Mistress And Maid Ch 02

"Of course Emma refused," Eileen giggled, "but it was ever such a scandal."

I nodded in a non-committal manner and continued dusting the cabinet. I normally would have been happy to keep up my end of the gossip (I had heard from the scullery maid that there had been shouting involved) but here, in this room, I did not trust my voice not to break.

I own you, I heard her voice whisper, breathy and soft and cold. I own your tits.

"I'm surprised you're not more interested." I looked up to find Eileen glancing at me curiously. "I had thought you fancied Scott for yourself."

I gave a small shrug. I had, once. It seemed of little importance now. Little had, since that week ago, when... when...

I own your asshole.

"He is a handsome fellow," Eileen continued, still looking at me, "and the talk is that-"

I own your sweet little cunt.

"Scott is a fool." I snapped with more force than I had intended. "Emma was right to have refused."

"Are you..." Eileen started, her voice trailing off as she cast me a look out of the corner of her eye. "You've been acting odd."

I bit down on my lip and turned back to the cabinet, my hand dusting with renewed force. "You're quite right," I said after a moment, "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing." Eileen said, turning back to her own dusting, voice still faintly puzzled. "I shouldn't have bothered you about Scott."

It was more than that, but I kept silent. She wouldn't have understood. Every time she closed her eyes, she didn't hear the gasps and moans of our mistress, didn't feels her hips grind into her face while she gagged, musky scent clogging her nose.

Silence descended between us, Eileen's incessant chatter finally quieted. Without her voice the dusting was soothing in a simple, rhythmic way. I was so caught up in it that I failed to notice the fall of my mistress's footsteps until she was nearly behind me, and only the dip of Eileen's knees in a curtsy alerted me.

My mistress's voice is cultured and refined, with the barest hint of breathiness under it. It stole the air from my chest and the strength from my arms. "Turn around."

I did, slowly, and dipped into a curtsy, eyes downcast. Eileen shot a glance my way, obviously puzzled by my hesitance.

Though I could not see her face, I could still feel the weight of her gaze on me. "Busy at work, little maid?"

I nodded and mumbled something under my breath, still afraid to raise my eyes. Her voice from the last time I had seen her echoed in my head. I own you little whore.

Heavy skirts rustled as my mistress took a step forward and slid two fingers under my chin, raising it to meet her eyes. A faint smile touched her lips, and her hazel eyes caught and held mine. "Pardon me?"

"Yes." I managed.

She tilted her head in the slightest. "Attend Mrs. Levi. She is looking for you."

Eileen bobbed in a curtsy, and with a last quick glance at me, scuttled away.

Her eyes stayed on me for another moment before she turned on her heel and set off down the hall. She beckoned with a hand as if an afterthought. "Hurry along, little cunt."

Little cunt. Her pet name for me, the name she'd gasped as she'd fucked my face.

I hurried to follow her, two of my small steps equaling one of hers. We came out of the halls into the back porch and crossed the lawn towards the stable. Questions flitted across my mind, too many to ask even if I could have.

The bark of dogs greeted us as we entered the dog kennel; cool after the heat of the sun on the lawn. The groundskeeper yelled to quiet them. After they had quieted to a manageable level he walked over to greet my mistress. She inclined her head and gracefully raised her voice above the growls and yips of the dogs. "I would visit with my hounds if you would be so kind."

The groundskeeper nodded his head and whistled to the dog boy. He bowed to the mistress and he and the dog boy scuttled from the stables. The door thumped behind them with a funeral ring.

"Each of the dogs here," my mistress motioned to the cages around us. "Came here untamed. They answered to no commands and bit anyone who tried to put a collar on them." My mistress's gaze fell on me, and I had the sensation that she was weighing me. "Do you know how they were tamed, little slut?"

"He punished them when they misbehaved." She continued when I did not answer. My mistress walked to the wall and unhooked one of the dog collars off its peg. She turned towards me and my heart sank. "And after he had shown them who was their master he collared them."

The dogs barking grew louder as my mistress crossed the stable back to me. She unhooked the latch. "Look up little bitch."

"Please, mistress," My voice was barely a whisper, pathetic even to my own ears. "Please, I..."

Her hand caught my chin, forced it up to meet her gaze, eyes glittering with disgust. "Do not forget that you stole from me. I could have you branded a thief and cast onto the street to starve. You belong to me."

I hadn't. It was the only reason that I kept my head raised as her slim fingers cinched the oiled leather around my throat. Her hand fell to the leash attached to the collar. She wound it around one hand and pulled until her mouth was inches from my ear. "Do you know how dogs mount each other?"

"Mistress?"

Her breathe was warm against my ear as she hissed; "kneel."

"Mistress..." I began. "I don't-"

She slapped me. My head drew back, cheek stinging. Her hand fisted the leash around her fist and jerked my head towards her. "You are a fucking peasant." She hissed, face an inch from mine. "You have been lower than me since the day you were born. Never again speak out of turn."

I tried to respond, but could only manage a gasp, the collar too tight for anything else. She kept her hand fisted around my collar for a long moment, just long enough for my head to begin to spin and my lungs beg for air, before releasing it and once again pointing at the bench. "Kneel. Hands and knees."

I obeyed, limbs numb as I kneeled and leaned forward until the palms of my hands fell on the floor, leaving only her feet visible. She snapped the leash, jerking my head forward and down. "Lift your skirt."

"Mistress. Please. I..." The words choked in my throat, but I forced them out. "I could... could... kiss you again, like I did last..."

She laughed; the sound a gentle throb of scorn. "Lift your skirt."

With a trembling hand I reached behind me and touched the hem of my skirt, brought it up, cool air brushing my skin. I shuddered. Around me the room whirled. None of it seemed real, kneeling there, the back of my legs and bottom half uncovered, naked, as she stood above me, the leash a line from my throat to her hand.

"I am your mistress." She purred as her feet retreated from view, circling behind me, voice carrying a mocking edge. "You can say that, can't you?"

"Mistress," the word came out in a gasp as cool air whispered against my bared womanhood as she knelt behind me, "you are my mistress."

My legs shivered as her fingers trailed up my ankle, but I could not, dared not move. "What does that make you?"

I gasped as her fingers ran along the inside of my thigh, caressing the pale curves, teasing the dip where leg met hip. My hips shivered, wanting, needing... Her fingers brushed my womanhood and my entire body shuddered.

"Wider, little whore." Her voice was soft and sibilant. "Spread your legs and show me your precious little cunt."

With a whimper I did as she said, spread my legs as her fingers slid between my legs and over my womanhood, palm flat against my mound, cupping it. She jerked on the leash, forcing my head back and my face upwards so she was holding me in the cup of her hand. "Answer me, little cunt." Her voice ground, auburn hair tickling my ear. "What are you?"

"Your maid, mistress. I am your maid."

"Wrong." Her middle finger folded, nail rasping against the length of my slit and positioning itself at my opening. I gasped up at the roof, shame mingling with the slippery warmth between my legs. "Do not lie. Not to me, little whore."

I whimpered, my arms trembling. "Mistress..."

"What you are, little bitch," she went on, finer plunging into me without warning or preparation so I squealed, sharp and sudden, "is my dog."

Her finger drew out with a sucking sensation, fingertip rasping against the inside of me. It lingered at my opening, tracing a circle, and then pushed back in with savage pressure, forcing my hips upwards, to the tips of my knees. "And do you know how dogs mount each other, little cunt?"

"Please, mistress..." I whimpered, a ragged breathe cutting me off halfway as the collar tightened. "Please, I'll do anything... anything."

"Please, mistress." She sneered. "Are there any other words you know?"

Her hand pulled away, weight coming off me. A faint clack sounded from the wall, where she had gotten the collar before and I felt her weight settle behind me. I shied away, but a sharp tug of the leash stole the air from my throat and stilled me. A hard rounded head pressed against the base of my opening. Her voice hissed in my ear, collar tight around my throat, keeping my head pulled back and back arched. "Do you want to know how dogs mount each other, little cunt?"

"From behind." She breathed, and shoved the dog toy into me with no regard for delicacy, thick width stuffing me. My hands clenched and unclenched against the ground, a sob tearing itself from my throat. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally its length ceased pushing into me. I was left with the white hot, all-consuming sensation of its length stretching me.

With agonizing slowness she drew the dog toy back out, inch by inch, my hips squirming spasmodically as its every dip and bump stretched my opening. "Tell me," she whispered softly, leash taut, "what is it like, being fucked like a dog?"

It came out with a final sucking noise, and I quivered, my limbs collapsing, dropping me onto the dirt, panting as if I was a dog. The leash pulled savagely taught, pulling me upright and arching my spine, bending me backwards until her breathe fluttered in my ear. "Tell me, little whore. What are you?"

"I'll tell you," I gasped, "only no more. Please, mistress."

The dog toy paused at my opening, poised, its head already spreading my lips. "Tell me," she growled, "tell me, or it goes all the way in."

"Please mistress," I sobbed, tears wet on my cheeks, "I am your little dog, I am your bitch."

Silence fell, and for a moment the only sound was that of my whimpering and the faint yapping of the dogs in their cages around us. The dog toy's head pulled out from between my lips, the collar eased, and for a moment I felt relief flooding through me, sure in the knowledge that my admission had been enough, that she was done.

Then the leash tightened, and she thrust the dog toy into me in one movement. She fucked me, long and hard, unmindful of my sobbed protests, her collar tight around my throat and her mouth ground into my ear, her every ragged gasp and moan burned into my memory.

I screamed. I remember that distinctly, remember screaming until my throat was raw and all that was left in me were soft sobs. No one heard. The barking of the dogs drowned it out, and in the end there was no reprieve.

She eventually stopped, long after I had finished struggling, had finished squirming, and did no more than gasp faintly when she thrust into me. She pushed into me one final time and left the dog toy there. She'd had me lap at her sex then, run my tongue along it like I had the first time. I did it all without protest, offering no resistance as her hips ground into my face and her juices dribbled down my cheeks. I licked her clean afterwards, tasted her.

Her hands closed around my chin, cupping it up towards her. "Let me hear you." She said, her voice low and seductive, no hint of remorse in it. "Beg to be fucked."

I did. I begged to be fucked, and when I was finished she drew the dog toy out of me and unclasped the collar. "Good little bitch," she said.