass. He's handsome enough to make even my old heart pitter-pat, but the gentry are not for the likes of us," she said kindly.
Eliza's eyes burned with sudden tears; she blinked to keep them at bay. "I'm just homesick, that's all."
"You need to get out of this nursery for a bit! Why don't you go ask that stick-up-his-arse Simpson if any post has come for you?"
Eliza snorted at Mary's unkind, but apt, description of the butler.
"I would love a letter from home," she replied wistfully.
"Then go, lass," she said, making a shooing motion. "Go on, now."
Eliza smiled gratefully and escaped the nursery. She set out to locate Simpson, only to discover no one seemed to know where he had gone. She grumbled to herself, wondering if the man was napping somewhere.
"For heaven's sake," she muttered, seeing nothing but empty rooms as she wandered down a second-floor hallway.
She paused, hearing what she thought might be muted voices. One low murmur sounded like Simpson.
Eliza turned and followed the sound, coming to a partially closed door at the very end of the hallway. She peeped through the opening.
There, inside a cozy sitting room stood Simpson, facing to the side and looking down. Sally, the upstairs maid, knelt at his feet. The girl was probably a bit younger than Eliza herself, and her vibrantly red, curly hair shone in a beam of sunlight streaming through the window. The girl's cap lay discarded to the side.
How curious. I wonder if she is cleaning the floor, Eliza mused. But, some odd intensity in Simpson's expression kept Eliza from drawing the couple's attention.
The little maid was quite pretty, though normally timid as a mouse. Her milky skin glowed in the sunshine, gilded by a liberal dusting of freckles.
Simpson, his expression dour as usual, flicked an impatient hand toward the maid.
Eliza blinked in surprise as Sally quickly unlaced her white bodice and tugged it down, revealing small breasts, high and softly-rounded, topped with pink, puffy nipples.
Simpson's hands moved to the fall of his trousers. His engorged cock emerged, shockingly crude against his black attire.
Unable to drag her eyes away, Eliza stared, helplessly rapt, as Simpson sank one hand into the plethora of crimson curls and grasped his cock with the other.
"Here's a good girl," he murmured, rubbing the glistening head of his penis against the bow of the maid's rosebud mouth. "Open up now, you know what to do."
Sally obediently parted her lips wide, and Simpson immediately guided his purple-veined cock inside.
Eliza was stunned. Sally had allowed the butler to put his penis into her mouth!
The stiff organ appeared and disappeared as it slid repeatedly between Sally's stretched lips. The maid licked and suckled Simpson's erection with apparent enthusiasm, one small hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Her wet lips glided smoothly over the taut skin.
Eliza bit her lip. A tingly-heat began to build in her lower abdomen. She realized suddenly that this shocking display was mimicking what the earl had done to Eliza...between her legs...in her secret place.
"Clever girl," the butler muttered, his head bowed over Sally's ministrations. Red curls bounced as the maid's head tirelessly bobbed over his groin.
Eliza pressed her thighs together. Her bodice suddenly felt much too tight.
It was shameful to watch...to listen...Simpson's breath whistled through his gritted teeth, and Sally moaned, her mouth full of cock. And yet...
"Hands in your lap," he ordered suddenly, his voice harsh.
The girl instantly complied, and the butler's hand roughly slid around to the back of the maid's head, anchoring her in place. Simpson seized control of the encounter, pumping himself deeper and faster into the girl's mouth.
Sally's eyes went wide, but she remained kneeling docilely, her gaze upward and steady on his face.
Eliza felt flushed all over. She told herself it was fear of discovery and not fascination keeping her rooted in place. Eliza's nipples were like hard pebbles, and her hand flew up to her lips as the butler shoved so deep into Sally's mouth, the little maid gagged.
Undeterred, he continued to thrust his penis into what Eliza felt sure had to be the poor girl's throat. Sally gagged again, and Simpson withdrew his cock swiftly, his hand pumping hard and fast over his shaft.
Using a fistful of her curls, Simpson tugged the girl upward slightly and with a groan he began to ejaculate streams of semen onto her bare breasts and chest.
Eliza took a step backward, and then another. Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest. A corresponding ache pulsed between her legs.
Staring at the couple for another long moment, she then turned and dashed down the hallway.
