Maid to Fuck
Jezzie Rome
Copyright 2012 by Jezzie Rome
Smashwords Edition
Sarah straightened up, blowing a stray lock of brown hair out of her eyes, and surveyed her work. She had tidied every corner of the guest room in the large manor house in which she worked. The hearth was swept, the bed neatly made, and warm water stood ready for the use of the room's inhabitant. Sir Gregory Rochester was staying at the manor for a week, and Sarah had been sternly commanded to take care of his every need. Her employer's emphasis on the word “every” had given Sarah pause, but she began to get an idea of what she might expect when she related her assignment to the other servants. They had chuckled knowingly and given her appraising looks.
“Aye well, he does like the young ones.” smiled Julia, a veteran upper house maid. “You'd do well to take a bath tonight, dearie. You'll want to be fresh for our esteemed guest.”
Sarah, at eighteen years old, was one of the youngest maids in service at Lord Harold Huntington's manor, and most of her compatriots were much more versed in the ways of the world than she was. Although her round breasts and perky bottom had attracted the advances of more than one stable boy and valet in her time at the manor, her experience in love was limited to a couple of snatched kisses and the occasional goose by the especially cheeky ones.
Shaking her head, Sarah tried to focus on the task at hand. All she had left to do was to place the bedwarmer under the sheets, and hopefully she could get out of the room before Rochester came up from dinner. Despite her innocence, she suspected he was known for requiring more than a simple pinch on the bottom, and she was apprehensive. As she slid the warmer under the bedclothes, however, she heard the door open.
“You needn't bother with that, darling. I'm sure I'll find a way to warm my bed without it.” Rochester said as he strode in, closing the door behind him. He was a man of about thirty-five, slightly taller than average, and he had a confident air that suggested he was used to getting his way. Though still young in looks, he seemed the sort of man who had experienced a good deal of what life had to offer.
Sarah curtsied, and with her eyes lowered, murmured, “I apologize for my slowness, sir. I'll just leave this aside, then, and remove.”
“That won't be necessary, now, miss. Do tell me your name.”
“Sarah, sir.” She shifted from one foot to the other, unused to conversing with the “upstairs folk.”
“Very good, Sarah.” He removed his jacket and, turning away, poured himself a brandy from a decanter on the sideboard. “You may start by removing your dress.”
“Pardon, sir?” exclaimed Sarah, raising her reddening face in her consternation. “I- I must have misheard you, sir.”
“I don't think so, darling. Now go on.”
Sarah had been expecting some untoward behavior, but the suddenness of Rochester's demand had unnerved her. All the same, she couldn't disobey the orders of her employer, and she began to undo the buttons fastening the front of her gown. Soon she was clad in the least any other soul outside her family had ever seen her- the thin white chemise and pantalettes that constituted her undergarments, and her stockings and slippers. Her pink nipples showed through the cloth, hardening in their unwonted exposure to the air. She lifted her hands to cover herself, first to her breasts, then to the dark triangle of her pubic hair. It was impossible, though; modesty had fallen away as surely as her dress.
Rochester smirked with amusement at her discomfort. “Very nice.” He approached and ran his fingers lightly over the bare skin of her collarbone. She shuddered. Undeterred, he stroked down the side of her left breast, cupping it and rolling his thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her chemise. Sarah started back, but Rochester slid his other hand around her back and pulled her to him. “Now there's no need to be frightened, my dear.” Sarah's incipient protest was smothered by his lips upon hers. “Mmmph!” she tried to push him away, and he responded by pinching her nipple sharply. “I was assured that you had been instructed to take care of my needs this week, Sarah. Shall I speak to Harold?”
This gave Sarah pause. Should the lord be displeased, she would certainly lose her place, and without a good reference would have little hope of finding another one... No, she could endure a little humiliation and fondling if it would keep her from having to choose between poverty and prostitution. She shook her head weakly. “Good girl. Now, where were we?” And Sarah found her lips again crushed to his, and felt his tongue probing between them. She did her best to return the kiss, parting her lips and tentatively rolling her tongue against his. He cupped her bottom and held her against him so that she could feel the hardness of his erection.