This is a story set in a generic fantasy universe, probably the start of a series of stories that will share the same background, but at its heart it's about a spoilt young woman, her maid, and a stable boy...
[Note: all characters are over 18]
*
Alicia lazed in bed, watching the sunlight slant across the room and the dust motes dance in its beams. She was too wakeful to go back to sleep, yet not quite bored enough to turn to the book of erotic woodcuts that she kept under her down-stuffed pillow. It was, perhaps, she decided, time to get up. It must be nearly noon, after all. She reached for the small silver bell by the bed and rang it vigorously.
"Mari!" she called. She began to count. Her lazy slut of a servant knew that she had twenty seconds to be in attendance if she didn't want a whipping; one stroke for every second late. The girl had been at her toilette yesterday morning and had been fully two minutes late, and Alicia had taken great pleasure in striping the silly girl's ass and thighs with the requisite 120 strokes until it was black and blue with bruises and Mari was wailing and blubbering and begging for mercy. Still, it served her right and taught her a valuable lesson. 'A servant a dog and a walnut tree, the more you beat them the better they be', as the old adage ran.
Mari arrived breathless with three seconds to spare. "Yes mistress," she panted. Mari was a svelte peasant girl. At 19, she was only a year older than her mistress, but where Alicia was tall, blonde, willowy and elegant, Mari was shorter, petite and pert-breasted, her long, lustrous dark hair tied up in a prim bun for her work, and wearing the long black dress of a maidservant.
"I will rise now," Alicia told her haughtily. "Fetch me some water, and the chamberpot. And be quick if you don't want to be used as a toilet instead. And then you can do my hair and make up and dress me. I think the new dress, the blue one with the silver thread." She had been meaning not to wear that one when her father was around, since he would only complain that it was yet another extravagance and that she would be the ruin of him, but she decided that she would wear it anyway. It would be a poor life if her own father could not spare her some of the money he spent his time hoarding. If money was not for using then what purpose did it serve? Especially given that she was his only daughter, indeed his only child and heiress. Alicia's father was a senior merchant, a guild master, in the capital city that the mansion sat in the prosperous northwestern district of, but she had little idea of what exactly he did on a day to day basis.
Mari obediently performed every duty, as efficiently as the whip had taught her, and soon the young daughter of Master Thomas DeKann was dressed and ready, the blue silk dress clinging to her blossoming curves, her long golden hair tied into a fashionable style with matching blue silk ribbons. Alicia admired herself in the full-length mirror that stood in her bedroom, running her hands over the pleasingly soft and delicate fabric as it clung to her body, accentuated by the stiff corset that she wore beneath, while Mari knelt on the floor, tightening the final lace of a high-heeled silk slipper, looking up admiringly at her mistress. "You look so beautiful, Miss Alicia," she said. Alicia continued to stare at her own reflection as she surveyed her pert bottom and the way that the corset and the bust of the dress pushed her ample breasts upwards. It was true, she decided, but she did not need to hear that from a serving girl.
"When I wish to hear your opinion, Mari, I shall ask for it," she said.
"Yes mistress, sorry mistress," Mari stammered, looking at the floor. "Shall I have your horse prepared, my lady? Breakfast is ready."
A ride after breakfast? Alicia pondered. Well, it did look to be a beautiful, sunny day... "yes, let the groom see to it," she said, and let Mari lead her through to breakfast.
She ate alone at breakfast. Her father had - of course -- left early, to be about his business in the city. Alicia was almost disappointed. She had hoped to have that confrontation with him about the extravagance of her purchases; baiting her father was one of the few pleasures of her life. Instead she ate in silence, pondering where to go today. The mansion was close to the northwestern gate of Port Midby, and there was open farmland and good roads all the way west and north of the city. She considered her ride as she was served bread and cheese by the kitchenmaid, until Mari returned, reporting. "The horse will be ready in a minute, my lady."
"About time too," Alicia sniffed. "You may help me mount."
She made her way to the stables. The servant girl followed one step behind. Yes as they crossed the cobbles towards the stables, Alicia somehow got the impression that someone was looking at her. It was not Mari, as she was keeping her gaze dutifully down, and the feeling only intensified as they entered the stables where Alicia's brown stallion was saddled and ready. Then there was the sound of a floorboard bending to the weight of a heavy foot. Alicia immediately glanced up and spotted the spy who had been eyeing her through a hatch in the attic. It was Geoffrey, the 20-year old stable boy. He was a young man of half-orc ancestry. The result, so they said, of his mother being raped by one of the terrible beasts many years ago. He still had the large, muscular physique of his orcish ancestry and that dark, characteristic colouring and the prominent set of his jaw, with small tusks pushing up from the overbite, which he kept filed down so as not to draw too much attention to them. But today Geoffrey seemed... flushed. Alicia stopped, frowning. What in the name of the Gods was the boy up to? Well, she had little better to do; she might as well get to the bottom of it.
"Geoffrey? What ARE you doing? Are you spying on me? Come down here this instant!"
She waited by the horse, tapping the riding crop irritably against her leg as the young man climbed down the ladder. He had thick dark hair and hazel eyes. But what Alicia noticed most of all was that there was a prominent bulge at the front of his leather trews. Her lips pursed slightly in amusement at that, but at the same time her breathing became deeper and she felt something stirring inside her.
"Well?" she demanded. "Are you mute as well as a half-breed, boy?" Though she called him boy, in truth he was two years older than her. "I asked you a question. Answer me - what were you doing?"
"Nothing, my lady. I swear."
He was lying, Alicia was sure. She moved closer, until they were almost touching. She closed her eyes and took in his peasant smell. It was earthy and masculine, tinged with horses and the tang of perspiration. She let the crop run gently across the bulge in his pants.
"Do I excite you, Geoffrey?" she whispered. Then, almost before he had a chance to answer, she slashed angrily at his chest with the riding crop, once, twice, three times. "How dare you! You disgusting creature! How dare you presume to even look at me!" She flailed angrily at him with the cured leather. For a moment Mari looked like she was about to step forward to intervene, apparently not caring for the way her mistress was treating the poor stable boy, but Alicia gave her a glare that warned her not to intervene. However, that caused a fleeting thought to crossed her mind. So - Mari was interested in Geoffrey? Well, that could make for some interesting fun later on...
She stopped and gathered her composure, chest heaving. "If I told my father about this he'd have you whipped until you were nearly dead," she added, almost conversationally. "But I'll settle for a kiss... on my foot." She extended one foot from underneath the long flowing dress. "Go on. Kiss it."
"Yes, my lady." The big young man dropped to his knees and was soon on all fours. Without touching Alicia's foot with his hands he started kissing it, just above the toes, where the flesh peeped from the straps of the silken slipper. Alicia laughed delightedly, watching him abase himself.
"All right, enough," she said. "But I can see that I'm going to have to take you in hand some time soon." She watched Mari as she said that. "Help me mount," she commanded, extending her hand to Geoffrey.
Geoffrey obediently moved to the side of her horse and placed his strong, brown hand out as a platform for her to step on as she squirmed backwards into the saddle -- sidesaddle of course -- she was a gentlewoman and there could be no impropriety in riding astride a beast like this. One she was in the saddle, another idea occurred to her.
"I shall be gone for at least an hour," she told the two. "You may draw a bath for me when I return, Mari."