The Kitchen Girl Pt. 03

It was nearly a month later when Gretchen next pulled Lillian aside.

Lillian was concerned at first that Prissy may have finally gone crying to her aunt. It would be a shame, because Lillian was quite enjoying their arrangement; every two or three days, Prissy would come to her--helplessly drawn like a fish on a line, even though Lillian never demanded her presence and never gave Prissy any real hope of reaching the climax she wanted.

Prissy was advancing quite well by then in her training in servicing another girl with her mouth. Sometimes, as a reward, Lillian would hold a single finger just above Prissy's twitching clit and allow Prissy to lift her hips to rub against it. Other times she would fuck Prissy's hungry little hole with one or two fingers--still avoiding that pleasurable spot inside of her that she was quite sure Prissy didn't even know that was there--until Prissy moaned and shuddered.

Most recently, they'd had a close call. Lillian had tied Prissy to the wall and tried tapping away at her clit for a solid five minutes, and Prissy's cries had become louder and louder until she'd made the mistake of exclaiming that she was going to finish, and of course Lillian had stopped and locked her right back up in her belt while Prissy sobbed and yelled and generally carried on.

So when Gretchen came and delicately asked for a moment of Lillian's time, Lillian thought that perhaps the jig was up. But, resolving to remain hopeful, she showed no sign of it. "What is it, Gretchen?"

"Well, it's the matter of Prissy, you know."

"Oh, she's been so much more delightful lately, hasn't she?"

"Course she has! Thanks to you, I'm sure," Gretchen said, winking. "And blushing all the time, she is, too! I won't go asking where you learned to please her so well! But I've had a concern. Y'see, I did see her the other day hanging around the stables."

"The stables?" Lillian asked, then, "oh! She wasn't with Clive, now, was she?"

"I'm afraid so," Gretchen said, nodding gravely. Lillian found herself entirely unsurprised. Clive, the junior stable-hand, was of an age with both Lillian and Prissy, and he was quite handsome, in a stable-hand sort of way. "Now, I just wanted to be sure you haven't gone and...left her unattended in a way that might get her into any trouble."

"Oh, goodness, no, Gretchen. She never leaves my presence save she's securely locked up, I promise you."

"Well, that's fine enough, then." She sighed. "Then there's no harm in her spending time with him, I suppose. Except it was a bit...well. Unseemly."

"Unseemly! What do you mean?"

"Well, when I saw them, Clive did have a hand down her shirt."

Lillian gasped. "Oh! That is very unseemly! And out in the stables, next to the horses! I'll have a discussion with her about her behavior, Gretchen."

"I did hope you might. If anyone might teach her to act more ladylike, I think it'd be a proper lady such as yourself, Miss," Gretchen said, pleased.

"Do you suppose she's out there now?"

"She may be," Gretchen said, nodding, and so Lillian went out to the stable.

She knew Prissy was there before she even stepped inside the building. The wet, visceral sounds of two mouths meeting echoed out, not covered in the least by the occasional snort or stamp of a hoof. Lillian followed the sounds directly to their source, and found Clive sitting on a supply crate, Prissy straddling his lap, her tongue halfway down his throat. Clive did indeed have one hand down her dress, and Prissy's hips were rocking urgently against him, practically humping him like an animal.

"Goodness," Lillian said, and Clive was so startled that he jumped up, tumbling Prissy unceremoniously onto the stable floor.

"Miss Lillian!" Clive stammered. "I, I, were you looking for a horse? I'm sorry--oh, Prissy--" he only then seemed to realize he'd left his sweetheart rolling around in the dust with one tit out, but was too busy holding a hand over the obvious tent in his trousers to reach down to help her. Prissy glared at him, and then at Lillian, her face flushed a bright red.

"No, I was looking for a bitch," Lillian said lightly.

"Eh? Um, we don't keep the dogs here, Miss," Clive said, finally reaching down as if to help Prissy right her dress. She slapped him away. Lillian laughed.

"Never mind. Prissy, I didn't know you had a special liking for Clive."

"What's it to you?" Prissy demanded, reaching into her dress to pick out bits of hay and then brushing the dust off her skirt as she stood.

"Well, we've been practicing so thoroughly for you to be fucked by a boy, but here we have one at hand."

"P-practicing?" Clive yelped.

"You know I can't," Prissy said shortly. "Leave us alone."

"There's only one hole he can put a baby in," Lillian pointed out. "You have two others."

Prissy stared at her, then looked at Clive, who looked liable to faint, before looking back at Lillian. "What do you mean?" she asked, slowly, suspiciously, but warming to the idea, like a dog that was too hungry to remain wary of the hand that fed it.

"Well, I know you haven't much experience, but--out of the goodness of my heart, you understand, and because I'm such a supporter of young love--I can show you two how to use the back door, as they say."

"Disgusting. Why would I want to do that?" Prissy sniffed.

"Because it will feel good. For both of you. If he does it right, you might even..." Lillian trailed off and spun her finger in the air euphemistically, mostly for the sake of Clive, who was still a worrying shade of red.

"You're lying," Prissy demanded.

"I'm not. It's worked for me," Lillian lied. "And most girls I know. You'll need to keep the belt on, of course, or Gretchen will have my head, but--"

"Yes. Yes, let's do it," Prissy said immediately. "Can we do it now?"

"Eager, aren't you? You should stop let boys play with your tits if they can't touch your clit, you'll lose your head," Lillian tittered. "Come on, then. You too, Clive."

She led the two of them inside--Prissy grimly determined, Clive still stunned--and up to her rooms. Once there, she bent Prissy over the bed and lifted her skirt, exposing her skinny little backside, and Clive immediately yelped and turned away. Lillian tsked.

"Clive, come on now."

"No, this isn't--I can't be--my father'd belt me if he knew," Clive stammered incoherently. "We're not even engaged."

"That's not a problem. Prissy's purity is ensured," Lillian said sardonically. "Or don't you know about the belt?"

"I...yes," he finally admitted, but she still had to go grab him and physically turn him.

"And you must know how difficult it makes things for her, don't you?" Lillian asked coaxingly. "How starved she is in those...particular appetites?" He nodded. "And don't you want to help her?"

"I don't know," he said carefully, and Prissy lifted her head to glare over her shoulder at him.

"You had better, Clive, after I let you rub off between my thighs the other day and you got mess all on the inside of my skirt!"

"I said I was sorry!" Clive protested immediately. Prissy kept on glaring at him, and he gave in. "Okay. Yes, I'll do it."

"What a manly sacrifice," Lillian said, smirking. "Here, I'll show you what to do."

She fetched oil from her bedside table, and spread it on her own fingers first, sending Clive to wash his hands in her basin in the meantime. She sat beside Prissy on the bed and pressed one oiled finger between her cheeks and started by just rubbing it back and forth across her exposed little pucker.

"Oh," Prissy said, startled. "That's--strange."

"At first," Lillian agreed. "Tell me when it begins to feel good."

She continued to work the oil in slowly. By the time Clive dried his hands and returned to watch, she was beginning to press her finger in, working just the tip into the tight ring of muscle as Prissy made uncertain sounds.

When she got up to the first knuckle, she pushed the rest of the way in in one smooth motion, and then pressed her finger down firmly, massaging the inside of Prissy's cunt through the thin wall of her rectum.

"Oh!" Prissy gasped. "Oh, yes, Miss, that feels good."

"I told you so," she said, fucking her finger slowly in and out of Prissy, and then adding a second one. "Clive, have you ever fucked a girl here before?"

"No, Miss Lillian. I've never fucked a girl anywhere," Clive admitted. Lillian smiled widely.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do just fine. Here, come take over, your fingers are wider. You need to make certain she's nice and open."

Clive did as commanded, using plenty of the oil Lillian handed him. His technique was clumsy at first, but he soon learned where to rub, until Prissy was melting into the bed, gasping and moaning as she must have felt almost as if her cunt was being filled with his two fat fingers.

"Yes, yes," Prissy moaned, and then, clearly not experienced enough to know she was making a mistake, "please, please, Clive, fuck me!"

Clive looked over at Lillian for permission. Lillian nodded, and he undid his pants quickly, barely taking time to apply oil to his throbbing cock before he pressed into her with a long groan that Prissy matched.

They remained locked together that way for a moment, and Lillian took the time to sit herself against the headboard of her bed, settling in comfortably. Prissy's eyes were closed and her mouth hung open in bliss; Clive's eyes were closed, too, but he was biting his lip hard, like he was already struggling for control.

"Please, please fuck me, Clive," Prissy began to beg after a moment. "Please, you feel so good--oh," she inhaled as he began to thrust, then "no, like you were before, like with your fingers, Clive," she began to plead desperately.

To his credit, Clive appeared to make an attempt. He paused several times, breathing hard and looking more and more pained each time, but Prissy couldn't see his face and clearly hadn't considered at all how his stamina might affect things. When he finally found the correct angle she cried out, "yes! Yes, Clive, like that, yes, please, oh god, just like that, keep going, yes, yes, yes--"

"Sorry," Clive groaned, and then, with one final shove, he shook and spent inside of her.

"I'm so close, no, keep going," Prissy gasped, clearly not realizing at first what was happening. "I'm going to finish, Clive, just keep going--oh, fuck, are you--you didn't--no, no, no!"

"Sorry, Prissy, I'm sorry," the stablehand said miserably. He tried a few more thrusts into her with his softening cock, wincing at the overstimulation, then shook his head and pulled out.

"You're sorry? I was going to come, Clive! I was about to--put your fingers back in me right now!" Prissy demanded.

Clive hesitated, staring down at her, at the seed dribbling out of her clenching anus. "Well...Prissy, it's a bit dirty, isn't it?"

"Dirty? It's the mess you made! You useless--ugh," Prissy growled, and reached back to shove two fingers into her own ass, thrusting vigorously. But of course there was no way to get as good of an angle on her own, and soon her urgent grunting gave way to desperate sobbing. "I hate you! I'm never tossing you off again, you useless cockhead!"

"Oh, now, you don't mean that," Lillian clucked. "I did tell you not to expect too much of boys, didn't I? Maybe you'll be a bit more grateful for my attention now?"

Prissy just sobbed. Lillian shooed Clive from the room--he went willingly, his face clouded with humiliation and a little anger--and wiped the seed from Prissy's thighs and hole. She clucked again when she saw the wet spot on her bed where Prissy's sealed-up crotch rested on the blankets. "You've made such a mess."

"I need to come so badly, Miss Lillian, please," Prissy sobbed. "It burns, it feels like I'm going to die."

"Stop being melodramatic. You're not going to die. Why, I've heard some women in more barbaric nations are locked away until their marriage, and sometimes even afterwards," Lillian said, patting Prissy's thin buttocks in a parody of soothing that made the servant girl's well-used asshole flutter. "And I've never heard of any of those women perishing of their condition."

"Please, please, please," Prissy moaned, and then collapsed into wordless sobs as Lillian continued to hush her and pat her hip.

"No, dear, not now. It'll be so much sweeter when you do, won't it?" Lillian promised.

"You'll never let me. I'll die first," Prissy accused, and Lillian laughed.