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.
Her mind was fixed on the sight of Sally's bare breasts, like pretty, little, strawberry-topped cakes coated with glistening ropes of creamy icing.
And then, maid's small, pink tongue as she delicately lapped up the pearly remnants from the butler's penis.
Oh, God. She shook her head to clear it, trembling as she reached the servants' stairway. This house was a den of sin and shameful behavior. The madness must be tainting her mind and body.
Things at home had been sensible and calm. Women and men acted demurely, never wantonly or crudely. Normal people didn't put their private parts in other people's mouths...did they? Suddenly everything in Eliza's world felt topsy-turvy.
Intimate relations were reserved for marriage. And if Eliza's mother was to be believed, quite distasteful, and endured only for the sake of breeding. It is a women's duty to withstand much hardship, her mother had explained with a weary sigh.
Why then, was her body remembering the earl's assault on her senses? She had hated it!
Except the part where he rubbed you in just the right spot, some wicked part of her whispered.
"Oh, mother," she said raggedly. "I wish you were here to advise me."
Reaching the nursery, Eliza hurried inside and shut the door as if someone had chased her from the second floor. Startled, everyone inside looked up.
"Is aught amiss?" queried Nanny Goodson.
"Oh! Er, no! Not at all, all is well," Eliza assured heartily.
Even the children regarded her doubtfully.
"Miss Lockhart, you look red all over like a giant beet," Anna observed.
"Play time is over. Let us begin with mathematics," Eliza said firmly to a double chorus of groans.
That evening, her nerves still frayed, Eliza readied for bed. She undressed and pulled her nightgown over her head, frowning at the feel of the fabric. Her skin felt strangely sensitive.
She stared at herself in the looking glass and rubbed her arms briskly, uncomfortable with these strange feelings. Her nipples were still tight and achy.
She let out a slow breath, eyes drifting closed. Her fingers trailed down her neck and over her breasts. Unbidden, an image of the earl's face came into her mind.
It was too easy to remember how he had licked and gently bit the hard tips of her breasts before drawing them into his mouth to suckle. She moaned softly and lightly pinched her nipples.
Her eyes snapped open. Wanton thoughts again! She shivered and snatched her hands away from her tingling breasts.
Stop this at once, she commanded herself sternly.
But no matter how hard Eliza tried to focus on planning her lessons, her mind seemed to be working against her. Visions of Simpson with his stiff cock thrusting between Sally's lips, and then spurting his seed over the maid's exposed chest played over and over in her head.
Once abed, she fell into a restless sleep, plagued with erotic dreams. Her head tossed upon the pillow, her mind conjuring the earl himself--there in the bed with her. But somehow, in the strange dream world, she was not afraid.
Languid, she sighed as his hands slowly massaged her back, his touch feather-light and almost...reverent.
The dream earl gathered her close, his hand stroking her hair. She nestled into his embrace. His warm naked skin surrounded her.
She felt safe. Secure. Cherished.
"Eliza, my lovely," he murmured near her ear. "Truly, you are an angel."
