A Fine Profession (The Chambermaid's Tales Part One)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  He began to speak but my eyes reminded him and he nodded acquiescingly.

  “What shall we call you today? You may speak.”

  “Hector,” he mumbled.

  I bent over and spread my legs, placing my hands on a wooden table nearby so that he was face-on with my buttocks. He grunted as if to ask what he should do and I instructed, “Familiarise yourself with everything. Take a good look.”

  The eagerness to retaliate was growing inside him. I also sensed a raging erection from my lover, battling its way out of his trousers. He would be manic later.

  “Please, kiss my folds a little,” I asked, and the slave reached forward to tease his tongue around my arsehole and then the knot of my womanhood. The Initiate was panting with desire and I was getting ridiculously close so I turned around, running a fingertip around his lips. I brushed a bullet-hard nipple against his cheek and he groaned.

  “Get up and sit in the chair,” I said, and he awkwardly manoeuvred himself.

  I sat in his lap and placed his bound arms around my neck.

  “You may kiss my breasts,” I said, and he did. “A little biting, just a little. A nibble. A few licks. Oh yes. The other, please.”

  How he smelt! Thick pre-cum was glazing his monstrously expectant cock head. When my slit was slaked, I moved closer and drew his buttocks forward. His eyes widened at my strength.

  “I am stronger than I may seem. And I dish out punishment for bad behaviour. If you try to accidentally penetrate me, that will be considered bad behaviour.”

  He nodded, his face now gormless and pliant.

  I moved my pussy lips against his shaft to catch my clit and tease him. I bucked and swayed and moaned before him. I was so terribly wet. I gained a rhythm that suited us both and his hands gripped my hair. It was all he was able to touch of me. He moaned and threw his head back. I had total control.

  As I moved, I watched Noah's wide, fierce stare and it sent me toward oblivion. I started to feel the release sweeping into me and my entire body went into spasm. I threw myself into it and cried out with my face staring at the ceiling, juddering and shaking. The youth had not reached his peak but had almost been there. He was red and delirious, sweat dripping from his neck down his front. He couldn't really hold his head up. He was weakened.

  I moved away from him and weakly walked over to the table and sat on it, legs spread wide, my heels hooked around the bars of a nearby chair. I knew we had a large audience outside the window and I felt the pressure to perform. The Initiate looked up at me, conflicted and enraged, still hanging on the edge of his orgasm. His cock was red raw. He was in agony, I knew. He saw my groin glistening and ripe with juices and felt terribly maltreated. I had gained pleasure without him.

  “A woman,” I began breathlessly, “can have a lot more orgasms than a man. However, I'm going to show you that there are different strengths. There are those which are so strong and could clench the sap from wood. They are those where my own self leaves me. There are those that last longer than others and those that pierce harder but are shorter.”

  I turned his chair so that he faced Noah. The men looked for pity in each other's eyes. Both were brought down to the servants they were.

  What I wanted, I was going to get, regardless of anyone else. I walked over to Noah, unzipped him and pulled his cock free, jiggling his trousers down a little. His thick, veiny cock was on show and the youth knew why I had chosen such a lover, for this man was above average. I moved into position and sunk my belly on Noah, who sat back and groaned nonchalantly, as if he were enjoying the Chambermaid's delights like any other. I worked him like a piston and he pulled at my hair. I closed my eyes and gave myself to the joy sweeping over my being. I never felt safer or more attractive or sexually uninhibited than when Noah was with me.

  “Bitch,” Noah said.

  “Oh baby, your cock is huge,” I moaned.

  He swiftly pushed me up and forced me across the room. He placed my hands on a desk and started fucking me hard from behind. People were watching outside, jaws dropping. The Initiate watched it all. I rubbed myself until I came so hard, squeezing Noah's throbbing cock sharper than ever before. I bucked viciously and screamed and wailed, as if suffering the most terrible agonies of my life. The rush of his hot nectar flowed into my belly and I was satisfied. Noah kissed the back of my neck in a gesture of intimacy that only belonged to us. He zipped up and retreated to his seat.

  I stood and swayed, delirious from our fucking. Cum and dew dripped down my legs and onto the floor. The Initiate was gasping for breath, desperate to have some fuck of his own.

  “Now, I will show you how to fuck best,” I told the young lad, taking some deep breaths to regain myself. His droopy eyes rested on my breasts and he bit his lip, waiting for his own pleasure. It was tantalisingly close. His cock was painfully engorged and extravagantly wetted.

  I put on the strap-on I had asked for earlier, and lubed up with some relaxant gel from a drawer. I stood in front of him and he looked terrified.

  “On all fours, slave,” I said, dragging the protective chair away from him. I placed myself behind him and made sure everyone outside got a good view.

  “Just relax,” I told him, and he nodded. I pierced the opening of his backside and he yelped and juddered.

  “You didn't want my Master to fuck your behind but you like me doing it, yes?”

  He wobbled fearfully and nodded, breathing in raspy, ragged breaths.

  I moved in further, slowly, and he moaned instead. I reached under and started pumping his cock and he groaned louder and louder. I pumped both of his centres of pleasure and I then pressed the button on the strap-on to set the dildo to vibrate. He cried out with a venomous squeal and embarked on the orgasm of his life. Noah watched animatedly and relished the pleasure/pain of the Initiate's encounter. It was surely enthralling to him.

  The youth came with a force that delighted me. He was young and able to sustain his pleasure longer than my lover, something Noah must have viewed with disdain. The youth shot his load several times, until at last, I felt there was nothing left to draw out.

  I withdrew slowly and he collapsed on the floor. I reached for the handcuffs and released him. He got up slowly, redressed and bid me goodbye.

  “Thank you. May I steal a kiss?”

  “Of course,” and he kissed my mouth just gently, just to say his thanks. He smiled and left. I left the dildo in the wash basket and stepped back into my dress, with Noah helping me up with the zip. The cleaners were waiting outside to make the room new.

  We left the mansion straight away and drove back to my flat. We were in silence all the way. When we entered my corridor, Noah grabbed me and began fiercely tearing at my mouth and neck. He was violent and angry, pressing me against the wall and wrapping tight palms around my wrists. He ripped my dress open and inflicted pain while exploring my breasts. He lifted me up against the wall and fucked me there; his suit and my dress still mostly intact. My orgasm was just as the act was: scornful and piercing.

  He kissed me wonderfully afterward and pressed his cheek against my breast.

  “I love you, Charlotte,” he said.

  “I did it for you,” I said, tears welling in the corners of my eyes.

  He carried me to bed and held me all night, giving my body the rest it needed. He now knew what was at stake. Maybe that was what was about to turn him into a pig.

  Chapter XX

  Muddied Waters

  There were a few advancements that weekend. Noah seemed to have come to the realisation that my line of work was dangerous in more ways than one. He also seemed to feel that I was now a facet of his life he needed to control. I sensed his anguish and yet nothing would quell it.

  After our corridor tryst, I woke the next day to find he was already awake and had took himself to the living room. He was sat in t-shirt and boxers, with the remote in his hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He was unapproachable and I didn't feel like I could hold and kiss him like I
normally did when we woke up together.

  “How are you today?” I asked, standing naked against the doorframe, still languid from sleep. I stretched my arms and rubbed my eyes, willing him to dash across the floor and carry me back to bed.

  “Fine. Just catching up on the stock markets.”

  I walked toward where he sat and saw he was watching the Financial Channel, whatever that was. He peered at me from beneath brooding brows and seemed to say, I've missed precious days at work because of a harlot who might try to ruin my life.

  That's what I decided he thought, anyway.

  I retreated to the kitchen and grabbed a cup of tea, before heading to the bathroom. I ran myself a bath but didn't shut the door entirely, leaving him an invitation if he should change his mind. I sank into the deep waters and closed my eyes, trying to clear the jagged thoughts troubling my mind.

  He tapped on the door and I was sundered from my daydreams, rising out of the waters with a jolt.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  He entered the room and closed the door. He sat on the toilet lid and seemed tense.

  “I want to talk Charlotte, and, I want you to listen.”

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  “I don't want you to give yourself to strangers anymore.”

  My defensives immediately spiked. “I don't give myself up to them. I am an educator of sorts. Maybe last night got out of hand a bit but…” I barked.

  “I said I wanted to talk,” he asserted, coldly. I sank bank in the bath and pouted, gritting my teeth. If I thought he was going to ask me to stop because he truly desired my total fidelity, of course I would. I knew there was more on his mind. I could sense it. He had the devil on his shoulder.

  “I will choose the people you screw from now on. And you will do whatever I tell you to do. Do you understand?”

  My frown deepened and I grew conscious of my inability to speak. I was stunned. The manner with which he spoke was so coarse. I turned my head away from him. A solitary tear slid down the cheek he couldn't see. I felt certain that something had occurred to put a distance between us and we might never get back what we had before. All because of his male ego. I was so upset and I really just wanted to bawl my eyes out. Why he could not tell me to just stop the ruse and be with him, I did not know.

  “Are we clear?” he said, and I bit my lip, nodding. He left and shut the door and I cried softly against my shoulder once he had left.

  I emerged a little while later, sure the hot water and the steam had finally managed to eradicate the blotches from my eyes and cheeks. He was waiting in bed. He held out his arms and I crawled in with him, a subservient girl once more who desperately loved him and only wanted to be with him. I couldn't help but feel he was playing mind games. I was so torn.

  We cuddled under the covers and he kissed my forehead.

  “I'm very sore, Charlotte, aren't you?”

  “Yes. It hurts to pee too. I might have to go to the chemist.”

  There it was. Our fornication actually made us both ill. It was so rampant and exquisite and neither of us could help ourselves. Perhaps he was saying that he simply didn't feel like one man was enough for me and that he understood that but wanted to veto my adventures. Perhaps his heart simply wasn't strong enough to contain all the feelings he bore for me. I couldn't know for sure. I dare not question him and risk losing what we had.

  “Please just kiss me,” I said, pleadingly.

  “You do agree to my terms?”

  “I'll do anything you want. Anything. I'm yours,” I reassured him.

  He held back something from me and looked away; a flash of anxiety crossing his face. He turned back to me and insisted I shut my eyes. But my lids occasionally flickered and when they did, I saw as he watched me most ardently, between kisses. I felt sure he sought to drive me mad with ministrations that communicated so many different emotions.

  “I love you, I love you,” he said, trailing his immaculate mouth along my side.

  “Noah, oh Noah,” and I swooned. He buried his head against my stomach and fought to distil his passion, panting and moaning as he breathed in the scent of my freshly bathed skin. He stroked my buttocks and rested there, until he seemed to fall asleep. While I was stroking his hair, it occurred to me that perhaps he hadn't gotten much sleep that night. I felt he was certainly hiding some pent-up, residual feeling of regret or remorse… or something. There was so, so much between us, and yet so, so much separating us. It felt like we were meant to be and yet the circumstances of our meeting and our passionate relationship were impractical and far from ideal. I was scared of losing him, so terrified in fact, that I could feel the return of my former malady coming back to haunt me. Once more, I was a lone wanderer out in the cold, fearful and misunderstood, wondering whether any certainties existed or whether I was simply meant to exist in solitude forever more. Maybe if I finally accepted that I wasn't built for partnership, and simply buried myself in hotel work once more, I would be safe from harm. Maybe if I had never fallen for Noah, I would be better off. But I would never have known what it was to love.

  * * *

  Now I look back, I realise that is when things began to fall apart. It did so gradually, but that night at the masked ball must have been the turning point, I felt sure of it.

  After that, Noah arranged for me to service some of his employees and he would always be very vigilant in what he told them about me. It was always our aim to maintain my mystery. The men I began to administer to knew I was Noah's and in that sense they did not dare cross me, or more importantly, Him. People from the Lodge tried to contact me relentlessly but I had to get a new phone to cut them off.

  Noah and I rarely spoke of the things I did for these men. Perhaps he interrogated them himself to find out what had transpired. I sometimes felt that this might be the case, especially in the act of passion, when he would tell me how much men must like this or that aspect of me. It was degrading for him to think of me that way. No matter how much he fought his own demons, he couldn't get past his prejudice. I sometimes desired to tell him that I suspected his own marriage had failed because he and his wife simply weren't sexually compatible. I didn't tell him my thoughts, however, fearful of what he may say in response. I knew his marriage was a very sore spot and it was something that had obviously traumatised him so much that he was unable to speak about it yet. I desperately wanted to tell him that I was different. I loved him with all my heart and always had! I felt he would never be convinced however, and I was sure, he seemed to think that my guise as the Chambermaid was what gave me an outlet to keep me “faithful” to him.

  We continued our pattern of long weekends every couple of weeks, whenever he was in Nottingham to see business partners.

  I remember one night… It was his birthday, a day in July, a couple of months after the masked ball. We had driven up to Thoresby Hall and we were in one of the most exuberant suites they had – four-poster bed, huge Grecian-style bathroom with massive tub, sitting area, excellent views of the expansive grounds and so much more extravagance than I required.

  Noah had gone off to enjoy some golf while I had indulged in some spa treatments, which were in actual fact very nice. Wearing a robe, I did feel a little anxiety creep into my fingers and toes when I felt everyone staring at me in the waiting area, but I told myself, it must have been because of the fact I was the youngest one there. They were not to know that my lover was the head of an investment bank in London. It did, however, make me self-conscious enough to try and crack some gags to take the glare off me. In my mind, I imagined throwing off my luxury robe and showing them what they were green about, but I knew that was the old Charlotte goading me to do what was reckless and unthinking. However, some part of me wanted to create a scene just to get back at them for their stares. They could not know of my warped ways but I still felt they were guilty of belittling me.

  Noah and I were dressing for a civilised dinner and I was just fastening the straps on my shoes. We'd engaged in
all the necessary small talk already, had sex twice, and now he was ready to eat a horse he said.

  He fastened his tie while I sat on the bed. I remember looking into the mirror he was dressing in front of and watching his face. His eyes darted in my direction and he blurted out, “I slept with someone else in London.”

  How to react, I did not know.

  “Your wife?” I dared conjecture.

  “I haven't slept with her in months. No. Someone else,” he said, coldly, not looking at me.

  “Why are you telling me this? To hurt me?”

  “No. I wanted to be honest.”

  “No, you didn't. You wanted to make me cry or force me to ask you to never do it again.”

  I even surprised myself with my outburst. Maybe the full body massage I'd had earlier had indeed knocked some of the self-consciousness out of me!

  “Like I said, I just wanted to be honest.”

  “What did you expect me to say?”

  “I don't know. Maybe, I thought you would celebrate me for it.”

  “You're a cunt,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said, totally unemotionally.

  I stood up and went to the window, folded my arms and looked out onto the romantic, twinkling night gardens outside. I'd have preferred a shed in Essex if it meant his fidelity was part of the bargain. The thought of another woman touching and kissing him was unbearable. A wife still haunting us was bad enough. A mistress, worse. I felt near-insane while contemplating his eyes feasting on the flesh of some tart. I wondered whether he allowed himself the same feelings of jealousy and anguish whenever the Chambermaid was at work. Why did he continue to let me act under her guise? Why did he not demand that I leave that profession and start a new life with him?