My Lord and Master (3 page)

Once Mary had run a deep bath, Angelica was finally left alone to bathe. She stepped out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor on the cold marble tiles of the bathroom, and then climbed into the bath, still unable to believe that this was really all
hers
now.

Dear reader, do not forget that this was the first time that our sweet heroine had ever experienced the pleasure of a bath. Angelica sighed with happiness as she sank beneath the luxurious bubbly froth of the rose-scented bathwater, feeling all the cramps and aches in her body from that long uncomfortable carriage ride now melting away.

Another thing that Angelica was unaccustomed to was time to think. At home, there was always something to do. The hearth to be swept, the dinner to be cooked, the goods to be taken to market. But now, Angelica task was simply to lie there.

And as she lay there in the water, she began to think. She began to think about her strange new life, and she wondered exactly what her new role was, here at the house. Her mother had said that this would be a good job. She would no longer have to lug produce to market. But instead, she could stay indoors, beside the hearth, polishing fine silverware. But Mary said that she was not to be a maid. So what
was
she? Surely Lord Sutherland had employed her for a reason? Whatever it was, it was a reason that Mary felt unable to speak aloud.

As her thoughts returned to Him once more: her dark, brooding Lord with his burning piercing gaze, Angelica felt her young body responding. These sensations were still rather new to her, and all through her girlhood she’d done her best to put such feelings and sensations from her mind.

But here, at her leisure, alone in this large bath, Angelica felt her body softly calling out to Lord Sutherland. She felt her tender young breasts and her tight little cleft yearning almost painfully – yearning in a way she’d never really felt before.

Angelica had almost no experience with men, you see, save from a quick fumble with William, the butcher’s son, one afternoon at the market’s, around behind a hay bale while her father had been tending to the stall.

She’d wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He’d stuffed his fingers up inside her, hoping to please her, but had instead just caused her to yelp with pain and slap his hand away – all her amorous feelings gone in a flash, and putting her off the idea of anything further, with him or anyone, for quite a long time.

But that had been over a summer ago, and Angelica wondered if she was perhaps ready to try again – to find out if there
was
some pleasure to be had for her in matters of that kind ...

Just then, her thoughts were interrupted by a hurried-sounding knock on the door to her bathroom.

“Yes?” she called out from the bath, confused.

At this, the door swung open and there was Mary, wringing her hands. “Miss Angelica,” she said, a strange look on her face. “The Lord wants you now. Get dressed quickly. There’s no time. Come on. Out you come!”

And she held out a towel for Angelica to step into and even began drying her slender frame, obviously wanting to hurry Angelica along as quick as possible.

“Here, here,” Mary continued, stuffing a pair of pink silk bloomers into Angelica’s hand and then, while she was stepping into them, quickly selecting a simple cotton petticoat that, when Angelica pulled it on, did little to disguise her youthful figure beneath.

Mary stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“Where’s the rest?” Angelica asked, aghast, when she realised just how much of her body was still on-display. Her breasts were practically visible beneath the flimsy cotton, her nipples pointing out in two delicate little bumps. She suddenly longed for the comparable modestly of her threadbare dress.

“That’ll do, Miss Angelica,” Mary said, in the same hurried tone as before. “Come, come, this way ...”

And before Angelica could protest any further, the maid had grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room and down the corridor – in the direction, Angelica realised with a curious shiver, of that strange purple room they’d passed on the way.

And sure enough, that was where they came to a halt. The door was still a little ajar, and peering in, Angelica could see that the plush throne-like chair was now taken up by the imposing dark figure of Lord Sutherland.

“In you go, my child,” Mary said quietly, pushing Angelica gently towards the doorway. “Don’t be frightened.”

Angelica looked back at her in puzzlement, still so unsure of what was going on, then turned and stepped into the room, hearing Mary close the door firmly behind her.

Just a few steps into the room, Angelica froze. Something about this whole experience felt dangerous to her: as if she were straying into new, unfamiliar territory. Something was telling her to run, to get out of here as quickly as possible. She could feel her skin – still flushed and warm from her bath – now prickling with goose bumps, too, and it felt as if the air itself in this plush, purple room was crackling with pure energy. Furthermore, Angelica’s heart seemed to be pounding so hard against her ribcage that it threatened to burst from her chest at any moment.

“Well?” the cold voice of Lord Sutherland boomed into the room, “don’t just stand there. Come into the light. Let me see you properly.”

From where he was sitting on that large, throne-like chair, his face was still in shadow, and as Angelica took a few more timid steps until she was standing right in front of him, she felt her still-wet hair dangling in dripping strands around her bony young shoulders, and felt once more just how flimsy and revealing her cotton petticoat was before this brooding man, sat so proudly there in front of her, dressed in his usual well-tailored clothes, the cloth as black as night, his legs spread wide apart.

Was this how rich people lived, she wondered. No decent girl in her village would ever show herself in front of a stranger, a
man
, in her undergarments. But Mary seemed to suggest that appearing so attired was a common occurrence.

And as Angelica approached, his face finally emerged from shadow, too: his eyes, she realised, were just as burning, just as intense and direct, as she had remembered them. Once more, she felt the strange sensation that he was staring directly into her very soul, plucking out her most secret thoughts and feelings – sensing somehow the very thoughts she’d been having about him, back when she’d been bathing ...

“Next time I summon you,” he said coldly, “make sure to dry your hair. It was the exquisite colouring of your hair that convinced me to buy you in the first place. Be mindful of that in future.”

“Y-yes, My Lordship,” Angelica stammered, her voice sounding so small and puny compared to his booming tones.

As she stood there before him, feeling his gaze taking her in, from head to toe, she held her breath, clutching the air tightly in her lungs, hoping finally that Lord Sutherland would tell her what exactly he wanted from her.

And that is exactly what he did. But his command caused Angelica to gasp in shock.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed, coldly and calmly.

“But ...” Angelica began, then stopped, her mind spinning, wondering whether she was really about to argue with this man. After all, what could she even say?

“But
what?
” he hissed, the words flying from his lips with such rage it caused Angelica to jump in surprise.

“N-nothing, My Lordship,” she stammered, turning her timid gaze now to the floor at his feet, feeling her cheeks beginning to burn with shame.

“Take. Off. Your. Clothes,” he repeated, spelling out each word with such a cold certainty, Angelica felt herself shiver with fear.

And this time, she did just as she was told, pulling the simple cotton petticoat up and over her head, then letting it fall to the floor, leaving her shivering there in just her silk bloomers, covering her small breasts with her arms. Another timid glance at the Lord told her she was to take her bloomers off, too.

She felt her shame increase as she took her hands away from her breasts to push down her bloomers, revealing her small tender breasts with their tiny little nipples, standing to attention, perhaps from the cool air in this room, or perhaps from something else; from the hungry, animal gaze of Lord Sutherland, watching her with such intensity it caused a shiver to run right through her.

Angelica gulped as she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her bloomers then slowly slid them down over her skinny thighs, revealing the thick red bush of hair that grew between her legs – that no man had ever seen before, not even William, the butchers’ son, when he’d hurriedly stuffed his hand beneath her skirts.

She let the bloomers fall around her ankles then timidly stepped out of them. Finally she let herself stand there, arms by her sides, before her master, feeling his black burning eyes scrutinising every inch of her pale, goose-bumped flesh.

At first, Angelica was so ashamed she kept her own eyes fixed firmly on the patch of floor between Lord Sutherland’s feet, but a quick curious glance upwards sent a shockwave of surprise through her. Because there between his legs, which were spread wide apart, Angelica realised that there was such a large and prominent
bulge
– right where his sex must be – that her naked body must be having some kind of effect on him, despite his icy cold and business-like demeanour. And a little part of her, Angelica realised, was pleased about this.

“Very good,” he said, his voice just as cold and matter-of-fact as before, betraying nothing of his own desires, his prominent manhood at odds with his icy exterior. “Now, turn around.”

Angelica began to turn, but before she had even taken more than a few steps, the Lord’s voice rang out once more in the plush purple chamber.

“Slower.”

She slowed right down, turning her body nervously, feeling him take her in from all angles. And when she had her back to him, her eyes fixed upon that heavy wooden door at the other side of the room, she heard him command, “Stop there.”

Angelica did as she was told, feeling his eyes upon her rump now, which was surprisingly large and fleshy for such a skinny girl as she. It was a feature that had often caused interest in her from men back at the market place.

“Now bend over,” came the cold voice from behind her.

Angelica took a deep breath, then did as she was told, feeling the shame burning in her cheeks as she felt herself exposing her most tender and private parts to this demanding stranger.

But despite her overwhelming embarrassment at the idea of his eyes upon her most intimate areas, at the same time, another part of Angelica felt her body pulsing with a kind of curious thrill, as if all her nerves were crackling with fire. Most of all she could feel it in the sensitive buds of her nipples and in the intense throbbing ache of her womanhood, almost like a kind of pain. How strange that she could be made to feel this way, without even being touched!

“Very good,” the voice came finally from behind her. “You can stand again now. Turn around and come here, to me.”

As before, Angelica did as she was told, turning and approaching the Lord, who was still sitting as before in his chair, his legs spread wide apart. And another timid glance told Angelica that if anything, he’d grown even
larger
down there, the full shape of his manhood now extremely clear against the tailored cloth of his trousers. It seemed positively gigantic to Angelica, almost as big as her forearm, and she quickly tore her eyes from it, only to look directly into his, causing another shockwave to flash through her at the sheer animal intensity of his expression.

“Come
here
girl,” he said, somewhat angrily, commanding her to step even closer towards him.

So she stepped right up to him, her pert little breasts now only inches from his face, her hard nipples so close to his thick sensuous lips that when he next spoke, the heat of his breath danced like fire across her sensitive flesh, causing her puckered little buds of flesh to ache even more sweetly.

“Tell me, Angelica,” he began, so slow, so deliberate. “Have you ever been with a man?”

Angelica felt her mind flashing back to that incident once again with William the butcher’s son: how he’d stuffed his hand roughly up her skirts, working his fingers inside her, but causing her more pain than anything else, so different than what she’d hoped for when she first agreed to their fumble.

Deciding to keep this little incident to herself, Angelica shook her head.

At this, a strange expression came over Lord Sutherland’s face, the eyebrow above his left eye raising slowly, and his thick sensuous lips curling into a curious smile.

“Is that so?”

Again Angelica nodded, feeling his cold gaze piercing her, working its way right inside her, almost as if he could read the contents of her mind.

“If you are lying to me, girl, know that I will not hesitate to punish you,” he hissed.

And at the word punish, Angelica’s gaze flitted over to the many strange instruments that seemed to line the walls of this odd purple room – the crops and whips and leather-strapped contraptions that all suddenly seemed to make sense to her. For
that
was what they were for: they were for her punishment. A shiver of fear ran through her at the sudden realization.

“You’re not lying now, are you?” he said when he noticed her fear.

Again, Angelica shook her head, her mouth seemingly sealed shut with nervous tension.

“And if I were to inspect you, I’d find that pretty little cunny of yours still fully in tact?” he added, coldly and firmly.

Angelica paused, then opened her mouth to speak. “Aye, my Lordship. Although I
have
heard instances when a girl might have accidentally damaged herself there without actually ...

“
Silence
,” Lord Sutherland cut in, his voice ringing out around the room.

Angelica fell quiet, her heart pounding.

“
Spread your legs
,” he commanded, his gaze now fixed on that tender secret place between Angelica’s skinny, milk-white thighs.

Angelica did as she was told, spreading her legs before him, watching with a mixture of horror and disbelief as he actually began to move his hand towards her, palm up, hot fingers slipping right between her legs.

Angelica gasped as she felt his touch, right there at the centre of her. He paused for a moment, his middle finger resting gently against the swollen tender entrance to her womanhood, which seemed to be throbbing so hard he must be able to feel it.

“Keep still,” he hissed, as slowly but firmly he slid a finger so easily inside her, her body seemingly turning to liquid, melting beneath his touch in a way Angelica had never quite known before.

Again, she gasped, shuddering, her hips bucking a little, completely outside her own control, as the lord worked his thick middle digit even further and deeper inside her tight little hole.

“I said, keep
still
,” he commanded, angrily.

Angelica tried to speak, but another motion of his finger, this time sliding back out a little way then pushing up again inside her, knocked all the air from her lungs and all thoughts from her head, sending her into a whirl of pleasure, her mind flashing white from the sheer intensity of Lord Sutherland’s touch right there within her. It was as if his finger were a key and he knew just how to unlock some deep hidden pleasure within her body, for with each fresh movement of his finger inside her, Angelica felt a new, ever more intense, ever more delicious thrill building within her, starting like a swarm in her stomach and then flashing and radiating outwards, out around her limbs. 

Next, Lord Sutherland worked a
second
finger inside her too, stretching her even wider, eliciting fresh gasps from her lips, her knees trembling and her hips bucking involuntarily as she gave herself up to his fingers, which were now plunging in a steady rhythm in and out of her sex, becoming so shiny and slick with her fluids. And as much as she was able, Angelica tried to remain still as the Lord coaxed these sensations out from within her, but she knew – they both knew – just how impossible that was.

And the lord no longer seemed to mind her movements either, as he worked her to a shivering frenzy with his fingers, his own throbbing manhood so hard and prominent, straining against the cotton of his trousers, as if about to burst free at any moment.

Angelica wished she could grab it in her slender fingers, wished that she too could bring the lord a similar pleasure with
her
hands, but she remained dutifully with her arms by her sides, her legs spread wide, as he worked her sex expertly with his fingers, bringing the thumb of his other hand now to the sensitive little button of flesh at the very top of her womanhood, which was poking out now from beneath its pink hood of flesh, so stiff and throbbing, yearning to be touched.

And he only needed to touch this nub a few times before it all became too much for poor Angelica, and with a shudder and a whimper, she felt her mind flash white once again and her sex clench hard and tight around his fingers, her hips and belly bucking outside of her own control.