Bedroom Maid

Lord Harold Fauntmore, bachelor and rake. Wealthy bachelor and rake. He had no immediate desire for a wife and therefore had no intention of taking one. So why was he riding out to spend the weekend with his mother's old friend, Lord Southron, and his highly eligible daughter, Francis?

That was an easy one. His mother told him to. So he would ride out, do the pretty and not get engaged to Francis, who had a dominating personality and who would enjoy bossing him about.

Harry duly arrived and was greeted and fawned upon by a hopeful father and his daughter. He was pleasant. He was good at being pleasant. It helped with the ladies and it cost him nothing and he didn't have to propose just because he was being pleasant. And while he was here he could look around for a little sport.

His first chance for a strike came when he was strolling outside and had some mud splashed on his jacket. He headed up to his suite to change, not bothering to call for his valet. He considered himself quite capable of changing his jacket unaided, no matter what Jensen said.

Walking into his bedroom, he was delighted to see a female form bent over the end of the bed, tucking sheets in or something. He strolled over and lifted the maid's dress up and over her head, giving him an excellent view of a pair of very nice legs, a lovely bottom and a pretty little pussy peeping out from between those white thighs.

Harry's hands immediately became very busy, one undoing his trousers while the other started investigating that pretty pussy.

Naturally, the maid had felt the sudden attack on her person and was struggling to get her head untangled from her dress to see who her assailant was. When she finally managed this, Harry was ready for more action than just the petting and rubbing he had been doing.

"Oh, Sir," cried the maid. "Please don't. I'm just doing my job here. I'll get into awful trouble if someone finds you here with me."

"Then you'd better hope that no-one comes for the next few minutes," murmured Harry, edging the maid's legs further apart. "This won't take all that long, and I expect you to co-operate."

"But sir," came a wailing complaint, "what if you get me with child."

"Ah. Hadn't thought of that. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Yes, sir," pleaded the maid. "We're getting married soon. Please don't."

"I suggest that you meet your boyfriend tonight," Harry told her, pressing his erection firmly into her and smiling at her squeal. "Let your boyfriend get lucky tonight and he'll assume any brat is his and you, you lucky girl, will get laid twice today. It'll give you something to look forward to. Now, let's go."

Holding the maid's hips in his hands, Harry drove in deeply, taking his pleasure and enjoying the way the maid co-operated, despite her reluctance. It was so much more fun when they actively took part instead of just lying like logs, waiting for him to finish.

Finishing, Harry remained inside the maid, enjoying his dominance, knowing that she was worrying about someone coming and catching them.

"So what's your name, pretty maid?" he demanded.

"Molly, sir," came the timid reply.

"And will you be here every day fixing up my bedroom?" he asked meaningfully.

"No, sir," she gasped, appalled at the idea. "We take turns at the various rooms. Betsy is on this floor tomorrow."

"I see. And at what time is Betsy likely to be here."

"About this time, sir," gasped Molly, starting to feel frantic. Wouldn't he ever pull out and let her go.

"All right. Don't tell her about this, will you," said Harry, giving her a friendly slap on the bottom as he finally pulled away. His hand dived into his pocket, withdrawing a shilling for her. Watching her leave with a grin, Harry looked for a jacket.

A relaxed Harry enjoyed the evening, smiling when he say Molly slipping out the back door with a young man.

Next day, Harry woke early. For him that was. For anyone else it was nearly noon. With Jensen's expert help he was soon dressed and ready to face another day. Downstairs to break his fast, and then out for a ride with his host.

Returning from his ride Harry noted that the time was about right. He excused himself to his host and returned to his suite to change out of his riding things.

His timing this time was not quite as good as the previous day. As he entered he found the maid, a pretty little thing, he thought, had just finished and was walking toward the door.

"A moment if you please," he said, stopping her. "Betsy, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, blushing. It was rare for the gentry to actually know the servants names or to speak to them.

"I thought it was. Now be a good girl and lift up your dress and lean back against the bed will you."

"What? No, sir. I can't do that. It wouldn't be proper," gasped Betsy.

"You'll find it's remarkably easy to do," said Harry, a touch of a growl in his voice. "Now hurry up and do it. I haven't got all day."

"But why?" pleaded Betsy. "I'm not supposed to even be in here while you're here, let alone showing you my legs."

Harry sighed. "I'll show you why as soon as you've done as you've been told. Look at it this way. If you don't do it, and quickly, I'll complain to the butler that you did do it."

Betsy stared at him in surprise. "But I didn't. If you said that I'd get turned out. That wouldn't be right."

"So why are you waiting?" growled Harry, gesturing towards the bed.

Reluctantly Betsy backed up to the bed, hitching her dress up to show her legs.

Harry sighed, moving towards her. Reaching down he took her dress from where she was holding it and hitched it higher. A lot higher. Betsy gave a shocked squeak, knowing that it wasn't just his legs he was looking at.

"What are you doing?" she squealed.

Harry just looked at her as he unfastened his trousers, enjoying the look of shock in her eyes as he took out his erection.

Betsy stared at Harry, not believing what was going on. If she screamed, she'd be in trouble. Not him. If she didn't scream he was going to stick her she knew and then she could also get into trouble.

The problem was easily resolved. Scream and get turned out. Don't scream and get stuck and maybe that would be the end of it. Don't scream it was.

"Is this your first time?" asked Harry. Not that this was going to stop him, but he didn't want her screaming in pain. If she was a virgin he'd just have to be a bit more careful.

Betsy shook her head, reluctantly.

Harry lifted his eyebrows. "No? Naughty girl. You have a boyfriend?"

Betsy shook her head. "It was Jacobs, sir. He sticks all the new girls to see what they're like. If we don't let him we don't get a job."

Harry laughed. The butler did it. Apparently a man after Harry's own heart.

"Ok, move your legs further apart," he instructed Betsy.

As Betsy obeyed, he moved her lips apart and started entering her, taking her slowly at first but moving faster as he felt her responding, getting wet and allowing easier entry.

"Try and move with me," he told his reluctant partner, moving slowly within her, giving her a chance to match his movements. Satisfied that she was doing as instructed, he started having some serious fun, driving hard into Betsy, drawing little squeals from her as he went.

Finally coming in her, Harry relaxed, but kept Betsy pinned to the bed. He was leaving the next morning, and wouldn't have time for a morning glory. Therefore he wanted at least one more bout under his belt today.

"I assume that you won't want me coming looking for you to stick you again this afternoon?" Harry asked her, grinning at the look of horror on her face. "Then perhaps you should find someone else who I can play with this afternoon or this evening."

"I can arrange for Molly to have to come up here, sir," Betsy offered, only to meet with a shake of the head.

"Had her," growled Harry. "Someone new, preferably inexperienced, like you."

"Jane," said Betsy. "Jacobs wasn't able to stick her because she was hired directly by Lady Francis as her personal maid."

"Interesting, but how do I get at her. She's not likely to come to my room."

"No, sir, but she sleeps in the room next to Lady Francis. If you come down there when Lady Francis has retired, I can point you to Jane's room when she's probably getting ready for bed."

Harry grinned. "And I walk in and take my chances. OK, but if you try to trick me I'll have you let go without a reference."

He finally released Betsy, tossing her a shilling, which she grabbed as she fled.

Calling for Jensen to come and help him get changed, Harry prepared for a boring day and an interesting evening.

Fifteen minutes after Lady Francis had retired, Harry excused himself as well. He wanted an early night, he told his host, as he would be leaving early. Heading towards the corridor where Lady Francis's rooms were Harry could see Betsy loitering at the corner. A wave of her hand indicated that he should stay away for the moment.

After a boring ten minutes loitering and trusting that no-one would come asking awkward questions, Harry received a nod from Betsy. Heading smartly down the corridor he found her standing outside one door. Putting her finger on the door and the one to her lips she then hurried away.

Entering the room quietly, Harry could hardly believe his luck. Jane was bent over the bed tidying the pillows, and hadn't noticed his entry. Quietly closing the door Harry stepped forward, bent, and swiftly pulled Jane's night rail up and over her head, exposing her entire body from her feet to her shoulders.

Jane's bottom jutted towards him beautifully, legs slightly apart. A pair of quite lovely breast danced free, trembling and wobbling from their sudden release. Harry didn't even try to talk Jane into acquiescing quietly. He'd undone his fly as he'd approached the room, and his erection was out and ready for action.

Stepping forward and against Jane's lovely figure, one hand closed around her breast while his other hand was busy fitting his cock into that lovely pussy he'd spotted. Thrusting hard, he heard Jane squeal as her hymen broke, and then he was pushing firmly into her.

Then the door behind him burst open, and an angry voice was speaking.

"Lord Fauntmore, how could you possibly thrust yourself upon my innocent daughter this way?" Lord Southron thundered. "Unhand Lady Francis immediately."

Francis had finally managed to clear her night rail from her head, and turned to look at Harry, frowning.

Harry looked at Francis and sighed. He turned to look at Lord Southron in the doorway, other onlookers crowded around. Betsy and Molly were there, he idly noted.

"I wish you to be the first to wish us happy," he sighed. "I am now engaged to your daughter. Now if you'll excuse us, I have some instructions that I want to finish giving to your daughter.

For a moment he thought that Lord Southron would drop dead from apoplexy, which might free him, but no. Then Francis spoke.

"I'd appreciate it if you would close the door, Daddy," she murmured. "Harry was just starting to get me interested when you knocked."