I nodded silently. My body shook.
“I thought so. You’re very pretty. I think you can persuade me more than your employer ever could.”
“Sir, I...”
He roughly grabbed my hair, edging my face forward to crotch. It smelled worse than his odor.
“No talk. I’ll make it simple. You take care of me, I’ll make sure Victor doesn’t lose this home. You refuse, I not only will make sure Victor loses his home, but I’ll also make sure you lose your job. I’ll make sure you never work as a maid again. We wouldn’t want that, would we dear?”
Choking back tears. Head sweating wildly. My mind knew to run away, to scream, but his grip on my hair was powerful. To hell with my job. I screamed.
“LET GO OF ME!”
“Mr. Lockheart, what the hell is going on?!”
That voice. I turned my head to see Mr. Carawell standing not five feet away. His eyes raged with a fire I had never seen before.
“Ah, Victor. I was just sampling your staff here. Even with the little spill, I dare say they are quite exceptional.”
“Let her go.”
There was a pregnant pause before he released me. I stood back up, too overwrought to say anything.
“Come now Victor. Let’s not forget the person you were when we first met, you hypocrite.”
Mr. Carawell's face didn't change a beat. Still burning. Not even slightly unfocused.
“April, retire to your room. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Sir, I...”
“Now!”
All I could do was walk out of the back of the kitchen, crying and shaking. Both men silently watched as I retreated. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’ve had hansy boyfriends before, I could always hold my own. But here, in such a different environment, with such high stakes... I was out of my element. I was ashamed of myself. Embarrassed, ashamed, and scared. The stares I got as I walked back to my room only made me walk faster. By the time I was lying in my bed the tears had stopped.
Starring up at the ceiling in my uniform, the events of the evening repeated themselves over and over in my head. I was glad that Victor had stepped in to my rescue, but I was more ashamed that I wasn’t able diffuse the situation on my own. No job was worth getting molested over. But what about Mr. Lockheart’s statement about Victor being a hypocrite? They obviously had a history together. What kind of man was he then? What kind of man was he now?
After about an hour of reflecting I decided on three things. One, none of it was my fault. Mr. Lockheart was obviously a egotistical pervert, and if I was unlucky enough to cross paths with him again, I would call him out on it or avoid him entirely. Two, I would be smarter with putting myself in these situations. I had a lot riding on this job, but my safety was much more important. Third... Mr. Carawell was my savior. I not only needed to show him how appreciative I was that he stepped in, but that I had learned and would be more headstrong in the future. That I was not helpless and that I was not a liability in the his staff. This, of course, all assumed he wouldn’t fire me outright. Helen's words back after I spilled the wine still stung.
Knock knock. The moment I had simultaneously been anticipating and dreading had arrived. On the other side of my bedroom door Mr. Carawell stood alone. Apparently he didn’t stop to change from dinner, still dressed in his pristine tuxedo. His eyes had the palest of rings forming beneath them. I noticed his outfit looked scuffed and ruffled. Did things get violent between him and Mr. Lockheart? The way he stood was imposing, as if getting ready to scold a pet. The mood that filled the room told me all I needed to know. He did not want to be dealing with me right now. He was probably ashamed to do so. I broke the silence. Maybe fealty would inspire mercy.
“...I’m sorry Mr. Carawell.”
He silently pointed at the bed, motioning for me to sit. I obeyed, placing my hands on my lap; my eyes solemnly pointed towards the ground. Mr. Carawell pulled up a chair and sat down directly in front of me. He let the silence hang in the air. My lungs felt like they stopped working working. It took all of my willpower to meet his scornful gaze.
“April, was it?”
I nodded slightly.
“It’s been awhile since I inquired about one of Helen’s staff. You are a recent graduate of Wesleyan in an unrelated field. Tragically unable to find a suitable position, so you took a vacancy here as temporary help. My stable boy referred you, if memory serves me correctly. How has your first week at the mansion suited you? Overwhelming, I’m sure.”
Again, I could barely muster a nod.
“You are a bit of a rarity. Most professional maids would consider this a very desirable position. Some may even consider this a dream job; top of the line for their field. When I reviewed the applications, by all means, I should have glossed you over. Little experience. No referrals, Only a recommendation from a boy who spends his days working with the horses. And yet, here you are. Serving my estate.”
Where was he going with this?
“My speciality is predicting trends, April. Seeing potential for growth. On the surface it’s profits, revenue. But it’s a gift I’ve been utilizing all my life. With friends, colleagues, relationships. I’ve found when faced with a decision, my instinct is better than any other comparison. Though that application, my instinct saw you.”
Here it comes. How his instinct was wrong this time. How he manages to slip up occasionally.
“Mr. Lockheart has chosen not to use my services.”
Brace yourself...
“April, it is my fault entirely. I went against my instinct. He should have never been here in the first place.”
An enormous weight was lifted off me in an instant. I met his gaze wearing curious eyes. If he wasn’t here to scold me, why did he need to make an appearance at all?
“I’m... I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Carawell. I was so scared I had screwed up.”
“Mr. Lockheart was an old friend of mine. From another time, before I matured. I’m sorry you were compromised, I should have acted sooner.”
Reaching out, he took his hand in mine. My mouth fell agape as the electricity danced across my fingertips.
“Mr. Carawell... Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“You were really once like him? He did call you a hypocrite...”
Exaspering slightly, he let go of my hand and stared out the window. It was if his next words were the most important in the world.
“I’m not proud of where I am now, but I’m still less proud of where I was. Yes, April, I was not a nice person. I was abusive, disrespectful, terrible. I thought it all was the normalcy of this cutthroat industry. Well, I suppose it is the normalcy. As you unfortunately saw earlier this evening. These monsters think themselves untouchable."
"But what about you and your wife? Were you really like that when you met Mrs. Carawell?"
Chuckling slightly, Mr. Carawell continued.
"Scarlet is just like them. Riding the contrails of success, no matter what the vilification entails. I've been trying to free myself for years now. But alas, my career is the only thing I have time to dedicate now."
His words. They seemed so sad. In an instant my attitude towards him changed from intimidated to pity. I couldn't bear to see such a powerful man in such an intimate state of mind. Even more, I couldn't bear not to do something about it.
"Mr. Carawell... Can I ask you one more question?"
Taking his time in answering, Mr. Carawell spoke.
"Only one."
"Is there anything I can do for you? Beyond my usual duties, that is. You saved me tonight. I want to return the favor."
As the words left my mouth I placed my hand on his thigh, rubbing with the lightest of touches. This world I adopted myself into still felt foreign. I couldn't handle an expensive dinner party or clean a mansion to perfection just yet. But I could satisfy a man I was attracted to. My mind raced as he didn't back down from my advance. Sure, he was my boss, but he was also a intelligent,
powerful, handsome man. Sure, he was married, but he had just confessed the relationship had been dead for years. I couldn't help myself as my hands rubbed along the fabric of his pants. Smiling gently at his bewildered face. Yet still he didn't say to stop.
Taking his silence as an invitation to proceed, my hands danced towards the front of his pants. A noticeable bulge had already begun to form. I licked my lips in anticipation. Loosening his belt, I looked up at his eyes.
"Please Victor. Let me take care of you tonight."
I felt his hand on the back of my head, caressing it lovingly. My eyes closed at the sensation of him playing with my hair. Victor was so careful and delicate, like I was a fine work of art he was taking in. Deep under my skirt I felt my womanhood grow warm with desire. The back of my mind still screamed with doubts as to if this was right. I shut that voice out immediately.
Kneeling down on the chair in front of him, my fingers still gently circled the tracing of his member. It already felt like it was growing by this lightest of touches. I looked up into his eyes, putting on the sexiest look of pleading I had in me. Mr. Carawell stayed deadpan. Was he confused? Was he conflicted? I tilted my head to the side, licking my bottom lip seductively. It worked.
Taking my hand in his, Mr. Carawell led me to his belt buckle. It came off easily enough, and with astonishing speed I had his pants around his ankles. Still keeping the deadpan expression, he stared at me diligently. As if waiting impatiently for me to initiate. I had been bold so far in this tryst, but my heart still felt like it was going to explode. Still I hid it well, smiling gently as I feed his cock from the restrictions of his underwear. There, I couldn't help but get a good look.
Mr. Carawell's penis was half-erect at this point. I was still impressed and a little frightened. It was true that I had small hands, but I could barely get my middle finger to overlap around his girth. The length wasn't too shabby either: seven, possibly eight inches. There was a scary second when I wondered if I could take all of it in my mouth. That fear quickly turned to excitement as I started pumping the shaft with my hand. It pulsated with every stroke, growing bigger and bigger until I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed Mr. Carawell's cock in my mouth. I needed to make my millionaire employer come.
Biting my lip in nervousness, I slowly lowered my head deeper between his thighs. Mr. Carawell placed his hands on my back of my head. Guiding me towards the manhood I so desperately craved. It smelled surprisingly pleasant down there; a rich musky scent that reminded me of expensive aftershave. I decided to have a little tease first. Kiss the tip of the head. Dart my tongue along the bottom run of the shaft. Look deeply into his eyes as I stroked it with my hand. Surprisingly, Mr. Carawell still looked unfazed. Prior boyfriends at this point were always frenzied, begging me for more stimulation. Like the rest of his lifestyle, was he used to something more luxurious? Still, he wasn't asking me to stop. I felt a growing desire in me to impress. To perform better than I ever had before. Nothing but the best for Mr. Carawell.
I started slow, enveloping his head entirely within my lips. I refused to move for several seconds, instead circling my tongue, making sure there wasn't a single unstimulated nerve. He placed his hand on my back of my head again. Not pushing or forcing, simply placing it gently. I took this as a good sign and increased the intensity of my work. Bobbing slightly up and down. Moaning gently as I did so. The smell of Mr. Carawell's cock was incredible, and he tasted even better. Never before in my life had I wanted to suck a penis so intently. As I continued to bob and use my tongue to explore new territory, I felt subtle signs of the effectiveness of my work. Increased breathing. Tighter muscles. An actual grip on my hair. And of course, the fact that his dick had grown rock-hard inside my mouth. To pat myself on the back, I was sucking better than I ever had in my life.
There was a gentle tug on my hair. Taking his member out with a gentle pop, I moved my head back to meet his gaze. There was a tiny strand of saliva running down my chin and a happy smile on my face. Mr. Carawell gave me one simple order.
"Deeper, April. Take it all the way in."
As I glanced down at the immense member under my chin I doubted I could.
"Sir, I..."
"No words, April. Ease into it."
Emotions ran through me. Doubt, at my own abilities. Fear at his directness. Anger, at his disregard for my own feelings. What won them all was desire. Deepthroating had never been something I was good at. It was time to learn. What better time to practice than now?
"Of course, Mr. Carawell."
Looking once again at the cock I had been so diligently sucking, my perception changed. What once had been warm and inviting, now seemed like a mountain to climb. A test of my abilities. A chance to go beyond my limits. I took his penis in my mouth and moved down as far as I could. Slowly, gently. It was still only halfway. I loosened my jaw the best I could, relaxed my muscles. But this was all I could do. I once again felt Mr. Carawell's hands on my back of my head.
"Relax, April. I have no doubt you can."
To my surprise, he began pushing on the back of my head. With any other man I would have been enraged. But I couldn't say no to Mr. Carawell. Instead I took his forcefulness as motivation, support for this endeavor. A miraculous thing happened. I felt the back of my throat loosen up. I was able to lower myself even more. It was an incredible, satisfying sensation to feel his cock hit the back of my throat. With his hands as forceful support, I managed to get every last inch of his penis inside me. It stayed like that for a few seconds as I breathed through my nose. Mr. Carawell stroked my hair.
"Good girl..."
That was all the support I needed to continue. Dragging my lips along his shaft, I moved my mouth back up to the tip of his penis. Without even taking a break I went back down to the hilt. It was easier the second time, once my mouth had loosened up. Soon enough I was back to a frantic speed, sucking and licking with an unfound desire. Mr. Carawell's reactions stayed the same; slight affirmations of pleasure but overall commanding. In a way, it turned me on even more. It made me feel used, submissive. Like I was only a toy to him. With any other man I would have found it degrading. But with Mr. Carawell... I was proud to be his slut.
There was no warning when he came. Only an increased grip on my hair and the salty tase of semen down my throat. I had been working the head with my tongue when it happened, so I quickly took the entire shaft down to his waist as the ropes of cum landed deep within me. To be honest, I didn't even register much of the taste. It was my duty to please Mr. Carawell, and I felt nothing but satisfaction from making him orgasm.
Mr. Carawell lifted me up by the chin after he was finished. I was breathing more than he was. Giving a smile, I spoke.
"Did I do well?"
He smiled.
"Oh April. We're not done yet. On the bed. On your back."
I was hoping he would say that. Obeying diligently, I laid on the bed as he took the belt from his pants on the floor. The familiar feeling of discomfort ran and was quickly shut out of my mind. Just think, I told myself. An hour ago I thought would be on the streets. Now I was preparing to have sex with an attractive millionaire. So what if he was a little rough? As evidenced by how wet I was, I was enjoying how commanding and intimidating he was. I loved how he took charge, how I was purely there to be used for his benefit. The feeling was liberating, in a way. No emotions. No feelings. Just pure, raw sex.
Mr. Carawell lifted my hands above my head; tying my wrists to the bedframe with his belt. I cooed and squirmed seductively, echoing my desire to be fucked as he slowly took off his clothes with professionalism. Each button on his dress shirt meant another second I had to wait. The anticipation just about killed me. Finally, he was naked, erect, and glaring at me hungrily. It was time.
The world stopped as he penetrated me. Goosebumps lit up all over my skin. I felt every last inch of his penis slide into me at a savored pace. Mr. Carawell had his eyes closed. Mine were starry-eyed, rolling back in my head as I arched my b
ack. It felt entirely unlike any other man I had been with. Something about the suddenness of the situation, the power he wielded over me, the girth of his dick. It all combined to a feeling that satisfied my massive pent-up frustration. He stayed like that a while, cock buried deep inside me. He probably wanted to fully enjoy the sensation before moving on. I didn’t mind.
As his hips moved back and forth my breathing quickened as well. I had to keep as quiet as possible, there were other maids and butlers through these walls and passing by outside my door. But as his pace increased I couldn’t help but moan quietly. Back and forth, feeling the entire length of his cock move in and out of me. There was a very precise motion he was carrying himself with. He hit just the right distance before plunging back in, controlled his breathing as a professional runner would. Just as I was wishing my hands weren’t tied so I could rub them all over his bulky chest and back, he kissed me.
More specifically, he kissed my neck. Buried his face in the crux of it, biting in lightly. While the combined feeling of goosebumps and being tickled spread across my face, Mr. Carawell started to quicken the pace. His strokes were no longer cold and calculated. They were more frenzied, as if he had tested the waters and was now giving into his desire. The heat that radiated from his body was powerful. His breath filled my ear as he fucked me. I moved my head for a kiss on his lips. Almost as if predicting my movement, he ran his tongue downwards towards my chest. Licking and sucking on my breasts as his penis continued to fill me. A little disappointing, but the sensations ran through my body like lighting. I couldn’t help it, my moans grew louder throughout the room.
At some point while he was trusting from up top, he had managed to unhook the belt from my wrists. I didn’t even notice my hands falling down to the pillow until he dismounted me. In my chest my heart was pounding wildly. The room already reeked of sex. Looking at Mr. Carawell, his eyes wandered over every last inch of my ruffled uniform. I ran my fingertips over his chest, glistening with the sweat of a good fuck. My womanhood ached with the craving of his cock. Some might even say it was painful. Mr. Carawell knew this; the way he looked at me confirmed he enjoyed my anticipation. He loved the tease. He loved having this control over me.
Maid for the Millionaire Page 2
