They Always Wait

Oooh, Samael! You made a mistake! Ardat gloated as she rode me towards another spunking. I will remember to mark it down, in order to celebrate your imperfection!

Gloat, bitch, Agrat rejoined. You are the one who claimed that Bruce and Aspis would be more than adequate protection for our Rods of Power. And now look what's happened! They've gone missing and I will bet you a millennium of Mammon up your ass that the person who has them is the one up your cunt and also wearing the amulet.

Oooh, up my ass... Ardat mused. What a wonderful idea! She shifted off me only long enough to plunge my axe up her bum. You know, we should probably give Billy Boy here a good bumfucking...

And who has our Rods, again? Agrat answered, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. It would register with me later that I had come by some very potent items relating to these two. For now, though, I found myself spoofing up Ardat's backdoor. And she kept it going like that. They kept it going like that. Cumming in them and on them and all over myself and the bed, again and again and again...

I did, eventually, pass out.

* * * * *

[Saturday]

That damned bird woke me again, but only for a bit. I was so fuzzy-headed and exhausted from my "dream" that I barely managed to limp to the bathroom, take care of business, splash some cold water on my face and limp back to bed. There was still wine in the bottle, so I poured a glass and swilled it down, hoping it would alleviate some of my discomfort. Then I lay back and fell asleep. To sleep, perchance to dream... except the only dreams I had were snippets of the night before and they were more erotically stimulating than terrifying.

I completely forgot about Abigail...

"Oh, my! Mr. Fitzgerald!"

I woke with a start to realize several things. To start, Abigail was standing in the doorway to the bedroom with a breakfast tray and a surprised -- maybe horrified -- look. I, on the other hand, was sprawled out on my back, uncovered and naked, amid the mess of bedding left from the night before. I was also painfully erect, from the snippets. I grabbed the sticky sheets and tried to cover up.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry, Abigail!" I told her as she stood there watching. "I forgot you'd be here this morning... really. I'm not usually this informal..." It was inane rambling, but it was what was coming out of my mouth. I realized there was a slight blush starting up her neck.

"Why don't you put the tray over there, on that table, and I'll catch up with you downstairs, after I've gotten cleaned up a bit?" I suggested. She was still giving me an odd look as she did as I directed. I noticed she definitely had a slight blush, probably embarrassment, and her breathing was a bit shallow. She truly was a pretty girl, and I also noticed that despite her utilitarian smock, a couple of her blessings were quite prominent, especially the little buttons standing rather proud. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.

"I wasn't sure what you might want for breakfast, sir," she tried to explain as she set the tray down and backed away. "So I tried to remember what you liked at the inn. Anything you don't want, just leave and I'll take care of it. I'll be down in the kitchen cleaning up, when you want me, sir." She eased out of the doorway and out of my sight, but not before my lecherous mind noted the exciting curve of her fine derrière. I think the succubae were starting to get to me.

My erection had not gone down, even though covered up. It may have been its prominence through the sheet that had discomfited her. Regardless, I slid out of the wreck of linens and waddled to the bath, taking a very cold shower and dressing in casuals before snacking on the breakfast she'd brought and then going down to meet my new housekeeper. I found her in the kitchen, doing as she said she'd be doing... cleaning up. Walking up behind her, I realized I was getting excited by her very fine arse. This would just not do.

"Good morning, Abigail," I greeted her as I moved to the kitchen table and sat, putting the breakfast tray I'd brought down with me on the table across from me. "A very good breakfast, thank you. Much better to find when waking up than I'm used to, especially since I've been my own cook. How are you doing?"

"I'd say it was a better waking up, too," she sort of mumbled to herself before telling me, "I'm doing well, Mr. Fitzgerald, sir. Breakfast is about cleaned up and I've started a list of groceries and sundries that I'll be wanting. The iceman is going to take some breaking in, though. He just left your order on the back step. I'll be wanting to give him access to the cold-storage, with your permission, sir. That ice is a might heavy to be moving around. I'll be starting on the cleaning and such as soon as you and I have discussed what kind of lunch you'd like and what kind of menu in general you'd prefer."

She was definitely in her business mode and I certainly respected that.

"Of course, Abigail, you can arrange the deliveries as you like. I've left the coal chute unlocked, but if you'd like the key to that, you certainly can have it. In fact, somewhere around here is a set of housekeeper's keys that Mrs. Wearing left behind. I'll find them and give them to you. I still haven't made the rounds to my tenants to finish organizing deliveries of firewood, dairy, produce and so forth. You are welcome to come with me if you would like to have your opinions taken into account. I am, truthfully, looking to you to rather run the place for me."

"Well, sir, I could use some orientation to the house, if you would. I found the kitchen and the bedroom you were using mostly by trial and error." She paused for a moment, and there was that slight flush again, probably from remembering earlier this morning. I had a pretty good idea about what was being remembered. "I'll need to know where the laundry facilities are, and so forth. I don't know if you want me being out of sight, out of mind, but if you do, I'll need to know about any servants' passages you want me to use."

And so it went. We settled into a polite banter about what she would need and how I would provide it. I was truly enjoying her company. She was bright and cheerful, with a slightly irreverent sense of humor, and yet businesslike as needed. She was also a damned good cook. I'd find out later that the rest of her domestic skills were top-rate, too.

Before remembering that she'd be there all day, I had thought I would investigate the "new" hidden rooms, XI and XIII. Now I decided I'd better wait until after she'd left for the evening. The storm outside was still drizzling on and off, but it wasn't horrible, so I thought I might try visiting some of my other tenants. I did need to see about arranging deliveries. It turned out that Abigail wanted to accompany me.

When queried about how she'd come out to the estate, it turned out that she'd ridden. That was going to simplify things, since I had no clue how to set up the Surrey cart that I'd found was in the barn. We met by the side door that let out towards the barn. She had changed into a riding habit which included jodhpurs, tall boots and a thick cotton shirt. Not thick enough to conceal her womanly charms, though. Over her arm was a long duster like mine and she, too, held a wide-brimmed slouch hat.

"I see you are an accomplished equestrian," I smiled as I complimented her, "and well-prepared for the weather. Is that American?" I was noticing her duster wasn't the same waxed cotton as mine.

"No, sir," she told me. "My brother sent me this from Australia, for my 18^th birthday. He said if I was going to ride like a boy, I might as well be protected properly. He said English weather was a lot wetter than his part of the Down Under."

"Where is his part of the Down Under?" I asked, admittedly curious.

"Somewhere around Perth, I think," she told me. "His regiment of Royal Engineers was sent there after the War to work on bridges and such. He left in '19 and hasn't been home since. I do miss him, even though he writes and sometimes sends presents. And thank you for the compliment, sir. It's not that I'm competitive... it's just that I think I can do pretty much what a man can do."

"Grew up a tomboy, did you?" I smiled. Impure thoughts about what that kind of athleticism could mean were dancing around the edges of my mind.

"I suppose that's what everyone called it," she answered forthrightly. "I just called it being me."

"Then shall we be away on our business?" I asked, keeping it light. I realized I may have come close to insulting her. "I would like to take care of at least the dairy and some of the produce deliveries today."

"Right, sir," she agreed as she slipped on her duster and hat. Then she picked up saddlebags I hadn't seen by the door and informed me she'd packed a lunch.

Thank goodness, I thought. Has to be better than whatever I would have done. We set out to the barn where she helped me saddle Bonnie, while tending to her own gelding, Cranky. I asked her wherever had he gotten that name and she just laughed a bit before she told me.

"After he was gelded, if you would believe," she smiled. "I think he resented it terribly. Was right nasty to handle and several of the wranglers were for putting him down. But he was always right about me, so I asked if I could buy him and they gave him to me with a 'good riddance' to go. He's been mine for almost four years now. He doesn't lash out at men anymore."

I was glad to hear that, being one of the aforementioned men. We got mounted up and rode out, the weather taking a break from the drizzle and just being a bit windy. The roads were muck, though. At least the horses didn't seem to have as bad a time as I would have, trying to slog through it.

In that way, we were able to visit two of my dairymen, the Hendersons and the Nortons, and I was able to introduce myself as the new owner and Abigail as my new housekeeper. Not surprisingly, they all knew Abby, as they called her, and asked after her parents and the Inn and such. I was feeling a bit on the outside, but it turned out well. "Abby" got her deals made and all quite fair to the farmers and to the estate. We then broke for lunch at a small hay barn along our way to another of the farms.

We let the horses graze as we eased out of our dusters and she began spreading out lunch.

"You have an amazing seat," I told her, then realized my faux pas as she looked around behind her at the jodhpurs.

"Quite forthright, aren't you, Mr. Fitzgerald?" she asked as she turned back to setting out lunch.

"I meant, when you ride," I hurried to explain. She sat quite well in the saddle, as if born to it. "Your carriage is very easy."

"Oh," is all she said. Then added, "too bad." She went on before I could respond. "I've got a basic ploughman's lunch here, sir, with some ham and apples. I'll be able to do better once I've gotten a shopping in and some time to prepare. Oh, and I wasn't sure about your drinking habits, sir, so I've got both teamonade and beer, or there's water."

"What is teamonade?" I asked. I seriously didn't know. There was a reason, it turned out.

"A funny name my Mum made up for half tea, half lemonade," she told me. "We serve it at the Inn. It's best cold, or with ice, but warm is alright, too."

"Well, I'm more of a wine or spirits fellow," I told her, "rather than beer, so I'd love to try some of your teamonade." We sat and ate, wrapped in our various thoughts, until we'd done a fair job of demolishing the vittles. I kept having to push away the thoughts about how much fun she might be, a tomboy in bed.

"If you could go get the horses, sir," she interrupted my thoughts, "I'll get this cleaned up and we can be on our way." Not one to argue, I went and did as she directed and it wasn't long before we were on our way to the next of two more farms I wanted to visit... the Chatsworths and the Bellinghams. Again, I should not have been surprised that everyone knew "Abby."

As before, we made introductions and she made arrangements for produce deliveries, including fresh fruits when available, from the Bellinghams. We had actually concluded our business and were on our way back in the late afternoon when the squall came up. We were both battered and bedraggled by the time we got Bonnie and Cranky in the barn and ourselves into the house.

"I haven't explored the entire house, to see where we're at, but Mr. Lancaster and Mrs. Weathering helped me set most of it to rights," I told her, "so any of the bathrooms should have hot water for a shower if you'd like. We don't have to be in a hurry for dinner, although I want to get out of these wet clothes and rest a bit. Feel free to do what you need to do to take care of yourself. I'll be fine."

"Dinner is still in the oven, sir," she told me as she stood there looking like a drowned cat. "And your room isn't fit for man nor beast. You go ahead and get your shower and I'll get your room straightened up. Then you can change and relax. Dinner will be ready anytime after six."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to point out she had to be as cold and miserable as I was. Actually, I wanted to haul her off to the shower with me... I knew where those thoughts were coming from. What I did, though, was what I always did. I acquiesced.

"As you wish, Abby..." I made sure to emphasize the familiar. "I can go get warmed up and changed, but you really need to do something about drying off before you catch your death of cold."

"I will, sir, I promise," she told me, then turned to hang up her duster and pick up her haversack, which I presumed had her dry clothes in it. With a bit of a sigh, I headed for my bedroom. When I got there, and got a good look at it, I realized she was right. It was a wreck. I wondered if demons ever cleaned up after themselves.

I stripped off my wet clothes and left them in a pile as I went into the bath and began the shower running. It took a bit for the hot water to make it to the room. I took a look at myself in the mirror while I waited and realized I really didn't look that bad, for a man in his mid-20s. I was of average height, a medium build, not muscular but not scrawny, either. I didn't realize I hadn't been shaving until I saw the start of a beard and moustache. I thought to shave it off, but then decided to let it go. It was finally full enough that it might look good, properly groomed.

I heard Abby moving around in the bedroom about the same time the hot water made its appearance, so I stepped into that ancient claw-foot tub and drew the curtain. The heat splashing over my head, face and shoulders felt marvelous and I let it warm me. I was about to take off the amulet, to start washing up, when I realized that might not be such a good idea, so I began soaping with it on.

I'd been at it maybe ten minutes when I heard Abby's voice from nearby.

"Sir? Are you easily embarrassed?" I had no idea why she'd be asking... unless it was voluminous amount of spunk all over my linens.

"Um... no, not really," I answered from the shower.

"Because if you don't mind, sir, I'd like to get in there with you for a few moments, for a quick warm up and wash off. You see, sir," she hurried on before I could recover my surprise, "at the inn we only have one bath and the family is always sharing it especially when we're in a hurry and nobody minds anybody else's body and I'd rather not mess up another room that I'm just going to have to clean and I know you're the Lord of the manor and I'm only a servant, but I thought if it wouldn't embarrass you..."

"YES!" I had to interrupt. Her mouth had taken off like a prize filly at the derby. "Yes, you can join me, if you wish." She pulled the curtain back and stepped in, bare as the day she was born. I stepped back to let her move into the stream of hot water. And to turn and hide my... amazement.

Perfect. Bloody perfect. The succubae may have been perfect, but they were the stuff of dreams. This girl... this woman... was real flesh and blood and very, very beautiful. Auburn hair to her arse, which I hadn't noticed because she usually wore it up. Alabaster skin with the slightest of freckles. Cute on her, really. I knew her eyes were blue, but I didn't know they were that blue. And her figure... her figure... like a goddess. A tomboy goddess. Wonderful curves in all the right places. Tight, athletic buttocks, round hips and a tiny waist, breasts... oh, my god, her breasts. Maybe a bit more than a handful with perk pink points jutting out. I had maybe half a foot on her, overall, but she was perfectly proportional.

Well, maybe a little busty, but who was measuring? I couldn't stop my erection, but I did steel my resolve to be the gentleman. She was hurrying to wash up, I could tell.

"You needn't hurry like that," I told her from behind. "Take your time and do it right. You should end up warm and clean. Would you like me to wash your back for you?" She slowed down a bit, as if listening to me while she decided how to answer.

"Um... yes, sir, I would appreciate it if you would wash my back. Thank you."

I took sponge in hand and started at it. I made sure to keep back enough so that my impudent Little Gentleman who wasn't so little at the moment wouldn't poke her in the back. I took my time and gently, though thoroughly, washed her back from her shoulders to her glorious fanny, moving her hair out of my way so as not to get tangled in it.

"Sir?" she asked as I was thus engaged. "May I ask you something?" She was gently washing the front side of her and I must admit, my thoughts were definitely centered on that.

"You just did," I teased her, "but sure... what would you like to ask?"

"Why are you wearing that necklace in the shower?"

Oh, brother... where does honesty fit into all this housekeeper relationship? I wondered.

"It's a family heirloom," I told her. "Very precious to me. It gives me comfort. I never take it off."

"Not a talisman against the ghosts and cannibals, then?"

"No," I answered with a sigh, "not a talisman against ghosts and cannibals." Technically, the demons were neither.

"That's good," she told me as she abruptly turned to rinse her back, catching me unawares as she continued, "I thought I might need protection and not have it..." She paused and looked down at my rather prodigious protrusion. "I still might," she muttered, then looked me in the eye. "I'll be done and out of your way in a moment, sir."

"No, no," I hurried to assure her. "You stay and luxuriate until the hot water runs out. You've certainly earned it. I'll go get dressed. There are plenty of towels out here for you to use." I didn't wait for her reply. I stepped out, grabbed a couple of towels and began drying myself off. As I did, she began talking to me through the curtain.

"If you could help me, sir, there is a pile of soiled linens by the door which need to go down the laundry chute, which I think I saw in the maid's pantry. And I should show you how to change your own linens, in case I'm not here. I know it's been several days, and sleeping on those cannot have been the most comfortable of nights." I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd just changed them the day before.

I did finish drying off and putting on some bed pants and a robe. Then I hauled the linens to the laundry chute and dumped them in, making sure I heard them slide to the bottom. There were copious amounts of hardened bodily fluids and I could see why she might think I was some sort of pervert or something. I was finishing up when I heard the shower shut off and I couldn't help but take a peek as she stepped out to get a towel. Utter and absolute perfection... I was mesmerized. She covered up and the spell was partially broken.