Somewhere far away she heard Lord Dixon’s deep husky voice give directions to her tormentor. “Wash her, oil her, prepare her and bring her to the dinner table when you are ready. Take your time and be thorough.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Reginald replied as the heavy door slammed shut behind their master who had left.
******
Elizabeth Tastes Different Men
“Tell me, sweetheart, what do you think? Would you be able to taste the difference?” Asked the high-pitched voice of the powerful Lord. Elizabeth felt mortified by the question. A deep crimson heat rapidly covered her face and chest.
“Yes, I think I would,” she said meekly.
She felt somebody gently pinch her little toe. “Yes, sir, girl. You should learn respect. Lord Cunningham deserves it just as much as any other man.”
“Yes, master,” Elizabeth quickly said. For a few long moments, she just blinked up at the tall, stern man whose severe face glowered down on her from what felt like a dizzying height.
Elizabeth knew she would have been shivering like a leaf in a thunderstorm right now if it weren’t for the iced tea concoction her master had made her drink earlier. It had a soothing effect on her muscles and nerves. Yet it did nothing to prevent her from feeling the chilling cold of the hard granite countertop upon which she was made to lay.
The question had caught her completely by surprise. “Could she taste the difference between the essence of different men?” Of course, she could! She could even tell the difference between whether her master had dined on veal or lamb at lunch that day just based on the way his cream tasted.
However, her deep feelings of mortification were caused by more than the fact that they were asking her something so embarrassingly intimate. She had never expected that anybody would even think of inquiring about how her lover tasted. Her anguish was further aggravated by her deep instinctive desire not to displease her master and cause him embarrassment. When he had prepared her for tonight’s occasion, Lord Dixon had been adamant that she ought to stay completely immobile while the food was displayed upon her body. Elizabeth was concerned that if the guests chose to engage her in some conversation, she would inadvertently squirm and spill something.
It would be mortifying for many different reasons. Lord Dixon’s house cook had spent almost three hours carefully arranging every morsel of sushi precisely across her naked body.
That was merely the end of what had turned out to be a day-long preparation. First Reginald, the butler, had used his infernal bamboo cane to thrash an agonizing trail of strikes from her neck all the way down to just above her knees. He had done that while she was made to hold onto a hard iron hook hanging from the ceiling as Lord Dixon sheathed himself in her bum. The long and the short of it was now she had a neat row of angry red welts spaced evenly across her from. Then the Butler had given her daily enema, washed her, brushed her hair for almost an hour until every last lose strand had been picked away and oiled her head to toe with a vegetable oil type of material that had a faint smell of mint.
Then they had given her a thimble-full of liquid that tasted somewhere between tea and medicine.
“Drink this, Lizzie,” ordered the Butler. “It will sooth your nerves and stop you from shivering when you’re naked on the table.”
Through it all she had been made to wear a blindfold that had only just been removed before the guests arrived.
Once up on the table, there was nothing between her naked skin and the cold granite of the four-foot-high surface upon which she was to serve as centerpiece. As she shimmied around wiggling in a desperate effort to find a semi-comfortable position, Elizabeth felt the reality of what she had agreed to do begin to set in. All sorts of questions suddenly assaulted her feverish mind. What if her feet suddenly cramped? What if the guests think she looks ugly in this position? What if she suddenly couldn’t stop herself from laughing? Oh, the shame, and the disgrace! The one person Elizabeth trusted to help her through the ordeal was her master, Lord Edward Benedict Frederick Dixon. He was the one hosting the event and had somehow convinced her that the humiliating display would not only serve to teach her to come to terms with her own body but would also help mollify the guest of honor, the Ambassador of the Empire of Japan. Lord Dixon had explained how important it was for Her Majesty’s government to secure a contract to build a new railway in Japan. Somehow, the notion of being part of her master’s overall vision had a calming effect on Elizabeth’s frayed nerves.
When the cook came to arrange the morsels of raw fish and rice across her body, she felt her mind drift. The movements of the man prove to be intensely erotic as he carefully maneuvered around the table, decorating her with flowers and little bits and pieces of colored cloth. As the minutes passed, Elizabeth began to feel like a piece of art. That was until she felt a thick white towel being pressed under her buttocks lifting her pelvis a couple of inches from the table. Then, just when she was wondering what all that was about, she gasped when with preternatural slowness something cold and smooth and thin started making its way past her nether lips.
Elizabeth stifled a grunt when she recalled that they were going to fill her virgin quim with weak Japanese rice wine through a glass funnel delicately fitted past the protective membrane of her maidenhead. Apparently rich Japanese men had a tradition of drinking alcoholic beverages from their ladies’ nether parts. They even had a name for it, but her master hadn’t thought to tell her what it was.
“Ouch!” The neck of the funnel had just made its way deep into her tight little purse.
“You stay quiet now, girl!” Hissed the cook from between her legs. “Your maidenhead is safe, the cold glass of the funnel is all you’re feeling. Remember to stay quiet for dinner or master will have you thrashed, wench,” he growled, and Elizabeth muffled a whimper. She hated the rough words but bit down on her tongue keeping herself from distracting the man further. Soon she felt a cold liquid begin to fill her belly in the most unusual fashion.
“There, pretty girl,” the man said evidently pleased with his work. She felt him slowly and carefully pull out the very thin neck of the glass funnel leaving her belly sloshing with embarrassment. “Now we will leave you for a little while until your body adjusts to the temperature of the room and the guests arrive.”
Soon Elizabeth felt herself relax into poised happiness glad to be part of her powerful owner’s dinner event. That only lasted until she heard the guests arrive. Staring at the ceiling and quite unable to move, Elizabeth realized she was not able to see their faces. She knew Lord Dixon had only invited two men, his close friend Lord James Alfred Cunningham, and the ambassador Kaito Yamamoto. Were they bearded, short and chubby, or were they tall, young and handsome? How were they dressed? Elizabeth felt afraid and very lonely as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.
Soon they were seated by her, and she felt them eat, stare and drink, and sometimes poke at her nakedness. Minutes became an hour as the important men fell into jovial conversation about business and history. Now and then, Elizabeth felt somebody carefully edge over between the apex of her thighs and take a sip from the long wide straw that went all the way in brushing up against her cervix.
Even her forehead was made use of by a white linen cloth that had been folded and draped across just beneath her hairline. It had been wet and hot at first, and the Lords had used it to wipe their hands before commencing their dinner. With time, it had cooled off, and now it only added to the omnipresent chill that she felt to the very core.
Now Elizabeth twisted her eyes left and right trying to glean if her master had any guidance for her. What was she supposed to do if one of the other two Lords asked her another question? Was she supposed to go on chitchatting with them? It felt horribly wrong somehow. Not only was she base-born and felt way out of her depth in the presence of the three illustrious gentlemen, but she was naked, and lying on a table, for crying out loud! But try as she might she couldn’t get a proper look at Lord Dixon from the angle
her body was positioned and the height of the table. Elizabeth could hear his deep chuckle however and immediately she knew her anguish had caused him delight. Somehow, through some deep and very awkward emotional mechanism, her master’s delight made her feel happy. Some cold analytical part of her marveled at how fast she had grown accustomed to seeking her master’s approval and how it warmed her heart when she found it.
As if reading her mind and sensing her quandary, Lord Dixon instructed her to elaborate. “Be more explicit and explain what tasting your master’ cum felt like, girl,” her master ordered. His wish didn’t make her situation easier in any way. In fact, it only deepened her tribulation. He knew she had never been with anybody besides himself. Was Lord Dixon expecting her to describe to these strange men the different way he tasted depending on what he had had for dinner?
Oh, the shame! It was unbearable! Lying naked on the table, forced to stay immobile while her master and his friends dined on morsels of food placed upon her body, she was now asked to talk about some of her most intimate experiences! Oh God! And what if she said something that might embarrass her master? That would be unacceptable! It was almost too much for the shy, timid girl that she was.
It hadn’t been easy for her back in school when her curves had started coming in earlier than those of the other girls. Almost all of the boys in school had asked her to go out with them on a stroll by the river, and she had denied them all. She had denied all except the butcher’s boy. Elizabeth had agreed to go out with him only because he was a big mean looking strong lad and she had been too afraid to say no. Her breath caught, and a deep shudder ran through her body making her tremble.
Mr. Yamamoto, the Japanese ambassador, noticed her tremor and laughed out loud.
“I believe Lord Cunningham’s question has set your impressionable young servant’s mind aflutter, Lord Dixon. I’m afraid she might spill the food,” the Japanese man said chuckling. His voice was uncharacteristically deep and very accented making it almost incomprehensible to understand. “I think the girl feels embarrassed.” Elizabeth could hear a twinkle in the man's voice. “I think she is also worried she might dishonor you, Lord Dixon.” Elizabeth's breath caught in her chest. How could the man see her inner turmoil that clearly? Were her thoughts so obvious to all? The naked girl felt more exposed than ever lying on the table covered in tasty little morsels as she fought to control her breathing and anxiety.
“It is so very generous of you, my Lord, to offer us the services of your concubine. You do us great honor.” Elizabeth heard the voice of the Japanese man move lower as he spoke and at first she was puzzled but then realized he was bowing deeply. He was thanking Lord Dixon, her master, for her service tonight!
How exciting! For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt something akin to the pride she had seen in the eyes of all those soldiers coming back from the trenches abroad. Battered, bruised, wounded and suffering, they all somehow seemed to have a spring in their steps and a sparkle in their eyes. They had served the Queen and the country laying their lives down for a greater cause. Elizabeth felt that even now she was doing something not entirely different by offering her body up as part of these powerful men's feast tonight.
The deep respect of the Japanese ambassador for Lord Dixon was palpable and made Elizabeth proud to be her master’s servant. Lord Dixon was somewhere behind her, out of her field of view, but she could still feel his leonine presence bathe her in the fierce passion of his stare.
She felt him step closer to the table and barely managed to suppress her instinctive desire to turn and face him.
“Don't move, little one,” he said his voice satanic in its richness and promise as she felt him come to stand mere inches from her body. The heat emanating from his body was tangible, and Elizabeth bit down on her bottom lip. He reached out, and she felt his hand on her chin. He positioned it just so that she could kiss his knuckles which she did with a fervor that surprised even herself. It was as if she was trying to draw on her master's strength and fortify herself for the submission she was offering them right now.
“Go on, sweet Lizzie, answer Lord Cunningham’s question. Do not be afraid of embarrassing me, sweetheart. These men feel your adoration for me, and they’re merely jealous.” Polite chuckles filled the room.
“Quite so, my Lord, quite so indeed,” Elizabeth heard Lord Cunningham say. She swooned mentally at her master’s words. She believed him with all her heart. She, Elizabeth Smith, from the slums of Birmingham, was making two of the world’s most powerful men envious of her love for her master. How glorious life was!
“I gagged a little the first time, my Lords,” Elizabeth said trying to steel her voice as she spoke. “The taste of his cream made me think of raw oysters only it was much more watery and salty.”
“Did you like it, sweet child? Did it bring you pleasure to swallow your Lords cream?” It was Lord Cunningham's voice, shrill and rather unpleasant with the hissing undertone it seemed to have.
“Well, other than its rather rich consistency, my Lords cream was quite delicious.” Elizabeth heard herself reply. She closed her eyes pressing them tightly shut to blot out the snickers and chuckles that filled the room. In spite of the shame that threatened to overwhelm her, Elizabeth pressed on. “Once I got used to the pervasive taste of salt which I’m not that fond of, I deeply enjoyed the pleasure I was able to give my master.”
Thunderous applause almost made her jump out of her skin.
“She is precious,” Lord Cunningham said.
“You are a very lucky man, my Lord.” The Japanese ambassador added clapping his hands with enthusiasm.
“Thank you, Ambassador. I couldn’t disagree one bit. Elizabeth makes me feel proud to have her in my service.” Lord Dixon’s hand returned caressing her chestnut curls that had been combed and spread like an aura around her head.
“May I ask the young lady if her master’s essence changes in taste depending on his mood perhaps?” Mr. Yamamoto asked.
Elizabeth smiled broadly.
“I don’t know that it changes based on his mood, my Lord, but sometimes it does taste very bitter and other times, after he has had dessert, his cream is quite sweet.” Elizabeth tried to suppress a giggle. “The other day we had truffles in bed and a couple of hours later… I think he tasted that way too.”
“She blushes delightfully, Lord Dixon,” the Japanese man observed. “May I ask your lovely servant what she enjoys best about servicing you?”
Now Elizabeth scrunched up her face trying to think. “I don’t know… I guess I feel somehow validated and empowered when I make my Lord happy. It does help that my master’s seed tastes really good.” As she spoke, she had closed her eyes trying to blot out the man staring down on her naked form. At this point, Elizabeth’s mortification had reached an intensity such that she felt a surge of courage. It couldn’t possibly get any more humiliating than that.
She opened her eyes and saw the three powerful men towering above her. Her master looked proud as he smiled down on his beautiful body servant.
“Her markings are very beautiful, Lord Dixon,” remarked the Japanese man in his rough accented voice. “Her skin is the perfect tone for punishment. I can tell she will bring you much enjoyment in the years ahead.”
“Thank you, your Excellency.” Her master replied.
Emotions suddenly flooded her heart making her feel suffused with a deep need that made Elizabeth feel fragile as though a single pinprick or a callous word could send her very soul streaming out. She felt deep insecurity and an overwhelming urge to reach out and grab at her master’s hand seeking his approval. Her eyes moistened as she realized that the men were not only eating food from her body but were actually feasting on the roiling emotions her face and skin so clearly displayed for them. She was their canvas, and the three of them were like master painters eliciting color, sweat, and roiling emotions from the young impressionable servant.
Then her emotions shifted, and Elizabeth felt a resurg
ence of will as she recognized that she had already traversed a seemingly unfathomable distance since that day almost a month ago when she had first accepted to become Lord Dixon’s body servant. Yes, she was feeling needy but in him she had now found a fountainhead of strength and raw male power from which she drew energy like a rose fed on sunlight.
Elizabeth heard her belly growl loudly she was mortified.
“It appears that all this talk of cum has made your young charge hungry,” Lord Cunningham said.
Elizabeth felt deeply embarrassed by his words. But she also felt a certain unfathomable pride fill her heart. Three of the most powerful men in the country were gawking over her! A simple girl from the slums of Birmingham! Oh! My! God! Elizabeth thought. With every moment that passed by as she lay displayed for the three powerful Lords, the innocent girl felt a dark lustful need to fill her very soul growing more intense by the minute.
Elizabeth, His Lordship’s Demure Body-Servant. Ten Volume Compilation Page 13
