The Maid's Tale Ch. 11bychristinamonroe©
The House at Rothsmere was in uproar: after a prolonged absence, the Baroness was returning from London with her daughter. The Barons daughter, Lady Victoria, was only a few months younger than Mary. At 18, she had been in London for her first season, enjoying all the gaiety the city had to offer. And now they were returning, full of news from the capital, of the new fashions and all the society gossip. The house staff had been run ragged with cleaning and polishing. Knowing that the Mistress had been staying in the grandest houses that London had to offer and determined that they wouldn't be found wanting the housekeeper had ordered a spring clean. Mary and Betsy were exhausted: Betsy still came to Mary's room for a late night chat, but they had had no further intimacies since their first few nights together. Betty had resigned herself to this, knowing that she would always want Mary, but accepting that Mary was not for her.
She didn't know why Mary felt this way; surely she had enjoyed what they had done? What was so different between the caresses of a man and those of a woman? What had Jack to offer that Betsy couldn't? Knowing that she wasn't likely to find out, Betsy set to with her cleaning, rubbing vigorously with the ash-covered cloth to clean the silver in the great hall.
Mary, meanwhile, was accompanying the chimney sweep around the house, draping the furniture to protect it from the ashes. They had reached the Master's study, almost the last room to be sorted. Mary looked around her, taking in the familiar surroundings. The hearth, where she had first felt her Master's hands on her as she leant over to lay the fire: the wall, where he had pushed her in a rage: the chaise and the desk where she had been taken by both him and Jack, and where she had realised that she would always be a slave to her passions and desires. What had made the blood in her veins run so hotly?
She shuddered, her thoughts turning to Jack. The stable hands were also busy, cleaning up the yard even though the mistress of the house didn't ride. She hadn't seen him for days, except at the stiff and formal staff dinners, and her Master was also keeping his distance. She understood why: she had taken her Mistress's place for a while, but not for much longer. She would miss him: he seemed to understand instinctively what she wanted, what she needed. No desire was too much for him and he revelled in it, enjoying all that her body had to offer. They were alike in that, both able to give in and release themselves to their passion. Jack understood this as well: he had accepted that the woman he loved had the same needs as he did, and that she enjoyed meeting those needs. Not for her the coy, affected shyness that a young woman was supposed to exhibit: Jack let her test the boundaries of her desire. She had been surprised at his reaction to their meeting with their Master: Jack had enjoyed every aspect of it, and had talked about it on the few occasions they had managed to speak together since. She knew that he was willing, eager, to go further, and wondered if she should tell her Master of this. She had seen what Phillip had enjoyed on her evening with his friend Thomas, and wanted to see both men together.
That night, Betsy crept into her room again. The two girls lay together in Mary's narrow bed. Mary had enjoyed their past dalliances, but knew that it had meant more to Betsy than it did to her. Mindful of the other girl's feelings, she had tried not to upset her: Mary didn't want to lead Betsy on, or pretend that she felt something she didn't. But tonight, with both Jack and her master distant, she needed some human contact.
Betsy, lying with her head on Mary's shoulder knew somehow what was going to happen. She felt Mary's hand stroke her shoulder and back tenderly, and Mary hadn't made a sound when Betsy had dared to reach up and caress Mary's breasts.
Betsy tried to ask the question that had been on her mind for so long. Why did Mary want Jack so much? Mary tried to explain, but as before she couldn't find the words. She tried to tell of the sensation of being filled by a meaty cock, or the sweet weight of her lover pressing into her, inhaling the musky male scent that caused her so much excitement. She had revelled in the masculinity of her lovers, the hard iron of muscle in their shoulders, the crispness of the curls of hair on their chest and trailing down their flat stomachs. Betsy, who craved the soft warmth of womanly flesh, didn't understand much of this, but wanted to experience as much as possible. Begging Mary to help, she went in search of a substitute for the girls to use, returning with a silver-backed hairbrush, the only thing of value she owned. The handle was broad and rounded, nowhere near as thick as a man's cock, but enough for her.
Mary laid Betsy on her front, stroking her back and caressing her plump buttocks. She could feel Betsy trembling under her fingers and knew that this was partly fear, partly excitement. Betsy lifted her body slightly, the movement causing her buttocks to spread a little, exposing the deep cleft between them. Mary leaned in close to nuzzle, her fingers slipping down to delve in the wet folds of flesh at the juncture of Betsy's thighs, burrowing like a little animal there. She could feel the slippery heat, and, holding the hairbrush by the bristled end, she slid the handle down to Betsy's sex. The girl jumped slightly when she felt the cold silver against her, but it warmed in the heat of her body and Mary began to push it inside her. Betsy was on her hands and knees now, and Mary was able to reach under the plump girls body and caress her pleasure bud with her free hand. She was careful to pump slowly at first, knowing Betsy's inexperience, but soon began to pump harder, thrusting the brush deeper into Betsy, rubbing and stroking her clitoris. Betsy pushed her face into the pillow to stifle her cries; the sensations were overwhelming her.
Betsy came quickly, panting, but felt unfulfilled. She wanted more and Mary seemed to understand. 'It's not the same' she told Betsy, 'It's different with a man'.
Wondering how this was going to come about, Betsy drifted off to sleep. Mary, meanwhile, decided to ask Jack for a favour.
The next day, the housekeeper was still all-quiver, giving out orders left and right, and Mary took advantage of the confusion to slip out to the stables to see Jack. He was helping the farrier with the houses-several had thrown shoes and he was good at calming them. She stood at the door, the heat of the place forcing her back and he saw her standing there through the smoke. Outside, she was about to embrace him but thought better of it: others were watching and he was covered in ash and smelt of the fire-it was best not to give the housekeeper clues as to her whereabouts.
They spoke quickly in hushed voices. Jack was surprised at her request, but intrigued. Betsy had seemed like a quiet mouse to him, stumbling around, shrinking into her self. This, if Mary was telling truth, was a whole new side to her. They made plans for Jack to come to the girl's attic rooms. This was dangerous if they were caught, but there was no other place to go. It had to be soon; when the mistress returned with her retinue there would be many more spying eyes around. They decided on that evening. Jack, like the other stable lads, was free of duties after supper. He would wait for them in Mary's room. With that, Mary rushed back to her duties, and Jack to his. His mind began to wander, his cock half stiffening at the thought of what was to come.
After the farrier had finished, Jack took himself off for a bath-the servants bath-house was empty and the water cold, but he didn't mind. Changing into a clean shirt and britches, he went to the house for supper. Casting an eye up the table to where Betsy sat close to Mary, he wondered if she knew what was to happen that night.
He slipped out quickly after supper, forgoing the traditional cup of strong tea with which they ended their meal. With all the other servants occupied downstairs, the house was empty and he had no trouble reaching the small attic room unseen. Curling up on the narrow hard bed, he settled down to wait for the girls.
Later, much later, after Mary and Betsy had helped with the dishes and the silverware, they found him rolled in the blankets, his face relaxed in sleep. Betsy was shocked to see him there-Mary hadn't told her, thinking to surprise her. They spoke quietly so as not to wake him; at first Betsy was hesitant, she wanted to experience this, but she was scared. She knew that Mary was much prettier than she, and that Mary and Jack were lovers. What if Jack didn't want to, or couldn't make love to her? Mary, as always, reassured her, stroking her shoulders and back, caressing her hair. Jack had woken up during their exchange and saw the girls embracing. He watched Mary kiss Betsy, their tongues entwining, and smiled to see Betsy's hands lift slowly to undo Mary's bodice, releasing the breasts on which they had both suckled. Betsy lowered her head and took the stiff peak of Mary's nipple in her mouth, sucking gently. Mary's back arched, thrusting her breast closer to Betsy's face, feeling a sensation tugging in her stomach. Jack could contain himself no longer; with an extravagant yawn that announced he was awake, he sat up in bed and smiled at the girls who had sprung apart, startled.
'Started without me then, girls?' he smiled, and Betsy knew then that this would work out.
Mary decided that this would be Betsy's night-they would concentrate on her pleasure. Undressing her gently, the young couple laid her on the bed. Jack was surprised at the voluptuousness of her body-he had thought her shapeless and bulky, but undressed she was curved and rounded, her breasts full. The two of them began to touch her, working slowly at first until she was writhing under their fingers. They stroked the insides of her arms, the under curves of her breasts, the plump, white thighs, even her feet. Slowly Mary began to concentrate on those areas that she knew gave Betsy the most pleasure-her breasts, her nipples, the side of her neck and her soft, downy stomach. Mary's fingers edged lower and lower and Jack watched, fascinated, as he saw his lover's fingers probing the girl's sex, her fingers dipping and sliding deep between the plump lips.
Using Mary's fingers as a guide, he lowered his mouth, and Betsy felt his tongue on her, flicking at the pleasure nub that Mary had been so skilfully stroking. He knelt between her thighs, naked, and she saw his maleness for the first time, rising from the junction of his thighs, thick and powerful. Mary saw the direction of the girl's gaze, and reached down to take Jack's cock in her hand. 'Feel it. Betsy', she whispered, and guided the other girl's hand. Betsy's fingers curled around the stiff shaft and she could feel soft velvet skin over a core of iron, warm and solid.
'Do you want this inside you?' asked Mary, and Betsy, not trusting her voice, nodded. She lay back on the pillow and parted her thighs. Mary, taking hold of his cock again, guided the bulbous tip to the entrance of Betsy's virgin womb. They could both see the oil-slick glisten of her arousal, and Mary rubbed the head of his cock over the entrance, and up quickly over Betsy's pleasure bud, coating it in the thick juices.
Then he slipped the head inside her. Moving slowly, he eased himself in deeper, gradually pressing in until he was buried deeply inside. Betsy had winced a little, then realised that there was no pain, only an incredible feeling of fullness. Jack leaned over her, taking the weight of his upper body on his arms and began to rock into her. Soon she picked up the rhythm, thrusting back in time, rocking her pelvis against his. Jack lowered his head to nuzzle at her breasts, taking her nipples in his mouth and nibbling gently. He could feel her work-roughened hands pleading on his back, holding him tightly to her.
Mary, kneeling on the floor at the side of the bed watched them intently. She wanted to join in, but knew for this first time, they should move slowly with Betsy. Besides, she was enjoying watching the sight of Jack's powerful cock plundering Betsy' sex, disappearing in side her, and hearing the thrusts of flesh against flesh.
She could hear Betsy's breathing come quicker and quicker, and knew that she was enjoying this. Then she heard Jack groan and saw his buttocks clench. She knew that he was spurting his juices deep into her friend, and that Betsy could feel them hot inside her.
Jack slowed his movements, and rested his head for a moment against Betsy's full bosom, her arms still embracing him. He pulled out slowly from her, and Mary saw the trickle of white seed at the entrance to the girl's sex.
Betsy almost cried out at the sudden feeling of loss, but Mary, who lay alongside her, kissing her cheek, took his place. The two girls smiled at each other-Mary knowing that Betsy know understood why Jack was the man for her, and that no other explanations were needed.
Jack dressed quickly, watching the girls caressing again. He wanted to stay, but couldn't risk being found in the servants quarters. Finding his way back to the stables, he drifted into a contented sleep.