The Ducal Pet

She vaguely heard Melissande stand up and ring for the footman. Two of them came in this time. They lifted her up and half-carried, half-led her up the stairs between them. She recognized one of them from earlier, but the other was a stranger. She couldn't help them, could scarcely move her limbs, but she was so grateful to be going back to her room.

She saw the door to her room, but at the last moment they swept her into an alcove.

"What is it?" she mumbled.

They didn't answer, but they didn't need to. Not when their hands pinched and groped at her body over the thin shift and they pushed her to her knees.

"No," she moaned. She didn't belong to them. She wasn't either of their sweet little bitch. That didn't matter when they undid the placket of their white footmen's pantaloons and released thick, pungent cocks in her face.

"No," she cried, louder. Somehow she knew that the duke did not want this, which suddenly seemed to matter a great deal more than the fact that she did not want this. She didn't want any of this. She struggled to stand, but her mind was still disoriented from earlier and her body was too sluggish to stand a chance against two strong, strapping young men.

One of them stood behind her, held her wrists above her head with one hand and pinched her nose with the other. She opened her mouth to suck in a breath and the bitter taste of a cock filled her nose, and the soft skin slid deep into her mouth. She continued to struggle, but it was only a token. She was too terrified to bite down on the skin in her mouth as Melissande had bitten her. Perhaps she was wrong, after all. Maybe the duke did allow the household to use his slaves.

The first footman finished with a thick wad on her tongue. The one holding her pushed her over and pinched her bottom. "Aw, this would be sweet," was whispered roughly.

"Maybe when His Grace has taken her there, but for now you've got to stick with her mouth."

The one holding her sighed, aggrieved, but he allowed her to sit up before shoving his own cock inside her mouth. He came quickly, it seemed, or perhaps Claire had blacked out for a spell. When he finished, they both dragged her up between them just as they'd started.

"You tell no one about this, girlie," the first one said, confirming her suspicions.

The other footman snickered. "If you do, we'll give you to the old gamekeeper. He'll keep you tied up for a month in the old hunting shed before he chops you up and sends the meat to the cook." He laughed when Claire shuddered in his arms.

They dragged her the few short feet to her room, where one of the housemaids from earlier was just leaving. She averted her eyes from Claire, and the two footmen threw her inside and locked the door. From the ground, a savory smell drew her attention. She looked up and took in the room.

A fresh fire burned in the grate, a tub filled with water sent steam wafting into the air, and a plate of warm roast beef, vegetables and fresh bread sat on the table. It was the most wondrous, luxurious sight she'd ever seen, and all she could do was cry.