The Housemaid Ch. 07bypurpleangelica1©
'This is not like getting fucked by the butcher's son,' John thought wildly. 'Not at all. Not at all. Not at all.' It became a refrain in his mind, until he couldn't even remember the first thought. That had been a hurried thing in the back of the butcher's shop; they'd both been kids and knew nothing but to insert tab A into slot B. John wasn't even sure he'd get fucked tonight. Perhaps the young master would just beat him as his father had done. He'd gotten terrible cockstands from them; his father hadn't known what to make of that. Just called him a filthy pervert. Which didn't seem as insulting as it should have; it was just factual information after all. John remembered Annabel's words. 'It's a gift I'm supposed to give the young master. A gift. A gift. A gift.' His brain started another refrain. After getting lost in the young master's hypnotizing eyes, he wanted to give him anything. Everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. John closed his eyes against the panic, then opened them again when he felt Annabel's light, sure touch on his shoulder.
She was familiar. His housemaid, who sucked his cock every day, giving and generous and beautiful. She'd sucked him in the wine cellar once, and had licked his arsehole just a week ago in his tiny study. She'd watch. Watch over him. Watch him come. He relaxed under her hand, and gave himself over to her. His mind emptied and calmed.
Annabel felt the tension leave John's body, like a twitchy horse gone quiet when properly tacked and saddled. She ran her hands over his shoulders and torso, fitting her hands inside his jacket to remove it. He shrugged out of it easily, and she tugged his cravat loose from its simple knot. Next, she undid the buttons of his waistcoat, removing that as well, leaving him in his trousers and shirt, with the cravat undone. Ana glanced over at the young master. He looked more relaxed as well – that initial introduction had gotten them all keyed up too quickly. After setting aside John's coat and waistcoat, she tugged him before the fireplace. "Come here, Mr. Crawford, sir. I know you don't want to be cold whilst in your all together; makes a man shrink." She giggled and cupped his cock through his trousers. "Not that you have to worry about that though, do ya sir?" The young master gave her performance a chuckle; she knew that he would play along light-heartedly for her. He was good at giving her some leeway on the reins when he wanted to, he liked a spirited filly, as her father would say. In the warmth of the fire and her giggles, John relaxed even more, which Annabel liked. It was a game after all. And sometimes its fun to be scared in games, and sometimes you needed a bit of reassurance that everybody there was friendly-like. John didn't know the young master like she did yet; it was only natural to be scared, especially since Annabel knew he feared his own desire. That was something she'd never feared; but John was a different creature. That's why she had wanted to serve him in the first place. And why she wanted to give him over to the young master; she knew that her young master would take John places he both needed and feared to go. Places she as a woman could never take him. That was the point of all this. It was for John. Annabel squeezed his cock again. Well, mostly for him.
Annabel let his prick alone for now, and removed her own dress and petticoats with alacrity. She knew the strip-tease was about showing off the young master's new toy to him; she would show her assets another way. The slow reveal was for John alone. With that in mind, she pushed him into the chair directly across from the young master's in order to remove his socks and shoes. First the shoes, and then a slow tugging of the socks to reveal his large feet. She crawled down on the soft rug, and lifted one of his feet to her mouth, sucking on his big toe as she massaged his instep. John let out a perfect little gasp of desire, and the young master said drily, "Wasn't this evening about punishing you two little horny sluts for your transgressions? Punishment before reward and all that, my dear."
Annabel released John's toe from her mouth with an audible pop, but continued massaging his foot. "I just thought you might want to see a few of the transgressions that you are punishing us for, young master." She smiled her alley cat smile with wide eyes. "Was I wrong, sir?" The young master sighed affectedly, and got up to pour himself some more whiskey from the sideboard. On the way back, he stepped in close to them. John watched him with wide eyes and shallow breaths, but remained slumped in the seat as she worked his foot with her fingers.
The young master leaned down to pinch her nipple, which had worked its way slightly above her corset. "Certainly not, puss. Carry on." John let out a deep breath, and the young master returned to his armchair. Annabel moved her attention to his other foot, sucking the big toe and massaging it as well. God how she loved things in her mouth.
Alex leaned back and watched his dear housemaid massage the footman into relaxation. He'd been right to turn this over to her for a time; she knew both men intimately. And only he and Annabel were in on the game; he mustn't forget that. Annabel had said it was better that way; Alex trusted her judgment, but he had to remember to be gentle in the rough play, with John being a neophyte. This wasn't Eton, where the rules were both inviolate and known by all, fag and fagmaster alike. Here, in his own house, he made the rules and the servants obeyed them. But in this bedplay, Alex wanted the rules to be just, and suited to each individual.
Annabel tugged John to his feet, unwound his cravat, and pulled his shirt from his trousers. Hanging the cravat from her own neck, she slowly unbuttoned the starched shirt, one button at a time. The a long shifted in the fireplace, throwing dancing shadows over Annabel's white skin. A vee of thick, wiry hair was exposed on John's chest shining golden in the firelight. When she had slipped the shirt off him, he stood bare-chested before them. He was barrel-chested, with deeply defined pectoral muscles, capped with furled brown nipples. Annabel ran her hands all over his wide torso, petting his skin and tweaking his nipples and making the big man shiver all over. Alex appreciated the view, but he was getting antsy. It was nearly time for him to take charge; he could feel Annabel's teasing onslaught heighten the tension incrementally, whereas before she had sought to diffuse it. Unbuttoning John's trousers at least, she slipped them from his meaty thighs and off into a puddle nearby; she had obviously given up on caring about the clothes. The bulge in the smalls was considerable, but as she divested the footman of the last of his clothing, Alex saw that despite the size, John was at best half-hard. But he was a magnificent specimen, a great workhorse of a man. Without touching his cock, Annabel stood up abruptly and climbed onto the chair, directly behind John. He started to turn around, but she stopped him with a sharp, "No." John stilled. "Look into his eyes, John." Annabel whispered, and John's eyes lifted to meet his a second time. This time, Alex made no attempt to dominate him, but instead allowed John to see his admiration for his compact body, his appreciation for his docile nature, and his thanks for the gift of his submission. John blushed red from the heat of the fire already, turned crimson, and Annabel took the cravat from around her neck and tied it around the footman's eyes, cutting off their gaze. In a normal tone she said, "Now sir, I'll give you a brief demonstration of the activity for which you're about to birch us." Clambering right down without further ado, she sank to her knees and took John's semi-turgid prick into her mouth and proceeded to work him up to full mast. Alex drained his whiskey glass and stood to come up behind her. As she bobbed, he rubbed his own covered cock against her head and cheek, petting her hair. Moving to John's side, Alex touched him for the second time, embracing him around the shoulders, while his other hand pressed against the middle of that hard chest. Moving from one side to the other, Alex pinched and teased his nipples, and John moaned and tried to pump into her mouth further. But Annabel held him off by pressing his thighs back, controlling him even as she pleasured him. Alex gave John's nipple a vicious pinch to reinforce Annabel's order, and John sagged against him a bit, not asking for any more than they would give him.
Alex leaned in to whisper in his ear. "That's good, you greedy thing. You'll get as much as we give you, no more and no less. You'll take it all, won't you? That sublime cocksucking that Annabel can give you? Well, you'll take the punishment for that too." Alex moved his arm lower to cup and fondle his ass cheeks. "Right here, that's where you'll take it. A bit of a rosy arse should remind you about who that mouth you love so much really belongs too. But then, you belong to me too, don't you John? But I don't want your mouth right now. I want your ass – I want your cries of pain when I cane it and I want your cries of pleasure when I fuck it. I want them to meld together so that you feel both, love both." Alex insinuated his finger between the tight globes of John's ass, and the big man moaned and shifted his weight to open his legs wider. Alex rubbed forcefully over the tight hole, stimulating the nerves. Having forced his cock into an erection, Annabel had released it and was now gently sucking his cods, rolling the soft eggs in her mouth. As Alex rubbed over John's arsehole, he said, "Annabel, be a dear and wet my fingers for me. I need to loosen him up a bit."
Annabel obediently sucked on Alex's index and middle fingers for a few seconds, and then Alex returned to John's hole. The extra lubrication was enough to allow first one, then the other to pop in and John moaned helplessly as Alex twisted and pumped his arsehole with his two fingers and pinched his nipples as Annabel continued to lick contentedly at his scrotum.
'Yes. Yes. Yes.' John felt mindless, felt like bull, a beast rutting at his master's command. He wanted everything. Everything the young master had said, everything the young master did, that's what he wanted. He understood what Annabel had meant now. This was a gift. The pleasure, the punishment, they were gifts that the young master gave to him. And submitting to them both, that was the gift John gave in return. 'A gift. A gift. A gift.' In the darkness, all he could feel was his master's fingers inside him, claiming him, fucking him. He gave himself over to it completely.