If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.
If you don't like stories about sex with underage children, don't read it.
If you don't like stories bout forced sex, don't read it.
If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area, don't read it.
If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this story, don't read it.
Find my stories here-
Copyright © 2003 Norm DePloom. ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached. The author may be contacted at 'MyStories at normdeploom dot com'
All the characters and events in this story are fictional; any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.
It had been a long day. Amy was tired. She was looking forward to changing into her nightclothes, saying her prayers and going to sleep. Her room was not as large as the closets in the master bedroom upstairs. It was barely big enough for her narrow bed, a nightstand to hold the washbasin, and a short rod to hang her few clothes on, but it was warm. It was cold and snowing outside and Amy had spent far too many winters trying to survive in the cold, unheated rooms her mother could afford to rent. Years ago, when she was too young to remember how old she was, Amy had promised herself that she would, somehow, get to live in a warm house. At sixteen, Amy was happy to have this job, it offered her a warm, dry, if somewhat small room where she could, for the first time in her life, be alone occasionally. A chance to be alone, and warm, meant more to her than the small wage she was paid. Just as she was about to undress, the door opened.
"Amy," Miss Parks said sticking her head into the room, "Lord Phelps wants to see you in the downstairs sitting room." Then she turned and left. A wave of fear crashed over Amy.
"Oh my God," she whispered out loud, "what have I done wrong?" Amy stopped at the mirror in the hallway to straighten her hair. Please Lord, she prayed silently, don't let me be fired. I'll do whatever I have to, she promised herself, to keep my warm room, then she hurried upstairs. Amy entered the sitting room with trepidation; she had never spoken to Lord Phelps, or anyone other than the other staff members.
"Come over here, girl," the old man said as soon as Amy was inside the door. Amy walked over and stood in front of the man who ruled all their lives. Without another word the old man reached out and touched Amy's left breast, through her dress bodice. Amy slapped Lord Phelps' hand away.
"Please, sir," she said as she stepped back. Lord Phelps sat back in his chair and looked at the young maid. Amy blushed under his intense gaze. She had always been bothered and embarrassed by the way men looked at her. Amy preferred to wear baggy, loose fitting clothes that hid her 'charms' as she'd heard men refer to her breasts, but since she had come to work in the Phelps's household she had been given uniforms with tight fitting bodices. Amy had been uncomfortable from the first day, over two weeks ago, when she saw how her new maid's uniform accented not only her breasts but also her small waist.
Amy had been doing her best to ignore the looks and comments of the male servants downstairs. She had been careful to never be alone with any of them, especially the butler Edward, who looked at her in a way that made his intentions all too apparent. Amy never imagined that a gentleman like Lord Phelps could act in such a boorish manner. Amy covered her breasts with her arms and stared at her employer with shock and disbelief. The gaslight cast sharp shadows across his weathered face.
"You've got to make a choice," Lord Phelps said softly. Amy strained to hear what he was saying. "Just remember, it's cold and snowing outside," Lord Phelps looked towards the window, "In fact, it seems to be a blizzard." Amy followed his gaze and shivered as she watched the flakes of snow being thrown against the dark windowpane. When they were both quite, she could hear the icy wind blowing around the corner of the house.
"Your choice is simple," Lord Phelps continued with a smile that sent an entirely different kind of shiver down Amy's back, "you do as you are told, or I call Edward who will beat you and throw you out into the snow. Then," Lord Phelps continued obviously savoring the idea of intentional cruelty, "I will summon the police and file charges against you for theft." Amy's head spun with images of her beaten and abused body lying in the snow waiting to be picked up by police officers who, no doubt, would believe whatever Lord Phelps told them.
"Just think what the officers and jailers will do to you after Edward and the boys get done with you." Amy was imagining it, and felt sick from the prospect. "After you get released from prison, ruined and probably pregnant with some unknown prison guard's bastard, and with a conviction for stealing from your former employer on your record, your only option will be to work as a whore on the streets." The future Lord Phelps was painting for Amy seemed all too plausible. She had known women who ended up getting paid pennies for fucking strangers in darkened doorways under similar circumstances. But, Amy thought, at least I wouldn't have consented, I wouldn't have cooperated with them, my soul would still be innocent. But he's an old man, Amy reasoned, maybe all he wants is to look, maybe touch me a little. That wouldn't be so bad. It would be far better than being beaten, repeatedly raped, and thrown into a cold prison cell. It was the thought of being in the cold prison cell, more than the probable rapes, that prompted Amy to keep her promise to herself and 'do whatever it took' to stay in the house.
"Now, unbutton your bodice, and let me see your nice young titties." Lord Phelps seemed to be almost drooling with anticipation as he waited for the young maid to obey. Amy hesitated, still undecided, until Lord Phelps reached for the bell that would summon Edward then, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and her fingers trembling so badly she could hardly keep hold of the buttons Amy undid the bodice of her uniform for the perverted pleasure of her employer. Once the bodice was unbuttoned, Amy undid the bows that held her undergarment closed then, still unable to actually pull the clothes away and expose her breasts to this man, she let her arms drop to her side as she wept.
Leaning forward, Lord Phelps grasped Amy's unbuttoned bodice with both hands and pulled her closer. Amy found herself standing between his knees. She could see the tent-like rise in the silk gown he was wearing where his already erect cock threatened to slip from under the material into her view. Slowly Lord Phelps pulled Amy's bodice, and undergarment apart exposing, inch by agonizing inch, more of her firm young breasts to his lecherous old eyes. Her body trembled with the effort of not pushing herself away from this despicable old animal, clutching her clothes to cover her nakedness and dashing from the room. Lord Phelps smiled when Amy's nipples came into view.
"They're just as beautiful as I thought they would be." Amy's blush deepened. Lord Phelps placed his hands on Amy's bare skin, one just below each of her breasts then, leaning forward a bit more, he took her right nipple into his mouth. Looking around the room, Amy had the appearance of a scared animal looking for a place to hide. She had to admit, in spite of the fear, humiliation, and anger that having her nipple sucked on felt good. Amy hadn't been prepared for how good it felt, she could feel herself getting wet between her legs, and there was no way to hide from Lord Phelps that her nipple was getting hard in his mouth.
Lord Phelps moved his mouth to her other nipple, then worked Amy's dress off her shoulders and down her arms. With her dress slowly slipping down her body, the front was down to the top of her pubic hair leaving her firm belly naked, Amy was torn between her desire to run and find someplace safe to hide, and her desire to wrap her arms around Lord Phelps' head and hold his mouth attached to her nipple forever.
Amy gasped in surprise, tinged with just a hint of disappointment, when Lord Phelps let his lips slip from her nipple as they left a wet trail of kisses down her tummy towards the curls of pubic hair sticking up over the top of her open dress. When he reached the lower part of Amy's stomach, Lord Phelps pulled Amy's dress off her arms and let it fall in a heap around her ankles.
"Oh God," Amy said as she looked down at her naked body dressed only in thigh length stockings and shoes.
"Tonight," Lord Phelps said looking up into his young maid's eyes, "you are going to discover that, in this house, I am God." As he spoke Lord Phelps moved his hands over Amy's naked body, around to her firm butt. After squeezing her fanny, Lord Phelps let his hands run lightly down the backs of her thighs until his fingers rested softly on the backs of her knees. Amy's body shivered visibly as the old man's hands explored her warm naked skin.
"Are you a virgin?" Amy blushed and looked away. "Are you?" He asked again moving his hands slowly back up her thighs.
"Yes." Amy answered, refusing to look at the man who was simultaneously exciting and tormenting her.
"Yes," Lord Phelps continued running his hands up her smooth back, then around to cup her breasts once again, "Miss Parker has always been quite good at finding desperate young virgins for me." Amy's body stiffened when she heard herself referred to as a 'desperate young virgin', but Lord Phelps, with surprising strength for a man of his age, refused to let her pull away.
It was the truth of that description more than anything else that upset Amy. Up until just a few minutes before, Amy had thought that being offered this job almost qualified as a miracle. Now she realized that there was a much more mundane explanation for her good fortune. Not being interested in conversation, Lord Phelps already had his mouth re-attached to one of Amy's nipples. Moving his left hand around to her fanny to support Amy, and hold her in place Lord Phelps moved his right hand down across her belly and, after combing his fingers through her thick, kinky pubic hair several times, pushed between her thighs. Amy, responding automatically and without thought, moved her feet apart opening her crotch to his invading hand. Only when his fingers spread her open and pushed inside did she try to pull away. Lord Phelps applied additional pressure to her fanny to keep her in place as his finger pushed deeper into Amy's virgin cunt. All the while he continued to suck and nibble on her nipples, changing every few minutes from one to the other.
Amy couldn't believe how wet she had become, the Lord's finger penetrated her with virtually no resistance while his thumb moved back and forth over her clitoris. Never before had Amy felt such feelings and their intensity scared her. It seemed to her that she had lost control of her body, her hips moved in an obscene manner that she never would have used under normal circumstances. She bent her knees slightly and rubbed her wet pussy against the Lord's fingers. She blushed with embarrassment, but seemed to be unable to stop herself.
"You will find," Lord Phelps said letting her hard, crinkled, saliva coated nipple slip from his sucking lips, "that being a wanton slut is a lot more fun than being a moralistic prig." But, Amy thought, as her body continued to move seemingly beyond her control, having fun is not the goal of life. Besides, continued her thoughts as a deep moan came from her throat, I don't want to be a slut. Amy made a Herculean effort to stop her hips from pushing her cunt against the old man's fingers. Why does sin have to feel so good? Why does something that feels so good have to be a sin? The second thought caught her by surprise.
"Don't fight it," Lord Phelps said as his fingers pushed deeper inside Amy. A moan that sounded like it was ripped from her body against her will came from deep in Amy's throat as she placed her hands on the old man's shoulders for support. Her whole body jerked as the first wave of orgasmic ecstasy crashed over her.
"Oh God," Amy said, her voice soft but intense.
"Yes," Lord Phelps replied as he grasped Amy's swollen Clitoris and stroked it between his thumb and finger.
"O-h G-o-d," Amy responded with a drawn out moan.
"Yes," Lord Phelps said with a tone of triumph, not releasing the girl's sensitive clitoris from his grasp.
"Oh God," Amy finished with a scream of pleasure she had never imagined she would experience as she slowly collapse onto her knees.
"Yes," Lord Phelps chuckled as he grinned at Amy, "my new little slut has her first orgasm." He continued to stroke Amy's clitoris until her orgasm subsided then, pulling his hand away from her crotch, he wiped his fingers on her dress before leaning back in his chair. Lord Phelps watched Amy's face intently as the orgasmic excitement drained from her cheeks to be replaced by the bright red of embarrassment and humiliation. Either God is a monster, Amy thought as she knelt in front of the old man catching her breath, or mother and the priest were wrong about what God is like. No loving God would create those wonderful feelings, then condemn people for feeling them. As Amy contemplated the nature of the Almighty, Lord Phelps pulled his silk robe open. Amy gasped at the sight of his erect cock.
"Touch it," the old man ordered quietly. Amy continued to stare in disbelief. She had no experience with male organs, erect or otherwise to compare this one to, but it seemed huge to her. She had felt completely filled with just his finger inside her body, how, she wondered, was she ever going to get that inside her.
"Touch it," Lord Phelps repeated a bit more firmly. Amy reached out with her right hand and wrapped her fingers around the shaft of flesh protruding from her employers lap. The large helmet shaped head stood proudly above her fist.
"That's right," Lord Phelps couched her, "now move your hand slowly up and down." Amy did as she was told. She was amazed, fascinated, and just a little repulsed at the same time by the way the skin moved up and down over the firm flesh inside.
"Reach between my legs with your other hand," the old man continued instructing her as he spread his legs further apart, "and feel my balls." Amy looked dubiously at the wrinkled, hairy sack of skin hanging from the bottom of her employer's hard cock. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to touch it, but she did as she was told and was again mesmerized by the way the two firm lumps inside moved as she gently massaged the Lord's scrotum.
"You have a good instinct and a natural talent," Lord Phelps told the blushing young maid. "Get to know my cock," he added as he placed a hand on Amy's wrist and adjusted the speed of her strokes up and down the shaft of his hard dick, "it's going to be your job to pleasure it whenever I feel the need." The intense pleasure of her orgasm passed, Amy became overwhelmed with guilt and remorse. Tears leaked from her eyes as she caressed the cock and balls of the old man in the chair.
"The guilt won't last," Lord Phelps assured the young girl when he noticed her tears, "soon I'll have you performing the most depraved sex acts imaginable without so much as a blush." The old man grinned with sadistic pleasure as his words pulled an excruciated sob from his young victim.
"Kiss it," he ordered. Amy pulled back in revulsion, the idea that she should put her lips on her employer's cock turned her stomach.
"Your choices are still the same," Lord Phelps reminded his servant as he placed his hand on the back of her head and urged her mouth closer to his hard dick, "do as you are told or receive a beating from Edward and be tossed into the snow naked." Her stomach churning at the thought of what she was about to do, Amy allowed her head to be pulled down until her closed lips touched the slightly moist cock head sticking up from her hand.
"Open your lips." the old man instructed holding Amy's mouth pressed against his rigid cock.
"Please," Amy begged, managing to pull her mouth a fraction of an inch off the waiting organ, "please don't make me do this." As she spoke Lord Phelps worked his fingers into Amy's hair then grasped a handful so tightly that the corners of her eyes were pulled back in a mock Oriental slant.
"I'm really going to enjoy watching Edward beat you," he told the weeping young girl, "when he's finished I'm going to have him hold you down while I fuck you. When I'm done every male in this house will take turns using your precious little virgin cunt. Then we will tie you, naked, to the iron fence outside. If you are still alive in the morning we will call the police." More than the beating, more than the rapes, it was the thought of spending the last hours of her life in the freezing cold that frightened Amy into compliance. Ignoring the distressful feelings coming from her stomach Amy opened her lips and, with a whimper of submission, took the Lord's cock head into her mouth.
"That's my good little slut," Lord Phelps said as he stretched his legs out on each side of the naked girl and, relaxing his grip on her hair, gently stroked her head as one might pet their favorite dog. Amy wanted to scream 'I'm not a slut, ' as loud as she could, but instead she moved her tongue over the cock head that was in her mouth. It's not as bad as I thought it would be, she thought. There was a slightly musky smell and taste, but not unpleasant. It was only the knowledge of the other uses that this organ was put to that kept her stomach churning.
"Move your hand lower," he advised, "pull the foreskin down so you can really work my cock head with your tongue. Yes, that's it, now take as much of it as you can into your mouth." Amy slowly lowered her head, taking more and more of the hard flesh into her mouth, until it pushed against the back of her throat and made her choke.
"That's OK," Lord Phelps comforted Amy, patting her head, "just take as much as you can for now. We'll work on relaxing your throat another day." Amy lowered her mouth onto the saliva-covered cock once again. "Remember to keep your teeth covered with your lips," the old man reminded her.