With his mouth still pressed against Marie's neck and his teeth still deep within her flesh, the Duke leisurely moved his free hand to that spot between her legs. He could feel how moist she was and how desperate she was to feel him inside of her. If the feel of her juices on his fingers did not tell Edward that Marie was ready for him, the sound of her pleas for him to enter her would.
"Please" she said through her deep breaths and sighs, "please, I need you now." He grabbed Marie's hair again and, placing his previously engaged hand on her lower back, guided her gently to the hallway floor. He too was desperate for the pleasurable release only the feel of flesh on flesh could bring but he had far greater control over his body than the maid had over hers. As she twitched and shook and quivered with the delight of the moment, the strong, confident frame of the Duke made only the movements he intended it to. The body of Edward's female lover was steadily eclipsed by his shadow as he finally brought his body to the cold ground of the manor. Throbbing, he lay on top of her and returned his teeth to the flesh of her neck. Marie stuck her long nails into his back and he dragged his mouth from her neck to her shoulder to her breasts. She could not wait even a moment longer; she needed the feel of the Duke's immense member moving to and from her convulsing body, in and out of her moistened vagina. With a firm hand and strength unbecoming of a girl of her age and size, Marie grabbed the Duke's penis and led and placed it between her legs. Of course, Edward was caught off guard by such a sudden move, but being caught off guard is not always a bad thing. He didn't fight the hand of the lady as she continued to lead his member wherever she pleased; instead, he allowed her to command him and direct him until, finally, he felt himself enter her.
The inside of Marie's body was as smooth and as warm as the outside, making it easy for the Duke to move himself in and out at his own pace. The moans of the maid filled the manor once again, this time accompanied by the moan's of Edward, who was fast approaching orgasm. He had never been with a woman like Marie before. Her thin build gave her a unique ability to move her body into new positions at a rapid pace, as if she were a Greek goddess, changing form to enhance her pleasure. He continued to move in and out of her, allowing everything but the tip of his penis to exit her before re-entering her with a push and a moan.
"Faster" begged Marie, her face covered by her own rouge hair, "please, faster." Edward, the unselfish lover that he was, was more than happy to oblige and soon was performing at twice the speed he had been pleasuring Marie just moments prior. The moans of the girl grew louder and louder until they resembled screams more than moans. These screams of pleasure, in which the Duke was also participating, persisted for about thirty seconds before both man and woman felt their bodies drain of the liquids which turned them from Duke and maid to a sexually charged pair of animals. The Duke rolled from Marie's body and lay down beside her, panting and sweating, possibly even still moaning.
Back in the dining room, still clutching a glass of wine tightly in his hand, Edward was brought back to present time by a clear but at first indistinguishable sound. He glanced around the room and found himself to be alone; the help were all busy with their work and the Duchess was likely still locked away in her chamber, projecting her sorrows onto fictional characters. The noise came again, this time louder and more distinguishable. It was the rumbling of the Duke's own empty stomach. He had been lost in his thoughts for so long that he had completely forgotten to feed himself.
"I had better have the butler bring me some food,” he thought to himself before calling out "Francis! Francis!" No reply came and the Duke was left sitting in silence once again, occasionally interrupted by the sound of his hollow stomach begging to be filled. "Francis!" he called once again, unable to understand why the butler was not answering his yells of starvation. He flung himself back in his chair and sipped from his near empty glass. At this moment, just when he had given up all hope of his butler serving him a platter of hunger-ending morsels, a thought occurred to Edward. He sat straight in his chair and cleared his throat before opening his mouth and echoing throughout the manor "Craig!"
THE END
Terms of Employment
A Regency Romance Novella
By: Rosamund Talbot
Terms of Employment
Chapter One
Alexander dropped his paper to the dining room table the moment Sandra came through the door. She was preparing herself for her journey home and had fastened her coat over her maid's uniform. The length of her coat was greater than the length of the black and white dress that she was obligated to wear and created the illusion of nudity beneath the garment. Her bare legs brought a smile to Alexander's face, which he had to fight to control. The Duchess sat at the opposite end of the table and he did not want to draw attention to himself by grinning like a schoolboy at the sight of a pretty young girl. A pretty young girl who had, in fact, been a schoolgirl just half a year prior to coming to work for the Duke and his wife.
"It is six o'clock, sir,” she stated, addressing the Duke and the Duke alone. The Duchess, having married into her wealth, was not consulted on any matters unless the Duke could not be reached. "I have just completed dusting your chamber and have tucked your clothes safely away in your bedside dresser. If there is nothing else, I shall be going."
"Thank you, Sandra'' he said, his mouth growing drier and drier as he spoke, "that will be all."
Once the maid had left the room, the Duke grabbed his paper with unsteady hands and raised it much higher than is ever necessary for one to read. At that moment, the Duke had no interest in actually reading the writing on the pages before him. He did not care to be updated on the King's poor mental health or the Prince Regent, the King's son who had been ruling by proxy for the past year. When he had first taken over the reigns of the country, many assumed that King George would be returning to his rightful place upon the throne once his mind was back in order. However, that now seemed unlikely to ever happen and people were beginning to realise that the Prince Regent would be ruling for quite some time. Alexander didn't care. It did not matter to him one iota who ran the country as long as it was not he. He did not wish to have that title nor the stress that came with it.
He did all he could to calm his shaking hands and ensure the newspaper remained covering his mouth. The thought of the beautiful, young, golden haired maid in the nude refused to leave his mind and the smile refused to leave his lips. Behind the protective walls of the newspaper, his lips doubled in length. He had been in love with the maid since the day she had come into his employment. She was lively and caring and understood the importance of a hard day's work. Of course, the Duke did not have the courage to tell her how he truly felt. Every day, he would remind himself that he was a married man and that it would be wrong of him to seek any kind of intimacy with the maid. Of course, this was merely an attempt on his part to cease the self-loathing he was experiencing as a result of being unable to summon the boldness required to steal a kiss. The Duke would happily leave his wife if it meant experiencing the youth and beauty of his young employee.
Just over thirty minutes later, somewhere in the heart of London poverty, Sandra pushed through the door of the small garret, which she shared with her husband Daniel.
Daniel was one year her elder and had worked in the theatre since he was a child. He had enjoyed a great deal of success during his teenage years and made a name for himself travelling the country with his popular comic songs. However, one week before his twenty-first birthday, his voice turned to but a croak and never returned. His career in the English music halls was over and he was no longer able to support the woman whom he had wed at the age of eighteen. For a time, they stayed (barely) afloat, relying on what small amount he had managed to save during his time on the road. However, that soon disappeared and the hardest of times fell upon the young couple. Though Daniel had long sworn that no wife of his would stain her hands with work, he soon had to swallow his pride and consent to Sandra becoming a maid at the manor of the Duke
Alexander Sill. She worked long hours. She would leave the marital bed at six in the morning and would not return for twelve hours at the least. Sometimes she would be forced to work until seven or eight in the evening. Daniel, with no means of income or anything to relieve his boredom would often sleep half the day and, when he woke, would prepare for himself a mug of tea and sit by the one window of the garret in a rotting wooden chair, which frequently resulted in splinters. There he would sit, remembering better times, until Sandra returned home.
"My dear" he said, rising to his feet to greet Sandra as she entered the garret. The smile on his face was even greater than the smile the sight of the young girl brought to the face of the Duke. Sandra was the light of Daniel's life and in recent years she had become his sole reason for living. He loved her with all of his heart and was not unlike a puppy when she came through the door after leaving him alone all day.
"My love, how tired I am!" Exhausted, the maid fell into her husband's arms without even removing her coat. The feeling of his arms around her served to relax the overworked, underpaid manor maid. Still standing, she rested her head on his chest and made herself as comfortable as one could get without lying on a mattress. She loved him just as much as he loved her. Though Daniel felt a tremendous guilt for being unable to perform the duties of a husband, she harboured no resentment towards him, or so she told herself. Perhaps this was a fib to some degree as it is rather impossible for one to be entirely content with working twelve-hour days when their significant other stays at home day after day.
"Sit with me," Daniel said as he returned to his seat by the window. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Laughing, she allowed herself to fall and come to rest upon her husband's lap. They sat like this most days after she returned from the manor.
"Tell me of your day." This was something of a demand. Sandra knew she could not protest as the only other option was to discuss Daniel's day and it was very nearly too clear that he did not want to relive the boredom of being alone for twelve hours until the following day, when he would have no choice.
"My goodness, I am willing to wager that it is among the most hectic of all days I have experienced at the home of the Duke and Duchess."
"Do tell, do tell."
"From the moment I arrived, I was put to work by Nathaniel."
"The head of manor staff?"
"The very same. He had me cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom before the cook arrived to prepare breakfast. I spent the next several hours dusting. Dusting. Dusting. Dusting. Then came my break, which was cut short as Nathaniel wished for me to clean the kitchen a second time to ensure it was spotless before the cook began preparing lunch for the Duke and Duchess."
Sandra went on in this manner for quite a while. It had become something of a post-work ritual to dissect her day and vent her frustrations, as employees have done throughout the ages. It allowed her to relieve herself of all stress and anxiety before returning to the manor the following day to do it all again. It was good for her mental health, though mental health was not something of great concern to the people of the nineteenth century. When she had finally expelled the majority of rage in her system - a little bit of rage is good as it keeps us motivated - Sandra returned her head to her husband's shoulder and fell asleep on his lap. He put his nose against her head and inhaled. Her hair, perhaps even her scalp, carried the scent of lemons. It always did. The fact that Sandra was able to endure a twelve hour work day and return home smelling as fresh as she had when she left that morning was just one of the many things which amazed Daniel about the woman. She was all he could ever ask for. Though he was sitting in a small garret with a single bed and not a morsel of food in the cupboard, holding Sandra made him feel at peace with himself and his surroundings.
Chapter Two
"You mustn't be too loud or my wife shall her us" Alexander told Sandra as she pulled his trousers from his legs and threw them across the floor of his chamber. He was excited, but fearful of his wife being alerted to his infidelity by the noise of his eager young love. However, this anxiousness soon gave way to a feeling of total pleasure when the young girl dropped to her knees and took his erect member between her lips. The Duke trembled and struggled to remain upright as the maid moved her mouth from the head of his penis to the very base of the shaft and back. Her warm saliva covered his organ as her tongue brushed against the tip and made it twitch. It was Heaven, like nothing the Duke had ever experienced before. Though the Duchess far outweighed her in terms of age and life experience, the young maid was a great deal better at pleasuring the older man. It was as if she knew exactly how he wished to be touched and all the details of his deepest, darkest fantasies. She ran her mouth over the Duke's penis, once again, her bright red lips coming to rest at the shaft a final time before the Duke lost control of his body and his juices came pouring from his penis into the maid's mouth.
Alexander shot awake, his forehead drenched in sweat and his lungs void of oxygen. He clamoured to catch his breath as his mind attempted to adjust to the situation and remember where he was. He turned his head to the left and saw the body of his wife as she lay beneath the bed sheets, lost in slumber. He was at home. He was in his chamber, safe in bed beside his adoring wife whom he had never been anything but fateful to. This was the third night in a row he had been awoken in a sweat following a dream of the maid. He put his hand beneath the covered and placed it, just for a moment, between his legs. It was wet, and sticky, just as it had been the past two nights.
The Duke dragged himself out of bed and crept out of the chamber, slowly opening and closing the door so as not to wake his wife. He had a dressing room separate of the chamber, which is where he would change into a fresh nightgown.
"My goodness me," he moaned to himself as he moved through the empty, carpeted hallway, "I cannot keep living this way. It is surely going to take an immeasurable toll on me." He was correct. If a man of his age were to continue attempting to suppress his feelings, they would continue to manifest themselves in other ways, causing him more and more stress each time. He was destined for an early grave if he did not do something to resolve the issue now.
Alexander was already awake by the time the maid arrived for her day's work. Long awake. In fact, he had not returned to his bed after waking up in the middle of the night. He was sitting in his study, by the fireplace, stroking his slight stubble in thought when he heard Sandra enter the manor. She moved silently, as she always did when arriving at the manor, for fear of waking the Duke and Duchess. Upon entering the study, Sandra was understandably startled to see the Duke already up and dressed for the day.
"Your Grace!" she said, jumping backwards in a move not unlike the exaggerated double takes that her husband had performed in the theatre. "I did not expect to see you up at such an hour. The sun has not yet risen."
"I am aware of the time," he replied. His mouth was beginning to grow dry again and his hands were beginning to shake.
"And I did not expect the fire to be lit upon my arrival. Tell me, who prepared it for you?"
"I did it myself." The Duke was blunt and refused to elaborate. He wanted the young girl to leave the room, as he could not stand to be in her company. His heart was beginning to thump at twice its regular rate and sweat was beginning to form on his forehead once again. The maid caused reactions in him that he could not understand and he feared that if she remained in the room any longer he would lose control of himself and do something, which he would regret.
"Sandra," he began, "I feel I would rather enjoy a game of cards later this evening. Journey to the dining room and fetch my deck for me."
"Yes, sir." Sandra exited the room and the Duke sat back in his chair. A tad on the narcissistic side, he thought his mind to be among the greatest in the world simply because he had managed to think of a way to trick his maid into leaving him be. Of course, he did not wish to play a game of cards at all. In fact, the Duke hated card games. He was not a talented man when it came to such games and wa
s almost always defeated by whomever he was playing against. The last time he had lost in a card game he had been playing against a gardener who had been hired to carry out some work in the manor garden. This was a particularly embarrassing defeat for the Duke as the gardener was a member of the lower class and was therefore considered to be inferior in everything, including intellect. The Duke had been so enraged to suffer such a demeaning lost that he grabbed the deck of cards from the table and flung them out the dining room window, which had been left open to allow some fresh summer air into the room. He had never endeavoured to reclaim the cards, which meant they were, by now, long gone. Some had been carried away by the wind, some had been destroyed in the rain, which followed the summer months. Others had just disappeared, as the unwanted have a tendency to do. There were no cards for the maid to fetch, which guaranteed the Duke would not have a dry mouth and a wet forehead for at least an hour. That would give him more time to figure out exactly what he was going to do about his feelings for the young lady. He had been sitting in that chair for close to four hours before she had even arrived at the manor and he was still no closer to a solution.
The Duke's Dilemma: Regency Romance Menage Short Stories Page 96