My Lord and Master (8 page)

“Ah, gentlemen,” Lord Sutherland said, the moment Angelica stepped into the smoking room, “I see our little serving wench for the evening has arrived!”

Angelica felt thirteen pairs of hungry eyes latch upon her. Never had she felt more exposed than standing there in that flimsy pinafore, her bare bottom on display – still somewhat bruised from Lord Sutherland’s hand, her little nipples poking in prominent points from beneath the black fabric of her pinafore and her sex softly throbbing, the way it always did the moment she set eyes upon Lord Sutherland – especially since she’d done as he instructed and refrained from touching herself, even though she’d wanted to
so
many times now ...

“Well, girl,” he shouted, “what are you waiting for? Look alive!”

Angelica snapped to attention, hoisting her silver tray out in front of her and, as well as she was able, she proceeded to make her way around the room, offering the selection of tasty morsels up to the crowd of leering gents – all of them only with eyes for
her
, not the food, no matter how delicious.

“Well isn’t she something!” one wet-mouthed old fellow with bushy silver hair growled as he took a morsel from the tray but all the while kept his eyes fixed firmly on Angelica’s pert little breasts.

“She sure is,” chimed in his only-slightly-younger counterpart, a weasel-faced man with a long crooked nose, whose hands seemed to have a mind of their own. For Angelica had only stood near him but for a second when she felt his dirty fingers groping her bottom, sending her skittering forwards, almost spilling the contents of her tray on the carpet.

And just like that, she proceeded around the room, serving man after man, knowing that
she
was the real thing on display here, not the food.

As she reached Lord Sutherland, she felt herself relax somewhat, glad that it was he and not one of these other ugly old crones who was her Lord and master.

“Say, Sutherland old chap,” the portly, florid fellow standing just next to Lord Sutherland bellowed, “does the hair between her legs match the hair on her head?”

And at this remark, the whole room burst out in loud guffaws.

“Why don’t you satisfy their, Angelica,” Lord Sutherland cut in, his voice icy cold, slicing through the noise and chatter of the room like a knife, immediately silencing it.

It was as if the atmosphere had suddenly grown charged with a new energy, as all eyes fell upon Angelica, who felt her pretty face suffusing with heat as she shot a nervous look towards her master.

“Really, My Lordship?” she asked, her voice no louder now than a whisper.

“Aye,” Lord Sutherland, nodded, fixing her with his cold dark eyes. “Go on, girl. Show them. What are you waiting for?”

Another of Lord Sutherland’s friends had stepped forward to take the silver tray from Angelica’s hands and she was left standing there, adrift, right in the middle of this circle of lecherous men, looking around them, her face burning with shame.

And so, with trembling fingers, she took the hem of her black pinafore and raised it slowly around her belly, uncovering her pretty cunny, with its puffy pink lips and trimmed little patch of fiery red hair.

“Good lord! What a lovely cunt!” a gruff old voice exclaimed, and to her surprise and dismay, Angelica felt herself begin to throb and tingle, even though she found most of these old men rather disgusting. Still, there
did
seem to be something rather arousing about being there in the centre of them, all eyes now fixed on her sex like that.

“But that’s not all, gentlemen,” Lord Sutherland continued, “is it Angelica?”

At this, she shot him a confused glance. What in the world was he referring to
now
?

“You see, men,” he said in the same icy, measured tone as before, “little Angelica here turns into a veritable
fountain
when she comes. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

Shame-faced, her eyes fixed on the floor, Angelica nodded.

“Why don’t you show them?” he said.

And in the cold manner with which he spoke, Angelica knew that this was no
question
. No, this simply was an order.

“Go on,” he hissed. “Touch yourself.”

So, with trembling fingers, Angelica reached between her legs, right there in the centre of all those hungry-eyed old men. And as her fingertip grazed against her tender clit, she couldn’t help but let a soft sigh escape her lips – after all, since Lord Sutherland’s strict instructions, it had been
such
a long time since she’d last touched herself.

As her eyes closed in pleasure, her fingers began to work her swollen button in tight little circles, and Angelica found that her thoughts and worries all began melting away, replaced now by the intense sensations of pleasure that flooded through her.

She could feel her sex throbbing and yearning and she could feel her nipples, too, growing so hard and tight that she just had to pinch them. So, with one hand still playing with her womanhood, she reached up and cupped her left breast with the other, pinching her hard little nipple through the fabric of her pinafore, sending further delicious sensations of pleasure rocketing right through her slender frame.

Angelica gasped, realizing just how quickly she was reaching the point of no return now, and for a brief moment she found herself hesitating – was she
really
about to let herself go like that, to let herself splash in front of all these filthy old men? – but then her mind turned once more to Lord Sutherland, her strict and handsome master, and how she was simply obeying his command, and why if
he
wanted her to do it, then who was she to argue ...

So with a final tremble and shudder, Angelica felt the pleasure sweep through her, her tight little hole spasming and contracting, her body bucking and her knees trembling, and then, seconds later, she heard a spattering wetness falling on the wooden floorboards beneath her, and she opened her eyes to see herself squirting out her warm clear fluids all over the insides of her thighs, not to mention the shiny black boots of a gentlemen who’d leant in rather too close to get a better look.

Still catching her breath, her face now flushed from exhaustion, Angelica quickly pulled her pinafore back down to cover herself and looked to Lord Sutherland, who, she realised with a shiver of pride, was smiling warmly at her.

“Very good,” he said in a soft warm tone, nodding to himself. “Very good indeed.”

“Will that be all, My Lordship?” she asked him in her sweetest tone.

And again he nodded.

Angelica turned and picked up the empty tray, stepping around the clear pool of fluids she had left there, right in the middle of the smoking room, all the men watching her in a silent reverie.

She knew that they were all looking at her pretty bare bottom as she sauntered from the room, but she found she didn’t mind it, in fact, she actually rather enjoyed the sensation.

As she headed back down the corridor to the kitchen, she felt a flush of pride at the way Lord Sutherland had looked at and spoken to her. It felt so good to please him, and she just hoped she would get another chance soon.

She set the empty silver tray down and was about to turn to leave the kitchen when she heard the door softly open and close behind her.

She span around, half expecting to see Lord Sutherland. But it wasn’t him. No, it was that thin, horrible-smelling weasel-faced man – the very same one who’d tried to sneak a rough grope of her arse earlier on in the parlour.

“Why
hello
, pretty little missy,” he hissed, and when Angelica saw the fiendish look in his eye, she shivered again – only this time it wasn’t from pleasure, but from dread ...

“I-I think you have taken a wrong turn, Sir,” Angelica stammered, backing herself into the farthest corner of the kitchen.

“What makes you say that, little girl?” the man hissed, lurching towards her, his groping hands outstretched, the horrible bulge in his breeches clear as day.

Angelica looked around her, hoping for some implement, a carving knife, a rolling pin, even a frying pan, to help fight him away with. But there was nothing within her reach, and all she could do was press herself tightly into the corner of the room, her heart pounding, her palms growing clammy, her eyes widening with fear as he came right up towards her, carrying with him a horrible stink of cigars and sweat and bad breath.

“I know you want this, I saw how much you enjoyed
displaying
yourself to us out there” he said, tugging now at his breeches to free himself, “just keep still and I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to have a little enjoyment of the pretty cunny you showed us all back there, that’s all ...”

“Please sir,” Angelica whispered, shaking her head, “please don’t ...”

But the horrible weasel-faced man did not listen, tugging open his breeches, his disgusting purple tool springing free. He gripped it like a dagger as he stumbled towards her, his bead-black eyes narrowed and his mouth fixed in a yellow-toothed grimace.

He lunged right at her then, and Angelica whimpered as she felt him grab at her breast, tearing the flimsy pinafore right from her body, leaving her bare, covering herself with her hands as best she could. But his hot rough hands pulled her arms away to her sides, his grip so hard upon her wrist that she cried out in pain.

“Keep
still
, you slut,” he growled, slamming her hard against the cold tiled wall of the kitchen as he pushed himself right up against her, his horrible breath fogging her face, his rough right hand pinning her by the neck against the wall, his left now rummaging between her legs, forcing his fingers a little way inside her.

And Angelica had just about given herself up to her horrible fate, when his actions were interrupted by a loud, familiar voice.

“Leave her,” his cold voice commanded, causing the disgusting weasel man to stop and turn around. “Let go of her
this instant
.”

Over the man’s shoulder, Angelica saw him: Lord Sutherland, his eyes smouldering, his whole body trembling with rage.

“Why Angus!” the other man bleated, feigning friendliness, “I was just having a little word with your delightful young servant here ...”

“Enough,” Lord Sutherland bellowed, striding towards Angelica and the weasel-faced man, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him roughly away from Angelica, who crouched on the floor to retrieve the tattered remains of her apron.

“I think it’s time you left my house now, don’t you, Frederick?” Lord Sutherland continued, his voice trembling with barely concealed anger.

“Quite, yes! Look at the time, Angus!” the weasel-faced man whimpered, making a show of looking at his pocket watch, before hurriedly scampering out of the kitchen, muttering his goodbyes.

Lord Sutherland turned to Angelica, who was still shivering in the corner of the room, pressed against the cold tiles, her arms covering her modesty, her heart thudding madly in her chest.

“My Angelica,” he began, his voice now much calmer, his eyes flooding with sadness as he took her in, “I’m so sorry. If I’d known that what I asked you to do would have caused something like ... this ...”

He fell silent, shaking his head.

“It’s was all my fault, My Lordship,” Angelica said quietly.

“No, it’s wasn’t,” Lord Sutherland cut in, taking her in his arms now and pressing her to him in a tight embrace. “It was I that put you in a position of danger. And when I saw him with you like that ... Well, it made me realise just how precious you really are to me. I don’t want to share you with
anyone
, Angelica. You’re mine, and mine alone. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, My Lordship,” Angelica said, her bosom flooding with happiness, her body melting in his embrace. She felt so warm, so happy, so protected, cradled like that in his strong, powerful arms.

“Please,” he said, gently kissing her head, “you should call me Angus. Now get to your room, dear Angelica. You must rest.”

Angelica nodded, smiling, her head once more whirling – but this time with happiness.

“Yes ... My Lordship, I mean,
Angus
.”

It felt rather strange, speaking his name like that, but Angelica found she enjoyed it, too.

And as she put on remnants of the torn black pinafore and turned to head back up to her room, she shot him a final shy smile, their eyes catching for a moment in the dim light of the kitchen, and to her delight, he returned it, as if he too felt as if something had changed between them that evening.