A story leading up to Hallowe'en. Michael lives in a mansion in Massachusetts, sheltered by boarding schools and his father’s fantasy of a ‘Downton Abbey’ lifestyle. In the Spring he was brought home to study with a tutor, who arrived with several new staff including a cook, a ladies maid for his mother, and a scullery maid. Life is strange now his older sisters have all moved out and his parents are busy with local politics. Little does Michael know his life is about to get stranger and more exciting…
Michael stood as still as he could. At school this had worked to calm his nerves, mostly. At home under the eye of his father and tutor it was fruitless.
They were discussing him in the third person, which he was used to and did not concern him. However, they had started talking to each other while looking directly at him. This was new and Michael hated it.
"How long have you been with us, Victor?" his father asked.
"Eight months, sir," the tutor replied, "Nine on November first."
"And you have seen genuine improvement?"
"So this," his father said, waving Michael's last physics test, "Was acceptable?"
"Yes, sir," Victor said, "The boy applied himself, but he could have done better."
"Could he? Well then…"
His father stood and finally addressed Michael.
"You could do better," he said, "And you shall. You will not be punished for this."
Without warning his father backhanded him across the face.
"There is a reminder of what will happen if you do not continue to apply yourself!"
"Thank you father," Michael said. He looked at the floor and avoided checking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. For once he did not taste blood. Father really was not angry with him.
"To bed with you," his father ordered, "And good night Victor, you are dismissed."
"Thank you, sir," Victor said, bowing slightly before leaving the room. Neither of them gave Michael a second glance.
Michael left the drawing room and headed to bed. At least he made it look like he was heading to bed. To confirm his alibi he looked into his mother's dressing room, which was only four doors away from his bedroom. He saw the maid, Cynthia, tidying his mother's things. She was tall and pretty with bright blue eyes and neat blonde hair. He watched her delicate movements until she noticed him. When their eyes met he hurried off. He was sure he heard her musical giggle through the open door. He would love to make her giggle sometime when he could stay around to enjoy it, then perhaps make her giggle again.
He opened his bedroom door and closed it without going inside. Quick as a flash he entered the linen closet next to mother's dressing room and silently climbed into the crawl space in the ceiling. He waited until Cynthia left then began his journey.
In the time before the new staff, Professor Victor, Cynthia, Amy the cook, a scullery maid he thought was called ‘Mary’, and Dieter the gardener, Michael had known nothing about any of the staff. They brought him things, but mostly they worked out of sight. He had not spoken with a servant since his nanny was dismissed the first September he went to school. Now he had to talk to Victor in his lessons a whole new world was open to him.
During his test Victor had spoken with Amy about something mundane. Michael had not meant to listen, as he had tried to focus on his test, but suddenly the conversation had become… strange. The servants usually spoke to one another in an odd way, like robots in comic books, but in an instant they became awkward. He heard Victor say, "Just after nine," and Amy replied, "I'll be waiting." When Michael looked up Amy was giving Victor the strangest look and grinning from ear to ear.
Michael decided to investigate. Now he was sixteen the crawl spaces were not as accessible as they had been when he had first discovered them as a child. It took an extra ten minutes to quietly make his way to the servants' quarters and another ten to reach Amy's room. The cook was the first to rise in the morning and her room was the nearest to the kitchen staircase.
He couldn't hear anything from the room below him. There was a crack near the light fitting and Michael craned his neck to peer through it without moving the rest off his body. The middle of the room was empty, but he could see Amy's shoes, socks and a small amount of bare knee. He assumed she was waiting on the bed, but she seemed to be dressed strangely.
It took a while for Michael to realise what was strange. The electric light was not on. Instead the room was lit from the walls. Michael could not see them, but he assumed there were candles lit all around. He sniffed at the crack, but he could not smell candle smoke. Instead there was an acidic odour mixed with exotic scents.
Michael knew he could not stay in the middle of the ceiling for long and decided to move now rather than wait. Slowly he moved to the opposite corner of the room and lowered himself into the void next to the staircase. If needed he could climb up from there into the attic and take the long way back to his room. For now he was comfortable and could look directly into Amy's room through a vent just above head height. What he saw was unexpected.
Amy was naked except for her shoes and socks. She sat on the bed looking at the door, her hands in her lap and her face expressionless. Michael's eyes were immediately drawn to her chest. Her breasts were not large, but they were firm, sticking out in front of her. Unlike the few pictures of naked women Michael had seen, her nipples were dark and conical, forming the entire pointed part of her tits. He waited patiently to see if she moved to show him more, but she did not.
Michael nearly jumped when the door opened and in walked Victor. The dour man looked different. He wore only his shirt and pants. His feet were bare and his sleeves were rolled up to an ungentlemanly extent. He locked the door, looked around the room then looked at Amy.
"You are ready?" he said. It sounded like a statement, not a question.
"I am, Master," Amy replied, looking at her knees. Her voice contrasted with his. She had a quaint New England accent, soft and clear, like Michael’s mother's. He spoke with a clipped European accent, which sounded English when he spoke to Michael's father, who was from the English Home Counties. However, at all other times it was something different, not German or Russian; something in between. Hearing the two servants talk together in private was like hearing a flute being heckled by a crow.
"Demonstrate," he ordered.
Amy first showed him her feet and calves, straightening her legs and turning them from side to side. He inspected the shine on the shoes and paid attention to her socks. When he nodded she stood in a very precise and considered way. With precise steps like a dancer she made a series of quarter turns as Victor (and Michael) watched.
Michael's first view was of her full figure and perfect backside. It was like an inverted heart shape, smooth and inviting. Next another side view of her tits, showing a mole on the side of the left one which Michael stared at until she turned toward him.
At first Michael stared at her pert tits as they were presented to him (without their owners knowledge) but it was something lower down that caught his attention. Amy has an enormous wedge of dark hair between her legs, darker than the short brown hair on her head. For some reason Michael remembered his mother saying she would never hire a blonde cook for fear of not being able to see the hairs in the food until it was too late. Michael decided he did not enjoy thinking of his mother while he looked at a naked woman.
Victor tapped Amy on her arm with one finger. She lifted her arms straight above her head and turned around more. Michael took in the perfect shape of her back and how it flowed into her slim waist and out over her hips. He saw her breasts once more in profile, and the mole was clearly there. It was shaped like a teardrop and seemed to have a few satellite freckles around it. Finally, she turned to face Michael, breasts high on her chest, her stomach was a little paunchy, but perfect to Michael's eyes.
Victor touched her arm again and she did not make another turn. Instead she bent over, her back becoming horizontal. She moved her arms to her sides and her hands to her backside. Victor looked at Amy's thighs and ass, out of Michael's sight, while Michael looked at her tits hanging down. Amy just looked at the floor.
Michael suddenly felt uncomfortable and realised he was getting an erection. His position and his underwear were restricting it. Happy that he only needed his feet to keep him upright and one hand to make sure he stayed still and silent, Michael fumbled at the front of his pants to reduce the pressure on his penis. Once done he left his hand there and played with his fly.
Victor touched Amy on the back. Without hesitation she reached under her mattress and retrieved a long thin object which looked like a riding crop. Victor took it and Amy knelt on the small bed, resting her hands on the wall.
There was a pause. Amy was motionless. Victor held the crop loosely in one hand while he adjusted himself with the other, exactly as Michael had done. Michael, meanwhile, watched Amy. Once more her tits hung down beautifully and her muscles twitched to keep herself still. In Michael's pants something else twitched, and he rubbed it gently. He realised he had opened his fly without thinking and there was only his underwear between his hand and his member.
Without warning Victor struck Amy on the buttock with the crop. The sudden crack made Michael gasp and freeze. Amy let out a squeak and Victor struck her again, this time twice on the thigh.
"No, no!" he hissed in time with the strikes.
Amy made a gesture with her left hand, perhaps a sign for sorry, and bit her lip. Victor leaned around so he could see her face. He poked her lip where she had bitten it and tapped her thigh twice more with the crop.
"No," he said, "You do not do that. If anyone does that, it is me."
Victor went back to his original position and after a moment the crop struck Amy's buttock once more. It struck again and again as Amy stayed silent. Again and again Victor struck the same point making a neat red mark. He stopped to inspect it and, apparently satisfied, changed his stance. He began striking the other buttock to get the same result.
"Up," he said. Amy stood and faced him exactly as she had at the beginning.
"Next," he said, and Amy reached under the mattress once more. She handed Victor a wooden paddle, just like those used to play table tennis. As he took it she opened her mouth. Victor placed the crop in it and pushed it far back so it made her bare her teeth.
Amy knelt once more on the bed and put her hands on the wall. This time the crop rested on her arms, forcing her head back so she was looking directly at the wall. Victor took aim with the paddle. Michael could see it had two different sides. One was flat wood, the other what looked like black rubber.
The wooden side of the paddle slapped into Amy's backside. Unlike the crop, which was aimed at the centre of the buttock, this struck at the top of the thigh. Victor placed his free hand on Amy's lower back and slapped her in a steady rhythm. After ten or twelve Amy quivered too much, resulting in an angry grunt from Victor and six rapid slaps from the paddle, each harder than the last. He snorted then moved around to the other side.
Now Victor blocked Michael's view of Amy's backside. All he could see was her tits quiver with each blow. After eight slaps Victor stopped and placed the paddle on her back. He adjusted himself again and after a moment he dropped his trousers, revealing his bare ass to Michael. As Victor stepped out of them and picked them up, Michael was very aware that he was holding his cock through the material of his underwear. The view of an older man semi-naked gave him a queer sensation so he looked back at Amy, still stationary on the bed.
The paddling resumed. After an even spread of slaps to each side Victor moved away to admire his handiwork. Michael could see the small angry red marks made by the crop contrasted with the large pink areas below them. Victor ran his fingers over Amy's left buttock and nipped her. She flinched and without hesitation he brought the dark side of the paddle down hard on the untouched side of her ass. She flinched again and he struck the other side. Amy held still and Victor moved to continue his inspection. Finally, Victor moved to Amy's right side, furthest from Michael, and once again placed the paddle on her back.
Michael could see Victor's penis now. It was long, perhaps as long as his own. It stuck out horizontally from under his shirt. With one hand he played with himself, just as Michael was doing, and with the other he rubbed Amy's inner thigh. She quivered slightly as he went higher and higher. Amy trembled slightly as he reached the top and his fingers disappeared amongst her thick public hair.
"What do you say?" he asked.
Amy said something, but the crop in the mouth and her position meant Michael did not hear it. Victor asked several more times as she tried to say the phrase as clearly as possible. Michael made out 'please', but nothing else.
"Very well," Victor said, and removed his shirt. The man was past his prime, but well muscled and slim compared to the cook's ample figure. What Michael found strange was his groin. Unlike Amy, he has almost no hair there, just a small grey patch at the base of his shaft. Michael did not think men went bald down there, he must have shaved it off for some reason.
Michael could see what was about to happen and wanted to do more than fumble with himself. Without loosening his pants he worked his underwear down to free his erection. With it out of his clothes and in his hand he watched Victor push his fingers into Amy's quim. When he withdrew them he wiped them on her abused ass then lined up the tip of his member with her bush. The pair in the room held still, but Michael stroked his cock in anticipation.
Without a word, or any indication he was ready, Victor thrust into Amy. Michael watched her tense and heard her stifled moan. Victor held himself inside her then pulled out and thrust in again and again. After a dozen or so thrusts like that he stayed inside her, moving back and forth. Amy quivered and moaned, her dangling breasts jiggled as Victor fucked her.
Michael felt his balls tingle and throb. He knew he was close to ejaculating and he knew he might give himself away, but he could not stop. He had spied on the maids in the past, masturbating while they changed clothes or washed, but he had always moved away before he finished. This time he did not want to go anywhere. He wanted to watch
Victor whispered something and Amy nodded and replied. Michael knew he could have heard what was said if he had not been thinking about his own pleasure. Victor pulled out slowly then used his fingers to rub and probe Amy from behind once more. When he lined up his penis again Michael could not see any difference, but when he thrust into Amy she gave a muffled cry that sounded like pain.
Victor thrust away, ignoring Amy's plight. He pressed his hips against her buttocks and reached around to grab her breasts. Michael could not tell what was different but watching the pair folded together made him want to cum.
Victor said something in Amy's ear then stood straight, pulling out of her. Amy turned around to sit on the bed, crop still in her mouth, so she faced Victor. She massaged her tits, bringing them together, as Victor pointed his cock at her. Michael imagined himself where Victor was and without warning he ejaculated. He has no choice but to take his hand from his cock and put it over his mouth to stop them hearing him.
Meanwhile, Victor stroked his cock and sent jets of semen onto Amy's face and neck. She stayed still, crop still firmly between her teeth, until he finished. When he was done there was quiet, except for a faint sound from within the wall. They looked towards Michael and he froze. In the silence the only sound was his cum dripping down the void to who knows where.
Victor and Amy looked at each other and Michael made his move. Penis still hanging from his fly, he climbed as quietly as he could, choosing to climb higher up into the loft and rearrange his nether region before going back to his room. As he crawled he was filled with a heady mix of nerves and lust.
Victor stood back from Amy and wiped his spent penis on a cloth, waiting patiently. She spat out the crop and stood up.
"You are sure he watched?" she asked, "That was him leaving after he shot?"
"Yes, Armuke," Victor said, eyes down.
"Good," she said, "We are on schedule. Cynthia should act tomorrow and visit him each night as planned."
"Yes, Armuke," he said, "It is not too soon…?"
"No," she barked, "There is no soon. It is only thirteen nights before All Hallows Eve. He must be ready. You will make sure of it, Võtja."
"Yes, Armuke," he said, "Clean you, Armuke? If it pleases you?"
"It does," she said, "Your tongue will please me. After that you will get me fresh linen."
As Victor licked her clean she looked around the room at the symbols painted on the walls and floor, out of sight of the vent. Most of them were glowing brightly enough to be seen against the glow of the candles. Amy pinched the mole on her breast and waited for Victor to finish.
Later, Michael emerged from the linen closet and checked the coast was clear before dashing into his room. From a little way down the corridor, Cynthia watched his return and checked the time. When she had waited long enough she headed back to the servants quarters.