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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.
.... There is more of this story ...