Matilda the Maid Ch. 03: First Night

MATILDA AT DYMOCK MANOR

CHAPTER 3: The first night at Dymock Manor

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of activity. Fires were laid for the next day; tables were cleared and linens folded; scraps were collected for the pigs; floors and grates swept. Lamps were filled, polished, lit or snuffed. They were called to clear the supper things, and Matilda felt a jolt of excitement - but the Master had already departed, leaving the remains of a joint of venison on the great dining table. His plate was empty, as was his goblet, though Matilda could see the imprint of his wine-stained lips on the rim. She had an overwhelming urge to put her own lips to the same spot, to taste him there, but the watchful eye of Mrs Smyth discouraged her.

The great kitchen was cleared and cleaned; there seemed to be a never-ending line of pots, pans, crockery and cutlery to be washed, rinsed and dried, before the worktops were washed down and the floor swept and mopped. Matilda worked mostly with Chloe, sometimes with Sally and Nancy, under the watchful eye of Mrs Smyth who patrolled and tutted at them. Matilda was exhausted, hungry and thirsty after her trying day. She did her best to concentrate and do as she was bidden - but her exhaustion got the better of her. As she reached for a kitchen ladle with her drying cloth, it caught the edge of the burn on her finger, and slipped from her grasp, falling with a clatter to the tiled floor. Mrs Smyth was upon her in an instant.

"Clumsy girl!" she snapped. "We'll not have butterfingers in this household. You will treat the Master's things with respect and care, my girl. Give me your hand."

Petrified, Matilda extended her right hand. Mrs Smyth gripped her wrist and turned it palm upwards.

"Now, hold still and count these out. I want a "thank you Ma'am" for each stroke." With that, without warning, Mrs Smyth brought her leather riding crop down on the palm of Matilda's outstretched hand with a crack. Pain shot through her body, and tears started in her eyes, as she cried out. There was a moment of absolute silence in the room, as though time had frozen. Matilda could feel Chloe, Sally and Nancy's eyes on her from the other side of the kitchen; she felt wretched and humiliated. What must they think of her? But Mrs Smyth held her in her vicious gaze, crop poised, waiting. Waiting for what? Suddenly, Matilda's brain clicked over, and registered the instruction.

"O-one, th-thank you Ma'am," she gasped.

With a tiny nod of satisfaction, Mrs Smyth brought the crop down again, even harder this time. The leather whistled in the air, and smacked against Matilda's sensitive palm. Pain sizzled up her arm as a fresh red stripe flourished across the delicate white skin. Matilda sucked in a breath and blinked at the tears in her eyes.

"Two, thank you Ma'am."

SMACK! Went the crop again.

"Three, thank you Ma'am."

SMACK!

"Four, thank you Ma'am."

Mrs Smyth lashed at Matilda's palm for ten punishing strokes. At the final stroke, her hand was covered in red weals, and tears were openly pouring down her cheeks.

"Ten, thank you Ma'am," she choked.

"Let that be a lesson to you, girl. You do as you are bid and you do it right, or you face the consequences. Now, back to work and quick about it."

It was nearly midnight when Matilda, Chloe, Sally and Nancy were finally finished. They took a tin mug of water and a sparse meal of bread and cheese between them in the servants' kitchen, before making their way up the backstairs to the attic where they were to sleep. This was nothing like the grand staircase leading up from the main hallway. The servants' stairs were thin, rickety and winding; Matilda's tired legs could barely carry her up them. She cradled her sore hand to her chest, gripping the splintery bannister with her left.

The stairs ended in the eaves of the house, under the sloping rafters, on a bare landing. Nancy and Sally disappeared through a small hatch to the left; Chloe led Matilda through a similar opening on the right into a tiny space under the roof. There was one chair, a small washing bowl and a chamber pot, and a single mattress stuffed with straw and covered in a few rough blankets.

"Come on, let's get to bed," said Chloe. "I'll be glad of the warmth. It's been mightily cold in here on my own." As she spoke, she unlaced her apron and shrugged her maid's dress off her shoulders, revealing her naked body beneath. Her shoulders were freckled, and the freckles continued down her chest to her small, round breasts and lean stomach. A small tuft of hair bristled between her legs. Matilda was frozen to the spot; Chloe was beautiful. She didn't know where to look. And then, suddenly, the naked girl was right there, unlacing her apron and easing her dress down her body. She felt Chloe's hands brush over the skin of her back, tracing their path down to her hips, where she eased the dress off and on to the floor. Standing so close, she felt the pressure of Chloe's small breasts, pressed against her own. She couldn't catch her breath; her head span with the sensations rushing through her.

And then Chloe moved down, crouching before her. Her hands traced down the curve of her hips and thighs, down to her ankles. She could feel her breath on her tummy, as her gentle hands eased her to step out of the fallen dress, which Chloe neatly laid out on the seat of the chair. Then, turning back, Chloe took Matilda's burning, red-palmed, newly cropped hands into hers. She looked up from the floor, her big green eyes locking with Matilda's.

"Shall I kiss it better?" she said. Without waiting for a reply, and without breaking eye contact, she lifted Matilda's welted palm to her mouth and soothed it with soft, gentle kisses. Matilda's breath was coming in panting gasps now; she was unable to tear her eyes away from her companion as her slick, pink tongue pushed out from between her sweet lips and licked the length of the red stripes left by Mrs Smyth's crop. All the pain was forgotten as ripples of pleasure bounded back from her hands into her very centre; involuntarily, she squeezed her thighs together. Her whole body shuddered and her eyes rolled back in her head.

The next thing she felt was Chloe's arms around her waist as she gently guided Matilda down onto the rough straw mattress. The bedding prickled, and the rough blankets were coarse on the girls' skin as Chloe drew them over them both. She laid her arm over Matilda as she laid her head on the pillow, her face just inches away, her green eyes soft in the half-light of the candle. Matilda felt the warmth of the other girl's body pressed against her, warming her skin. She felt a leg looped over her own, the swell of her breast pressed against hers; she was acutely aware of her tight tummy warming the tiny sliver of air that separated them.

"How are you feeling, Matilda? What do you need?" whispered Chloe. Her words sent prickles rippling down her spine.

"I feel..." Matilda hesitated. She didn't have the words. But her body, as though it realised she couldn't describe what she needed, took over in the moment. Her hips pushed towards Chloe, grinding her aching mound against the other girl, closing her eyes to focus on the feelings shooting through her body. She felt, rather than saw, Chloe moving closer, and then their lips met, and Chloe's hot, wet tongue pushed into her mouth.

Instinct took over, as Matilda's own tongue licked around Chloe's. Her sore, welted hand stroked through Chloe's ringleted hair, pulling her head in, as though to fuse them together. Like a fiery meteor descending from the sky, Chloe's hand traced from Matilda's shoulder, down her side, onto her hip, and pushed insistently between them. She eased Matilda down onto her back, and, with gentle pressure, pushed her legs apart. Her hand pressed down onto her soft, aching, needy mound and hesitated for just a moment. The world stood still for Matilda. And then, with a burst of stars behind her eyelids, Chloe pushed her finger inside.

She met no resistance from Matilda's soaking pussy. Her fingers probed inside, shooting pleasure through the other girl. Her thumb reached for her clit, and circling and flicking with all the experience that Matilda lacked, causing her back to arch and a moan to escape her lips. Chloe settled her hand into a quick rhythm, her finger pushing inside Matilda whilst her thumb circled her clit. Matilda gripped onto Chloe like a liferaft in a storm, crushing the girl into her body, her lips fastened onto her neck as breaths shuddered in and out, in and out. And then, in a crashing wave of pleasure, her climax took her. Her thighs clamped down on Chloe's hand, her body rigid in ecstasy as though she burned with starlight from every pore, exploding behind her eyelids and through every fibre of her being.

Afterwards, she lay curled against Chloe, regaining her breath, their perspiration drying on their skin as Chloe kissed the top of her head.

Matilda closed her eyes. It had been a difficult day, but it had ended very well indeed. Perhaps she might even be happy here.

"Welcome to Dymock Manor," Chloe said gently.