AFTER BECOMING THE VISCOUNT’S CHÈRE AMIE, Molly found her duties remained much the same, but her attentions were focused solely on the master. Her first task in the morning was to creep quietly into his room and tend the fire. Most mornings he awoke sporting a cockstand, and so usually her next chore was to relieve his needs. After that she brought hot water for his morning ablutions. If this included a bath, she would often assist him, instead of his valet. Then she helped serve him breakfast.
During the day, she made his bed, cleaned and dusted his chambers, as well as the library where he conducted much of his business, and generally waited on him hand and foot. She brought him his tea and even did his mending. But her chief duty was pleasing him in bed or wherever else he might fancy—the drawing room, the music room, once even the kitchen, after the rest of the household was asleep.
But most often, the library was the location of their trysts, out of convenience, since that was where he spent most of his time while indoors. And Molly knew it was convenience, rather than affection that drew him to her, just as she knew he had a mistress in London. There were no whispered words of love when he took her, but she soon came to enjoy the pleasure his body provided. Too, she enjoyed the cachet that her favored status gave her with the other servants. Some of the other maids whispered and called her a bawd behind her back, but Molly knew they were just jealous. They’d have done the same thing in her place and been grateful for it. And though he never said so, Molly knew the master was fond of her. Why, once, after a trip to the village, he’d given her a length of ribbon for her hair. “Green,” he’d said, “to match your eyes.”
Time of day didn’t seem to matter to the master, either. He was in the habit of taking her whenever the desire struck him. It was a wonder she ever got any work done at all. One time, he came upon her unexpectedly while she was in the upstairs hall sorting linens. He pushed her roughly into the linen cupboard, pinning her body against the wall. Fondling her bubbies with one hand, he used the other to unbutton the fall of his trousers, revealing his well-primed cock. He then rucked her skirt above her knees, and found the opening of her drawers. With little warning he hoisted her high, wrapping her legs around his waist, and impaled her on his engorged prick. She was tossed about like a rag doll as he slammed into her, driving her back against the wall with each thrust of his powerful body before exploding into her with a cry.
It was one of the few times he spent himself within her body. Usually he was careful to withdraw before spewing his seed, or to use a French letter. Molly was thankful he showed her that courtesy, at least. She knew if she caught his by-blow, she’d be turned off for sure.
He also showed her ways of fornication that wouldn’t result in offspring at all, such as when he taught her to “play the bagpipe.”
They were sitting in the library, in his favorite chair, while he dandled her upon his knee. His face was buried in her bared bosom, nibbling at her breasts, while his hand stole up her skirts to stroke her inner thigh.
“I think it’s time I introduce you to fellatio,” he said offhandedly.
“Who, my lord?” she asked naively.
He chuckled. “Fellatio is not a who, but a what. You know when I kiss you here?” He brushed his hand across her mons, causing her to shiver. “Well, you shall learn to do the same for me. Come, I’ll show you.” He set her on her feet, then stood up and rearranged himself in the chair, leaning back.
“Kneel,” he commanded her.
She knelt at his feet and watched as he unbuttoned the fall of his trousers. Already erect, his thick, stiff cock stood out quite impressively from a thatch of dark curls. She reached out to touch him, wrapping her hands around him, drawing the skin down, knowing what he liked. His shaft was hard and velvety smooth beneath her hand
“Yes, that’s it, my dear. Now, kiss my cock,” he demanded in a husky voice.
Molly slid forward and lowered her head to his body. She inhaled the familiar scent of sandalwood and musk that rose from his skin, and felt her pulse accelerate. Cautiously, Molly stuck out her tongue and touched it to the head of his cock. He tasted slightly, but pleasantly, of salt.
“You call that a kiss, my girl?”
Molly licked her lips, wetting them nervously, before placing her mouth once more on the engorged, purplish head of his cock.
“That’s much better. Now, have you ever had a stick of penny candy?” he asked. Molly nodded. “Well, then, pretend my prick is a confection. You must suck it and lick it like a sweet.”
Obediently, Molly tried to do as she was told, only to wring a gasp from him.
“Gently, gently,” he told her.
She slid her mouth down on him again, and was rewarded this time with a moan, before sliding back up along the hard length of him. Encouraged, she continued, gliding her warm, wet mouth down around his shaft, trying to take in as much of his cock as possible. He moaned again, and thrust his fingers into her hair, drawing her down on him. She gagged, unaccustomed to the feel of his cock pressing at the back of her throat. Thankfully, he quickly released her, and she was able to breathe once more.
At his urging, she continued licking and sucking his cock, gaining confidence and experience as she went. Her untutored mouth explored his shaft, guided by his gasps and moans, while her hands stroked and caressed his ballocks. Her tongue twirled around his shaft, tasting the salty-sweetness of his skin, until once again he thrust his hands deeply into her hair. She raised her eyes to look at him, only to find his head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes closed tight. With a hoarse cry, he spurted into her mouth, filling her throat with his warm, salty seed. Instinctively, she swallowed, and swallowed, until he at last shuddered and was still.
She pulled away, resting her cheek upon his leg while he idly stroked her hair. She basked in the unusual show of emotion, knowing she had greatly pleased him despite her ignorance. In this, as in all other aspects of carnal knowledge, she was an apt pupil. After all, her only security lay in continuing to please her master. If he ever tired of their dalliance, then where would she be?
Though she would scarcely admit it, even to herself, Molly knew that she would never refuse a request of this man. Not because he controlled her employment, but because he controlled her heart and soul. Whatever he asked, it would be his. Secretly, Molly had come to love not only her master, but every torment he visited upon her, and there were many.
London life had left the master with a taste for debauchery. One of his favorite activities was to tie her arms and legs to the posters of his enormous bed using his cravats, a practice that drove Plunkett, his exacting valet, to distraction. Once he’d secured her, the master took great pleasure in bedeviling her, stroking and suckling her breasts until she writhed beneath his touch. Over and over, he would bring her to the brink of climax with his hands and mouth, only to back away, leaving her unfulfilled, until she cried and begged for release. Only then would he consent to fuck her, usually hard and fast, bringing them both to screaming relief.
Though he was often aloof and always demanding, Molly had to admit her master was rarely cruel. She could only recall one time he’d truly hurt her. He’d come home from a neighbor’s, three sheets to the wind and furious about his losses at the whist table. Though it was late, he summoned her and more brandy to his chamber. When she tried to gently dissuade him from drinking more, he threw her forcefully onto the bed. Pinning her down with his strong body, he pushed her night rail up to her waist, baring her arse.
Taking his riding crop in hand, he slashed it across her buttocks, causing her to cry out. Although his position atop her, not to mention his inebriation, caused most of his strokes to land wide of the mark, it still hurt. Matters improved only a little when, tossing the crop to the floor, he began to use his bare hand on her. Mashing her face into the coverlet, where she could barely breathe, much less cry out, he spanked her arse until it was red and throbbing, leaving welts all over her buttocks.
Then, gradually, his touch changed in nature. Instead of smacking her arse, he was now stroking it. His hands slid soothingly over her tingling flesh, and his weight shifted off her body. He ran his hand down the cleft of her buttocks to where her nether lips glistened, and dipped his fingers in the moisture he found there. Then he stroked upward, rubbing her juices across her bunghole. After he repeated this action several times, her arse was slick with her own honey. Still, she was caught off guard when he slipped a finger into it, probing her body. She felt a strange stirring deep within as he wiggled his finger into her channel, and a sudden relief when he withdrew his hand. The relief was only momentary.
He spread her still-tingling cheeks with both hands, and then she felt the blunt tip of his cock positioned at the entrance to her arse. With a grunt, he shoved his way into her. Molly felt a sharp stinging pain as the head of his thick cock penetrated. He paused only a moment, barely allowing her to adjust to his presence, before easing his way inch by inch into her channel. She moaned, strangely aroused, as he sank himself to the hilt. Still, she wasn’t nearly ready when he began to thrust into her.
Seemingly oblivious to her discomfiture, he buggered her soundly. At first it was painful, his thick cock stretching her with every stroke, but as he continued rocking his hips against her, she found herself thrusting back against him. But before she attain any sense of satisfaction, he began to make a harsh, grunting noise. He thrust hard, and Molly felt his warm seed shoot into her arse. After spending himself, he withdrew with a sigh. Then he rolled off her, wiped his cock on her night rail, and passed out facedown on the bed, drunk as…well, a lord. All in all, it was not his finest moment.
Thankfully, when he woke the next morning, his lordship had no memory of the previous night, so Molly was able to pretend it had never happened, except for the slight welts she carried for a few days.
Most of the time, though, Lord Ashford was an agreeable master. He asked only for her obedience and her passion, and she was happy to give him both. Until a stranger arrived at Ashford Hall. And changed her life forever.