Part 1 - The Waking of Aristo Slave
I have fucked you twice now and the thought of taking you again, in my world, had slowly been fermenting away in my mind. You to take working class cock in the cauldron of working-class life frankly had become a consuming fantasy again.
As I sit here in the scullery sipping expensive claret (I had come quite adept in secreting half-filled bottles of wine from the dining table!) I reflect on how sex had instantly changed so much for me from the first tentative moment we stepped across the class barrier and fucked in your parlour. Sex shared and enjoyed was an alien experience, being only accustomed for paying for singular sexual relief my whole adult life. But you though are so sexually aware of yourself deriving as much pleasure from the sexual act as your willing pleased partner. For me, the pleasure reached beyond any imaginings I could have thought. At the risk of offence, the fact is, you out whore the whores of the tavern. Not suggesting a woman of your breeding is the same in anyway, but simply your clear superior knowledge of carnal pleasure could teach the wenches a thing or two about the shared pleasures sex offered.
After the first time the idea of having you again on my territory did come to mind. You clearly are a risk taker so why not? In all my years in service I have never heard of a woman of social stature such as yourself actually seeking sexual pleasure and favour from working class stock. If ever such a thing became common knowledge would likely have dire consequences for both parties. You for example have no idea if I gloated with tavern goers how I fucked the mistress of the manor. Why wouldn't I? The fact is I haven't and won't. Why? Well why would I screw up (!) the opportunity to fuck you again by boasting of my single conquest? The other thing is no one would believe me anyway! A babbling fantasist is where my bragging would get me. Even still if the mere suggestion that such an act took place drifted around the manor house, as I said before, dire consequences... While I derived pleasure from imagining taking you as a tavern wench, I had dismissed the idea of it ever being possible.
The second time we fucked at the party for the village in the manor grounds, changed my mind about the possibility of having you in the tavern. Apart from us being risky, we were clearly reckless too. I shudder at the thought of how close we could have been caught, and by your father. The consequences would literately be life changing for both of us. For you the shame you brought to your father and family. It could mean losing your inheritance although unlikely, your life would be different. For me I would have probably been escorted off the premises within the hour. My life as a butler, a respected member within the establishment, gone forever. I would need to leave the village and seek employment far enough away and hope news of my transgressions did not reach potential employers.
But despite the dark consequences, my hardening cock betrayed the pure hedonistic pleasure we sought and enjoyed. The risk and recklessness fuelled our lust and desire for pleasure and sexual gratification. A drug as it were, that took us to new heights of erotic indulgence. If we could be blind to the world around us as we indulged in our total decadent need for each other, why couldn't we fuck in the tavern?
When we finally came down from the heady heights of our orgasms after our village party fuck, I spilled how much I would love to take you in my world. You smiled broadly and declared "Fuck me anywhere you want!"
Despite my excitement of the possibility, guilt does invade my fantasy. You, certainly in the aristocratic circles you move in are very experienced, educated and well versed in the accepted norms of high society. As for the village, and the working class, and the life that surrounds you, and as polite as I can be, you know nothing at all. It is this that if we can ever indulge our lust and need for each other in the Tavern, I need to educate you in the world I occupy; and that is why I am sitting here in the scullery, waiting for you...
To have my way with you as I desire would be a tentative exhilirating journey. I need to draw you in willingly into my aspirations. To ensure the excitement I have would naturally grow in you. The building hunger in your desire to experience our total decadence would lead to a willing obedience. If any of this can happen may or may not start tonight...
You have been out all day so I had left a note on your pillow, simply saying to meet me in the scullery at 11pm. This could be a challenge for you as the scullery and 'downstairs' are places you never visit regularly, but I figure if you are interested in meeting me, you would find your way. There was also the added risk of being spotted moving around the manor at such a late hour. Again, if the desire to meet me was there, you would ignore the 'dangers'. I pull out my watch, 11:10pm. Ohh well stumbled at the first 'task'... I sigh and lift the bottle to pour another glass when the door to the scullery slowly opens, a yellow ribbon of light from the hallway gas lamps grow wider as the door is tentatively opened. I stare at the opening door, hardly daring to breath; my heart pounding. Then the silhouette of you is framed in the opening that fills me with relief. You walk hesitantly into the gloomy room checking if it is me sitting at the table. I only have a couple of candles lit so your eyes have to adjust to the darkness. I stand up and walk towards you, close the door behind you and without a word pull you to me and instantly seek your mouth with my tongue, kissing you hard and passionately. My action takes you by surprise, but you instantly respond, our tongues playing urgently, our lips crushing with instant lust and need. Inwardly I am relieved that you are clearly excited and aroused; the dangers once again ignored.
