by N. J Ross
Mrs. Mallory narrowed her eyes, looking across the line of us with disdain, fully aware of the gravity of the decision she was about to make, and how much it would change our lives no end. When Mrs. Mallory’s eyes rested upon me, she scowled even further, no doubt still upset about the Duke’s complimenting my figure, when he had not complimented her own. ‘That one,’ said Mrs. Mallory, pointing at Lucinda, who stood beside me, and who was far from obedient. In fact, she was one of the greatest rebels among us, and it was clear Mrs. Mallory had said it out of spite.
Lucinda squealed and jumped up and down, then turned to me and stuck out her tongue. The Duke snapped around sharp to look at her, and he stared down at her for a full minute, in silence, before speaking. ‘I will not have a squealing little piglet coming to stay with me, Mrs. Mallory. Clearly, I misjudged your ability to make a sound decision. I shall pick this one.’
On the words this one, he grabbed my forearm tightly, encircling it with his almighty hand, and he marched me out of the room, towards his waiting carriage, where I was swept away to my new life, and would begin to become the person I am now.
Chapter 4
For the first year or so at the Duke of Livingstone’s manor, I worked very hard. I did exactly as I was asked, and I barely spoke a word, unless I was asked to. I curtseyed, spoke politely, and was quite the model servant. I truly believe I blended so well into the background that the Duke even forgot I was in his employment. It was as if a ghost brought him his pipe ever morning, and brought his newspaper to him in the evening. I do not even know, had he been asked my name, if he would have remembered it.
By the time it got to my seventeenth birthday, however, I began to grow a little rebellious. Like all adolescents, I grew tired of authority, and longed to be able to change the system. Why should it be that some people get to have everything, I wondered, while others have nothing? I suppose I was channelling some of my grandfather’s anger with these thoughts: anger at his enslavement, anger at the enslavement of all black people. I stopped curtseying for the Duke when I presented him with his newspaper, and began speaking up a little more, even striking up a conversation with the Duke himself when I was feeling particularly brave. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t angry with the Duke himself, but I did feel rather… agitated whenever I was in his presence. It was as if I wanted something from my Master, but I did not know what. I did not know, at that point, why he made my lips tremble, and my stomach churn whenever I spoke to him. The feelings had been getting so strong they were almost unbearable.
The Duke certainly must have noticed a change in me. I’d feel his eyes upon my dark skin whenever I entered a room, and I noticed that he started to move around the house a little more freely, popping his head into the servant quarters to watch me now and then, as if trying to catch me out at something. To be honest, I assumed that he was angry with me, that he was waiting to catch me in the act of stealing, or something similar, so that he might have fair grounds to dismiss me, and never lay eyes on me again.
How wrong I was.
On my eighteenth birthday, another servant, a sixteen-year-old boy named Rory, brought me a package. I was down in the cellars, peeling and chipping potatoes and onions for the cook, and was surprised at the sight of the parcel with my name on it. I had never received a package in all my life. Let alone a birthday present.
‘The Duke wants you to have this,’ said Rory. ‘He has given me strict instructions that you are to open it in private, in your chamber, and read the note accompanying it.’
‘What is it?’ I asked, immediately aware of how silly the question was.
‘How d’you expect me to know, miss?’ said Rory, and walked off whistling.
I took the parcel, amazed, looking at the beautifully written calligraphy spelling out my full name, Melody Mahama, on the front. I shivered to think the Duke had written those words, and I hurried to my chamber, desperate to see what was inside.
Chapter 5
Carefully, I undid the brown paper encircling my package and removed a lacy white handkerchief. As I did so, a sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. I stooped quickly to pick it up, my heart racing, and read the following:
Melody,
It is your eighteenth birthday, but you are not yet a woman. Having been your Master for some two years or so now, it is my duty to reveal my plans for you at last. I have been watching you closely, ever since you entered my service, and have been astonished by the growing change in you.
When you first joined my service, you were a quiet, obedient little mouse, who did exactly as she was told, like a good girl. For the past few months, however, you have grown more courageous, your mind blazing with rebellious thoughts. Although you rarely voice these thoughts, I can tell that they are there, and I can feel the fire within you. At first, I was shocked by your insolence, but I have found myself more and more closely drawn to it… In fact, lately I have become quite bewitched by your black beauty…
I believe that under firm tutelage you might yet blossom into a fine young woman, but you must learn some respect and manners for your elders, in particular for your future husband.
You must have guessed my intentions, my dear, for you know I cannot take my eyes off you. And I can tell, beneath the blazing fire in your black bosom, there is a deep desire for me too.
Wear the garment contained within this parcel. Consider it your birthday present. I shall be along to your chamber in one hour’s time to see that you have obeyed me.
Yours,
The Duke of Livingstone
Well, what a curious letter! I read it another time, to be sure I had taken it in correctly. There was so much in it that surprised me. Phrases echoed around my head. I have become bewitched… your future husband… wear the garment contained within this parcel…. I shall be along in one hour’s time…
Was the Duke implying that he intended to marry me? Surely not! I almost hated myself for allowing the thought to enter my mind. A white Duke and a black servant girl! It would never happen! And yet… it was really rather difficult to read the letter in any other way.
As for the garment contained within the parcel, all I had was this handkerchief… I sat down on my bed and opened out the fabric, a terrible realisation dawning upon me. This was not a handkerchief. It was a white lace nightdress. I held one of the tiny, delicate straps between my fingertips, my hands shaking, having never touched a material as fine and fragile as this before. I looked closely at the intricate lace pattern, seeing that it bore a pattern of white lilies, a symbol of innocence, and I swallowed hard to think he wanted me to wear such a thing.
Suddenly, a great anger coming upon me, I scowled and threw the nightgown onto the floor. I stamped on it with my dirty shoe and let out a wild growl. How dare the Duke instruct me to wear such a thing? I was not his object, to be used however he wished. He had not bought me to be his cheap courtesan, existing only to pleasure him until he lost interest and bought someone else’s favours. I was a living, breathing human being. I was not some… some harlot.
And yet… looking at the lacy object had aroused my suspicion. What might I look like in a skimpy little outfit like this? The Duke obviously saw something in me, something he desired. Would it hurt to just try the dress on, if only to laugh at his ridiculous dress? He was not to arrive for another half hour or so yet. I would have plenty of time to change into this thing, and then put my normal, raggedy old clothes back on before he arrived.
I made sure my door was closed properly, in case Rory or some servant boy was lurking outside, and I hung an old shawl over the door handle so that nobody might peep through the keyhole. Then, I removed my dress, looking with dismay at my rough, dark skin, thinking that even if the Duke was to see me like this, he would no doubt be revolted with such a young commoner. I lifted up the lace off the floor, and was even more dismayed when I saw I had left a dirty mark on it, and had even ripped the lace on part of the bodice.
I pulled the nightdress
over my skin, wondering at the beautiful softness of the fabric, feeling like I was wrapping myself in angels’ wings, until the dress was hanging off me delicately, sweeping out slightly at my thighs, but pinched in at the waist, showing off the fullness of my figure. I gasped as I looked at my breasts. They were held firmly and securely in the lace, pert and buxom, and looked almost twice the size they looked normally, without any fancy brassiere like the one sewn into this garment. There was, however, one problem, which was that the hole I had ripped was in fact in the bust of the dress, and my left nipple poked clean out of the fabric, my dark, puckered skin looking like it was breaking out of the dress, straining out as if desperate to be touched by some caressing finger.
Suddenly, I heard a creak behind me, and saw the door opening. Into my chamber walked my Master, the Duke, and his eyes were drawn immediately to my near-naked figure.
‘My my, Melody,’ he said, closing the door behind him, his eyes running down over my bust, then down to my stomach, and my long, lean legs.
‘I came here early, as I couldn’t wait, and now I can see I was right to be impatient.’ He licked his lips and took a step towards me, but then, suddenly, his gaze darkened. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, looking at the rip in the fabric, exposing my nipple, which was shivering in the cold and hard as a button.
‘Looks like someone’s been a little ungrateful with their new present.’
He took another step forward, and then reached out to touch the tear in the fabric. ‘What terrible behaviour,’ he said, his fingers running around the edge of the tear now, encircling my nipple, making it stand even further on end, erect and desperate for his touch.
But, suddenly he pulled his hand away. ‘I had hoped you might have grown up a little on your eighteenth birthday, Melody,’ said the Duke, looking down at me like a scolding parent. ‘But it seems you still need to learn some respect.’ He sat on the edge of my bed and patted his knees. ‘Time for your punishment.’
‘Punishment, sir?’ I asked, crossing my arms, trying to hide my naked nipple, but to no avail.
‘Don’t answer me back, girl,’ said the Duke. ‘I’m going to teach you a lesson.’ He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him, and I submitted to him as he pulled me across his lap, my rump in the air. ‘Now then, Melody,’ he said, his strong, firm hands stroking the lace stretched across my backside. ‘It’s time for your husband-to-be to spank some manners into you.’
Chapter 6
The Duke began lifting the lacy fabric up over my backside, until my plain white knickers were on display. I say they were white, but they were so old and poorly washed that they were more like a horrible shade of grey by now, and I felt embarrassed for him to see me like this. The embarrassment distracted me from my anger for a moment, but when I felt him pulling back my undergarments, revealing my bare buttocks to the air, my anger returned.
‘How dare you…’ I began.
Swiftly, the Duke removed my knickers and pulled them down over my ankles, letting them drop to the floor.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘That’s much better.’ He gently stroked the bare skin of my buttocks, while making a strange, low noise at the back of his throat, and I became aware of the sensation of something hard, pressing up into me from his lap.
‘Now I’m going to punish you,’ he said, in a strange, throaty voice, and peeled back the lace dress further, revealing my naked buttocks to him in their entirety, like an enormous split peach lying down on top of his strong thighs.
‘You can’t punish me!’ I cried. ‘White men always think they can punish the black girls!’
The Duke laughed softly. With a final squeeze of my buttock, I felt the Duke lift his hand away from my flesh, and then, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, I felt his heavy hand come smacking down onto me.
My mouth opened soundlessly and my eyes widened with the pain of the strike. Little needles of red hot sensation spread out from his fingers across my flesh. I had not expected him to hit me so hard. Then, without any warning, he lifted his hand again and brought it down with a hard, snapping thwack sound on my bottom, even harder than before. I felt my flesh pucker underneath him, as my body struggled to react to the pain it was experiencing.
‘Oh my…’ I stuttered. I did not know whether I was angry or grateful.
‘It seems perhaps this white man is spanking some sense into you,’ said the Duke, and on the word spanking I felt that strange, hard object, pressing up from between his thighs, prodding me in the stomach again. It felt as though he had a wooden rod down there!
My thoughts were broken by another slap.
‘Oh, sir!’ I cried, as my whole body shifted forward with the power of the smack. I closed my eyes and took the pain, as it radiated around my buttocks, and through my core, all the way round to my little ripe pussy, which shivered underneath me, so close to his rough hands.
I could feel the flesh of my bottom swelling and reddening with each slap as the Duke taught me his lesson, and I felt that maybe, just maybe, I was feeling some of that rebelliousness beginning to seep out of me. Each slap had started to make my pussy began to beat with pleasure, with anticipation. I knew he was looking at me there, because with each strike now he was pinching my buttocks and pushing them up so that he could see that secret little place. I knew that I had started to glisten for him.
‘Oh look,’ he said, ‘it seems like someone’s little sex is positively glowing with all this attention.’ I felt his fingers walking their way back along my rump and settle on the inside of my thighs. ‘I suppose for a bad girl like you, getting smacked on the behind must have made you wet with lust.’ His strong fingers started to slowly stroke the lips of my rose, smoothly stroking my sweet little organ, causing even more nectar to spill from inside me, as I became entirely consumed with a burning passion.
‘Yes, Duke,’ I whispered, completely beside myself with lust. What was happening to me? How had I managed to abandon my morals so very quickly? Why was I letting this brute treat me like this? I could still feel the sting from his hand on my behind, and the memory of the pain mixed with the utter pleasure his hands began to gave me. His finger was the first part of anyone save me to enter the space between my legs, and his hooked, probing fingers discovered for the first time how soft it was inside me, how hot and how quivering my pussy was. He began to slide his thick, wide-knuckled digits into me while making little deep groaning sounds. I could feel my wetness starting to coat his hands, as he plunged a second finger into me.
‘What a tight little kitty the black girl has,’ he murmured to himself, as he started to push harder, deeper into me. My body began twitching as he explored me, and with each confident pound of his fingers, I gave myself more and more to him, to his mastery, to his power, to his perversion. I now imagined him striking my behind again and again as his fingers stretched my flesh, then, suddenly, he moved his other hand to a space just above my opening, to what now felt the centre of my sexual power, and he began to wetly slide his fingers over a hard nub of flesh there. The pleasure, the surprise of it, was like flowers opening at the speed of light in my mind. I felt streaks of hot joy spread instantly over my body and then, black spots appeared in my vision as I began to buckle on top of him, and finally, without thinking, my mouth made a word that I’d never said before, and I exploded with pleasure, as my entire body stiffened and relaxed.
‘Fuck,’ I gasped, my body collapsing over him.
‘Careful,’ said the Duke. ‘Or I’ll need to spank you again, with language like that.’
I could not help but smile at the thought of that, but my pleasure was quickly interrupted by the feeling of something cold and smooth, parting the lips of my pussy and pressing up inside me.
‘I’m inserting a pair of glass beads into you now, my dear,’ said the Duke, gently pushing the smooth, round objects into my moist, sensitive passage.
‘You have been such a good girl for me, taking my punishment like
you did, that I want to give you a reward. You shall walk around my manor house wearing your lace nightdress, with these glass beads jiggling around inside your little kitty, giving you pleasure, so that tonight, when it is time for me to take you, to make you my wife, you will be very wet for me indeed.’
The Duke lifted me by the waist, and placed me on my unsteady feet, and I felt the beads jiggle around inside me, my little pussy muscles clenching around them.
‘Ah yes,’ said the Duke, watching my expression change as I felt the beads moving around inside me. ‘You’ll find yourself… how shall I put this… tensing up a little as the beads knock back and forth in your sweet little kitty. If we leave them in for several hours, it will make you all the tighter, and all the sweeter, when I finally enter you tonight.’
With that, he spun around and existed my room, leaving me standing there, trembling, the moisture dripping down between my naked legs.
‘Oh, just one more thing,’ said the Duke, putting his head around the door for a moment. ‘Don’t even think about putting any more clothes back on now. Not even your undergarments. I want all the other servants’ eyes on you, all day, as you work in the house. I want them to know what a ravishing little black beauty I have here in my service, and what a lucky man I am, that I get to fuck her tonight. Goodbye, my dear.’