Author’s note:
There’s a full list of tags for each part of this series and the series as a whole at the beginning of Part 1.
Please note that while this is filed under “lesbian”, this chapter (and much of this series) includes aspects of dominance, submission, and non-consent.
If that’s not why you’re here then I invite you to click ‘back’, and you might prefer some of Colleen Thomas’ excellent lesbian-themed works instead, which you could find with a member search.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy.
Tags: nonconsent, lesbian, forced, humiliation, submission, dominance, reluctance, oral, spanking, femdom.
Copyright © 2023. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorised use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.
*
Part 4
It transpired that Lucy was scheduled for duties between three and four that afternoon. We had dallied by the pool for quite some (very pleasant) time, and as it was already after lunch, Lucy rose and began to dress.
I was not quite ready to be left, naked, with Tracy and Annie without Lucy’s supporting presence. Although I found them to be most kind towards me, I did not feel that I yet knew them well enough to call them friends. This was an odd reflection, given that one of them had just slid her finger into my sex and brought me to orgasm while they had both watched me licking Lucy. ‘Only at Laxton’ was a refrain that covered all manner of bizarre and wonderful events, from quite remarkable plumbing through to the fact that two lovely girls who weren’t yet friends had watched me engage in my first sexual encounter with another girl, whom I had known but two days, and one of them had penetrated me with her finger, making me cum, before (and I could still scarce believe this) sucking her finger clean.
To suggest that at that moment I was a little overwhelmed did not even begin to cover the tumultuous emotions within me; suffice to say I took the prudent course of action and, standing, quickly dressed too. I would like to continue, ‘I followed Lucy as she…’ but it would be more accurate to say that I took Lucy’s hand in both of mine and clung to it, and she led me back to the house.
Lucy was most kind and gracious as we walked back to the house, attributes I had by now seen her demonstrate on many occasions. She distracted me by commenting on the beauty of the gardens and the house, and at one point lifted my hand to her lips and gave it a small kiss, smiling at me. She ensured I felt no embarrassment or guilt from our stay by the pool, which, while perhaps sounding strange to those more experienced in such matters, was certainly something I might otherwise have suffered from. By the time we arrived I was feeling a bit like myself again.
We re-entered the house through a different door than the one I had used to leave, and I was pleased but not surprised to a see a small table just inside on which we could leave our sun hats, atop some others waiting there. Despite experiencing some very uncomfortable moments over the past day or two, one could not deny that there was an elegance of efficiency at Laxton that was difficult to not simply accept and enjoy.
“We should go over your rota. I just have time before my work,” she said, and seated me at the table in the dining hall while she went to fetch it. It was well after lunch now and the dining room was largely empty; two other girls sat talking nearby, but otherwise the large servant’s hall was unengaged.
Lucy returned with a piece of paper across which I saw written my name. “These are kept on the table by the door, in alphabetical order,” she explained, as she sat on the bench beside me. She showed me how the day of the week along the top was matched to a time of day along the side, in one-hour slots, and where my duties were marked according to a key: a grey box for this; a red box for that, and so on. Duties listed included cleaning, sweeping, polishing, kitchen work and such, with the corresponding location: kitchen, blue room, drawing room. None of the listed tasks seemed particularly unreasonable, especially as they were in one- or two-hour blocks. I am pleased to say it was quite straightforward and was yet another example of the efficient way that Laxton was organised. I was, however, quite surprised to see how few boxes were filled in over the course of the week. I assumed I was here to work, and to see that the total number of boxes equated to less than fifteen hours across the week was, frankly, surprising.
“Will I have more duties after my first week?” I asked Lucy.
“Don’t worry, Emily,” she said, reassuringly, “you need only do the duties in the afternoon boxes in your first week, while you are still settling in.”
I looked at the rota as she said this and, as it was already Wednesday, saw that this meant I had four hours’ work between now and the rota starting again the following Monday. But it seemed she had misinterpreted my question; I tried again. “Is this the usual number of hours that my duties will consume?”
“Once ulus escort you are working a full week, you mean?” Lucy clarified. I nodded. She glanced at my rota, “Yes. It seems about right.”
I admit I was still surprised. “I was expecting more work, Lucy. Is this… everything I will need to do, or is there more?”
“Well,” Lucy said, “you will need to see the doctor every week for your tea, but as you have done that already this week it is not on your rota. And occasionally Mrs Dempster might ask a girl to perform an errand… things like that. There is one other item that will be added to your schedule later, but you won’t need to concern yourself with it for the first few weeks.”
“Oh, I meant to ask you about the tea. What is it for, please?”
“It’s to prevent ‘accidents’,” Lucy replied, echoing the doctor, and this time I heard the emphasis.
“But what kind of accidents?”
“Pennyroyal is a contraceptive, and when mixed with Queen Anne’s lace it also stops menstruation.”
“Oh,” I said, thoughtfully, suddenly feeling quite uncomfortable. “I suppose that’s… prudent,” then my thoughts turned to the greenhouse that morning, and I recognised the wisdom behind such a device, in a house with so many maids and footmen. This did not, however, allay my discomfort.
Lucy smiled at me reassuringly, and I sensed she had perceived my uncertainty. “I think it is of great advantage, but I always wish it were not so bitter.”
I made a noise of agreement and sought to change the subject. “You said also that I would have another item added to my rota. Please will you explain that, so I am aware?”
“Of course. We each take a turn performing duties for the master of the house,” Lucy replied. “He prefers to rotate through the various maids, and Mrs. Dempster updates the individual rotas to reflect who is required for each particular day, so, in short, every fortnight or so you will be assigned an additional one-hour slot one morning or one afternoon. The rota for this is set weeks in advance, so you won’t be on it for a while.” The last she said with a smile, to take out any possibility of a perceived slight.
I admit that two days before I would have taken this comment at face value, but my naivety and inexperience seemed to be leaving me at speed – propelled, in no small way, by Lucy’s tongue, and the recent tea discussion, for that matter. “When you say, ‘performing duties’, what does that entail, precisely?”
“Oh… bringing him breakfast in the morning; tea in the afternoon. That sort of thing.”
This all seemed innocuous enough, but my original surprise at the hours on the rota persisted. “Lucy, my cousin Linda is also a maid, and I gather she works more than forty hours in a typical week. I was expecting something similar. Are you sure this rota is correct?”
Lucy smiled, “Laxton has a number of maids just so that there is no need to work so many hours, Emily.”
“But why?”
“Well,” Lucy explained, “here it is believed that we all respond better when we are rested and happy, and thus being overworked, tired and strained is not in anyone’s interest.”
This made a surprising amount of sense, though something about her turn of phrase niggled me; I could not immediately place what it was. However, it still left a question: “What do we do with all the extra time?”
Lucy smiled, “Whatever we like. Read, talk, play… perhaps go swimming in the pool again.”
“Oh,” I felt my cheeks heat at that, as I was still wet between my thighs from our last trip to the pool.
Lucy seemed to know and grinned at me. She glanced at the clock standing near the wall. “I must go, Emily. You have no work today, so you are free to entertain yourself. You could explore, or read, or perhaps take a nap. In any case why don’t I see you back in our rooms before tea?”
“Perfect, thank you, Lucy.” I was already wondering if I could find the library, imagining an afternoon buried in a wonderful book or two. Despite my earlier promise to myself, I decided the shaving could wait until the morning, for I was still not enamoured with the idea of a razor, safety or no.
But I was sure of one thing: with so few hours’ work in the week, and a wonderful house and grounds to make use of, I knew that I was most certainly going to enjoy my time at Laxton.
*
That evening I lay in my bed, thinking about the day – and what a day it had been! I had bathed nude with many strangers, been stripped and examined by the doctor (and one mustn’t forget Mrs. Dempster’s part in that), spent some enjoyable time exploring the grounds, been caught as a voyeur near the greenhouses (a memory that made me squirm, for more than one reason), dallied most pleasurably beside the wonderful outside pool with Lucy and the other girls, spent some hours in the library (which was enormous, and, evidently, seldom used – my new favourite place), and had had a lovely tea.
I wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Following the evening meal, yenimahalle escort the four of us had retired to our room and had proceeded to engage in conversation for over an hour. In actuality, the other girls had done most of the talking; I was quite content to listen and watch. They spoke mostly of the goings and comings at Laxton; what was said by him, how she had responded. It was good-natured gossip and carried no malice, and I liked them all the more for hearing it.
I had eventually decided that I did like Annie and Tracy too, despite my earlier reticence at the pool, born in no small way from my own discomfort at the time. I was now sure that all of us would soon be very good friends. I was amazed how quickly my perspectives were shifting; I was not even surprised when my three roommates stripped off their uniforms and sat nude on their beds while we talked. I admit that it still took me some moments to join them, but I am proud to say that I, too, eventually took off my clothes, laying naked face-down on my bed as I watched and listened to them, my chin supported in my hands. It still felt very strange, but I was really doing my best to embrace the Laxton culture. Even when Tracy had left her bed to sit beside Annie, I still had not felt uncomfortable. I admit it did make me squirm a little when they occasionally kissed, and when Annie stroked Tracy’s breasts and played with her nipples, but I believe I hid my discomfort quite well at the time by looking down.
Even when we eventually climbed into bed I still did not reach for under garments and nightshirt, several pairs of which I had packed; redundantly, as it now transpired. I was, in fact, enjoying being nude beneath my sheets and the feel of the soft cotton against my bare skin, and smiled to myself as I discovered it made me feel relaxed and unconfined. I could now quite appreciate the appeal.
When we were ready for sleep Annie, who was sitting closest to the oil lamp we had been using, doused the flame and the room was mostly dark. Though it was quite late the summer sun had still not fully set, and a little illumination was provided thusly through the window. I noticed that Tracy had not returned to her bed but seemed to be snuggled contentedly with Annie, and assumed they intended to sleep that way. They were clearly very good friends.
I watched as Lucy slipped from her bed and walked over to mine, her bare feet silent on the floor. I could not easily see her face for it was mostly in shadow, but she bent slowly over me, and I heard her whisper, “I didn’t say good night.” I felt her lips on mine, and a moment later her tongue pushed assertively into my mouth, licking at mine, while her hand slipped under my sheet and cupped my breast. I squirmed beneath her pleasurably, and was just beginning to open to her when she straightened, and her hand slipped away, brushing across my nipple as it did so. She turned and walked back to her bed.
“Good night,” I whispered after her, and I think she heard me.
I lay in bed thinking about her kiss and her touch for quite some time before I finally fell asleep.
*
I was awakened by Mrs. Dempster.
It was not an ideal way to be woken; I would have preferred to have been woken by Lucy, or by a knock on our doors like the previous morning.
Instead, I was shaken awake by Mrs. Dempster who had evidently entered our room while we were all still asleep.
As I may have mentioned, Mrs. Dempster was a severe-looking woman. She was, I suppose, comparatively quite young, as I had placed her in her early thirties, but she carried herself in a certain way, and her voice frequently employed a certain strict tone, such that I often thought of her as far more experienced and worldly than her age, alone, may have suggested. She was a tall, quite slim woman; certainly not unattractive, but also lacking the distinct femininity that Lucy, for example, possessed. One might well call her ‘striking’, rather than pretty. One might even call her ‘beautiful’, especially if they were not, at that moment, on the end of one of her acerbic tongue-lashings.
I knew that most of the girls found her quite daunting and hurried to comply. She had a certain natural authority greater than any I had encountered before in an individual; far more than my father, for example. I, for one, could not imagine disobeying her.
In short, I suppose what I am trying to say is that Mrs. Dempster frightened me more than a little, thus it was that I went from being asleep to being awake quite rapidly, by virtue of the adrenaline that now flowed through me.
I became aware that it was still quite dark outside, and that Mrs. Dempster was holding an oil lamp. Given that the past mornings the sun was up by six o’clock, I gathered it must be early indeed.
The lamp she had was turned quite low but held in such a way that I could see her face, and when she saw me looking, she placed her finger across her lips in the age-old sign for quiet. Quite tunalı escort obviously she did not see a need to wake the other girls. I wondered how early it was, and why she had a requirement to wake me, specifically. She then gestured for me to rise and accompany her.
While I had been proud of myself the previous night for enjoining the Laxton culture by sleeping nude, I was now sincerely regretting it, and reluctantly pushed back the sheets and slipped from my warm bed.
I glanced across the room; Tracy’s bed was still empty, and though it was too dark to clearly see, it was apparent to me that there was more than one person in Annie’s bed. I wondered if Mrs. Dempster had noticed.
It was still quite dark in the room; the low light from the oil-lamp did not illuminate greatly. I hoped I would be able to dress without Mrs. Dempster seeing me nude, but she had walked to the door and was clearly waiting for me. She somehow managed to convey significant impatience even while standing predominantly in shadow, partly illuminated by means of a very small light. I picked up my uniform with the intent of dressing, but she whispered, “Just bring it,” and even as a whisper her voice would brook no defiance. Resigned, I collected the pile of clothes and gathered up my shoes, and hurried to follow her, still wondering what on earth would cause her to drag just me from my bed so early in the morning.
To say I was apprehensive was putting it very mildly indeed.
We stepped together into the corridor, and she quietly closed the door to our room. She turned up the oil lamp until it illuminated us both quite clearly. It also served to emphasise that she was fully dressed in her usual uniform, whereas I was as far from as fully dressed as it was possible to be. I shivered beneath her frank gaze, even though I was not particularly cold. It was still colder than my warm bed, however.
“How may I help, Mrs. Dempster?” I asked, trying to keep my quiet so as to not disturb my roommates, but my voice sounded high-pitched to my own ears, reflecting my anxiety.
“You can get yourself to the shower, girl, and prepare for work.”
I felt some consternation at this reply, thinking back to the previous afternoon where Lucy had shown me my rota. Not only was I not scheduled to any tasks this morning, but Lucy had also explicitly said that I did not need to concern myself with any morning tasks in my first week.
“But Mrs Dempster, surely there is a mistake…”
“Girl, where this house is concerned, I do not make mistakes,” and she gestured in the direction of the washroom.
No doubt it was foolish of me to question her, but I had only just woken up and, besides, it was the direct opposite from what Lucy had told me. Nevertheless, at that moment I decided the best option was to obey, completely, not least because – in case I haven’t by now made it quite clear – I found Mrs. Dempster extremely intimidating; even more so when she was dressed, and I was not.
I turned and walked quickly to the washroom, taking some comfort that the house was almost exclusively asleep. This much reduced the chances of running into someone while dressed as I was – which is to say, completely nude, without even so much as a towel to cover me.
It was, however, not particularly comforting to be alone with Mrs. Dempster, who clearly intended to accompany me to the washroom, if the footsteps behind me were anything to go by.
We entered the washroom, and she lit the larger lamps that had not been needed the previous morning but were presumably used far more often on darker mornings – such as during the winter, or on mornings like this one. They illuminated the room quite sufficiently. There were more lamps further down the room, but she had only lit the ones near the door. Their light easily covered the area of the central table, where the washing equipment would be later laid out. I saw at this hour it only held several neatly-stacked piles of folded towels.
“Hurry up and wash, girl.”
I laid my uniform carefully on the table in the centre and hurried to the cabinet for a sponge and soap. I eyed the razor blades and shaving stick but trembled at the thought of shaving in front of Mrs. Dempster. I did not feel brave enough for that, and in any case, I gathered that we were short of time, which provided a useful justification for leaving the razor behind.
It seemed she was going to watch me shower. She had certainly watched me bend to access the drawer beneath the cabinet. On the face of it, showering while being watched by one person should’ve been far less intrusive than being watched by all the girls when we showered together, but I rather found it to be the opposite. The other girls had, after all, focused on themselves and each other; Mrs. Dempster was focused exclusively on me.
I pulled the hot- and cold-water chains until I fancied the shower had reached a decent temperature, but such was Mrs. Dempster’s obvious impatience that I hurried, and when I stepped into the spray it was considerably warmer than I would’ve liked. Nevertheless, I began to wash, not wishing to keep her waiting longer than was necessary. Steam began to rise, quickly making my skin slick beneath the soap. I still had no idea why she had selected me, or what she had in store for me, and as I washed my mind ran over several possibilities, none of them comforting.