Chapter 2

I’d consulted the family solicitor, who actually was very familiar with the Training Centre. Bruce processed an application on my behalf, but it was set aside pending any problems with Amelia. I’d almost forgotten about it, in fact, three months after the initiation of sex with my staff. I hardly saw Amelia, except at dinner in the evening, and was under the impression that this was more than acceptable to her. I was certainly happy. I mean, five different women actually enthusiastic to share my bed?

One afternoon, I was on my way to the kitchen, as I was expecting Bruce to call in a little later. Marjory needed to know to have refreshments ready to go.

Shouting. Amelia’s voice, audible, even through the closed door. It was equally obvious that she was sounding off at poor Sally, who had never done anything to deserve such opprobrium. I opened the door to hear, “Stupid cow! Slutting around with my husband!”

Sally was, in fact, on the milking frame, her breasts tugged by the machine, and unable to escape.

“Stop!” My voice was loud enough, and I injected enough of the ‘I WILL be obeyed’ that I learned as an officer, to penetrate her temper. She turned to me, red faced, and raised her hand. Her attempt to strike me was a serious mistake. I trapped her hand before it made contact and twisted it so I had control of her. Then marched her out of the kitchen. In the doorway, I turned to Marjory. “Missus Boothroyd, I’m expecting Bruce Millyard in half an hour or so. Perhaps you’d show him to my office when he arrives? Give him some refreshment. Some coffee would put him in a good mood.”

“Certainly, sir.”

I then marched Amelia to her parlour, the space where she usually entertained her friends.

“That is it!” I declared. “I’ve let you be while you didn’t mess up the household. You’ve been a frigid bitch to me, and arrogant to the others. Now you’ve attacked the most innocent and inoffensive person in the place.”

“Defending your bitch? Do you think I don’t know you’re having it off with every female in the place?”

“Since you mention it, since you apparently are incapable of being a wife, I’m getting my satisfaction elsewhere. But I can tell you right now, that isn’t with Sally who, as I say, is entirely innocent and inoffensive. Actually, I understand she’s still a virgin. Are you prepared to apologise? You need to do a good job of that.”

“Apologise? To her?”

“Okay. If that’s how it is, our marriage is over. You can accept a divorce and go back to your family – if they’ll have you. Or you can accept a Training Indenture. The paper-work for that is all ready to process.”

“But, but...”

“No. No buts. Choose.”

It wasn’t quite as straightforward as it may sound, but she eventually agreed to accept the Indenture. By that time, Bruce had arrived.

“Stay in here, or into your room, until we take you to the hospital for your admission physical. That takes a week while they make sure you’re healthy. The initial Indenture is for three months, after which, if you make good progress, you may be able to return here, but not as my wife. If you want to be my wife again, you’ll need to prove you’ve changed.”

Thus, I left her to stew, and went to discuss business with Bruce. Marjory had briefed him about the events of the day, and once we’d covered company business, we moved on and he agreed to process the Indenture application. He left, and I went to the kitchen, where Sally was helping with preparation of the evening meal.

Marjory winked at me, and nodded at Sally, so I turned to her. “Sally, I can’t say how sorry I am you had to listen to that.”

“It’s alright, sir. I know the truth. I know I’m not the things she called me, except ‘cow’, and under the circumstances I’m not sure that’s an insult.”

“But it was intended as an insult, though I agree, you’re an important part of the household; both as milk-maid and cook’s assistant.”

“Sir, the thing is...” she ground to a halt.

Marjory smiled some more. “What Sally is trying to say, sir, is that she’s disappointed that you’ve never invited her to share your bed. I’ve told her that the others all took the initiative, but she’s convinced that she’s not pretty enough for you to want her.”

“Is it true, Sally?”

Her eyes flicked to mine, and away, as she nodded, blushed, and her head dipped.

“Come here, Sally, please.” I held my arms out.

Her eyes widened as she looked at me, then she rushed over into my arms, and I wrapped them round her. She felt good there, an inch or so shorter than Jane, so her head could rest on my shoulder.

“Sally, all the girls are different. Amelia – my wife, soon to be ‘ex’ – is better looking than all of you, but that’s not important. She’s a shrew. What matters is the person inside, and you, my dear, are sweet enough that looks wouldn’t matter in the least. I’m sorry that I’ve not paid attention to you, and that’s partly because you’re so quiet. Which is not a bad thing in itself, but you don’t put yourself forward at all. Do you want to share my bed?”

She nodded, her head moving against my shoulder and cheek. “Yes, sir. I ... I ... want to be a part of, of, the family.”

“You don’t need to have sex with me to be part of the family, Sally.”

“Don’t you want me, sir? I mean, I’m not...”

“Yes, you are, Sally. I would be delighted to make love with you – if that’s what you really want. But it’s not something I require of you.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, I want to be with you, even if I only have a small share.”

“Very well. In that case, when you’ve been milked before bedtime, I want you to come to me. In fact, I think I’ll come down and fetch you.” I looked at Marjory. “What time would that be?”

“She should be finished by about ten. It usually takes about fifteen minutes to be sure.”

I released her and she was about to turn away, but I gently took her face, her round, unremarkable face, in my hands and bent to kiss her lips. I intended it as just a guerdon, a token, but she leaned in to the kiss to prolong it, and communicated a profound longing. Suddenly, what I was doing with her changed character dramatically. Even so, the kiss didn’t last long and we separated.

“Marjory,” I said when I’d caught my breath, “Amelia will eat in her parlour. I’ve told her she’s to stay there or her bedroom for the time being. I’ve just thought, though, perhaps I might eat with you all, here in the kitchen? Rather than with Amelia? I think that would be best, at least for me.”

“You will be most welcome, sir. Even if you didn’t own the kitchen.” She chuckled, and so did I.

Dinner – supper as Marjory referred to it was a lot more relaxed than my usual one meal a day in Amelia’s company. The girls relaxed after a while, though Sally blushed and dipped her head every time I caught her eyes. We took our time, chatting about this and that. When it was over, I left them at Marjory’s insistence, to clear up, and went to talk to Amelia.

“Isn’t there any way...” she began, pleading.

I stared at her. She shrank, visibly. “Take off your clothes and shave your body while I watch.”

She shrank even further, if that was possible. “But ... I just can’t...”

“Exactly,” I stated. “There’s been absolutely no intimacy in our marriage, and,” I held up a hand to prevent her interruption, “I don’t just mean sex. I thought you were just shy before we wedded, but you’ve resisted any attempt to be close, emotionally or physically. The last straw was your abuse of poor Sally. I knew you were snobby towards the other girls – and Marjory Boothroyd, for that matter – but you stepped over the line this time. It’s going to be difficult and unpleasant for you, but you will learn to be a complete woman and to treat everyone with respect.”

She dissolved into tears, and I almost softened. Almost. I left her there.

Back in the kitchen, Sally was draped over the milking frame. Naked. I looked at Marjory. “She wanted to do it this way,” she said. “Another couple of minutes.” The rhythmic sounds of the milking machine sounded loud in my ears. Why hadn’t I noticed before?

The other girls were toned, from their regular use of the little gym in the basement, but Sally, Sally was softly rounded. I realised that I’d never seen her outside the kitchen, that she shared the little apartment where Marjory lived and had no need to leave that part of the house. The sounds stopped, and Sally detached the teat-cups. She stood and faced me, watching my expression, then turned, slowly, looking over her shoulders for any evidence of distaste. There was none for her to detect.

She was softly curved, with only her breasts out of proportion and limp from being drained. I smiled, and held out a hand. She came to me and tentatively took my outstretched hand, and I gave hers a little encouraging squeeze, then led her out of the kitchen and upstairs to my room. It occurred to me that walking up the great, elaborate, Victorian staircase was probably a first for her. There were two other stairs, much narrower and discreetly hidden, for the ‘staff’ to use to move around the house. Probably the only time a servant used the main stairs was to sweep or vacuum them. I used them unthinkingly, possibly because that meant I could keep hold of Sally’s hand.

In my room, I flipped the duvet back to reveal crisp, clean, white sheets and I waved at it. She lay herself down, and spread her legs, her face ... No fear. Just trust. Only let me be worthy of her trust.

I hope I was. I lay beside her and began to kiss her. Kissing her lips, she returned the kisses almost desperately. She let go a tiny whine when I withdrew in order to kiss lower; reaching her neck, she gasped. Her shoulders, the slopes of her breasts. Her nipples, soft, swollen, released just a little milk as I sucked. I continued down until I arrived at paradise. She was dripping, fragrant, and jerked as I swiped my tongue through her slit. I settled in to explore.

I had assumed that, as a virgin, she’d never been penetrated, but that was not the case. She had no hymen, but that was because (I found out much later) her trainers had used dildos on her, vaginally and anally. They just had not used her themselves, and neither had subsequent ‘owners’. (Using a woman to provide milk was partly another expression of the general demeaning of the gender and partly for the subtle difference in taste. As it happens, it was also another way of making use of excess, less attractive women).

I can’t say I got tired of licking her, but obviously she was wanting the next stage as she was pulling at my head. Entry was smooth; she was very tight, but very wet. Her response, though, was astonishing. Her arms and legs wrapped round me like an anaconda, and she met my thrusts with energy. I was ready for release, and she was there, too. I would have rolled off, but she clung to me and followed until she was on top, kissing my face with little kisses.

“Oh, master. Oh, wonderful. Thank you. Thank you.”

Not much later, I realised that she was asleep, sprawled on top of me. There was nothing to stop me joining her, so I did. I woke in the middle of the night, when she tried to get out of bed without disturbing me. Her pale body was just visible, wraithlike, in the dim moonlight through the window. I might have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but instead I followed her downstairs. In the kitchen, she arranged herself on the frame and affixed the teat-cups. Dim night-lights throughout the house permitted limited vision. When, from time to time, the power failed, we had candles and lamps, but there was enough light then for me to see.

I went to her, and caressed her rump, her back.

“Master!” she turned to see me, “You didn’t need to get out of bed!”

“I wanted to,” I said simply. When she finished, she shyly took my hand and we went back to bed. There, for the first time, she took the initiative of reaching for my dick. I was already hard thanks to watching her, but that enhanced things. She then surprised me by pushing me flat and straddling me, impaling herself. She took my hands and pressed them to her breasts.

“Missus Boothroyd told me what to do,” she explained. She was obviously exploring the possibilities of position and movement, rocking and circling. I felt her orgasm twice; the second time I came too. We returned to sleep. In the morning, she left before I was awake enough to stop her.