Michael ran the last quarter mile of his weekly run as fast as he could. He did not do it to claim a fast time to please Victor, or to escape punishment. He did it because it was freezing cold and this part of his improvised course was in the shadow of tall oaks.
It was received wisdom that the colder months were best for running because one did not sweat so much and the temperature invigorated one's circulation. Michael had never experienced that. His fingers were numb, his face stung and the hard ground was punishing his knees, doubly so as he ran downhill. Since the start the cold air had burned in his lungs and now, even though he was sucking down great gulps of it to keep going, he regretted every breath.
He came around the corner and spotted Victor at the finish line across from the potting shed. He also knew father was watching him from the corner study, a room only ever used to watch people and never for work. However, Michael did not look to confirm; his father was that kind of man who liked to know everything but did not like to be known himself.
He sprinted across the imaginary line on the footpath then came to a halt. After a brief pause he walked back to Victor. From nowhere a scullery maid appeared with a tray bearing a solitary glass of water. He took it and drank it all, despite it being so cold it was barely liquid. He thanked her and returned the glass. She looked up at him and smiled, her bright white teeth chattering a little. Despite her dark brown skin he was sure he could see blue in her lips.
"Thank you, er," he began.
"Nora, sir," she said, teeth still chattering. She was a small attractive woman, probably not much older than him. The clothes she was wearing were appropriate for a warm kitchen, but they were completely inadequate out here.
"Thank you, Nora," he said, "Now please go inside, you are clearly not wearing enough for this dreadful afternoon."
Victor looked up from his notepad and shot an annoyed glance at Nora, then a less annoyed glance at Michael. Without a word he went back to his notes. Victor ruled over Michael's education, but he did not dare overrule orders given by a member of the family to a member of staff.
Nora gave a little bow and glanced at Victor, who ignored her, then went into the house as fast as the tray and glass would allow. Even while cold and hurrying her hips swayed in an alluring fashion and Michael watched them all the way to the door. She even gave him a quick glance back over her shoulder and a wide smile before she vanished.
"Your time has improved," Victor said, "Clearly this weather does you good."
"Clearly," Michael said, his voice laden with sarcasm.
After a morning of tedious history followed by an afternoon of physical exercise, Michael was too tired and too sick of Victor to even pretend to be polite. Victor did not seem to care.
"That is all," Victor said. He glanced at his watch, "I will leave you to complete your cool down routine and have supper. Your parents are leaving as we speak and will not be back until tomorrow evening. Please stick to your schedule. I will see you at eight AM. Do not be late."
With that he walked into the house. Michael shook his head and started to follow him, but the cold had got into his muscles. He hobbled and stretched his way over the ten yards between him and warmth.
His 'cool down' took twenty minutes and he forced himself through every moment of it. He considered a bath before supper, but he knew breaking his routine was to invite cramp in the morning. He ate, stretched again and went upstairs. One look at his sofa brought back memories of last night and the sudden realisation that Cynthia had promised to return tonight… to return for the night! It was only a quarter to seven, but without the need to tend to Mother it wouldn't be long before she would be free. How long it would be before she could sneak up here he did not know.
Michael decided he should shower and change. He was so nervous he showered too quickly and when he emerged it was only just after the hour, far too soon to be dressing for bed. As he dried himself he noticed something on his inner thigh, a series of overlapping scratches, faint and pink. He remembered feeling something when Cynthis was going down on him and again when…
He looked at his wrist and there were more overlapping scratches. How had they happened? Cynthia wore no jewelry and clipped her nails short just like all servants. She certainly had not used anything else or he would have seen it, surely?
Michael went into the bathroom and checked himself in the mirrors. There were no other scratches, except the ones on his shins caused by the overgrown bush near the fountain. Shrugging, he went back out to get dressed. He remembered Cynthia's lack of underwear and just put on a casual shirt and pants. The cold metal of his zipper felt cold against his penis and made a note to be very careful if he went to the toilet. Unsure what else to do, he picked up his book and sat on the sofa.
At eight Michael put down his book and paced a little. It was still early, so he would feel stupid getting ready for bed. However, he already felt stupid sitting about reading a book on his own without any underwear. He wasn't even wearing socks.
The moment he picked up his book again there was a knock at the door. He opened it and Cynthia squeezed inside, closing and locking it behind her. On impulse he kissed her. She kissed him back then pushed him away.
"That's a good start," she said, "But maybe next time we say 'Hello'?"
"Hello Cynthia," he said, "Is everything alright?"
"Hello Michael," she said, as formally as she could without saying 'sir', "Everything is fine, but with your mother and your butler decided I could do some additional chores."
"I'm glad you're here," he said, feeling sappy for saying it, but it made her smile and she took his hand. He tried to lead her to the sofa, but she stopped at the foot of the bed.
"You know why I'm here, don't you," she said.
Michael had a sudden sinking feeling. Was this where he found out this was a plan by his mother or (for some twisted reason) his father? Had someone bribed Cynthia to do this?
"I hoped," he began, but the thought stopped there.
"I'm here because I want to be," she said, "Because this will be fun for both of us. The catch is-"
Oh shit, he thought, here it comes, I'm about to be blackmailed.
"- we have to move things along."
"Move things along?" he asked, "What do you mean?"
She moved closer to him and started to unfasten his pants.
"I mean sex," she said, "Fingers and tongues are great, but they aren't…"
She loosened his pants and reached inside. A huge grin spread across her face when she realised he wasn't wearing any underwear.
"I think we were both thinking the same thing," she said, "You naughty boy!"
“So you’re-” he started to ask, but she cut him off with a laugh.
“No, not tonight,” she said, “But I thought about it. This does give me an idea…”
She guided him to stand about a foot from the end of the bed. Giving him a cheeky smile she unfastened his trousers and let them fall to the ground. His excited cock stuck out from under his shirt, an uncomfortable reminder of seeing Victor semi-naked two nights ago. Cynthia admired him for a moment then slowly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders so he had to wriggle to get it free.
She stepped back again and beckoned him forwards so he could step away from his clothes. She reached forward and teased his member with her finger tips. Even that light touch made him harder, and he stood feeling confused and exposed. She moved closer to touch his chest and kiss him. Her rough clothes brushed against his skin and she kissed him from neck to thigh, avoiding his penis with everything but the lightest touch from her fingers. Even so he was standing as erect as he ever had.
“Well, you’re ready,” she said, stepping away again, “It’s my turn. Come undress me.”
Michael awkwardly reached out and unbuttoned her blouse. She let him go at his own pace, a clumsy eagerness. Her blouse was opened then pulled off, her skirt unzipped and dropped to the floor, all while he stood exposed in front of her. He knelt down to unbuckle her shoes, but she stopped him and walked back to sit on the sofa so he did not accidentally tip her over. Shoes and socks removed, she leaned forward so he could tackle her bra, which he managed with a little help. He stood back for a moment to admire her perfect pale tits.
“Come on,” she said, wiggling her hips.
Her underwear was large and not at all sexy, and Michael was keen to remove it. He knelt down so he could pull it all the way down and be face to ‘face’ with her bush when he did. He was about to stand up when she pushed down on his shoulder.
“Make friends,” she said, “You’re there already. I need a little something.”
Unsure what to do Michael licked and kissed his way around, bringing his fingers up between her legs and trying to find her clitoris, which he was sure he knew about, but it seemed elusive. Eventually the tip of his tongue hit a spot that Cynthia liked at the top of her slit and his exploring fingers felt her lips become slick. He looked up at her and she was looking down at him, squeezing her breasts. She took a small step back and pulled him to his feet.
Without a word she led him to the bed. She climbed on first and lay in the middle on her side. She patted the quilt next to her and he lay there.
"Don't worry if you think you don't know what you're doing, no one does," she said, running her hand up and down his arm, "But your body knows, and I won't let you hurt me, be sure about that."
Michael wanted to say that he was the master here, the one who should be seducing the maids, not the other way around. However, there was something fogging his brain. He put it down to Cynthia's blonde locks, sweet smile and pert pale tits with their enigmatic ghostly nipples.
"There's one rule you can't break," she said, "You must not finish inside. You can shoot it anywhere you like, but not inside me. Other than my mouth, of course."
"OK, I'll try," he said, but she gave him a stern look, "I won't, I promise."
Cynthia smiled and kissed him. She lay back so he shuffled upwards to keep kissing her. When she was comfortable she opened her legs so he could comfortably explore between them with his hand.
His finger slid into her wet hole and he worked it back and forth. His erection was rubbing against her side. Feeling him pushing into her hip, she took his wrist and pulled his hand away from her quim. She sucked his finger clean and shuffled up the bed a little more so her head and shoulders were on the mass of soft pillows. Opening her legs she beckoned to him and he crawled on top of her.
"Is this right?" he asked, "I don't know how to-"
"Let me," she whispered, reaching between them to guide his penis.
He felt the chill of the moisture clinging to her pubic hair, then the heat of her entrance. She worked his foreskin, then pulled him a little, encouraging him to thrust.
He looked down at her as he pushed inward. Her mouth made an 'o' and her eyes went wide.
"That's it," she gasped, "A little at a time."
Overwhelmed by the feeling he tried to go slowly, but he wanted to be deep inside her. She moaned, getting louder and louder as he thrust harder. She moved her hips in time with him, and with one forceful rock she took him in completely. He let out a long moan as their pubic hair mashed together.
Her eyes closed. She alternated between moaning and whispering things he could not make out. He put his head next to hers so her mouth was near to his ear, but it did not help. For a while it was distracting, but soon he felt pressure building in his balls. He raised up onto his arms and looked down at her.
"It's OK," she gasped, noticing the look in his eyes and the change in his rhythm, "Just pull out."
He did, all in one go, making her cry out. She looked down between them and reached for his cock as cum shot over her pubes and belly. She giggled a little at his gurning face and strangled moans.
"Sorry," he gasped, "That didn't seem like very long."
"I'll take it as a compliment," she said, "My cunt is just too good."
Before he could say anything she pulled him down for a long kiss. Craning down hurt his neck a little as her arm was still between them, her hand making sure his cock was spent.
"Off you get," she said her voice recovered, "I'll go clean up."
Michael flopped off her onto his back and lay still while she went to the ensuite. When she came back she sucked his cock clean making him shiver with pleasure.
"God!" he cried, flinching, "Sorry, it's just a bit much."
"It's OK," she said, "I get like that sometimes too. Are you alright?"
"More than alright," he said, kissing her, "That was amazing, thank you."
"My pleasure," she purred, "But we should get some sleep."
She went over to turn the light off then got under the covers. He was about to protest, after all it was only just after nine, but he gave an enormous yawn and got into bed with her. She turned away from him and stuck out her bottom. He spooned against her, feeling her warm buttocks against his stomach and exhausted member. When he wrapped his arm around her he cupped her breast and she put her hand over his. I'm minutes they both feel asleep.
Unfortunately for Michael, this was his first time sleeping with a woman in his bed. He slept lightly in what felt like a series of dozes. Cynthia slept soundly the whole night, perhaps because his bed was a lot more comfortable than her small servants cot.
Michael's sleep was disturbed by more than just the warm naked body next to him. When he dozed off he dreamt strange dreams of eyes watching him, of an orgy amongst the servants, of his father and mother watching and judging him, of Cynthia judging him. He awoke alone only to awake again moments later with Cynthia next to him. Other times she was the cook or the scullery maid or… something else. He dreamt of a stranger in the woods, watching him, pushing him to the ground or holding him against a tree. Above all he saw a dark figure in every dream, lurking in the background looking for all the world like his twin...
Michael finally fell into a dreamless sleep... the moment his alarm went off. He rolled onto his back to try and find it, but Cynthia was more awake and quicker. She turned it off and kissed him, her hand moving down his body until it reached his crotch. His cock had grown excited in his sleep.
"Good morning," she said, then she looked down under the covers, "And good morning."
"Good morning," he said, "Did you change my alarm?"
"Yes," she replied, "Because we both need to be up early and there's nothing quite like morning after sex."
She kissed him hard and encouraged his semi into full erection. He worked his hand between her legs and put into practice the small amount he had learned. Cynthia moved so he could suck her nipple and soon he felt her quim grow slick. Without a word she took his hand away and straddled him, rubbing her wet lips along the underside of his shaft. She lay on him, her head to one side just as he had been last night and he enjoyed the feeling as every so often she went high enough for his tip to nearly hit her entrance.
She began moaning and whispering again. He moved his hips in time with hers until cock and quim aligned. Cynthia paused, then pushed down and he slid inside her. She looked down at him and grinned as her grinding became fucking. Michael enjoyed the view and played with her tits as she bounced up and down.
At first the angle was not as stimulating as when he was on top, but he had not figured on her having an orgasm while he was inside her. When she did it shuddered through all of her, including her vagina which clenched around his penis. The moment it did, he felt himself filling up.
"I'm going to come!" he said, louder than he meant, and Cynthia responded straight away. She slid off him and threw the covers off so she could move down and take him in her mouth. He ejaculated straight away, making her gag a little. She swallowed and licked him clean, then crawled back up to lie next to him, both naked with the covers bunched around their feet.
Cynthia looked at the clock, kissed him, and ran to the ensuite.
"I have to go change before breakfast," she said over her shoulder. Moments later she came out and started dressing quickly.
Michael went to the toilet, still naked. When he came out she was ready to leave. She kissed him, a long lingering kiss, then pulled away.
"I'll see you tonight," she said, "I'll see you every night."
And with that she was gone. Michael exhaled and shook his head. He ran his fingers over his neck and felt something like the scratches… there were more on his inner thigh. Inexplicable neat little patterns. He went to the ensuite to see how many.
Cynthia changed and hurried to the servants' breakfast. Nora was serving and Cynthia looked around for Victor. Instead Amy beckoned over to the larder.
"It is done?" she asked. Cynthia nodded, then handed Amy a small vial containing a cloudy liquid...