As it happened, the dour Mrs Latimer preferred Margaret to serve up the staff meal in the kitchen, rather than attending to the Master and the Mistress in the dining room. It seemed Mrs Latimer liked to take her praise directly from the Master and so explained to Margaret that, despite what Franklin might intend, there would be no-one but herself serving the Master and the Mistress their dinner.
The staff meal was an uncomfortable affair with very little conversation. Franklin presided over the five of them with an air more reflective of a lord than a head steward. It was Margaret's first opportunity to meet the Millar's nurse, Anne, a woman perhaps ten years her senior, with a full bust, wide hips and a comely face. However pleasant the nurse appeared, she was not one for much talk and remained unanimated as she sipped her soup, cowed slightly as if shying away from attention. At the end of the meal, Margaret began to assist Mrs Latimer in clearing the dishes. Unexpectedly, however, Franklin put a restraining hand on her wrist, before directing his comments to the housekeeper. "Margaret is required in the library now, Mrs Latimer. I am afraid you are without assistance. Unless of course you would like Cedric to assist you?"
Cedric's pained look was met with a gleeful sneer from the housekeeper. "What a good idea. Come Cedric. You are mine tonight."
Margaret noted how the blood drained from the young man's face and that Franklin and Mrs Latimar appeared to share a look between them. She could not be afraid for Cedric, however, as her own anxiety of having to make another library appearance came to the fore.
Surprisingly, both the Mistress and the Master were in the library as Margaret entered on request. The Master spoke to her from his armchair by the fireplace, which remained unlit. "Good evening, Margaret. I hope you enjoyed your evening meal?" His wife sat on the settee opposite him.
"I did, Master. Thank you."
"My wife tells me that you were a little disconcerted this morning seeing young Cedric with his mouth on the Mistress' breast."
Margaret was unsure how to respond to this statement. The Master was looking at her expectantly whilst Vivian Millar remained with her eyes on her husband. "Master, I was a little taken aback, to be sure, but the Mistress explained that Cedric offers her some relief from her motherhood symptoms."
The Master chuckled. "Motherhood symptoms? By this you mean the fact that her tits are full to the brim with milk?" Margaret blushed. "This is the case. However, Cedric has enough on his plate at the best of times and assisting my wife is the reason you have been employed." There was a moment of silence; Margaret waited in vain for clarity, whilst Vivian Millar finally turned towards her maid. "Come, sit yourself next to my wife, Margaret. You are about to learn one of your new duties."
There was nothing about this household that ceased to surprise Margaret. Now she was expected to sit on a settee next to the Mistress of the house! Did these people not care about their position in society that they placed their staff so intimately and so equally with themselves? Margaret seated herself timidly at the far end of the settee, vaguely worrying about sullying the expensive fabric with her skirt.
The Master shifted his attention to his wife. "Vivien, remove your bodice. Margaret, help her." Obediently her Mistress turned to her for assistance in unfastening her bodice. "Next, remove the stays and petticoats," the Master instructed. Margaret, increasingly breathless and curiously excited, unhooked her Mistress' stays and untied her petticoats until the lady was left in her drawers and chemise. The chemise was of a fine cotton and scooped low around her neckline. Margaret could see now how wet the fabric was at the breasts and how it clung transparent to two large brown nipples.
"Vivian, your legs please." Understanding this was an implied instruction, Margaret watched her Mistress sit back and spread her legs wide open, so that her husband could observe the light thatch of hair exposed between the open inside seams of her drawers.
"Now your hair, Vivian." In response, the Mistress removed a number of pins from her hair until it fell in soft blonde waves past her shoulders. All this while Margaret kept looking for signs in her Mistress that she was uncomfortable with her husband's demands or that her compliance was under duress. But no, the Mistress performed all these tasks with seeming calm and contentment, as if her husband had been merely asking her to shift a vase on the table, or pass him the salt. She gave no mind to it at all that Margaret could observe, and the lady appeared as comfortable sitting before her in her drawers and chemise as if she had been sitting down for a cup of tea with Mrs Latimar, an activity Margaret knew was scheduled each morning. Despite herself, Margaret grew conscious of her own arousal, an arousal that heightened with each new instruction delivered by the Master from his armchair in a low and dispassionate voice. "Pull your mistress' breasts out of her chemise, Margaret."
Margaret's belly contracted with excitement. Inspired by the uncomplicated compliance of her Mistress, she leant forward and inserted a slightly sweaty palm into the chemise, cupped one of her Mistress's soft, warm breasts and lifted it clear of the neckline. She shifted herself closer to her mistress and savoured the feel of her hand wrapping around the other breast and lifting it over the neckline too. Margaret felt a warm flush through her abdomen. Her mistress was a picture of loveliness; her full, round breasts cresting her chemise, the tips of her nipples glistening with leaking milk, her hair loose and her splayed legs an invitation for the eyes to enter where her sex sat open.
Margaret looked up to see that her Mistress was watching her with a smile. But it was the Master who spoke. "Margaret, Franklin has reported that you have nicely developed sucking instincts. This is good. There is more than cock that you will need to suck here. Right now you are to suck on your Mistress's right breast, swallowing the milk that you suck and giving your mistress some much needed relief. Do you understand?"
Too full of anticipation and desire, Margaret could only nod.
"Yes, Master," her Mistress whispered to her with the slightest tone of admonishment.
