The Kitchen Girl Pt. 01

Lillian, being the nineteen-year-old daughter of a Duke, rarely took interest in the staff of her father's house. However, the summer of 1859, one new face did catch her attention: a girl of an age with her who began working in the kitchen.

Well, to be very honest, it wasn't the girl's face--plain and often sour as it was--that caught her attention. It was the odd hard lines that stood out around her waist, as if she was wearing some very specific sort of undergarment under her dresses. Lillian became so curious about it that she eventually cornered the head cook, Gretchen, to ask.

"Gretchen, just who is that new girl you've got working with you?"

"Oh, you must mean Priscilla. We call her Prissy," the round older woman said, scowling. "My niece. Not caused any trouble, has she, Miss Lillian?"

"No, no, of course not. I was just wondering--well, perhaps this is a delicate matter, but I swear it looks as if she's wearing..." Lillian glanced around, despite knowing full well they were alone, and mimed a triangle over her thighs. Gretchen laughed a deep belly laugh.

"Aye, she's wearing a belt. Her parents sent her here to keep her out of trouble--caught her with a boy, you know--and I wasn't taking no chances. Not like I can keep my eye on her every minute of the day. Heaven knows where she even is right now."

"Goodness," Lillian said, widening her eyes. "And she wears it all the time?"

"I take it off for her when we take our baths," Gretchen said, shrugging, as if it was no matter to her that Prissy was locked away from her privates except during the bathing time she shared with her own aunt. "I suppose it's a bit of a hardship on the girl. I've told her before she can ask me if she wants a bit of time with it off, alone, y'know, but she never does."

"Hmm. I suppose I wouldn't be very comfortable asking my own aunt for such a thing," Lillian said. "Don't you suppose she might be more comfortable discussing those...needs with someone else? A girl her own age, perhaps?"

"Ain't any other girls her own age around," Gretchen pointed out. "Save you, of course, Miss Lillian, and I wouldn't dream of having her bother you with such things."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind at all!" Lillian said immediately. "I mean, if you would trust me with that, Gretchen."

"Hmm," Gretchen said, finally looking up from her soup and eyeing Lillian with consideration. "Truly? You wouldn't mind? You think she's pretty, is that it?" Lillian just smiled bashfully, and Gretchen snorted. "Well, there's no harm in it. I had a few special friends of my own at your age, and it's not as if you can get her in the family way. It might improve her disposition, anyway." She fished the key out of her pocket and handed it over to Lillian. "Here. I'll let her know that she's to go to you from now on, if you don't mind reminding her to wash up down there regularly when she's got it off."

"Oh, absolutely. Thank you, Gretchen."

After that, it was only a matter of waiting.

It was nearly a week, in fact, before Lillian heard any more on the matter, but she wasn't surprised; she'd barely said two words to Prissy, and the girl was likely alarmed by the entire proposal. But finally--shortly after bathing day, and perhaps on Gretchen's insistence--the sour-faced girl came knocking at Lillian's rooms after dinner.

Lillian called for her to come in, and smiled widely when Prissy opened the door. "Priscilla! Prissy? What do you prefer? Oh, do come in, let's talk."

Prissy frowned and took a few tentative steps into Lillian's sitting room, then jumped when the door swung shut behind her. One of her arms was folded over her stomach and the other fiddled at her waist, thumb tracing over the hard line of the chastity belt locked around her waist. "Prissy is fine. Miss Lillian, I'm not sure--"

"Don't be silly," Lillian said immediately. "I know your, shall we say, feminine parts must be simply gasping for a bit of air by now, and we both know that asking one's aunt for permission to touch oneself is not exactly conducive to a good time."

A flush rose in the girl's cheeks as she gaped at Lillian, looking more stunned than outraged. Lillian took advantage of her shock and stood up, grabbing Prissy by the arm and pulling her further into the room, chattering as she went.

"Come on now. Of course, it wouldn't be much fun for me to just unlock you and leave you about your business, but I've thought of just the thing. Look here." She drew the girl through a door and into her bedroom, to a space of wall under a hook that had once held a hanging candle fixture of some weight. "Stand right there. That's a dear."

She hurried over to her dresser, kicking shut her bedroom door as she went, and retrieved a bit of rope that she'd secured for just such an occasion. When she went back to Prissy with the rope and began to tie it around one of her wrists, Prissy tried to draw away with a startled, "hey!"

"Now, Prissy," Lillian tutted, though she did pause. "Listen. I know this might seem frightening, but I think you and I will have some fantastic fun together."

"What sort of fun?" Prissy demanded warily, her undecorated face screwed up in suspicion.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious. That boy your parents caught you with--yes, Gretchen told me all about it--did you never let him touch you between your legs?" Lillian asked. Prissy shook her head, but she flushed deeply and bit her lip in a very telling way that had Lillian laughing. "Oh, but I suppose you wanted him to, hmm? Well, let me tell you, most boys aren't very good at it, but I've got a great deal of experience myself, you know." She winked. "You'll love having my hands on you, I promise."

Prissy considered this for a long moment, shifting her weight. Lillian could see it was getting to her, and no wonder; surely after so long without being able to take care of herself, it must be difficult for Prissy to think clearly when presented with the idea of someone else giving her a good rub-down. Lillian was relying on it.

"What's the rope for?" Prissy demanded finally.

"To keep your hands restrained, of course. I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, Prissy. I want to take my time with you, and I don't want you reacting out of impatience." Lillian gave the nervous girl a polished, sweet smile. "It'll be worth your while, I promise you." To emphasize her point, she reached down the front of her own dress and pulled out the key from where she'd tucked it away.

Prissy stared at the key--and a bit at Lillian's cleavage behind the frothy lace collar of the dress, perhaps--and then, finally, she nodded. "Okay. But nothing--nothing funny, or I'll tell Aunt Gretchen."

"Funny! Goodness, I would never!" Lillian lied, and returned to tying Prissy's wrists, now with the girl's cooperation. Then she looped the rope up over the hook, so that Prissy's hands were held above her head, which immediately brought a look of alarm to the girl's face, but it was too late for her to change her mind now. Lillian smiled broadly.

"There. Look at you. All wrapped up like a present, hmm?" she said, mostly to herself. Prissy opened her mouth as if to say something, but Lillian stepped forward and grabbed a handful of the girl's plain gingham dress and began to hike it up, and whatever words she had been working on became just a startled squeak as her legs were exposed. Lillian continued to roll the dress up, tucking it into the ribbon that held it cinched around Prissy's waist, until she exposed the girl's thighs and then the gleaming metal and leather contraption locked around her hips.

"And there it is," Lillian said, crouching down to get a look. It was a very simple construction; a leather belt hooked around the poor girl's hips held it in place, and the cup itself was made of a metal mesh, allowing urine to pass through but allowing nothing inside. Lillian poked and prodded at it a bit, tested to see if she could fit a finger underneath--Prissy sucked in a quick breath as Lillian's fingers felt around her stomach, her thighs--but it had been fitted quite securely. "What a devil of a thing, hmm? No wonder you're always frowning. I'd be inconsolable if someone locked me in this," Lillian said brightly. "Ah, here's where the key fits."

She unlocked the belt and pulled it away, and immediately the smell of feminine arousal and sweat became more prominent. Lillian wrinkled her nose in delight and looked up at Prissy, who was fully flushed now, looking away in abject mortification. Her nethers were damp, likely permanently so.

"Oh, come on now," Lillian coaxed, standing to place the belt aside. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Anyone would be in such a state. Your poor little treasure."

Prissy locked her knees together in an attempt to hide said treasure, and then let out an involuntary gasp at just the stimulation of her thighs rubbing against a place so long untouched. Lillian chuckled and grabbed one of her legs, tugging.

"Come on now. None of that, or I'll have to tie your ankles, too."

"Miss," Prissy said, her voice shaking a bit now. "I don't know if--ahh!"

Her words were interrupted as Lillian trailed a hand up the inside of her damp thigh, stopping just short of her sopping crotch. The girl's eyes fell shut and her hips lurched as her body tried to meet Lillian's tantalizingly close hand, seeking the pleasure it had been denied for so many months now.

"You don't know if what?" Lillian asked innocently. "You don't know if you want me touching your needy little cunt?"

"Miss!" Prissy gasped, perhaps at her language, or perhaps because Lillian crept her hand a bit higher, pressing a finger into the cleft between the servant girl's thigh and the mound of her girlhood. Her hips shifted again in little hitching movements, clearly outside of her control, as she turned her face away again in embarrassment.

"Of course you want to be touched. Look at how much," Lillian said, moving her hand up--totally avoiding Prissy's genitals--and placing a hand flat below her bellybutton. Prissy gasped again, her stomach twitching inwards ticklishly, and bowed her legs a bit. "You're practically in heat, silly girl. Now stop complaining and let me take care of you, hmm? Spread."

It took a bit more tugging, but finally Lillian convinced Prissy to spread her legs and keep them spread, far enough that the girl had to go up on her toes a bit to keep from pulling too hard on her wrists. The pose, though, was beautiful; it spread the thick outer lips of her cunny, exposing the flushed, wet flesh of her sex.

Lillian rewarded her obedience by reaching down and trailing two fingers slowly through the silky folds, drawing a stuttering whine from the needy servant girl. She stopped with her fingers pressed just at the base of Prissy's clit--it was so easy to find, already stood hard as a little pebble--and felt it twitch rapidly, almost in the way a boy's cock did.

"Oh, yes," Lillian murmured. "You can complain all you like, Prissy, but we can both see that you want me to keep touching you, don't you?" Prissy shook her head, so Lillian moved her fingers in a slow little circle just below the girl's taut clit. "Say it, Prissy. Say you want me to keep touching you. Or else we can put the belt back on, I suppose, and try another day."

"No, no," Prissy gasped immediately. "I do--I want you to keep touching me, miss. Please."

"Good girl," Lillian said, delighted, and dragged her fingers up to circle the plump little clit instead, brushing over and around it until Prissy was sobbing and rocking her hips. "That's it. This feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Please, miss, please," Prissy begged.

"Please what?" Lillian asked, rubbing up and down along the clit now, jerking it with one finger as if it were a tiny little cock.

"Please. I need--I need to finish. I need it so badly."

"You can finish any time you like. I'm not stopping you," Lillian said, lying again. She moved her fingers further back as she said it, circling and rubbing across Prissy's virgin hole and feeling it clench and flutter against her. Prissy sobbed and tried to grind down against her, thighs trembling from holding her position. "In fact, I'm surprised you haven't gone off already. From what your aunt said, I thought you hadn't had anything touching you down here in months." Prissy nodded in miserable agreement. "So go on, then. You can come."

"I can't. Not like this."

"What? Standing up, you mean?" Lillian asked, as if it hadn't occurred to her, as if she wasn't fully aware herself of how difficult it was to get off while standing. "Well, Prissy, I don't think you're much in a position to be choosy. I want to see you finish like this."

"I can't, I can't! Please, Miss, I need it," Prissy begged, and then moaned lowly as Lillian pressed a finger flat up between the folds of her sex, puffy and hot with arousal as they were.

"Well, if you need it, so badly, I think you'll find a way," Lillian said. "Unless you'd like to give up? I can put the belt back on?" Prissy immediately shook her head. "No? Then stop the ungrateful whining and simply do your best."

Prissy let out another sob of tortured pleasure as Lillian pulled her finger up and dragged it across her clit again. Then Lillian left the girl's sex alone for a bit to explore the upper parts of her body instead, pulling down her dress to expose her pert little nipples, tweaking and mouthing at them as Prissy moaned and shuddered.

When Lillian went back to the girl's weeping cunt, she was careful to keep her touches light and focused, bouncing from the girl's clit to her hole and to the areas in between, giving each spot only a bit of stimulation before moving on. In this way, she kept Prissy riding the tide of pleasure for almost fifteen minutes without cresting, until Prissy was nothing more than a moaning, grinding animal, her cunny clenching feverishly and begging for every scrap of Lillian's attention that it could get.

Finally, Prissy became too tired to hold her position, her thighs coming inward again despite her obviously wishing otherwise. Lillian tsked and stepped back, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe her sopping wet hand clean.

"I guess you're right. You just aren't capable."

"Ohh, miss, please," Prissy moaned. She was the very picture of a mess, clear fluids running down the inside of her thighs as her exposed sex fluttered in the open air, her legs flexing helplessly as she tried in vain to keep them spread. "I'm so, so close. I need it so badly."

"Oh, I know you do. Don't worry, you'll have plenty more chances," Lillian assured her. "For now, let's get you cleaned up." She grabbed another handkerchief and wet it in her washbasin, and then used it to clinically wipe away the evidence of her play, as best she could when Prissy's body continued to leak like a faucet. The fabric was a little too rough and made Prissy groan in confusion, trying to pull away even as it clearly brought her closer to that murky edge, but Lillian was careful and only touched as she needed to.

She wiped the belt down next. As she stepped forward to fit it back into place, Prissy's face crumpled.

"Miss, please, no, we can keep trying? We can--can't I please lay down instead, or sit? It would be so much easier."

"I know it would, Prissy. I told you, I want to see you finish like this."

"But why?" Prissy wailed, her eyes filling with tears.

"Because I've never seen it before, that's all. I'm curious." She locked the belt back into place and tugged Prissy's dress back into place, and then untied her wrists. Prissy sniffled.

"Suppose I tell Aunt Gretchen," she said finally, as if testing the idea.

"You want to go crying to your aunt? 'Auntie, auntie, Miss Lillian didn't rub my greedy little cunt hard enough and I couldn't finish?'" Lillian taunted. "You could, if you're such a baby. I suppose she would take the key back and you could go and ask her for it, and every time you touch yourself in that dirty little pantry or wherever you servants go, you know your aunt is thinking of what an insatiable slut you are. Or you can keep coming to me, and maybe next time, you'll have the best orgasm of your life."

Prissy stared at her with wide, shocked eyes, and then pushed past her to run from the room, crying.

Lillian let her go. She knew the girl would be back.