Maids, The Master and The Manor (Chapter 2)

CHAPTER 2

A few minutes earlier, when Helena arrived in the kitchen to continue preparing lunch, she sat down and let out a long sigh. Her eyes drifted toward the pantry door. The ingredients were running low. She had no idea what to serve their unexpected guest — especially since the man claimed to be the grandson and new master of the manor.

“Helena, why do you look so down?”

Maria, the senior maid, stepped into the kitchen through the back door. She was Italian, with warm olive skin and dark brown curly hair that fell to her shoulders. Her hips were fuller than the others. Before coming to the manor, she had worked for a year in a city restaurant, married, returned to work briefly, then divorced six months later when her husband ran off with another woman. After two full years at the restaurant, she had been brought here to serve at the manor.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to cook for lunch, Sist Maria.”

“Just cook as usual, with whatever we still have.”

“But we have a guest,” Helena said, her gaze empty. “A man who claims to be the grandson of the old master. He’s here to take the place of our master who died three months ago.”

Maria’s expression froze. She stared at Helena as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

“You’re not joking, are you? We have a new master?”

Before Helena could answer, Lucy and little Emily came in from the front yard, having finished cleaning the grounds.

“We have a guest?” Little Emily asked. “We saw a black van in the parking lot.”

“There’s a man who says he’s the grandson of the late master,” Helena repeated.

“What? A man? The old master’s grandson?” Lucy’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “What does he look like, Helena? Is he liking a prince charming in fairytales?”

“That isn’t important right now, Lucy,” Maria cut in. “What are we going to cook for lunch? We only have two hours left.”

“Oh no…” Little Emily looked worried. “What if we have to follow the traditional manor menus from the old book? Should we just use whatever is left in the pantry?”

“I don’t have any better ideas,” Helena admitted.

“We’d better wait until Mr. Thompson comes back from cleaning the west grounds,” Lucy suggested. “He’s the one who handles the manor’s money. Mrs. Henderson only keeps the books.”

In the end they gathered what little remained in the kitchen and began cooking with whatever was available — not with what they wished they still had.

Mrs. Henderson lowered her eyes, trying to look at the thick cock that kept brushing against her stomach. Her eyes widened. The head was large and flushed, like a swollen mushroom. Padderson wrapped one hand around the shaft — two full grips, and there was still more length left. The veined length was a deep reddish-brown. He tapped the swollen head lightly against her cunt lips, then rubbed it slowly back and forth until the wet sounds of her arousal filled the quiet room.

Her head tipped back. A pleading look crossed her face as she stared up at him, like a hungry wolf. She tried to speak.

“If you want me, Master… please… do it slowly…”

But the only sound that reached his ears was a muffled, rhythmic noise around the gag. He met her eyes and gave a small nod, showing he understood.

The flushed head began to push forward, then eased back, then forward again. Mrs. Henderson looked down, desperate to watch as the thick length slowly entered her. When he was halfway inside, her expression tightened. She sucked in a sharp breath, head tipping back, eyes closing. Her lower belly already felt stretched and full. The muscles that had been tight at first began to loosen, adjusting, then started to squeeze and stroke him from the inside.

Padderson smiled when he felt her cunt milking him. He kept the pace slow and steady, breathing evenly. Seeing her thighs forced wide by the leather straps, he unbuckled both restraints, freeing her legs. Then he increased the rhythm, driving deeper until three-quarters of his cock was buried inside her.

Mrs. Henderson twisted left and right, trying to adjust to the hardness and length. She could feel him pressing against the deepest part of her, the blunt head kissing the mouth of her womb with every thrust. Moments later her legs clamped hard around his waist. ...