Her Lord and Master Read online

  Again she wished that there was someone she could talk to, someone she could confide in. Mrs. Hutchins was being kind, but she’d made it plain what she thought Molly should do. And why not? It had worked out for her. Or had it? “Mrs. Hutchins, may I ask you something?” she queried.

  “Of course, dear.”

  “The seventh viscount? Did you love him?” Mrs. Hutchins looked as though she was about to cry. “With every fiber of my being, until the day he died.” She turned away.

  “And what about Mr. Hutchins?”

  “Aye, I loved him too. He was very good to me.”

  Molly knew she had her answer. She left the chaise and walked toward the door. “I’ll be in the master’s chamber.” With that, she left the room and began the long climb up the staircase. She walked down the hall, then stood in front of the familiar door. With shaking hands and trembling knees, she knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” said a deep, male voice. The master’s voice.

  Molly swung open the door and stepped inside. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and she knew she’d made the right decision. How could she possible deny the desire that she’d felt for this man since she’d first seen him? To think that he wanted her in return, when he could have any number of fashionable ladies, was overwhelming.

  He crossed the room, but made no further approach toward her. “I presume you’ve spoken with Mrs. Hutchins?” he asked.

  She nodded, not trusting her tongue at that moment.

  “And she explained things to you?”

  Again she nodded.

  “Well, then, you will attend me.”

  Molly felt a surge of panic. “Right here? Right now?” she blurted out.

  “Yes, I require a bath after my ride. Please see to it that the tub is brought up and the water heated. Plunkett and the footmen will assist you.”

  Molly stood there dumbly, her face flushed with embarrassment. Obviously she’d mistaken his intentions. He only required a bath. Maybe Mrs. Hutchins was mistaken about his intentions as well. She curtseyed and hurried away to begin the preparations for his bath. Half an hour later, Molly was the pouring the last steaming kettle of water into the tub, when the master walked in, clothed once again in his silken robe.

  “Your bath is ready, my lord.”

  She waited to be dismissed, but he said nothing, just moved to the side of the tub, and dropped his robe to the floor. Molly ducked her head, but it was too late. The vision of his perfect body was seared upon her mind. Before arriving at Ashford Hall she’d only seen one other man nude, but she was sure her young cousin was not so well-built, or so well-endowed as the master. She heard the water lap against the sides of the tub as he settled into it. He did not dismiss her, so she remained frozen in place, head bowed. She heard him splashing about, but still he did not acknowledge her.

  Finally, he spoke. “Come here.”

  Quietly, she stepped forward, head still downcast. “Yes, my lord.”

  “You will wash my back.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Nervously, she took the soap from his hand and knelt behind him. The soap smelled of sandalwood, she noted as she lathered it between her hands. His skin would smell of it, spicy and alluring. She tried to think of other things as she tentatively reached out to touch him, but it was impossible. His silken skin was slick and warm beneath her fingers. Sweeping her hands over the broad planes of his back, she could feel his muscles bunch and tense beneath his skin. She lathered his shoulders and upper back, then lower as he leaned forward allowing her further access. She ran her fingers along the knobs of his spine, just brushing the shallow cleft at the base, above his buttocks.

  When his entire back was covered with foamy lather, she put the soap down on a nearby stool and reached for the dipper. Scooping up water, she rinsed his back, watching as the soapy rivulets cascaded across his sleek skin. Her muslin shift was soaked with water by the time she finished. She replaced the dipper on the stool, and stood. “Will that be all, my lord?”

  “The soap if you please” he said, leaning back in the tub. Trying not to look at his naked body, barely concealed by the sudsy bath water, she once again took up the soap and started to hand it to the master. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down toward him. “The rest of me requires attention as well,” he said huskily.

  Her startled eyes met his, and she felt a delicious shiver run through her body. Though she would never admit it, she longed to touch him again and feel the powerful muscles beneath his warm skin. She knelt. He placed her hand still holding the soap upon his chest, then released it. Then he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. With his gaze no longer upon her, Molly relaxed. She began to run the soap over his body, sliding it across his muscular chest, and down along his rib cage.

  As she explored his torso, she grew bolder, forsaking the soap and instead stroking her hand across the hard planes of his upper body, running her fingers through the dark springy hair that curled upon his chest. She slid her soap-slickened fingers over his flat nipples and felt them grow hard beneath her touch. Tentatively, her hand slid lower, feeling the rippling muscles of his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that arrowed down beneath the water.

  Abruptly, she stopped. She was feeling bold, but not that bold. As if aware of her hesitation, he sat up and looked at her, his eyes dark with desire. She had to look away. He took her hand in one of his own slender, yet strong hands and slid it down beneath the water.

  “Touch me,” he said.

  Molly felt his cock spring to life as her fingers brushed against the length of him, and he drew in a sharp breath. Instinctively, her fingers closed around him. She marveled at the feel of him, wondered how he could be so hard, yet his skin feel so soft. His hand, still wrapped around her own, began to move. He guided her as she stroked his cock, sliding her hand along his hard length. Her own body began to tingle as she slid her hand over his swollen flesh.

  She rubbed him gently beneath the water, until he squeezed her hand tighter around his cock. Her dress soon was soaked to the elbows as she continued to slide her hand over his hard, slippery shaft. His head tilted back against the tub, and his breathing came more rapidly. Before long, he groaned and thrust into her hand. She felt his cock jerk within her grip, and then he shuddered, cried out, and was still. After a few frozen moments, his hand fell away from hers, and his cock grew limp.

  With her body still tingling, Molly pulled away, but he didn’t seem to notice. She knew her face was flushed, but whether it was shame or desire, not even she could tell. Still, she knew her duty. She got up from aching knees, fetched a length of huckaback from the wardrobe and brought it over to the bathtub. The master lay slumped in the water, eyes still closed.

  “My lord, the water grows cold.”

  “Mmm, yes,” he replied, opening glazed eyes.

  She held out the towel when he stood and stepped from the tub. As he toweled the water from his skin, she turned away to pick up the robe that he had so carelessly discarded.

  “Leave it,” he commanded.

  “My lord?” She turned to look at him, then looked away again as he dropped the towel to the floor as well. He moved closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from his naked body. His hand came up underneath her chin, tipping her face upward.

  “Look at me!” She stared into pools of blue so deep she thought she might drown in them. “You always look away from me. Are you frightened, pretty Molly?”

  “Yes, my lord,” but that wasn’t entirely the truth. She wasn’t frightened of him, but of the feelings he awoke in her. She was frightened by her own desire.

  He chuckled as though pleased. “You have nothing to be frightened of.”

  With light fingers, he tugged off her mobcap, loosening her hairpins and sending her tawny hair tumbling to her shoulders in riotous curls. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, while his fingers deftly unlaced her bodice. Mrs. Hutchins was right after all, Molly thought to herself. The master meant to sed
uce her, and bed her. Within mere moments, her virtue would be gone, cast aside with her clothing. She hovered once more on the brink of indecision. Then, his tongue delved into the warm depths of her mouth, and all caution was forgotten. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.

  Giving in to desire, her hands came up to clasp his shoulders, his bare skin warm to her touch. Without breaking their kiss, he slipped her dress from her shoulders to puddle at her feet. His fingers then plucked the drawstring of her shift, loosening it until he could draw the filmy muslin down and away. Then he bent and removed her shoes, leaving her clad in only her drawers and stockings.

  Grasping her shoulders, he walked her backward toward the bed, then pushed her down upon the coverlet. She sank into the bed from his weight, as he stretched out his naked body atop hers. She could feel his burgeoning erection nudge against her thigh and the scratchy sensation of his hair against her skin. His mouth brushed softly against hers once more, before trailing along her neck, feathering her sensitive skin with kisses. Molly moaned with pleasure, arching her body and baring her throat to his caress. Lower and lower his lips wandered, until his mouth greedily fastened on her breast, suckling her nipple until it was a hardened peak.

  His hands were gentle as he drew her drawers down along her legs and tossed them to the floor, yet still she shivered beneath his touch. His hands stroked across her feverish skin, down across the swell of her belly, along the curve of her inner thigh, leaving desire in their wake, and his lips followed the trail that his hands blazed. His body shifted lower on the bed, his breath blew warm against her thigh. Molly nearly cried out as he threaded his fingers through her silken curls, arousing her passions to even greater heights.

  With one hand, he spread her nether lips open wide. Before she realized what he was about, his dark head bent and his tongue flicked across her clit, nearly bringing her off the bed. He continued to flick his tongue lightly against her, sending pleasure streaking through her with every touch. Her hands clenched the bedspread beneath her. Just when she thought she could take no more, he moved his mouth lower, thrusting his tongue into her, probing her inner depths. She moaned at this new sensation, and twined her hands in his thick hair. Then his tongue was replaced by one long finger, slowly easing into her. Another digit joined the first, a welcome invasion. As his fingers delved deep into her cunny, he dragged his tongue up from her entrance to lap once again at her clit. He nibbled lightly on the fleshy nubbin, eliciting soft cries from her.

  Gradually, his strokes increased until she was once more on the cusp of that pleasure she’d experienced so recently at his hands. So it was with some disappointment that she felt him pull away from her. However, his absence was brief. He rose up above her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders, and looked down at her, his eyes blazing with lust.

  “Are you virgin?” he asked her.

  “Aye, my lord,” she replied, surprised.

  “Then I am sorry for this.” With that, he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, and she tasted the flavor of her own musk upon his lips. Distracted, she felt him reach down with one hand, and take his cock in hand, setting it at the entrance to her pussy. His manhood pushed bluntly against her, but still her body resisted him. He shifted his hips, and she felt the tip of his rod enter her waiting cunt. He paused, and then with a great thrust, his cock slid into her. She cried out and tried to move beneath him, to escape the burning pain that swept through her, but he had her pinned to the bed with his piercing cock.

  “Shh, shh,” he whispered in her ear. “Be still, and it will pass.” He held himself motionless above her. Molly closed her eyes and tried not to whimper. Finally, she felt her body began to relax. He must have felt it too, because he drew one of her stocking-clad legs up, draping it over his hip which helped ease the pressure. Then he began to move within her body, his hips rocking against hers. He withdrew his rod until just the mere tip remained, rubbing against her tender flesh, then plunged it once more into her dripping cunny. Over and over, he drove his cock deeply into her, until she was in a frenzy of longing. She felt her body ascending to the heights of pleasure, felt the need for completion sweep over her.

  She clutched desperately at his sweat-slick body, her nails digging into his flesh. Balancing his weight on one muscular arm, he slid his other hand down between their bodies and flicked a finger against her clit. His hand moved in a steady rhythm with his thrusting prick, sending her senses spiraling, until suddenly the moment of climax was upon her, turning her world upside down and leaving her breathless. She felt her inner muscles ripple as her release shuddered through her. With a moan, he thrust once, twice more, then withdrew his cock and spent his seed in a warm, sticky torrent upon her stomach. The resulting mess was unpleasant, but Molly was still quivering from her own explosion and so she barely noticed as he rolled off her and used a corner of the sheet to wipe the mess away from both his cock and her abdomen.

  He left her alone on the bed, while he picked up his discarded robe and walked into the dressing room without a single tender word. She heard the bell ring, summoning Plunkett to his side. Tears blossomed behind her eyes, but she blinked them away. She should know better. While he would return her lust, he was unlikely ever to return her love. Even if he did come to hold her in some affection, he would never marry the likes of her. Her tender heart might long for romance, but her pragmatic head knew better. Resignedly, she climbed out of the bed and rescued her clothing from the floor. Quickly, she dressed and made herself presentable. When she was suitably attired, she began to clear the bathing paraphernalia from the room.

  And thus began her affair with her lord and master.

  Part Two

  After becoming the viscount’s cherie amie, Molly’s duties remained much the same, but her attentions were focused solely on the master. Her first duty in the morning was to creep quietly into his room and tend the fire. Most mornings he awoke sporting a cockstand and so usually her next chore was to relieve his needs. After that she brought hot water for his morning ablutions. If this included a bath, she would often assist him, instead of his valet. Then, she helped serve him breakfast.

  During the day, she made his bed, cleaned and dusted his chambers, as well as the library where he conducted much of his business, and generally waited on him hand and foot. She brought him his tea and even did his mending. But her chief duty was pleasing him in bed or wherever else he might fancy…the drawing room, the music room, once even the kitchen, after the rest of the household was asleep.

  But most often, the library was the location of their trysts, out of convenience, since that is where he spent most of his time while indoors. And Molly knew it was convenience, rather than affection that drew him to her, just as she knew he had a mistress in London. There were no whispered words of love when he took her, but she soon came to enjoy the pleasure his body provided. Too, she enjoyed the cachet that her favored status gave her with the other servants. Some of the other maids whispered and called her a bawd behind her back, but Molly knew they were just jealous. They’d have done the same thing in her place and been grateful for it. And though he never said so, Molly knew the master was fond of her. Why, once, after a trip to the village, he’d given her a length of ribbon for her hair. “Green,” he’d said, “to match your eyes.”

  Time of day didn’t seem to matter to the master, either. He was in the habit of taking her whenever the desire struck him. It was a wonder she ever got any work done at all. One time, he came upon her unexpectedly while she was in the upstairs hall sorting linens. He pushed her roughly into the linen cupboard, pinning her body against the wall. Fondling her bubbies with one hand, he used the other to unbutton the fall of his trousers revealing his well-primed cock. He then rucked her skirt above her knees, and found the opening of her drawers. With little warning he hoisted her high, wrapping her legs around his waist, and impaled her on his engorged prick. She was tossed about like a rag doll as he slammed into her, driving her back against the wall
with each thrust of his powerful body before exploding into her, with a cry.

  It was one of the few times he spent himself within her body. Usually he was careful to withdraw before spewing his seed, or to use a French letter. Molly was thankful that he showed her that courtesy at least. She knew if she caught his by-blow, she’d be turned off for sure.

  He also showed her ways of fornication that wouldn’t result in offspring at all, such as when he taught her to “play the bagpipe.”

  They were sitting in the library, in his favorite chair, while he dandled her upon his knee. His face was buried in her bared bosom, nibbling at her breasts, while his hand stole up her skirts to stroke her inner thigh.

  “I think it’s time I introduce you to fellatio,” he said offhandedly.

  “Who, my lord?” she asked naively.

  He chuckled. “Fellatio is not a who, but a what. You know when I kiss you here?” He brushed his hand across her mons, causing her to shiver. “Well, you shall learn to do the same for me. Come, I’ll show you.” He set her on her feet, then stood up and rearranged himself in the chair, leaning back.

  “Kneel,” he commanded her.

  She knelt at his feet and watched as he unbuttoned the fall of his trousers. Already erect, his thick, stiff cock stood out quite impressively from a thatch of dark curls. She reached out to touch him, wrapping her hands around him, drawing the skin down, knowing what he liked. His shaft was hard and velvety smooth beneath her hand.

  “Yes, that’s it, my dear. Now, kiss my cock,” he demanded in a husky voice.

  Molly slid forward and lowered her head to his body. She inhaled the familiar scent of sandalwood and musk that rose from his skin, and felt her pulse accelerate. Cautiously, Molly stuck out her tongue and touched it to the head of his cock. He tasted slightly, but pleasantly of salt.