Chapter 7

“Well, obviously, we have to go straight to the constables and inform them that Lord Thompson and Sir Starfellow are both in need of being clapped in irons,” Marci said, frowning as she adjusted her suit jacket with her hands – the rest of the house staff was bustling about in a mad, tearing hurry. “And we should cancel their invitations to the fox hunt...”

“No, we can’t!” I said, hurriedly, as behind me, Abby finished scrounging up some ladies gloves that would be good for riding around on a horse. She held one up to my hand, her eyes narrowing as she made a tiny ‘hmm’ noise and leaned in close, clearly working to compare my fingers to whoever had owned the lady’s glove. I figure Albert’s mom? Either way, I tried to ignore her and focus on Marci – which was easy because Marci was turning around to narrow her eyes at me.

“And why is that? You said yourself that they’re both up to something nefarious – possibly murderous,” she said.

“Because...” I paused, then looked down at my hands. “Because I ... I realized ... if they involved Albert, and we don’t know, and that means, they can go and tell the constables about whatever it was Albert did, and me being Lucy wouldn’t matter, cause either I tell them the truth and then I’m not your mistress anymore, and ... or I don’t, or, I do and they don’t believe me ... and ... then...” I whispered. “Then you’ll be all alone again...”

I’ll be all alone again.

Marci sighed, slowly. “We can’t simply allow them to do whatever it is they’re planning. If it involves the Most Honorable Royal Machine Company-”

“That’s just it!” I said, nodding. “We have to stop them! But we can’t get the constables involved until we know that I won’t go to jail for it too! We have to get more evidence, find out what they’re doing, and then put a stop to it.” I grinned, shyly. “Besides ... it’ll be a fun adventure, right?”

Marci rolled her eyes. “Georgette, what are you teaching this young miss?”

Georgette, who was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the sitting room (which, hey, made sense, sitting rooms were for sitting), looked up from the book she was reading and narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been cramming her for the dance and preparing her to entertain any future husband she might get ... I didn’t have time to teach her much else.” She sighed. “And the husband training is seeming fairly unlikely ... you didn’t meet anyone at the dance, did you?”

“Oh, uh, I did meet a Mr. O’Neill...” I said, biting my lip as my entire belly suddenly exploded into butterflies, thinking about Amanda. Guhhh. A cis girl with he/him pronouns did funny things to my brains. Turned them gooy. Into sexy brains. Sex brain. No brain, only sex. I blushed, then realized that I was, um, tenting my pants a little – and that Georgette was looking shocked.

“A Mr. O’Neill? Well!” She said, standing up, huffing. “I had been thinking we wouldn’t need to train you in certain arts ... but...” She walked over. “As the materials for your bottom surgery are still a few days off, we’ll need to get you prepared.” She took my arm and spoke over my head to Marci. “We have ... how long until the guests arrive for the fox hunt?”

Ah yes. The fox hunt. It had been a bit of an unpleasant shock to find that my social calendar involved a fox hunt with the two grotty old dudes that I was pretty sure were planning something evil as shit and fucky as hell. It had all been set up way before I’d ever swapped with Albert – and canceling it was possible ... but also super rude, and ... I had to do my social niceties, and ... well ... the only nice thing about the whole affair was that apparently, it was with holographic foxes rather than real ones. Oh, also, I managed to get Ami in the guest list.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

“Three hours. And, hopefully, the Maria will arrive before them, I do want to get her at least a little acclimated...” Marci said.

Jenny stuck her head into the room. “Yo!” she said. “The cargo rocket is here, and the boxie is on her way.”

“Excellent,” Marci said. “ ... say ... the skiff you took back from the surface seemed a mite banged up, you didn’t break the speed limiters did you?”

“ ... no...” Jenny said as Georgette started to escort me away.

“Young miss, did Messenger break the speed limiters?” Marci asked, turning to face me. I froze – and Georgette turned me to face Marci and I blushed. Okay, Lucy. Don’t be a narc. Everyone hated Narcs. I gulped, then said.

“Noperino!” I said, nodding.

“She’s lying,” Georgette said, her eyes narrowing.

“What? No!” I exclaimed.

“We’ll deal with this later...” Marci said, glaring at Jenny, who looked as innocent as it was possible for a spunky robot girl to look. “Georgette, get young miss through whatever it is you wish to teach her.”

Georgette’s palm fell on my shoulder. She leaned in. She whispered. “Young ladies do not lie.”

... I was even harder now.

Georgette took me to the tutoring room then sighed. “I was originally planning to do this gently, young miss. But since you decided to be a little fibber, I suppose that I can let myself go...” She chuckled, quietly.

“W-What’s going to happen to Jenny?” I stammered, my cock throbbing and eager, my fingers playing against one another before my skirts as I blushed. Hard. Georgette’s eyes flashed.

“Something quite similar to what is about to happen to you. Your dress. Remove it.” Her voice held no room for me to say no. My fingers went to my collar and I started to undo the buttons and ties, blushing and shivering as my dress started to slide off my shoulders. I wriggled and the dress puddled around my ankles, leaving me in my underclothes – my petticoat (it was a real thing, and not just a fake made up word, which I had always assumed before wriggling into one) and my stockings. The bits of skin that were now exposed felt almost painfully sensitive, tingling in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Without the outer layer, my hardon was even more obvious.

Georgette sighed, then grabbed onto my chin from behind. She jerked my head backwards, drew me against her, her voice husky and harsh in my ears. “You do not simply allow your dress to crumple onto the floor, like some kind of animal...” She growled, her metal fingers caressing my skin, my throat as she spoke, and I whimpered.

“S-Sorry, mistress Proctor,” I stammered.

“Sorry is not sufficient for a young lady that is so uncouth ... but I suppose if you wish to be so uncouth and slovenly, I have no reason to treat you like a lady at all.” Georgette shoved me forward, pressing me against the wall. My palms slapped against the wood and my cheek mashed up against the wood paneling as she grabbed onto my petticoat and yanked upwards, revealing my rump, my balls, my throbbingly hard cock. “What a whore you are, to be so aroused...” She smacked my ass with her teak colored hand, her golden tresses tumbling around her head as she loomed above me.

The sting of it was almost less shocking than the noise – harsh and loud. My eyes widened and I gasped, then felt the sting turn into a buzzing throb. Georgette put a hand on my shoulder, rooting me into place, then smacked my ass again. Her fingers didn’t quite hit the same place – and so, new flesh on my ass began to sting and tingle, while the part that had been smacked before throbbed. It hurt. But it felt ... good. Pain traveled along my body and my nipples became puffy and hard and eager.

Smack!

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! “Little whore, absolutely disgraceful!” Georgette snarled. “Utterly unkempt...” Smack! My ass was burning now – she was alternating palm and cheek, using the back, then the front of her hand, and each time, she left a new stinging palm print. My tingling crawled along my spine and each impact caused my body to rock forward – and my achingly hard girldick was drooling translucent precum, dripping and flecking it onto the ground, making an awful mess, which only made Georgette slap me harder. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes.

Tears of pain.

Tears of pleasure.

The smacks kept coming – and I kept letting out whimpering mewling gasps, but then something inside of me snapped and I sobbed out. “Please, I’m s ... shu ... shorry, please, ah, mistress, oh god, I’m sorry I’m such a sloppy whore, oh god...” I trembled and her palm stopped in its spanking. Her fingers, shockingly cool, pressed to my burning rump and traced slow, torturous patterns along me as she crooned.

“Will you listen to your mistress now?”

“Yuh...” I nodded, whimpering, sniffling against the wall. “I’ll do anything for you, please...” I panted, my cock throbbing. Her hand closed around me. She squeezed me. I almost came from that touch alone – but her grip squeezed at the base of my dick, and torture filled my body again. I wanted to cummmm, but I coullldn’t! Her voice was cruel.

“You say that now. But I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, whore...” She said, and she slid her hands to my hips. My cock actually started to soften slightly – and my body shuddered with denied pleasure. My eyes closed and I let out a low, desperate whine, trying to get my cock hard again. Maybe I could grind against the wall, maybe I could-

Something cool and slightly hard slipped against my sensitive dick. I let out a tiny squeak of shock, opening my eyes – and looking down, I saw Georgette looping a leather strap around my hips ... and then I stood, pushing away from the wall, blinking. My softened girldick was now trapped in a cage of pale gold metal, containing my member without quite compressing it. I whimpered, then gasped as a pair of slippery, lubed fingers teased along my anus. I bit my lip as Georgette growled in my ear. “A sloppy little whore like yourself needs to be punished properly. You cannot get hard in this little cage. You cannot cum. You can only ... squirm.” Her fingers teased around the pert rosebud of my ass and I let out a sob of pure frustration because my dick would twitch, get a teeny bit hard, then kinda ... sag back, because there was no rooooom!

“Auhhhh!” I whined, tears streaming down my cheeks. “M-Mistressss!”

“If you are a good girl all day and mind your lessons ... I might ... might unlock it. After the fox hunt,” she crooned.

I nodded, gasping. Brain gone. Only subby slut Lucy who exists purely for robo-cock. I mumbled. “Do you want me to suck your cock, mistress?”

“No,” she said, and I whined, so she spanked me again and the throbbing agony of it made me choke, my eyes closing tightly, my cock straining against the chastity cage. Auuughghhhbbble, DAMN YOU CHASTITY CAGE!

“Bend forward.”

I bent forward.

“Be silent.”

I bit my lips and tried to not scream as she poured some very cold lube onto my poor butt. I was so sensitive. My eyes closed and tears pricked at their corners, but I managed to not let out so much as a tiny sniffle. Georgette let out a soft ‘hmm’ and said, quietly.

“Good girl.”

Good giiiiiiiiiirl! I was a good girl! I was a-

That was when she pushed an entire horse cock into my ass.

That was how it felt at least. There was a narrow tip, which spread my anus, and then it spread outwards, then with a soft grunt and a loud slurp, she pushed the rest of the plug into me. My ass had never felt so full, because I had never had anything in my ass before. The noise that escaped my lips was halfway between groan and growl, my eyes closing tightly, my fingernails digging into the wall’s wooden panneling and I gasped and I panted, and I whimpered out. “M- ... Mistress!”

“There...” She crooned, then twisted it a bit – there was a thick circular base, which pressed against my cheeks, and when Georgette tugged me to a standing position, the plug shifted inside of me and I swear, I almost fainted right then and there because it was finding a button I hadn’t known existed and that button was nghhhhhhhhhhhhhghh. I’d always thought those Japanese muckymags where girls were like ‘oh, I’m losing my miiind’ was just cheesetrash porno dialog, but I can tell you, right now, that I was going absolutely fucking insane. My knees quivered and my mouth hung open and I swear, I had a bit of wall eye going on.

“This is the smallest toy we have,” she said, quietly. “If your Mr. O’Neill is even average, you will find him considerably more filling.”

I whimpered. “M-Mew!”

“Now...” Georgette said. “Let us get you dressed. You will of course behave with comportment and refinement and politeness. If you do a good job at the end of it, you can remove your cock cage and cum. If you don’t ... well...” She gave me the most smirking expression one could give considering she had no freaking lips. Well, she didn’t have ... moving lips. Listen, it’s hard to expressionize robots without moving lips, okay!? Give me a break, I have a fucking cock cage on and a buttplug in my butt! It’s hard to think of words!

“I get creative,” Georgette crooned.

I was sliding on my petticoat when the doorbell chimed – ringing throughout the house. I wriggled into my dress, brushed it off, then tried to sound casual and normal and not like I had a buttplug in me. “My Maria! That has to be her!”

Georgette inclined her head, gesturing – but then she paused, then placed her hand upon my shoulder. I blinked, then Georgette drew me into her embrace. She hugged me tightly, whispering in my ear. “You do know that you are actually the finest young miss I’ve ever taught, correct?” she asked, quietly, and I blushed, squirming in her grip.

“Y-Yeah...” I said, blushing. “ ... thanks.”

She pressed her forehead to the top of my head, then gently pushed me away from her, palm on my rump. “Go on, unbox your new maid.”

“EEEEEEEEE! I’m just like a kid on some kind of a ceremonial gift exchanging day, possibly one related to the new years? Something like that? Eh, it was kind of an esoteric concept?” I grinned at Georgette, but turning and zipping off. I took two steps, then found that zipping with a buttplug was...

“Hnnnn!” I groaned, then started to walk slower now, my spine stiff, my nipples achingly hard as my ass tightened around the toy.

Georgette let out a tiny ‘heh’ that I could hear from halfway down the corridor.

I came to the front door, opened it, and found that my brand new Maria Page was waiting for me in a great big huge box, oh, also, I was instantly killed. Assassinated, most cruelly, because standing right next to the great big huge box was Captain Amelia O’Neill, dressed in a white frilly shirt with black buttons, of which two were unbuttoned, revealing just a bit of her black skin and the beginning of the curve of her breasts. She was wearing brown leggings and she had a blue jacket that she had slung over her shoulder in the gayest way possible, and she had a slightly swayed belt that had a rapier scabbard and her other side had a fucking laser musket holstered in it. She brushed her hand through her afro, making it compact down, then floof up again, and then flashed a grin at me and said: “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Fitzland-Lancaster, that I decided to arrive a mite early. I noticed that a cargo skiff was coming to your station and hitched a ride along with your new maid ... so...”