Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, NonConsensual, Historical, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Goaded into writing an erotic story for an underground newspaper at university, brings changes in Emily's personal life.
Diary entry 1
The writing of this story became interlinked with my real life and while reality didn't exactly mirror the fiction, events in one sparked off events in the other. I've always kept a sort of computer diary and decided that, because the story is written as though it were my personal account of the events at the Manor, I would use a diary entry as a prologue to each chapter and as my personal account of events connected with the writing. The story had a bigger and totally unexpected impact on my real life, than I could have foreseen. Like any diary, some entries are long and momentous, others, when little of note happened, are much shorter. As I am taking a creative writing course, I'll try to write the diary entries in essay form. I hope you, like me, feel the diary contributes to the whole scenario.
"Anything in the Sleaze Rag, Penny?" I asked my roommate who for the last ten minutes had idly flipped through the pages of the latest edition of the university underground newspaper, 'The UniMole'.
"Not a lot. Picture of our star rugby player with his arms around a titless waif, "She's just a friend of my sister," he told our reporter. Believe that if you will. He never goes out with a girl unless he can get his prick inside her within an hour... Picture of Doctor Judith Mears supposedly pregnant by a student... Another porno story by Zen about a girl who is forced to sleep with her tutor to get decent grades. That must be his fourth or fifth on that theme. Perhaps Zen is a tutor hoping that will happen." Penny continued to turn the pages and comment on the items. "Here's something for you Em. 'Entries are invited for an Erotic Story Competition. We are looking for well written stories of at least 2,000 words to titillate our readers. Novel length stories acceptable but may be serialised. No subject taboo (except for legal reasons, paedophilia). Closing date for entries: last day of term.' You're doing the Creative Writing course so it shouldn't be a problem for you to dash off an entry!"
"They won't want a literary piece; just bang-bang, fuck-fuck porn, same as most of the other stories they print. You could write that. What's the prize?"
"A night out or a night in with Sharon Simmonds, she's that big boobed blonde bimbo that I bet really does sleep with the tutors. I guess they expect a man to win it. Daresay you wouldn't mind getting your hands on her tits though." She ducked when I threw a cushion at her.
"I'd have difficulty in getting to them before you!" I laughed.
"Don't you fancy yourself as a porn writer then Em? I thought it would give you a chance to write down your real thoughts and fantasies instead of conforming to the restrictions imposed by your tutor."
"I don't have your experience to draw on."
"Well you're certainly no Miss Innocence and you read enough stuff on the net. Just write some of the perversions you think of when playing with yourself in bed."
"Or when I'm in bed with you?"
So the good-humoured banter between us went on with Penny's pushy arguments gradually wearing away my resistance. "What we need to do," Penny declared as though it was agreed, "Is to decide on a theme and perhaps make it sort of interactive with both of us suggesting pathways the story could go."
"You seem awfully keen for me to do this. Seems like I do the work while you read the result and wank yourself silly."
"You're the budding author, I'm only a bookkeeper. So let's decide on a theme."
"What sort of theme? Certainly not one set at the Uni with students being forced to do all manner of sexual things to keep up their grades. That's been done too many times. Unless it's about how old Dr. Forester uses a long thin cane and a large thick prick to chivvy a certain Penelope Marchant into working harder!"
"Yukk. I'd fail before I'd submit to that old goat. What about a period drama setting like that series on TV? You do English Lit as well as Creative Writing so the two could go well together. Jane Eyre, Mansfield Park, Bleak House type thing."
"What like, young innocent girl gets sent to live in rich man's house and he's a randy old sod who soon takes away her innocence?"
"And who whips her bottom a few times in the process. You could be the young girl and write in the first person and I could give your arse a good spanking so you wrote with more authenticity."
"And you'd be Lady Penelope Marchant and order the butler to strap me I suppose." I tried to sound indignant but the germ of an idea was coming into my head.
"And you'd be plain Emily Jenkins. How about we keep our real names at least for the draft. That would make it really personal. You could do a global find and change before you send it in."
"Or I could change my name and leave yours so everyone would know what a bossy bitch you are!"
The banter ended with a mock fight with the cushion being tossed back and forth from an ever closer range until the fight became a wrestling match culminating in both of us girls nakedly making love to each other.
Lying awake in my bed later that night, I mulled over her ideas for the story competition. "Even if it doesn't win, my entry has to have a decent story line which probably means that it will be fairly long in order to bring out the characterisation. The characters must be real and believable so that eliminates magic and mind control stuff. I will have to put plenty of sex in it though and include many fantasises I wouldn't do in my own life and being a historical story, I can include punishments that are illegal today. Forced sex, which I suppose is actually rape, can play a major part at least in the beginning. I wonder what servant girls thought about when they were ordered to 'warm a master's bed'? I guess some liked it but what of the others? Perhaps they'd feel like I would if Dr. Symonds ordered me to his bed in order to redeem a bad essay? Hell Penny, why did you have to bring the topic up? I can't sleep now the idea has entered my head and I know that I have to write the story. Wonder if Doc Symonds will accept it as a piece of my coursework? He'd probably wank himself silly reading it. He-he!"
Chapter one. At the Manor
I knew my life was about to change when Lord Charles Marchant galloped across the field to where we gathered wood at the edge of the copse. Dad and I stopped what we were doing and waited for him to approach. I stood slightly behind my father as though he would protect me but both of us knew we couldn't prevent the inevitable. At the time I wasn't too sure that I wanted to. Life at home was one hardship after another and there was rarely enough food for us to have a proper meal. Daddy doffed his cap and I bobbed an apology for a curtsey when his lordship reined in his thoroughbred and looked down at us.
"Ah Jenkins, I understand from my man Parkes that you are unable to pay the tithe due to me this quarter." His lordship spoke sharply.
"I'm sorry M'lord but the floods this spring washed out all the crops we'd planted and..."
"I understand you wish to make payment by placing your daughter in my service for a period of three months until the debt is paid off."
"I would rather place myself in your service sire. I am a good worker and wouldn't need any training."
"We've plenty of labourers as good as you and you need to work this plot to pay the next tithe. Release the girl into our service for three months or pay your dues."
"Aye sire, the wife and me, we agreed she could go."
"Step forward wench and let me look at you." Shyly I moved in front of my father and momentarily glanced at the arrogant man staring down at me before casting my eyes to the ground again. "Turn around." Again I looked and slowly moved in a circle. I guessed that his eyes were undressing me and wondered if I would be acceptable to him and whether he would be able to visualise what was under the dull brown dress of coarse material that I was wearing. From remarks I'd overheard from other farmers, I knew I was reasonably attractive to them but would I be to a man used to well bred, aristocratic ladies, decked out in all their finery? Perhaps I would compare when all our clothes were removed. I'd inherited my looks from mother. Like her I had long black hair, now wound into a bun on top of my head, large brown eyes and, especially for my age, I was well endowed in the tit department but I knew my ribs showed clearly and my face was a little hollow from the lack of good food. Apart from that, I was well built, strong and healthy from the labouring work I did. Would he want me now that he'd seen me in my grubby working shift? What would we do if he didn't?
"Is she obedient Jenkins?"
"Most of the time sire. Sometimes she has to be put across my knee but not so often."
"She'll need to be obedient all the time in our household. We don't deal lightly with maids that fail to do as they're told. Turn around again girl." I again did a clumsy circle.
"I guess that with some food inside you and a decent dress you might be acceptable for a while. Any boy tupped you yet?"
"No M'lord." I blushed as I assumed tupped was the aristocrat's word for fucked which was the peasant's language I knew. From the stories I'd heard I didn't expect it would be long before my first 'tupping'.
When Frederick Parkes, the reeve, suggested my employment Mother and I talked about what might happen when I was taken into service at Lord Marchant's house.
"I guess ya's knows what the men in tha big hoos will wanna do with ya." I nodded. "Well then ya must try and keep yersel from getting preggy girl. Sara Meyhews' mother tol me tha thay put sponges things up in her daughter's cunnie when she work'd there and the one time she forgot, she gotta herself knocked up and they gives her the push. Now she hes a babbie to see to and no man to provide for 'er." Mother didn't have the schooling I'd had and that was little enough but I could read and write and they'd made me speak properly so that might stand me in good stead in the big house.
Living as we did in a two-room hovel with one bedroom and a kitchen living room, I knew exactly what went on in the bedroom. Two threadbare blankets draped from the ceiling beams, separated my part of the room from theirs and when it was daylight, I could secretly watch them through the moth holes. I saw them fucking on many occasions. Probably they knew I watched but ignored me. Certainly I often saw father's prick when he got up in the morning and used the pot they kept under the bed and when we all used the tin bath in front of the fire. It was the first time I'd heard about the sponges though and wondered exactly what they did with them.
During the walk to Witchellden Manor, I nervously mused on what the future held for me. What would it be like to have a man fuck me? Mother seemed to like it when dad fucked her. How bad would the discipline be? His lordship had indicated that I would be punished for all my failures. What would I be expected to do? I'd no real experience of housework or life in a grand house. Indeed I had never been inside one. My life so far was all concerned with tilling the land and looking after the few crops we were able to grow and selling them in the market. Life now would be very different and I was both nervous and a little excited at the prospect.
"We expected you half an hour ago," a sour faced woman who was the chief housekeeper greeted me when one of the maids showed me into the kitchen. She then gave orders to others in the room who all replied, "Yes Mrs. Evans," so I learned her name. She abruptly asked a few questions on my health and enquired whether I had been rogered. For a moment I looked blank and then she whispered, "Fucked." She only nodded when I responded and then led me to her room where a bath was being filled.
"Undress girl and be quick about it. We've to make sure you are clean before you visit the master and he will not be in a good mood if he is kept waiting much longer." I looked at askance at the two girls bringing pitchers of water in from somewhere along the landing but a sharp look from Mrs. Evans and I quickly divested my clothes. She watched me closely and even seemed to smile as I revealed more of my body until, "Oh dear, the master isn't going to like that." Blushing scarlet, I knew she was referring to the rags I wore because I was having my monthly bleed. Still she made me remove them and they were still in my hands when two of the houseboys came in carrying a cauldron of hot water to add to the bath. Even if the water was only warm it was a luxury we rarely had at home.
Of course I tried to cover my private parts with my hands but Mrs. Evans was having none of that. "This is Robert and he is Cyril," she introduced them, "Shake hands and as they are higher ranking than you, you curtsey as well." The two maids stood to one side and grinned. If anything my skin blushed a deeper red but I thought it wise to do as she said. The boys too grinned when my tits shook as I tried to curtsey and I wondered if they as well as the master would fuck me. Robert was a nice looking lad, certainly by the standards of the few other farm lads that I had met.
"You'll need to get used to men, and women too for that matter, looking at your naked body Emily," Mrs. Evans stated when she'd shoed the others from the room and started to bathe me. "You know why you're here, don't you?"
"To pay off my father's debt?" I ventured.
"Yes..." She massaged my tits until my nipples stood out, "... by allowing the master and his two boys, well three if you count Leonard who is away at the moment, and the mistress to use your body for their pleasure. And when they've had their fill, the staff and I will be able to use you as well. You may be an innocent now but by this time tomorrow you will be well on the way to being a doxy. They'll want to use you in all sorts of ways and don't think of resisting, not unless you want to feel the strap or the birch on your arse." The pleasure she was getting from playing with my body, particularly from the way she groped and playfully squeezed my tits, was obvious by the expression on her face and the way she relished giving me all the sordid sexual details of my forthcoming life at the Manor.
Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks now, but she seemed unconcerned and washed and examined my cunnie and arsehole. For several minutes her fingers played with my clittie and I could feel my excitement down there growing and yet I felt that it was so at odds with the teaching we received in the church. Eventually she dried me and combed and brushed my hair and to my consternation, she did my pubic hair as well. All her touching and fingering of my sexual parts made me feel wet between my legs but I never reached the orgasmic stage I'd had with my own fingers in the darkness of my bedroom. I knew the feeling from having played with myself when watching my parents perform in the bedroom.
In response to Mrs. Evans ringing a bell, a maid appeared and was ordered to find me a 'new maid's' shift. The one that arrived seemed extremely short to me, even shorter than the uniform the maid wore and that was far shorter than anything I'd seen women wear at home or in the village. It barely covered my pubic hair and revealed most of my titties. I was shocked that I was expected to wear it but at least the housekeeper seemed satisfied.
"Mrs. Evans please, it is too short. Everyone can see my..." I tried to protest.
"If I hear one more word, I'll take that off and you can do your visiting in your natural clothing!" She rebuked me in her sharp manner, the smile she'd had when playing with my body, now gone. "He'll want to see all of you anyway. Now remember what I have told you about how to address the masters and how to curtsey."
After being brought up in a two-room house, the passageways and the immense number of rooms in the Manor bewildered me and I was soon lost. We came to a large panelled door, knocked and, when commanded, went into a sumptuously appointed study. Lord Marchant sat behind a leatherette-covered desk. "M'lord, this is Emily Jenkins who has come to join our staff," Mrs. Evans introduced me and bobbed a curtsey and I tried to imitate her. Of course he knew who I was so the introduction as only a formality.
"Let me have a good look at her then, she had too many clothes on earlier. Remove that shift girl."
"Sir, I ought to warn you," Mrs. Evans interrupted, "She's on her monthly bleed."
"Pity but that will just mean one of the maids will have to clean us afterwards and we won't need to use those sponge things for a week."
The examination was utterly humiliating. Never before had male hands touched the places where his hands roamed freely. My efforts at covering my body with my arms met with a stern warning from the housekeeper who then held them behind my back while his lordship fondled and squeezed my tits much like Mrs. Evans did earlier. Despite the embarrassment, I found myself becoming aroused and when told to lie over the desk, I did so almost willingly until I felt his finger at my arsehole. "You've not had a pego in there either Emily?" he asked as he worked his finger in my opening.
Innocent me, I had never heard of it being done although I had often seen young bullocks try to mount each other and wondered if they did eventually get their pricks into a hole. Certainly I couldn't conceive of having a man's prick in there, at least not if it was the size of my father's.
"Yes, nice and tight. I shall enjoy opening that soon."
"Oh no!" I cried out in shock.
SMACK. His lordship's hand connected hard with my bum and I cried out.
"I do hope that you are not going to be difficult Emily, because if you are, we will have to punish you until you do what we say. All the girls here have taken my pego in all three of their holes, cunt arse and mouth, and you will be no different. The pain of my forcing it in will be far, far less than the birch and then you would still have to take it there anyway." His voice was cold and hard and I knew he spoke truly. For a few moments I wondered if it would be possible to escape, but where would I go and what would be the repercussions on my family? If I failed to work off the debt, the farm, such as was, would be taken from them and they would be thrown out of the tied cottage that went with it and probably they'd spend the rest of their lives in separate rooms in the workhouse. I knew they wouldn't want the horror and stigma of that.
My thoughts were brought back to the present when I felt a cloth wipe my cunnie and fingers pushing the lips apart. Besides the blood that had trickled out, I knew there was also some of my wetness and that at least seemed to please him. "Looks like she gets aroused quickly enough Mrs. Evans," he commented.
"Yes sir. She also became very wet when I bathed her. I guess she's used her fingers often enough." Yet again I had to blush.
"That bodes well for when my wife wants her."
I quickly began to realise that these so called aristocrats that I was being forced to work for, didn't have any morals at all. In our peasant community, it was considered a great sin to fuck anyone other than your marriage partner but these rich people, both men and the women, wanted a variety of partners. And I was going to be a partner for both of them and others too. They intended to make me into a doxy, a trollop, a whore; all to pay off a few pounds of my father's debt.
"Kneel between my legs." Lord Charles seated himself in a large leather covered chair and spread his knees. "Open my breeches and take out my pego." I looked up at him in wide-eyed amazement.
"I think a touch of the strap might be needed to encourage her sir. She is getting a little reluctant to do your bidding." Mrs. Evans voice had an eager smirk to it. I hastily fumbled with the buttons but it was too late.
"I agree. It's hanging on the hook on the side of my desk."
"Get your bottom up in the air girl and perhaps after a few strokes with this you'll be more willing to do as you are told as soon as you are told. You're not at home now. Here we do things differently and immediately."
Knowing there was no way of getting out of my punishment I raised my arse and waited while Mrs. Evans took a stance to one side of me. "Half a dozen should do for starters Mrs. Evans. That should colour her white globes and put a bit of warmth in them."
Six was fairly lenient but she laid them on with some force and I was howling by the third stroke and yelling before she completed her task. "Next time I'll expect much less fuss otherwise you'll get the lot again. I won't tolerate such a pathetic display from any of my maids and I would have expected a farm girl to be much tougher. Now do your master's bidding." Mrs. Evans pushed me down and through wet eyes, I managed to get his breeches undone and found his prick already erect and much bigger than father's.
"Pleasure me with your mouth." I didn't really understand the command but not wishing to receive another dose of the strap, I started to suck the end without putting it very far into my mouth. I soon learned that I wasn't doing it right because Mrs. Evans grabbed my hair and forced me to bob up and down on the prick until it filled my mouth and hit the back of my throat. She kept this up for a little while and then released me but I guessed they wanted me to continue with the fucking movements until he loosed his seed. This didn't take long and soon my mouth was filled with it. I looked around but there was nowhere to spit it out so I had to swallow it all but that at least produced a nod of satisfaction from his lordship.
"Take her away now and send her to my room at four o'clock when the maids bring the tea. I should be recovered by then. Meanwhile keep her out of the way of my sons. She's exclusive to me for the time being.