In A Hurry 1

I joined the service at the hall when I was sixteen and I've been there two full years now and never once got into trouble. Well, not serious trouble. Everyone has those little problems but I had no more than anyone else. I was a good employee.

Then there came the day that my little brother was leaving home and going to Eton. I mean, Eton. He had a scholarship and his Lordship had told him he'd give him a guinea for every subject where he got honours or better. Since he was leaving for the first time and I wouldn't see him for months I had to go and see him off, now didn't I?

I explained this to Mrs Dobson, the housekeeper, and she agreed, providing I did my chores first. Well, I rushed through my chores, maybe taking a few shortcuts, but I got them done. With Mrs Dobson's approval I raced off home, with a stark reminder that I'd better be back by six or else.

I saw my brother off and was back at the hall by five thirty, nice and early. I was walking down the drive when I met Simpson, his Lordship's valet. Simpson didn't look happy and that meant two things. His Lordship was back from London and his Lordship was not happy. Simpson, damn him, looked up as I approached, smiled, and ran his hand across his neck in a throat-cutting gesture and pointed at me.

I looked at him, puzzled and nervous. "What?"

"As you may have guessed, his Lordship returned this afternoon. Jeevers and Mrs Dobson threw open the front doors to welcome him. The sub was behind his Lordship, shining straight along the length of the hallway."

A little voice whispered, "Oh my god, I am so dead."

"Shining in the sun you could see where the hallway had been washed, a nice clean stripe down the middle. A pity about the sides."

"Oh, lord. What did he say?"

"Nothing. Not a word. He just glanced down at the floor, looked at Jeevers and Mrs Dobson, then walked on in, looking rather thoughtful."

I was so dead. If Mrs Dobson didn't kill me, Jeevers would. Then they'd bury my bleeding corpse under an apple tree.

"Subsequently there was a rather loud argument between Jeevers and Mrs Dobson. Too loud, it turned out, as his Lordship heard them and came out. They shut up and he ordered you to be sent to him as soon as you arrive. He's in the library."

Oh, how nice. His Lordship had decided that he'd be the one to kill me. I guess he'd use Simpson to dispose of my bleeding corpse.

I sneaked through the back-door and into the kitchen. Everyone there took one look at me and found reasons to be looking elsewhere. Everyone except Mrs Dobson, that is. She looked at me and her face went red.

"I'm terribly sorry," I blurted out. I would have gone on to say more but she held up a hand to stop me.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be, I'm sure," she said, and she almost sounded sympathetic. "You're to go and see his Lordship. He's in the library."

"But why?" I said in a half wail. "I assumed that if you spotted the hall before I could fix it you'd punish me."

"And so I would have if Jeevers hadn't interfered. He felt that your poor work reflected on him and he wanted your head on a platter. You'd have been out on your ear without a reference if he'd had his way. We had a discussion about it. It was decided that his Lordship should decide what to do. You may still find yourself out on your ear without a reference."

I crept off to the library, a cloud of foreboding hanging around me. I was so dead. I knocked and I was so nervous I jumped when a voice told me to enter.

His Lordship was sitting in an easy chair in front of the fire, a chess set on a table in front of him. So to add to my sins I was interrupting his leisure time.

"Ah, you wanted to see me, sir," I mumbled.

"I did? Oh, you're Molly, aren't you? Yes, I did."

He looked me over with a smile on his face. I did not trust that smile. Not one little bit.

"You don't have to say anything," he told me. "Mrs Dobson told me why you wanted to leave early. She explained about your brother leaving and wanting to see him and seemed to think that explained, but did not excuse, your sloppy work.

If it had been left to her she would have dealt with you in her own inimitable way and that would have been the end of the matter. However, you severely embarrassed Jeevers and he wanted blood, yours. He and Mrs Dobson had a discussion about what was the right thing to do."

I blushed, remembering what Simpson had said about them arguing.

"Ah," said his Lordship, nodding. "You heard about that discussion."

I blushed even harder and he went on.

"I did think that seeing the imperturbable Jeevers lose his temper and start shouting made the whole thing worthwhile. I'll be able to hold that over his head for ages. Unfortunately, he's insisting on some sort of punishment. So is Mrs Dobson, for that matter, but there is a difference of opinion as to what is a fitting punishment. Hanging is certainly going a bit too far and I told Jeevers that. The trouble is I can't just hand the matter over to Mrs Dobson or Jeevers will feel slighted as I'd be over-ruling him and he is senior. Accordingly I have to stretch my poor mind to come up with something fitting."

"It doesn't have to be something fitting, Michael," said a laughing voice. "It just has to be something. I can think of a few things."

The interruption was so unexpected that I jumped, making a little squeak. I hadn't noticed the other person in the room, him having been lounging back in the other easy chair. Now he was sitting up and leaning forward slightly. I couldn't remember his name. Lord something or other, a friend of his Lordship.

"I'm sure you can, Roger," his Lordship opined, "but would I find your suggestions permissible?"

"Oh, they'd be permissible, but would you go along with them, that's the question."

His Lordship just looked at Roger, waiting for him to continue. Roger looked at me and twirled a finger in a circle.

"Turn around, Molly," he said. "All the way round."

Not knowing what else to do I turned around. All the way round until I was facing them again, feeling confused.

"See what a tasty morsel she is," Roger said. "Why not put her across your knee and paddle her pretty little bottom. When it's good and red you can soothe her outraged feelings by giving her a good fuck. It gives her a punishment, calms her down afterwards, and relieves your own tensions."

My face was blazing red. The very idea. A beating was one thing and I'd cop that if I had to, because I had stuffed up good and proper. But getting fucked afterwards? He had to be kidding.

His Lordship seemed to be on my side where this was concerned.

"I can see myself giving her a hiding, but the rest of it is not on. You know damn well that I can't go around fucking the servants. If her Ladyship found out Molly would be out on her ear and I'd be in the doghouse for years."

Oh, how nice. He couldn't do it because he might get into trouble. My opinion on the matter wasn't even considered.

"You have a point where her Ladyship is concerned," agreed Roger, but there's a simple solution.

"And that is?"

"I'll act as locus parentis for you."

"Might I point out that I'm not her parent."

"True, but if you spanked her you'd be acting as one. I'm just offering to do it for you."

"And the rest?" he asked with a laugh.

"Well, as you noted, I'm not actually her parent. We'll consider the rest a reward for my volunteering to paddle her."

He was offering to spank me and fuck me as a favour for a friend? Now he had to be bloody kidding.

"Just hold on a moment," I protested. "While I might have to agree to being beaten there's no way I have to agree to the rest of it. Sir." (I wasn't going to say being fucked. A girl must try to be ladylike, after all.)

Roger looked at me.

"Two points," he said. "First, who said anything about getting you to agree?"

I blinked and stared at him. He had a point. If he wanted to fuck me who was going to stop him? Especially if his Lordship approved. For that matter Jeevers would probably help hold me down, laughing all the while. Well, not laughing. He'd keep that deadpan look of his but he'd certainly hold me down if asked.

"Second point," Roger said, once he saw the first point had sunk in. "If you reject whatever punishment his Lordship decides on then your punishment would be referred back to Jeevers. What do you think he'll do?"

Well, he wouldn't rape me, that's for sure, but I'd be out of a job with no reference and it would be almost impossible to find another job. I'd be in real strife. I glared at the damned man. His second point was almost unarguable.

I swivelled my eyes to look at his Lordship. He was the one who had the say in what the punishment would be.

"Are you willing to accept this punishment?" he asked me.

What could I say? It's not as though I had a choice. I nodded reluctantly.

"Hum, I see. Well, I guess it's all right then. Mind you, Roger, I wouldn't have agreed to this if Molly hadn't."

WHAT? If I'd said no he wouldn't have agreed? I opened my mouth to protest, but what could I say? I had agreed. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open.

Lord Roger rose lazily to his feet and reached for me. The first thing he did was put a finger on my chin and close my gaping mouth. He was lucky not to lose his damned finger. After that he took my arm and returned to his chair, drawing me along with him. Sitting on the edge of the chair he continued drawing me forward, draping me across his knee.

Properly positioned he lifted my dress clear of my bottom and then stopped.

"What the hell are these things?" he asked.

"Um, they're a new item for women," I informed him. "They're called bloomers. Much more modest. All the women are wearing these now. Mrs Dobson insists that it's the correct thing to do."

"Please. My mind boggles at the thought of Mrs Dobson in bloomers. You really didn't need to mention her. Still, they have to come off."

"Why?" I protested. "You can spank me through these quite easily."

"I suppose I could, but a bare bottom is half the fun."

With that the wretched man ruthlessly dragged them down, leaving me with a bare bottom, as required by the almighty Lord Roger. I lay across his lap, blushing furiously, knowing that not only Lord Roger but his Lordship could see my exposed parts. This was terrible. I didn't have to worry about them looking, for long. Lord Roger's hand came down on my bottom with a loud whack and my worries about them looking changed to concerns about keeping my bottom attached. Was that swine trying to break it off?

That was definitely the way is seemed from my point of view. I was wailing and kicking my legs and he was laughing and spanking away quite happily.

My bottom didn't quite fall off but by the time he had finished I was wishing it would. I was crying and apologising (to his Lordship, not to Lord Roger) and generally carrying on, trying to hold my bottom, wanting to pull my bloomers up and run, but not quite daring. The thing that was now preying on my mind was would Lord Roger really try and have sex with me. Apparently his Lordship was also considering this.

"Ah, Roger, before you try to fuck the girl senseless, did it occur to you that she's probably a virgin and terrified of what is coming."

"I considered it, Michael, but it seemed to me that if she was a virgin she would never have agreed to getting fucked in the first place. She'd have been too scared of the great unknown. As it is, I suspect she knows what's what and prefers getting fucked to getting fired."

That, in my opinion, was terrible logic. He was saying I couldn't be a virgin just because I agreed to the punishment he thought I should have? I'm not saying he mightn't have been right but what sort of mind came up with that twisted logic. I'd have loved to point out that he was wrong. What a pity I couldn't. (Some footmen are awfully persuasive.) I contented myself with giving him an angry look.

I shouldn't have looked at him. I should have kept my eyes pointed anywhere but at him. As it was, I looked, and I could now feel my eyes opening wider. With shock, of course. No other reason. While he'd been talking he'd also been undoing his trousers. Until then I always thought that a gentleman needed a valet to help take off his trousers because they were so tight. Not so.

I couldn't help but feel he must have found it a great relief to take his trousers off. From what I could see he must have been badly cramped in certain areas. Now, with the trousers gone, those areas were stretching themselves, enjoying their freedom.

"Alright, Molly, my girl, let's see you bending over the arm of this chair," he said, patting his easy chair.

Seeing I had no real choice in the matter I went and bent forward as suggested. Lord Roger came up behind me and once again I found my dress being lifted, my bottom on display.

"Such a nice pink colour," Lord Roger said softly, rubbing my bottom. "Different to the normal white bottoms other girls have."

Yes, well his bottom would be nice and pink if someone had been beating it like a rug. If you need volunteers to do that you can consider me as volunteer number one.

His hand didn't stay on my bottom, drifting down between my legs and starting to rub against me. I'd known this was coming. Even before the first spank landed I'd known I'd eventually be presenting my pussy to this man, this stranger, and letting him diddle me. Can you really blame me if I was a trifle wet and expectant? I mean, he'd already had his hands all over my bottom while a cool breeze had been blowing up my rear.

He seemed quite happy with the current state of affairs. His hand danced about my mound for a while and then he started stretching my lips apart. This was followed by him trying to ram a flagpole into me. Now I'd seen his erection when he dropped his trousers and I'll admit it had looked rather formidable. There again, I was a reluctant participant and I thought that that was causing me to magnify his actual size. I mean, he was only human, so he wasn't really hung like a horse.

Now I was starting to wonder. He was pushing into me and I was being forced to stretch and I mean really stretch. I was going, "Wow, wow, wow, what are you doing?" as if I didn't know. Any comments or protests on my part were blandly ignored, that cock continuing to stretch me all out of shape, rearranging my innards to his satisfaction.

"There we are," he said as I felt his groin finally mashing against mine. "A nice comfortable fit. Aren't you the lucky one?"

Oh, I was feeling so lucky. A total stranger with a giant cock had just used a pile-driver to ram it into me and he actually got it all in. Was any girl ever so lucky? I was too indignant to reply but that didn't seem to worry him.

"Let's see if you really know how to handle one of these," he said, and I could feel him drawing back.

I was going to point out that I could easily handle one of a reasonable size but I refrained. He might take it as a compliment. I also managed not to suggest that he have the damn thing docked. I knew a vet who docked dog's tails. I'm sure he'd be able to lop a few inches of.

I had to put pleasant daydreams aside in an attempt to respond to the cock that was starting to come charging back into me. I humped my hips and lifted my bottom, pushing back to meet him. Why does meeting the man halfway make the sex seem better? Sex is just his cock sliding back and forth and it could do that without my help. I wonder who I could ask about that.

Whatever, I was prepared to do my bit. Lord Roger was being a considerate lover, all things being equal. (They weren't, but he was trying to be nice about it, I'll give him that.)

Lord Roger made a few exploratory thrusts, apparently making sure I knew what I was doing. I did, and I could assure him that I also knew what he was doing. Seemingly satisfied he got down to business, banging away at a fair old rate. I quickly adjusted, my bottom bobbing away, pushing to meet me.

There was one awkward moment when I thought of my red bottom flashing away as it bobbed up and down. I couldn't help but think of baboons with their red bottoms flashing to attract the male and I tried to stifle a laugh. Lord Roger heard the laugh and it seemed to irritate him. He started putting some extra effort into what he was doing, which I actually found quite exciting. It certainly stopped any thought of laughter.

Lord Roger started groping at the front of my dress but he was right out of luck there. Mrs Dobson would have a heart attack if any of the maids showed any sign of a cleavage. That dress covered me all the way to my throat. The best Lord Roger could do was grope my breasts through the material and he wasn't getting far doing that.

"Next time," he snapped, "strip first."

I hope he was talking to his Lordship and not me. I had no intention of providing a next time. I'd learned my lesson. At least, I was in the middle of learning it, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember the consequences of being in too much of a hurry. Some lessons have a way of making themselves felt.

Lord Roger was now giving me all his best work, driving in hard, fast, and often, and I was hard put to keep up with him. It was probably a good thing that his cock was a little longer than what I would consider normal because it meant I had extra time to move with him, as he had so much to withdraw and return.

I will admit I'd been aroused before his first thrust but that was nothing to the way I felt now. I was on fire with need and excitement was boiling through me, spreading the heat throughout my body. I was past ready for him to finish me of, but there was no way I was going to tell him. All I could do was hang on, humping away madly, wondering when he'd take the time to give me that final helping hand.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of being brutally ravished, Lord Roger gave me that final push. He started battering away at my poor pussy like nobody's business, crashing into me with great force. It was just the impetus I needed to set my climax raging through me. I'd have screamed my delight but I hastily muffled the sound.

This wasn't just to stop Lord Roger knowing he'd pleased me but more to stop people outside the room from guessing what was happening. I had no doubt that there'd be eavesdroppers trying to hear what was going on. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. They might make guesses, but they wouldn't know.

Shortly after that Lord Roger was reclining in his easy chair, looking insufferably smug, and I was standing facing his Lordship again, thankfully with my bloomers back in place.

"Now, Molly, I assume that you know why you were punished?" his Lordship said.

"Yes, sir. I rushed my work and was sloppy in what I did." (And Lord Roger wanted to get his rocks off, I carefully didn't say.)

"Wrong," said his Lordship, sighing. "As if I'd give a damn about a careless maid doing sloppy work. I'd leave her for Mrs Dobson to castigate. She's quite capable of doing so without my help. The reason I became involved was because you succeeded in embarrassing Jeevers and he wanted blood. Please remember that embarrassing your superiors can be considered a hanging offence."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled. He was probably right. Left to Mrs Dobson I'd have been scrubbing floors for a month until I got it right. Come to think of it, I probably still would be. I sighed.

"Now that we've established that embarrassing your superiors is not the way to go, what do we do about a penalty for the way you embarrassed Roger?"

"What? Ah, I mean what do you mean, sir?"

"You laughed at him while he was disciplining you. Quite put him of his stroke."

"No, sir. I was laughing about the baboons," I said quickly.

"Elucidate," he murmured.

"It means explain further," put in Lord Roger. I glared at him. I knew that. Or, at least, I was able to guess that.