by Candy Quinn
This is just the first day.
It’s been a month since I got hired at Lord Alastair’s estate, and god almighty, has it awoken something new in me!
I’ve learned more than I ever thought I would about housekeeping work in my time here so far, short as it’s seemed, but I realized very quickly that actual domestic work was definitely the secondary reason I was hired, if that.
I’m here for Lord Alastair’s needs. His urges that that masculine, virile body has to act upon. And every second of it has been bliss. The other employees were all right in that Lord Alastair is a demanding employer, but I’ve grown into my role like a natural. I’ve started to learn what he really likes, and the meanings behind his commands.
Of course, I owe it partly to him that I’ve learned so quickly. The first day was only average—he’s fucked me four times in one day on occasion, and never less than once.
He’s such a mysterious man! Even when he holds charity events, he presides over the little dinners from the shadows, running things and planning with other important figures like a phantom. Everyone who talks about him speaks of him with reverence. But nobody knows what the two of us have, I don’t think, but he makes no show of hiding my body. For public events, he has me dress in my usual maid’s outfit, which draws more than a few eyes. None more than his.
He’s swept me away into the shadows on more than one occasion while entertaining guests to finger me, eat me out, even come inside me between acts of a play he hosted last weekend.
And I haven’t failed to notice that he’s learning about me, too.
After he dismissed me from his room the first night, I assumed this was going to be the usual employee-employer relationship. And for a few days, it was, but he kept prying me about my life, asking what kind of person I was between sessions of emptying himself into me. As our sex got more familiar, he seemed to look at me differently.
I started finding gifts in my room. Outfits, always skimpy and lacey ensembles—he’s fond of fine cotton and bows—would be laid out on my bed with notes instructing me when and where to wear them. Then came sex toys. First, they were strictly for us: a riding crop, a blindfold made of handwoven silk, or Florentine leather bindings. Then I found things for private use, like dildoes and vibrators that I’d seen online for more money I could dream of. I even found some vintage designer clothes that seem to be just for me—a genuine, personal gift!
Whether he really feels something for me other than primal lust, I don’t know, but I have my suspicions. What has me more worried is whether I’m starting to feel that kind of thing for him.
That’s where this Sunday morning finds me, dreaming of him taking me onto his yacht across the Irish sea, and I feel his tongue stroking my pussy as Dublin looms in the distance, my naked back pressed against the railing as salty water fills my nostrils. I’m dressed in some old dress I fantasized about in a book, restored and glorious as my Alastair claims me, tasting every bit of me I have to offer…
And I awaken to the sound of the door being thrown open, feeling my wet fingers between my thighs, massaging my clit in my dream’s arousal.
My heart starts to race as I look up, and my eyes widen. Lord Alastair is striding into my room, closing the door behind him, but as soon as he sees me as I am, he flashes a wicked, triumphant grin.
“Well good morning, Maisie,” he says charmingly, his long legs carrying him forward before he throws the sheets off me just as I withdraw my hands, but my fingers are incriminatingly wet. “My my, we’ve been rather bad this morning, haven’t we?”
“L-lord Alastair, I…” I stammer, blinking awake and only just now realizing he’s carrying a covered outfit on a hanger in one hand. But he sets it aside and kneels on the bed, glowering down at me with a dark smile. “I wasn’t expecting-”
“Wasn’t expecting me to catch you, dove?” he says, stepping towards me and I start to cover myself, but as soon as I see his hungry, accusatory eyes, I feel myself wanting nothing more than to open myself to him, and I feel a smile play across my face as I let my hands slide to the sides.
“I was dreaming of you,” I confess as he puts a knee next to me, looming over me and making my heart pound ever faster. Wordlessly, he reaches down and takes a handful of my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my neck, and I feel him lean into my neck and breathe softly, hungrily, a rumble in his chest.
“You thought you could get away with that without my noticing, did you?” he mocks me, and I can feel the grin on his face. “Shame on you, girl.” The next thing I know, his fingers are at my already wet pussy, and my eyes spring open.
“W-what are you doing?!”
“Finishing what you started, my shameful little bird,” he growls, and I whimper as his fingers hook into my pussy, his thumb roving over my clit and rubbing in a circle. As his teeth start to graze my neck, I’m suddenly back in my dream, swimming in my bedsheets as Lord Alastair toys with me, tormenting my clit and sucking at my flesh. I know it’s going to leave a mark, and when he comes to me this early, he won’t give me time to put on makeup to cover it up.
Whatever we’ll do today, everyone will know what I did with him. What he did to me. And the thought sends chills up my back, my whole body waking at his touch, revitalizing, all grogginess leftover from the night fleeing me at his presence.
I’ve grown to crave his touch over the past few weeks. If I go too long without him brushing against my back, without feeling his hardness, without his lips locked with mine, I start to feel...needy. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to move on from this job — or if I ever will.
My heart races at the thought as he feels me up, his greedy hand exploring my body invasively, groping at my thighs on his way up my back, then to my neck, where he turns me around however he pleases, torturing my poor clit.
It isn’t long before his touch in the haze of the waking morning makes me start to feel tight, and warmth grows in me more rapidly than I thought it could. Suddenly, I feel myself clenching, and honey floods his hand as I come, gasping for breath as he moves his thumb around my clit, then brings his wet fingers up to it to massage it more as pleasure ripples through me.
The sun’s hardly up, and I’m already breathless and blushing in his hands.
“Th-thank you, Master,” I say obediently as he rises up, licking his fingers of my honey and looking down at me with a satisfied smile. I’m surprised he doesn’t take me with that outlined bulge I see in his pants, but I can tell he has something special in mind for today when he walks over to the outfit he’s brought me again.
“Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he says, a simple command. He unzips the outfit to reveal, to my surprise, an old-fashioned riding outfit, complete with a stylish, slim-fitting coat, high, tight pants, and tall boots. “We’re going riding.”
My eyes widen as I look the outfit up and down, feeling the comfortable, rich fabric before glancing up to him. “I’ve never been riding before. Won’t I need a crop?”
He grins as though reading my mind. “No. I’ll be providing that.”
Less than an hour later, the sounds of hooves beating against the soft, dew-covered moors is filling the air as Lord Alastair and I ride.
It was a somewhat awkward process, getting me mounted on Silver, but she’s a sturdy, reliable horse, and Lord Alastair told me she seemed rather more at ease around me than some of the other staff, to his delight. His own horse Dusty is more of an untamed spirit. Nobody else has been permitted to ride him.
But I take to the process of riding like a fish in water. The feeling of such a big animal under me takes a few minutes to get used to, but once I stop being nervous — Lord Alastair at my side does a lot to help that — I find myself able to let go and feel really, truly free.
Cool wind whips around us as we ride, watching the sun rise brilliantly over the hills as we head towards the slowly waking town of Rookswood, passing by pastures and idyllic cottages that dot the countryside.
I feel like I’m in
a lucid dream, my heart pounding in my chest as we ride. We make our way up a hill, a breezy vista that overlooks Rookswood like something out of a postcard. As soon as we’re up on the top, approaching an old oak tree that surveys the whole scene like an ancient monolith, I feel almost dizzied by the wonder of it all.
“Lord Alastair,” I say finally as we dismount the horses and he takes the reins from me, leading the beasts to a nearby smaller tree to tie them off, glancing over his shoulder at me with a wolfish smile. “I never knew the countryside could be so beautiful.”
“Still nothing compared to the Welsh Marches, my darling,” he says, striding over to me, his height imposing as ever in his black riding outfit and blood-red shirt, riding crop dangling at his side. “And nothing still compared to the locals found there,” he adds, lifting my chin with his fingers.
I’ve come to adore his touch so, and my body leans forward into the motion, warming at the thought of him already.
“Tell me, darling,” he says as his hand works up my coat, sliding it off gently and tossing it aside before he does the same for himself. “You’re charmed by my little corner of the world, but I have a question for you — what do you think of its master?”
I blink up at him, dumbfounded. I’ve heard him ask me a hundred questions about my relationship to him: do I like the feeling of his cock inside me? Do I hunger for it? Does my body ache without his touch? How does it feel to be so exposed before him? The tingling in my pussy reminds me of my answers to all those questions, but not once has he ever posed a question...well, phrased quite like this.
Sensing my confusion, Lord Alastair smiled, taking a few steps closer, making me back into the great oak that must have stood here for centuries. “Let me put this a different way, Maisie,” he says in a husky tone, and he wraps his hands around my hips.
When he leans down to kiss me, my heart flutters in a new and unexpected way. He kisses me ravenously, lustfully, so often, but this is different.
He’s tender.
I can feel his heart pounding as his chest presses into mine, and he pulls me into him as his hands slip up to my cheeks, cradling my head as he locks lips with me. His tongue grazes at mine, but when my eyes flutter open, I see a tinge of red in his own cheeks. For the first time, he looks at me blatantly with something more than just lust — I’ve seen hints of something more in those dark eyes, but I never dared suspect…
“I worry I’ve feelings for you, Maisie,” he says, and my mouth falls open, eyes going wide as I feel my knees shake under me. “It’s the sweetest worry I’ve had in years.”
“Lord Alastair…” I breathe, but he continues.
“Maisie, I should be honest with you. I’ve kept myself from true feelings like this since my first stint in what I’d called love left my heart in ruins many years ago.” He lets his fingers trace around my outfit, cupping my breast and making me shiver. “I took to hiring young women like yourself to satisfy my...needs...without any strings attached. That’s why I burned through so many domestics in the past. None of them were willing, none bold enough to do what you’ve done so naturally,” he says, meeting my gaze and holding it like a tiger holds its prey in its eyes. I find myself speechless, mouth gaping.
“I never thought for a moment-” I start.
“You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met — and I’ve met everyone from highborne ladies to the lowest of the low. I love you, Maisie,” Lord Alastair says, sincerity written across his face, and I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth in turn.
“I love you with all my heart, Lord Alastair,” I say, and he sweeps me up in a passionate kiss again, a kiss that seems to push away all the worries of the outside world, all the chill of the English winter air, leaving just us together, hearts intertwined.
Within moments, he has my pants undone, and he lowers them just a hair, enough to expose my wettening pussy to him. His leather gloves are still on his hands, and he cups my face with one of them as he uses the other to release his monstrous cock.
“Stay with me, Maisie,” he growls as I feel his stiff cock come out and press against my waist, “stay here in my manor and be my bride, and I’ll give you everything your wild heart could desire.”
“God, Lord Alastair,” I cry out as he perches his crown on my wet, needy pussy. “We could be living on the streets, and I’d still be yours. Take all of me,” I beg.
“Girl,” he growls as he swirls his bulging crown around my clit, making my knees weak before he lifts me up with his hands, pinning me against the tree with remarkable ease. “You’ll never want for me again, nor anything. All I am and have, I pledge to you,” he says, kissing me deeply. “And you’re mine.”
With that, he impales me on his cock, and I let out a cry that rolls down the misty hill, his cock filling up my insides with such sweet, blissful wholeness that makes my heart soar. I feel ecstatic with him inside me, and I’m helpless as he starts to buck into me.
There’s a new fire to Lord Alastair. I’ve sensed it there, just under the surface in the past few weeks. And I’ve felt it too. Now, though, our love out in the open, I feel a renewed sense of youth, like my life is just beginning — and I’m going to build it up even more. With him.
Together.
My pussy is tighter around him, wetter and more willing than ever before. The effect I’m having on him is even stronger than usual, his face strained and full of need as he looks into my eyes, utter passion and love at a new height as his cock swells larger than ever before.
I need him. I need this. And to know that he needs me just as badly sends me spilling over the precipice of my first orgasm, the first and most sincere testament of our love together, here under this old tree.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling myself into him the best I can as he rams into me, his movements both large and powerful, yet precise. He knows my pussy so well, knows just how to fill it up and fill me up, satisfy my every desire. His hands clench around my thighs, rubbing against the most sensitive parts of me, and I can feel his loving touch even through the warm clothing he’s given me.
His hands rove to my ass, and the way he caresses me as the tip of his spear grinds against my g-spot makes me feel more loved than I ever thought a woman could be.
“I’m going to make you mine, Maisie,” he says, a statement laden with power in its very tone. “I’m going to breed you, and you’ll carry my child. And when it’s born, I’ll breed you again, and again,” he repeated, thrusting into me with each repetition, pushing me up the tree with his swollen, needy cock, so thick and heavy with potent seed that my fertile pussy is just begging to be filled up with.
“I want to be drunk on you, Master,” I gasp, a whimpering lilt to my plea, “I want your seed in me! I want it to overflow, fuck, I want you all over my body!”
As I speak, he gets faster and harder, hardly even using the tree’s strength to hold me up anymore as he pumps into me, a hard and fast piston with just as much machine-like precision. He’s so swollen and pulsing that I don’t know how he’s keeping control of himself, but he is, all for me.
Orgasm after orgasm wracks me, making my toes curl in my boots and my hands claw at his back. I want so badly to scratch him, to bite into his shoulder out of the love swelling and bursting through my chest, but all I can do is whimper and gasp as he uses me like a toy.
He’s given me so much, treated me so regally for someone he’s just been using to fuck, but it’s been so much more than that. Never did I think our sessions would turn into this, but god, I can’t get enough.
“How could you love me, Alastair?” the question finally spills out, my eyes fluttering open as he pounds me. “How could you love just a maid?”
He grabs my hair hard, pulling my head back as he stops, leaning back off the tree to show me that he can support my weight on his cock alone, and my jaw hangs open as I’m now truly impaled on it. “That’s the only stupid question you’ve ever asked me, Maisie,” he says with a devilish smile. �
��I could have all the world on a silver platter. I do. But none of it is worth the dust it’s all made of compared to you.”
He thrusts up, and I feel another mind-blowing orgasm wash over me, and I lean back, letting my head rest against the tree, breathing heavily.
“Well, you know what they say,” I manage, half-delirious from the passion. “Your mind doesn’t work right when you’re in love.”
He takes me by the hips and starts bucking up into me, such virility and masculinity in every motion that I lose track of what’s going on around me. I’m like fertile soil, desperate and ready to accept his seed, to take in every ounce of it. Heavy, powerful balls slap against my flesh as he pounds me, and I feel him getting harder than ever.
Finally, his mouth opens, and just as he lets out a terrifyingly powerful groan and clutches me closes to him, he explodes within me, his seed filling up my pussy in the first shot as he kisses me, moaning into it.
I feel the very essence of Lord Alastair planting within me as he comes, shot after shot, the pearly fluid running down his shaft after so many uncontrolled, wanton bursts of come inside me. I’ve never been hotter in my life. He comes until I’m truly and utterly full, and when I can take no more, he keeps coming, holding me close to him as his cock pulses and twitches its last.
Finally, there’s just us, nothing else in the world mattering around us as the cool English breeze wraps us in an embrace, unable to penetrate the warmth between us as our hearts beat together.
“You bring light to my dark heart, Maisie,” he whispers into my ear, lovingly.
“And I’m yours, Alastair,” I whisper back. “Forever.”
For the first time in many years, sunlight filters through all the once-closed black curtains of the manor, and I’m scurrying around the house as best as I can with a swollen belly, our baby strong and lively inside me.
