I reach down between my legs to wash my milky white thighs, feeling the corner of the sponge brush up along my pussy. I shiver involuntarily, my body tensing up instantly at this slight touch. It’s been a long, long time since I last touched myself, and as I’m still a virgin, that’s the only action I ever get. It’s a little embarrassing to be a virgin at the age of eighteen, I suppose, since all my school mates have been doing the horizontal tango for years by now. I know it’s like that I’m not cute or whatever, it’s just that I’m rather, well, picky.
None of the boring guys around here interest me even in the slightest, and if I’m going to give up my virginity to someone, it better be someone I actually feel attracted to. Plus, I’ve always been too busy to take the time to find a suitable partner. I’ve worked my ass off to make good marks in school, and every free moment has been spent studying or joining my mother on housekeeping gigs for extra cash. It’s difficult to make ends meet out here, and there are few opportunities.
With all of that hanging over my head, it’s no surprise that I haven’t made time to lose my virginity to anybody yet. But that doesn’t mean the desire isn’t there.
I close my eyes and let my fingers slide down between my legs, tentatively stroking along my pussy under the hot water. I shiver and let my lips fall open as I hook one finger and push it slowly inside of me.
Warmth runs up my body, adding to the warmth of the bath as I feel my pussy welcome the touch of my finger. I swirl it around, leaning back and letting the tendrils of my hair float in the water as I excite myself, feeling my cheeks burn a little.
It isn’t long before my lower abdomen starts to tense. I feel like I’m always pent-up these days, everything as stagnant as the bath water I’m steeping in. I fill my head with the thoughts of some man towering over me, his hands roaming over my body, invading places I’ve never allowed anyone to touch, his fingers reaching down to where mine are now.
There’s no gentleness in this mystery man, not like I’m giving myself. My jaw hangs open as I picture him holding me down, his shaft a thick outlined in whatever pants tightly hug his thighs, and he unzips them to show me the virile, masculine treasure between his legs, pressing his lips to me as the
crown pushes in while I push my own finger in, digging deep into my pussy as I feel the warmth of my honey around me…
I gasp softly as an orgasm ripples through me, my legs twisting and toes clenching as I close my eyes and feel my cheeks redden.
Okay, so I’m horny. The mystery man of my fantasy doesn’t even have a defined face. The thought of a strong, massive cock between my legs alone, comforting me on this rainy island gives me what I need to get by.
But I have an interview tomorrow that might just get me out of here and somewhere that matters in this bloody country, so I need my head clear. I massage myself as I come down from my orgasm, breathing heavily.
I need to be on my A-game for this interview, because if I stay here, I’m going to lose my mind.
Barely a week later, my train is coming to a halt in Surrey County, and I can’t believe any of this is really happening.
The interview went swimmingly. The interviewer, a young woman named Janet, couldn’t stop talking about how perfect I’d be for this position — still working as a domestic, or a maid, as she put it bluntly, but the position is under some high-profile, wealthy landowner. To me, that means old money, something I’m not used to.
Not everything about that is exciting. I picture in my mind some old codger in a stuffy manor, requesting his tea at such-and-such time, sharp. Probably a white-haired pianist with nothing better to do with his time than tell the staff what to do.
Still, it’s a paycheck, and the best part is that I got the job.
Mother had been leery. I was informed to pack lightly, as my new employer would provide everything, including my uniform. Mum thought that was all a bit odd, and I should have vetted the man with her first, but honestly, I don’t care who he is, as long as he can get me the hell out of my hometown.
And Surrey is beautiful, I realize as my train passes through the last bit of countryside before reaching the train station. It’s an idyllic scene of English countryside, something I’ve been taught to shun my whole life. But seeing it now, the wintery cold casting a chilly pallor over the otherwise rustic beauty, I feel a shiver of excitement run up my back at the idea of watching the English winter pass from the warmth of some old rich guy’s manor.
Alastair Delaney. That’s a name from old blood if I ever heard one. The name rings a faint bell, but the English have so many lords and bloodlines that not even historians can keep track of them all, more often than not.
As I pull my light luggage up to the street, I see a gentleman standing by a rather nice sedan holding a card up with my name on it. I brighten up, hurrying towards him. “Hello there, I’m Maisie! I do hope I’m the Maisie Kent you’re waiting on?”
“Only if I’m the ride to the Delaney estate you’re looking for,” the man says with a gruff smile. He’s a bit of a stiff, I can tell, but he’s trying. He’s a paunchy man in his fifties, easily, and he has the look of someone who’s been in service his whole life. I know the type. “Right this way.”
I clamber into the car with him, looking about nervously as he gives an assuring smile, and we pull off. His name is Calvin, I learn after brief introductions, but he goes by Cal, and he’s worked for the Delaneys all his life.
“How are they to work for?” I venture, desperate for a little information about my new boss. “Alastair especially, I mean — I assume he’s the only one I’m going to be serving?”
“Oh, it’s not a job for just anyone,” Cal says as we drive, his voice a vague tone that makes me suspect this is going to be more trouble than I bargained for. “But Lord Alastair is the only one who tends to the estates, for the most part. His brothers are off at all corners of the earth.”
“Right,” I say, a little uncertain.
“A few things you should know, though,” he says, glancing at me with meaningful eyes. “Ground rules. Lord Alastair is quite strict about following commands.” Commands? This really must be an old-fashioned gig. “Wear precisely what he instructs you to wear, leave nothing off and add nothing to the uniform unless he tells you to, and he may.” I scrunch my nose. This is giving me a weird feeling. “You must be punctual — the staff assemble to be inspected every day at noon, so we’ll be arriving just in time for you to get changed in your quarters. You’re free to leave the grounds, but Lord Alastair has your number, and that leads to the most important rule of all.” He gives me a deadly serious look.
“If Lord Alastair tells you to come, you come.”
My face goes a little red in the cheeks, and Cal chuckles, backpedaling a little. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Mmhmm,” I say, my voice a little quieted. “Thanks.”
My jaw drops at the sight of the manor. Cal chuckles at my shock. “Careful there, don’t get too swept up at the sight of it.” But I can’t help it.