The manor was quiet, peaceful in the afternoon lull. Matilda's shoes clacked against the hardwood floors as she went about her duties. For twenty-five years, she had served the Caylen house, first as a dish scrubber, then as a maid proper, until finally rising to the rank of housekeeper. Her duties had multiplied tenfold over the years, but Matilda Mayflower had faced every care, crisis, and catastrophe with firm resolve.
She came to a stop, and ducked into a nearby broom closet. Such distractions had grown in frequency as of late. At fifty years of age, she'd believed her body had long ceased growing. Despite a conservative diet, she'd been gaining weight, somewhat in her belly, but particularly in her waist and backside, and especially in her bust. She'd been blessed with significant endowment as a girl, and they'd seem to only grow with age, and especially pregnancy. With each of her children, her breasts leap-frogged in size, until finally coming to the watermelon burdens her brazier currently struggled to contain.
Other changes, she'd seen coming. The greying of her hair, the lines of her face, the development of little discolorations of her skin. It was the continuous growth that vexed her most. In the closet, she opened her blouse, and tugged, adjusted, and pulled until her undergarments sat in a mostly comfortable arrangement. She closed up her uniform, a black blouse and long skirt covered by a white apron, and exited the closet.
She'd risen early to see that the house's needs were being met expediently. The preparation of breakfast, the washing of dishes, the tending to the grounds, every gear turning in perfect rhythm.
Except for one.
From a high window, Matilda peered out into the backyard, where the laundry line was strung. There, one of the younger girls had sheets pinned up, and was beating them mercilessly with a washing bat.
Making good use of her intimate knowledge of the house, Matilda rushed down the nearest flight of stairs, weaved through a series of side rooms, and emerged from the nearest exterior door in less than a minute, approaching the laundry girl with great haste.
"Young lady, young lady! What in good graces do you think you're doing?" Matilda took the girl by surprise, as she shrieked before the housekeeper snatched the laundry bat out of her hand. "Linens are to be beaten before and between rounds of washing, and that was to be done over an hour ago! These are to be drying by now, why aren't they ready?"
The girl dipped into a low curtsy. "My apologies, Ma'am. There's these… these stains that just won't come out."
"Let me see," Matilda barked, taking the fabric in hand. She immediately recognized it as the Young Master's bed sheets. When she pulled straight the linen, she was met face-to-face with the substance in question, and averted her gaze, embarrassed. She combed through the others on the line, and found them all the same. "Good Lord," she muttered to herself. "I know he's well of age, but this is… so much, too much, even for a young man as virile as him."
"What do you suppose it is, ma'am?" the girl inquired, clearly too young and innocent to be familiar with such matters.
Matilda ripped them from the line, and shoved them in the girl's hands. "Take these back, wash them in cold water, with a heavy dose of vinegar, and scrub thoroughly. I'll see to it that this is the last time it will happen."
###
Standing outside the Master's bedroom, Matilda sucked in a deep breath. She'd heard horror stories from other servants in town, about Masters that were abusive, violent, or worse. She counted her blessings, that young Edward, like his late father, was mostly manageable. They loved their drink, their women, their parties, but the men of House Caylen never raised a hand to anyone, never so much as raised their voice.
Matilda was grateful for this. But it didn't make caring for the Master's needs any less of a chore.
She knocked on the door. "Master? Are you awake?"
There was no answer.
Again, a knock, louder. "Master?"
No response.
With a huff, knowing full well what she'd find, Matilda opened the door.
The Young Master had a firm constitution, that much could be said. Whisky bottles, of a fine age and concentration, lay scattered about. At his age, Edward's father had already developed a taste for absinthe, and Matilda maintained hope that she could steer the boy away from drink sickness. She'd raised him, stepping in as the maternal figure after his mother's death. She'd nursed him, taught him, suffered his rebellious teenage years. Unfortunately, it seemed that he'd still not grown past them, despite having seen his twentieth birthday a month prior.
He lay on his bed, his lean, athletic body exposed. Matilda averted her gaze as she coughed loudly, and announced, "Master, it's time to get up."
She was answered by a groan, a mild stirring of the body, before sleep took him back.
Unable to avert any longer, Matilda finally saw that, to her disappointment, she wouldn't be able to uphold her promise to the laundry girl. Edward's hand lay on his groin, his member erect with morning enthusiasm under his palm, his ejaculate from the night prior smeared across the silken sheets.
"Oh, for-" Matilda bit her tongue before she let a swear slip. Frustrated, she simply approached, and tapped the young man on the shoulder. "Master, it's time to get up."
"Hrmmm…" he grumbled as he rose to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Master, please, there is a matter we need to-"
He cut her off with a yawn, loud and dramatic as he leaned back. His member sat rigid and upward, practically pointing right at her, and again, Matilda averted her sight.
"Edward," she said firmly. "It is very important that we address-"
A different sound cut her off, the rustling of fabric. She looked, and saw that the young man had wrapped a portion of his silk sheets around his member, and was stroking himself, head thrown back, his breath heavy.
"Oh, Good Lord!" she shrieked. "Young Master, right in front of me!?"
Edward looked at her curiously. "You can leave if you want."
"That's not the-! You-!" Flustered, Matilda ripped the sheets away, careful to avoid the stain left the night prior. "Master, listen to me. We cannot have this! Your-... emissions make it very difficult to get the laundry done! Please, refrain from-"
"They're my sheets," he said flatly. "I'll use them how I please. I like the way they feel." His smile at the statement made her skin crawl.
"Edward, please, I-" raw indignation at having to fight over this stifled her voice. Matilda collected herself, and calmly folded her hands before saying, "Master, there are alternatives that can meet your… needs. I can arrange to have women brought-"
His groan nearly echoed off the walls as he threw himself back. "No, those are *girls*. I know all about Bennings' and his services, all the other guys won't shut up about it. They're all lithe, scrawny things there. Did you know he throws them out on the street as soon as they turn twenty-five?"
"I did not," Matilda answered flatly.
"I want a *woman*. Someone with experience, someone with a real body. Someone with substance, both mentally and physically."
Matilda had tuned out most of what he'd said. "Those matters aside, I really must insist we find an alternative for you."
"And you would suggest?"
Matilda blushed at having discussed something so intimate, so salacious, with the young man she practically raised. "Well… if it's the silk you like… then, here!" In a huff, she tore off her glove with great haste, and threw the finely crafted, silken creation at him. "There, a glove is significantly easier to wash than a full sheet. Make use of this until we can find something else to… occupy you."
Edward took the glove. With his mind addled by booze and sleep, it took him a moment to consider the proposition, before he slid the glove over his member, and resumed his play.
"Oh my- not in front of me!"
"You can leave if you want."
"Ugh!" Matilda stormed from the room, and slammed the door behind her.
###
A month had passed since the incident with Edward about his sheets. Fortunately, Matildas plan worked, and there had been no further issues with the laundry. The cogs of her great, ever efficient machine were back to spinning in their due courses, and she couldn't be happier.
There was, however, a worry. A mystery that tugged at her attention.
Her solution to the Master's need was simple. She worked a steady supply of small, incidental silk undergarments into the house's monthly budget. It was a common need anyway, with so many servants in need of dress, barely anyone would take notice of the influx, and buying silk in the form of underwear both raised fewer eyebrows than buying bolts of the fabric whole, and also gave the Master an easily spent unit to use and discard once he was done with it.
But still, a mystery.
Matilda's own laundry, obviously, stood out, as there were few women on staff her size. Every week, she noticed pairs of her own undergarments were going missing. To where, she could not say. Even more peculiarly, they were being replaced by the very pairs she'd had snuck into the house's budget. Her drawers were not going empty, she found the same neatly folded pairs placed within as if they were her own. But they weren't, and where her own had gone, she couldn't say.
Her answer to the mystery came late one night. At times, she found herself restless, unable to find sleep, and would patrol the halls of the Caylen estate. Something about keeping watch over her ward, both the Young Master and the estate as a whole, put her at ease. She walked the halls, having donned a silk robe over her nightgown, and carried a lantern, which cast dull light over the fixtures and furniture that looked so familiar, yet so foreign by the change of time.
She was wary of walking about without a brazier, as even beneath two layers of clothing and fully covered, her heavy bust could be considered indecent without one to contain them. Of equal concern was the length of her robe. She'd bought it years prior, after her first pregnancy, and then it could reach to the floor. Now after two more and so many years, it stretched to fully cover her, and only came to just above the knees of her thick legs. To compound it all, she slept with no undergarments beneath her robe, leaving her sex exposed to the open air. In truth, part of it gave her a rush, to walk about so exposed, at risk of being seen, no matter how small a chance.
As she passed the Young Master's room, she heard a noise, a shuffling that raised her suspicions, and saw candlelight dancing under the doorway. Clearly, he was up and about. Her first instinct was to knock, but something told her that discretion would yield more. Matilda snuffed out the lantern, and quietly, delicately, set it down on a hall table, such that no sound was made. She then crept back to the Master's door, and knelt, bringing her eye to the keyhole.
Edward was sitting on the edge of his bed, just barely far enough to his left to be within view. Though she couldn't see anything explicit, she could tell by the movement of his arm and his muffled groans exactly what he was up to. Her heart jumped, her face flushed, but the feeling was different from before. It wasn't embarrassment she felt, but rather… excitement.
Before she could process exactly what it was she was feeling, Edward tipped to the side, and she saw exactly what he was doing.
His hand was wrapped around his cock, standing harder and longer than it had been when she last saw it. In truth, she forgot who she was looking at for a moment, and licked her lips at the sight before snapping out of it.
His other hand was higher, pressing something to his face. To her shock, Matilda saw, clear as day, a pair of her underwear. His muffled groans were from him inhaling the fabric's scent deeply as he stroked.
"That is enough!"
Before she even knew what she was doing, Matilda barged through the door. The Young Master was clearly surprised, but didn't yelp or shriek, and instead hurriedly hid his ill-gotten gains under his sheets.
"Edward, what the hell is this?" Matilda had no intention of entertaining his shenanigans, and tore the sheet aside, then snatched up her lost garment. To her horror, she found it stiff, and immediately knew why.
Edward shrank in the open light of what he'd done, clearly embarrassed, but also indignant to the last. He didn't answer, only met her stare with his own, both a twisted mix of many emotions.
Matilda looked about the room, seeing it through a new lens now that she knew what to look for. She saw that next to his bed, a night table sat further from the wall than its twin. He let out a yelp of objection as she stormed over, and pulled it aside. Nearly half a dozen pairs of her underwear had been wedged between the table and the wall, all thoroughly used.
She sucked in a deep breath. She released it slowly. "I am going to forget this ever happened. You may keep… these. But dispose of them thoroughly and discretely when you are done. I will never speak of this again, and you will never do this again." She moved to leave, and Edward shot up, obstructing her path.
"No." The word left his lips, halfway between a mutter and a growl. He was mere inches from Matilda's face, his eyes wide and wild. He advanced, drawing closer as she frantically backed away. Matilda abruptly crashed into a bookshelf from behind, and put her hands up to push him away. Edward snatched her by the wrists, and pinned her hands next to her head.
"Edward, st-," her objection was cut off by his lips pressing on hers. She voiced her dissent, only to have it muffled by his mouth. She pulled away and tried to yell, but the moment her mouth opened, his tongue filled it, swarming over and oppressing her own as she did everything she could to fight it back, short of biting it off. Matilda fought, and twisted, and kicked, but her efforts only seemed to spur the young man on. His erection, harder than ever before, pressed against her belly, and some dark part of her mind found excitement in how it poked into her.
Finally, the young Master broke away, and Matilda took a desperate breath, only to let out a shriek as he picked her up bodily off the floor, and threw her on his bed.
In an instant, he was on top of her, his hands groping at her chest. She pushed back, but couldn't stop him as he grabbed hold of the fabric, and tore it asunder. The robe parted easily, but the nightgown beneath ripped like paper in his grasp, and Matilda's breasts bounced freely in the open air.
Terror gripped her. She was too afraid to scream, to breathe, to do anything. She was only aware of two things: how painfully vulnerable she was before him, and the disturbing reaction her body was having. Her nipples were hard and pointed, sensitive in the cold night air. Her hands shook, and she felt tremors rack her body all the way down to her toes. The worst of it was her sex. It felt hot, unbearably so, and it ached fiercely. It was slick, and the thick bush of hair around it glistened with its drip.
"Eddie," she begged softly. "Eddie, stop, you don't-" his hand clasped over her mouth, squeezing until her jaw hurt. He positioned himself, his head pressed to her wet lips, and she let out a pained, muffled cry as he entered her. His body shook with a deep satisfaction as his length violated her depths, parting her walls and crushing past any resistance. It was painful, and her eyes watered as he drew out his cock, and thrust it in again, then again, harder every time until every inch of his shaft was inside her.
He took his hand off of her mouth, and all she could do was whimper softly as both hands seized her breasts, squeezing them tightly as he fucked her, his pace increasing. Her hands beat against his chest as rapidly filled her, and she fought with all her strength to push him off, to slide across the bed, anything to get away.
He slapped her.
It was sharp, and swift. In an instant, Matilda's head was cocked to the side, and her cheek stung. A sensation, wild and intense, washed through her body, and made her seize. In a moment of clarity, she fully realized what was happening for the first time.
Edward was between her legs, his cock painfully stretching her cunt with every thrust of his hips, her legs trembling in the air at both sides. His hands were on her tits greedily pulling at them, groping them, abusing them. The aching in her sex was flaring, scratching at her more deeply than any need she'd ever felt in her life. She realized that it had wavered when he slapped her, or rather, came to a climax of sorts that she'd never felt before. Some part of her was finding satisfaction in what he was doing, and that part was hungry for more.
Why?, she thought to herself. Why me? Why this?
She was old, and fat. Her breasts were ugly, heavy and veiny, sagging like cow udders. Her sex had been abused for years by her husband, and then again by the births of two children. The third, she'd had to be cut open like a fish to have removed, and the angry red scar across her heavy belly reminded her of it every day.
"Why?", she finally vocalized, sobbing. "Why me? Why-"
Again, she was cut off by the press of his lips to hers, and she realized he was crying too.
"Because I love you," he finally whimpered, hovering a mere inch from her face, his pace quickening into a feral drive. "I love you! I love you, I-" he kissed her again, and with a final thrust, buried his cock as deep inside her as it could reach. His head struck against her cervix, and the sweetest pain jolted through her body as his cock twitched, and the warm release of his seed filled her. She gasped as her ache climaxed again, the walls of her sex squeezing him as their mixed release dripped out of her.
Edward collapsed on top of her. Matilda lay still, dumbfounded at what had just transpired. She twisted her head about, and saw that she'd closed the door behind her when she came in. There was still the potential that someone had heard their noise, and seen through the keyhole.
"Oh god," he muttered as he rose up, and the realization of what he'd done struck him. He saw her sex, still holding his half-hard cock, the red marks from his grip on her breasts, and worst of all, the bruise on her cheek. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, shaking and processing so much at once. "I'm so sorry! I'm so-... so-...!"
"It's okay, Master! It's okay, it's-" He collapsed back into her, muttering his apology over and over. Matilda held him, partly out of genuine worry for him, and partly so that he would be muffled with his face buried in her bust. "I need to go, Edward. We can't be seen like this, we-"
"No!" His protest, muffled as it was, ran greater risk of them being caught as he held her tighter. "No, I need you here! I need you. You're all mine, and I won't let you go!"
"Yes, Master, I'm sorry. I'm here. I'm here…" Matilda wrapped her arms around him, and he snuggled closer, burying his head between her breasts. With one hand, she stroked his hair, lost in the feeling of him breathing shakily. "Come now, we have to take off the sheets. I promise, I won't leave until you fall asleep."
Slowly, he complied, and helped her pull the stained sheets from the bed. How much of it was her release or his, she couldn't say, but regardless, the two had left a massive body of fabric near the bed's edge damp. Edward averted his gaze, clearly ashamed.
Matilda snuffed out his candles, then crawled onto the bed first, and beckoned for him to come to her. Edward faltered, grappling just as much with what had happened as she was. Matilda had her own questions to answer for herself, but buried them focused entirely on getting him to bed before anyone stumbled across them. "I'm here for you," she cooed softly.
Edward practically threw himself at her, desperate to be held, and again, they settled into a cozy cuddle, with his face to her chest.
"Why did you take my under-garments?" she asked the top of his head.
He tensed at the question. She didn't press, and let him address it in his own time. "I did it because… I wanted to be close to you. When you gave me your glove, it was the first time I had something that was yours, intimately yours. Once you got the underwear for me to use, I had the thought to use yours and replace it with them instead."
"You know I noticed, yes? They weren't identical. The new pairs are much too small for me."
"... I wasn't thinking," he finally answered after a long pause.
"Clearly." Matilda kissed the top of his head as she stroked his hair. "It's okay. I'm not angry."
"Are you angry… about…"
"No," she answered softly, and squeezed him closer. It wasn't a lie. There was no anger in her over what had happened, that much she knew. But there was so much more. The fear, the arousal, the panic, the love.
The love…
She loved Edward, she knew that plainly. She'd practically raised him. She could've long retired, but stayed to take care of him. She loved him as a son. She loved him as a Master. Now, the very powerful question of what else lay there hung over her head.
The two lay in quiet darkness for a long while. At some point after falling asleep, Edward had brought his mouth to her nipple, and latched, just as he had as a babe, gently sucking at her. At first it was simply pleasurable, but soon, that sensation escalated, until she had to fight not to moan aloud, and she writhed next to him, her sex aching again. Carefully, without risk of waking him, she spread her legs. One hand held him close to her breast, while the other snaked down. Never in her life had Matilda explored herself, nor really had a hunger for the sexual. It was a duty to be done for her husband, not an indulgence for herself. But something had awoken as a result of Edward's attack, a hunger that she was desperate to satiate.
Her fingers pressed at her lips, still caked in their dried fluids, and it only took a bit of coaxing to get them wet again. She probed, explored, curiosity and lust propelling her in equal measure. When her touch grazed an especially soft spot on her upper wall, Matilda had to bite her lip to keep from sounding out as her back arched.
Edward's sucking only slowed as, in his sleep, he muttered, "Mama… Mama…," and hugged her tighter before latching again. To her surprise, Matilda looked down, and saw a trickle of white fluid from Edward's mouth as she felt the long forgotten release of lactation. She'd believed she couldn't produce milk after so many years, but wondered whether she'd never stopped producing, and could account her bust size to it all simply having nowhere to go.
Matilda continued her play, exploring herself as Edward suckled. She stroked the soft spot, first slowly, then quickly as the ache grew. She remembered the sensation of being slapped, the stinging warmth in her cheek, its phantom still tugging at her even now. Edward, crazed like a beast in heat, driving into her. It all proved too much, and Matilda's hips bucked as the climax struck her again. Unable to stifle her joy, she moaned aloud as her eyes rolled back in her head, and unbridled pleasure shot through her like lightning. When it finally passed, Matilda found herself short of breath, and her wetness trickled over her leg.
Parting from Edward's latch was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. She would've given anything to lay there with him all night, to be there in the morning when his cock would harden, and he could vent his lust on her again.
Getting out of bed was the easy part, Edward was a heavy sleeper. From there, getting back to her own quarters was the issue. Her robes torn asunder, her plan had been to cover herself with the sheet he'd left, and she could hide them all and dispose of them whenever she saw the chance.
Matilda left the lamp behind, it was innocuous enough to not raise suspicion. When she finally made it back to her chambers, she collapsed in her bed. Her sex was sore, her whole body was sore. The events that had transpired left her physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Worried as she was for the future, sleep took her quickly.
###
The dining hall was quiet, to an eerie degree. Matilda had ordered all servants to give her and the Master a private breakfast. She'd lied, and told everyone that asked that her bruise was from falling in the middle of the night. Fortunately, the blow hadn't been particularly hard. The bruise would heal quickly, and there was no distinctive shape of the Master's hand to it.
Edward had barely touched his food. He shrank in his chair, unsure of how to engage with her.
In truth, if Matilda had what she truly wanted, she would take advantage of the privacy to let him bend her over the table, fucking her raw after evening the marks on her face. The thought of being on her knees, a fresh sting on her other cheek as she subserviently thanked him for the strike set her excitement flaring.
Instead, she took delicate, steady spoonfuls of tomato soup to her lips, watching him until her bowl was empty.
"We can't avoid this, Master. We need to talk."
He shifted. "I don't know what to say, except I'm sor-"
She slammed down the spoon. "I swear to Heaven, if I hear you cower again, I will personally beat your hide red!" Matilda stood, approached him, and knelt. "Edward Caylen, I love you. I've loved you every year of your life, in so many ways. I've loved you as your mother. I've loved you as your teacher. I've loved you as your servant." She sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself to say aloud what lurked in her heart. "And I love you, as a woman loves a man. But I need you to *be* a man, to *be* the Master of this house if I am to be your servant. Say it strong now. Are you my Master?"
The cowering boy, unsure of himself and remorseful, was gone, and the beast she'd seen the night before stood before her. "Yes."
"I am yours, now and forever more, in whatever way you need me. That is my duty, and I will always fulfill it joyfully. You may have what you took last night, whenever you wish." She turned, and bent over the table, hiking up her skirts to reveal she wore nothing beneath them, her bare buttocks and wet sex exposed to the open air. "You need only take it again."
———x———
"Good morning, Master."
Matilda's soft voice cooed to the sleeping heir of House Caylen. He stirred, and rose with a stretch and a yawn. Edward scooted to sit at the edge of his bed, and Matilda rolled the cart carrying his breakfast forward: a bowl of tomato soup with toast, and coffee, partially lightened with the addition of her breast milk, as was his request.
As he began eating, Matilda sank to her knees in front of him, and began stroking his cock. He'd taken her several times the day before, so she expected to work hard for his release now. Matilda paced herself, knowing well that slowly teasing out his orgasm would serve best. She worked her hand over his shaft, feeling the ripple of every vein, savoring the silken smoothness of his skin.
When Edward set aside his utensils and leaned back, lost in pleasure, she knew she had him. Matilda cupped his heavy balls in her other hand, and quickened her strokes. The flicker of her tongue drew a whimper from his lips, and she tasted the first drops of his seed as it leaked from his tip.
"More," he growled, fighting to keep from moaning aloud.
"Yes, Master," she answered joyfully. Matilda engulfed his head in her mouth, and began sucking, drawing on the soft flesh as her tongue worked circles around it. Her hand rapidly shifted up and down his shaft, while the other snuck away, and weaved up under her skirts to play with her sex.
Pleasuring herself when he hadn't permitted it was a gamble liable to raise his ire, but for Matilda, it could only result in a win. On one hand, she could get away with it. On the other, he could catch her, and her punishment would be even more exquisite.
This morning, his senses were dull as he threw his head back and bit his lip, tensing as his orgasm struck. The flood of his semen over her tongue thrilled her, and as she furiously worked the soft spot deep within her sex, she struggled not to clench her teeth as her own climax washed through her.
She released him, lapping at a lingering string of cum as she stood, and wiped her lips with a napkin. Matilda felt a twitch of pride at his satisfied smirk.
"Thank you," he said before he continued eating.
Matilda dipped into a curtsy. "Of course, Master."
###
If she'd known a carnal relationship would change him so, Matilda may have surrendered to his desires sooner. The young Master had almost fully discarded his drinking, only partaking with guests. He'd taken full control of House Caylen's affairs, and while the transition of control hadn't been perfectly smooth, with Edward needing direction in the how's and who's of certain affairs, but they'd handled it with grace, and the House was in a more solid position than ever before with its proper head at the helm.
Their wealth had been made in banking, in managing and loaning money for the surrounding businesses of London. While Edward had shirked his mathematics lessons as a child, Matilda caught him up quickly, and he proved a most effective bookkeeper. His father, through shrewd business practices and steadfast work, had come to serve the Crown, well enough to earn a baronship. While Edward technically inherited the title with his father's death, it was good to see him earn it for himself.
There were worries still lingering, however. Edward had developed an attachment to her, almost a dependency. Everywhere he went, he expected her to follow, with the only exceptions being matters of privacy like using the washroom, or urgent matters of the House that required her immediate attention while he was engaged in other business. The adjustment to orchestrating the House's domestic affairs and upkeep from his side had been strenuous, but an obstacle she could overcome.
A far greater concern was what the development had done to her. Matilda had always been a woman of commitment, of focus. Unshakable, and steadfast in her duties. Now, her thoughts wandered. She needed things repeated back to her. She failed to fully listen as the other servants reported on their duties. Paperwork and organization took longer as she caught herself drifting, her thoughts always coming back to the Master, and what he'd done to her, or rather, what he could do to her yet.
And on top of all of this, was the risk of getting caught.
Matilda's concern wasn't for herself. While the prospect was scandalous, she'd had a long and lustrous career. She could easily afford to retire if she needed to avoid tarnishing the image of House Caylen if the truth ever came out. Her concern was for her Master.
Rumors spread of every dalliances between every noble and their staff, as gossips and rivals leapt at any perceived evidence of such. Some even spread of Edward and the other, younger servants, a fact that caused a twinge of pain in Matilda's heart whenever she dwelt on it. An affair with a young maiden wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, or even unexpected. Matilda's concern was that should their relationship come to light, it would harm his chances of ever finding a proper wife among the nobility.
Doubling her frustration, Edward seemed hell bent on doing as little as possible to hide their affair. Orchestrating the House's operations so that she could be at his side so much was odd to begin with. Compounding this, he pulled her aside constantly throughout the day, hiking up her skirts in broom closets or the gardening shed, using her body whenever the need struck. Even when they heard the footsteps of someone passing by, he wouldn't relent, and it was all Matilda could do to bite her hand and hope they couldn't hear the sound of flesh clapping against flesh.
The crown jewel of his salacious efforts was the remodeling of his bedroom. Formerly, it shared a wall with a simple storage closet. Edward had spent a considerable sum to have a door put between the two, and to have the side space expanded, given proper plaster walls, and a heft of other niceties, including a fine bed and furnishings, fixtures for candles to sit upon silver sticks, and a private washroom. All of this, he did, to move her quarters from alongside the other Servants, to directly next to his, something one would only do for a new wife.
Matilda had protested, and for this, he had spent a full night whipping her ass red, before fucking her with such ferocity she'd have thought his goal was to snap his bed in twain. While the experience had been painfully delicious, her worries remained.
Edward had some foresight, though, and had paid the carpenters to fill the walls of their joint rooms with burlap bags stuffed with sound suffocating materials. Though she wouldn't be testing their efficacy, it did offer some peace of mind.
After he had been given breakfast, serviced, and dressed, the two parted ways for the only considerable length of time they would find throughout their day. While Edward tended to the nightsmen logs from their various properties and certified the transfers of money that had happened overnight, Matilda saw to it that the gears of the House were in working order, keeping her watchful eye over the staff.
It was during her rounds when she peered out a window, and caught sight of a carriage approaching the House.
###
Matilda came to stand before the carriage, and curtsied as the door opened. "Welcome to Caylen Manor. How may I be of assistance?"
Duke Jackson Weatherly was a jovial, yet imposing man. He stood taller than most men by a head, and sported a rotund belly, the product of years of drinking. Thinning auburn hair, beady eyes, and shaky jowls gave him the appearance of a sickly bulldog, though Matilda would never say such aloud. In truth, she'd never liked the man for his boorish manners, and lamented that the late Baron had chosen to do business with him.
"Ah, the lovely Maddie! So good to see you again!" He embraced her, a gesture she recoiled against as his hands wandered. "I've come to see the boy. Where is he."
"My Master is in his study, attending to business. Please, right this way."
She turned, and braced herself, knowing full well what was coming. The smack was sharp, loud, and humiliating as Weatherly's thick paw of a hand struck her backside. He let out a satisfied grunt, and she fought the urge to vomit. In her youth, she'd suffered such unruly attention from men, even Lords, and the late Lord Caylen had done his best to reign in his peers around the staff, but Weatherly was crude to the point of shamelessness, and she was embarrassed to see that it hadn't changed over the years since she'd last had to endure his attention.
With a disheartened sigh, she led the Duke into the House.
After winding through the halls, Matilda opened the door to the study, and curtsied, proclaiming, "My Baron, I present Duke-"
"Oh, the boy knows me! Eddie, come here!"
Weatherly strolled into the study as if he owned it, parked his weight on the desk's corner. Edward cast an annoyed glance at Matilda before shaking the man's hand. "Lord Weatherly, welcome to the Caylen Estate. What can I help you-"
"Oh, quit with the formalities! Why, your father and I were practically brothers!" By his powerful grip, he lifted Edward out of his seat, and practically dragged him out to the gardens.
Out the back door, they found a pair of patio chairs flanking a matching table sitting on the semi-circle of smooth brick that led out into the grounds. Matilda had discretely signaled the other servants to prepare refreshments, and in short order, the staff of Caylen Manor brought forth liquor and a platter of various sliced fruits. Matilda stood at the ready next to her Master as he and their guest sat.
"My my, so timely!" Lord Weatherly exclaimed as he took up a fistful of apple slices and bit into one, juice dripping down his chin.
"My people are an industrious lot, and supervised by a steady hand." Edward gave Matilda a kind smile, and she bowed her head, heart swelling with pride.
"Tell me, boy," Jackson said with a full mouth. "How are your affairs? Your father was an accomplished businessman, I trust you're filling his shoes well."
"Things are in perfect order," Edward answered flatly. "Our bank is trusted by some of the most wealthy members of upper society, and establishments from one side of London to the other come to us for loans. In addition, the Crown has approached House Caylen for support in its social endeavors."
"Oh? Is that so? Do tell, son."
Baron Caylen took a sip of his whisky. "One of the Queen's primary interests is in tackling the epidemic of stray animals prowling the streets. By official estimates, over twelve thousand cats and dogs roam London. It is our joint endeavor to establish common houses, where the animals can be corralled and provided for, to keep them off the streets, and potentially find them homes among any looking for pets."
"Bah!" the Duke barked. "I've heard of this. A waste of time, I say. A bullet for each would serve just as well, and cost a fraction as much."
"Well, aside from simple compassion on our part, there's the matters of logistics, the worries of disease, the-"
"My boy," Weatherly cut in. "I just remembered, some of the men are getting together for a hunt this weekend. Oh, you must come, that I might introduce you to the rest of high society!"
Edward gripped his glass tightly, annoyed at being spoken over, but keeping his voice and expression even. "My apologies, my Duke, but I must politely decline. I don't enjoy inflicting harm on another living thing."
Matilda, against her better judgment, couldn't help but cast a sideways glance at her Master.
"Hmph," Lord Jackson scoffed. "I always knew you'd turn out soft. Well, here's to hoping you'll grow out of it." He raised his glass in a mocking toast.
"Cheers," Edward said dryly as he returned the gesture.
Weatherly finished his glass in one straight quaff, then slammed it down with a clangor. "You know, son, I did come to check up on you, make sure you were doing alright on your own two feet and all, but there was another matter I wanted to ask you about."
Edward folded his hands. "Do tell."
"You see, son, the late Mrs. Weatherly has left a terrible emptiness in my life with her passing. Truly, spending one's nights alone is a most terrible curse."
"Truly," Edward said, carefully disguising how he'd already seen through whatever ruse the Lord was playing at.
"Now, I've been on the lookout for a… companion, to keep me company, as it were, you know how it is. And I must say, I've long had my eye on this randy ol' housekeeper of yours."
Matilda's eyes shot wide with horror. Edward didn't shift, didn't change his expression in the slightest, but she'd learned to read him more deeply than anyone else, and she could see the anger building.
"Is that so?"
"Oh yes. Your father would never part ways with her, but I make sure to pay her special attention when I come to visit." He chuckled, a grotesque noise that set Matilda's skin crawling. "You may not understand yet, being so young, but when you're older, you'll come to savor the appeal of a woman who's been shown a thing or two. Why, just now, I tell you, as soon as I saw her, I couldn't help myself! I gave that rump of hers such a smack, it must've jiggled like gelatin under her skirts! Ha!" The Duke gave an uproarious laugh, his fat hand slapping his knee as he howled.
Matilda glanced at her Master. His smile hadn't faded, still present and cordial, but behind his eyes she saw a murderous storm brewing.
"Oh, your father was a stick in the mud too. Boy, you must learn to joke about these things with us, or you'll never-"
"My name," her Master cut in, "Is Edward Caylen, and I cannot suffer this insult any longer. Lord Weatherly, did you think I was too inexperienced to notice what you are doing? Or do you think I'm stupid?"
The Duke stammered out the beginning of an indignant objection, but the Baron continued.
"You defaulted on a loan of three thousand pounds that my father had given you. He forgave the matter at the behest of the Crown, and loaned you another two, which you defaulted on after his passing. In addition, I have a long list of loans from various servants of House Weatherly-"
"What my help does with their finances is none of my business!"
"It is when they're doing it on your behalf. Lord Taxon may be my only rival in banking, but we are not fools, and certainly not above lending each other assistance." Calmly, evenly, Edward sipped at his whisky. "He sent me the backlog of your account's activity with his bank. Deposits, of the exact same amounts as your servants' loans, dropped on the same day." Edward shook his head. "Forcing your staff to fund your extravagant expenditures. Despicable."
Weatherly's jovial nature had subsided, replaced by a mixture of shame and flaring indignation. He sat, still and silent.
"Fortunately for you, I've no interest in bringing this fraud to light. My demands are simple: you and your House will cease all business with us. You will harass my staff no more, you will not darken my doorstep with your shameless tomfoolery, you will not so much as look my way at a public event. Begone, from my business, and my life, or I will drag you before the Crown myself."
Lord Jackson sat there, eyes locked with him, almost daring Edward to follow through on the threat.
"I do not repeat myself," Edward stated coldly.
The big man sucked in a breath, and stood. "Such a shame. We could've done great things, I could've opened such doors for you. Now, you may find them shut forever, Baron." Weatherly spat the word before snatching up his coat, and leaving via the escort of a male steward.
Matilda stammered, tense as Edward's wrath didn't fade. "M-Master, I-"
"Follow," he ordered sharply as he rose, and walked off onto the grounds. Obediently, Matilda did as she was told.
###
Edward set down a bucket of water, a rag, a length of leather, and a horse's bit he'd taken from the stables, then slammed the storage shed's doors behind them. There were three on the grounds, this one so far out to the edge of the property and poorly kept, that it hadn't been used in years. The late Lord Caylen had plans to demolish it before his passing, but they'd fallen to the wayside in favor of more important matters.
"Master, please, I-"
"Hush."
There was anger in his tone, but it was unlike anything she'd ever seen from him. It wasn't the bestial, wild fury he'd unleashed on her so many times. It was cold. Reserved. Impersonal.
Tears stung at Matilda's eyes. She wished he would just smack her, yell at her, take her in a fury, anything other than this. She whimpered quietly as he took her by the wrists with the length of leather, and bound her to the shed's wall, her back to the door and him. The strange taste of steel met her tongue as he seized her by the jaw, and forced the mouthpiece of the horse bit between her teeth. He wrapped the reins about her head before taking a fistful of hair, and pushing downwards, a wordless order for her to bend over. She complied, and he hiked up her skirts, then tore down her undergarments, exposing her buttocks and sex to the open air.
The clinking of his belt buckle set a fire in Matilda's chest. The sound of it rustling through his trousers spread the fire to her loins. Rarely, very rarely had he whipped her, and it was the one experience that could rival the intensity of taking his cock inside her.
"It was my belief, that we had an understanding," he said slowly. The wood floor creaked as he paced back and forth. "You are mine. And mine alone. Are you?"
Unable to vocalize more than a throaty groan, Matilda nodded.
The bite of the belt was sharp, and she yelped in shock at its kiss. Another sent a jolt through her body, leaving both sides of her ass red and stinging. A lateral swipe saw its full length slap across the full breadth of her tender flesh. Matilda braced, and cried out as the belt sang, again, and again. Edward's boot nudged her feet aside, forcing her to spread her legs wider. A downward strike of the belt perfectly targeted her wet lips, and Matilda yelped as delicious pain shot through her. Lash after lash fell, until her sex was quivering red and dripping on the floor.
Matilda gasped and heaved with every breath, a sweaty, trembling mess of a woman. She felt her Master step up to her, undoing his trousers, and wanted to scream aloud as his hard cock pressed to her lips. She would've begged if not for the gag in her mouth. To her surprise, he pulled away from her hungry pussy, and pressed his length between her buttocks.
A muffled question formed on her tongue, and was cut off by a shrill cry as his thick head pressed into her anus.
His hands dug into the sore, beaten fat of her ass, pulling her into his thrusts as his length pushed deeper inside her. Matilda's eyes shot wide with pain, and she gripped the post she was tied to with all her strength. The muscles of her rim squeezed and contracted around his length as he took her, and she made no effort to stifle her noises, grunting and moaning, with the horse's bit all that stood between her and outright screaming.
The pain was intense, but what was worse was how it was so wildly different from what he'd inflicted before. The abuse of her womanhood was melded with pleasure, a mixture, both in tandem. This was raw, and wholly its own sensation, running separate from her sex, which still screamed for attention as the pain mounted, and the desperate hunger for release accentuated the sting all the more.
When his full length was in, he withdrew, and no amount of bracing in the world could prepare Matilda for when he slammed back into her. Her head swam, her senses blurred, the pain and pressure in her backside was the only thing in the world to her as he fucked her, hard and rapid thrusts violating her depths. When one last push buried him deep inside her, and the warmth of his seed filled her, the strangest euphoria fogged over her mind. Addled and dazed, Matilda barely noticed as Edward drew himself out, until the shock of having his girth missing snapped her out of it.
Her shaky legs failed, and she slumped to the floor. Her rim felt as if it had been stretched miles apart, and agape in the open air, a frigid chill shot through it, sending her shivering as she reeled. She didn't see as Edward stepped aside, and wiped his member down with the rag and water he'd brought. Matilda was next aware of him, or anything other than her aching hole, when he tossed aside the horse's bit, and seized her by the neck, turning her about to look up at him.
"You. Are. Mine," he growled. "No other man is to lay a hand on you."
"Master, I-... I'm just a servant, I can't rebuke a Lor-!"
He slapped her, and she bit off the objection with a yelp. Not hard, but swift and stinging. Matilda thought she would die as it set her cunt ablaze with need.
Edward leveled his gaze with hers. His anger hadn't subsided, but it was different. There was a pang of sadness in his eyes as he asked, quietly, "Are you mine?"
Matilda's heart broke. A new pain arose, not the ache of her backside or the sting on her cheek, but a pain of the heart, struck by the notion that he would ever doubt such.
Tears flowed freely as she answered, "Always. I am yours, Master, now, and always."
His lips met hers in a passionate, needy kiss, and Matilda surrendered to it. Beneath the anger, beneath the doubt, love hadn't wavered. It had always been there, and in truth, had been the source of all else. His kiss, and the reassurance it brought, was sweeter than all the honey in the world to her.
Edward pulled away. "Turn around," he ordered, gently. Matilda complied, turning to face the back wall of the shed on her knees, but looked over her shoulder to watch as he pulled a small canister from his pocket. Within was a cream, and one she knew well. He'd used it every time he'd whipped her, otherwise left her sore. It healed and protected the skin, and alleviated pain.
He spread it over his fingers, and Matilda whimpered as they worked over the red marks of her ass. The medicinal cream did its work, but the ritual itself, being cared for by the one she surrendered to, was healing in its own right.
"Thank you, Master," she whimpered.
In answer, he pressed his mouth to her neck, peppering her in kisses as he did his work.
———x———
Chapter Text
The night's festivities had grown furious under the pale moonlight. Torchlight danced all across the grounds as the hands of House Caylen danced and ran and laughed, clad in masks of various animals. Halloween had come, and Matilda stood at the window of Edward's office, furrowing her brow as she watched.
"Careful, Dear. If you don't stop that, your face will get stuck."
"Master, this is not a situation to be taken lightly!" Matilda wheeled about, upset as he continued scribbling at the House's books.
"Is that… not the purpose of a holiday?"
"There is so much to be done! Because of these frivolities, the entire House will be behind by a whole day tomorrow."
"The staff have only been celebrating for a few hours, and they worked diligently to catch things up beforehand, you saw to it yourself." He didn't look up as he spoke. His dismissive tone set her further on edge. "Things will be fine. I promise."
Matilda folded her arms, fingers tapping as her frustration grew. Then, her jaw dropped. By the treeline, she saw a young man and woman frolic away. Before they disappeared into the darkness, she caught sight of bare flesh.
"Oh, this is beyond the pale!" She hiked up her skirts, and stormed out of the office. Edward let out a content sigh as he watched her go. While it worried him to see her so worked up, he couldn't deny that the sight of her backside as she ran did a great deal to ease his mind.
###
Matilda's pace slowed once she hit the dirt. Her formal shoes were ill-equipped to traverse grass, and once she reached the even more untamed woods, she took them off entirely, and stepped with her stocking covered feet. Wincing as she went and stepped on the occasional errant branch, Matilda strode as carefully and quietly as possible. Muffled moans of passion told her she was near, and she ducked behind a tree to observe.
She couldn't identify the two servants, as the man wore a wolf-shaped mask and the woman wore a deer-shaped one. The masks obscured their faces from the nose up, and covered their hair. The man was fairly well built, fit from labor, likely a groundskeeper, while the woman was lithe, small breasted, likely young. Matilda had a good view of both physiques, as both fornicators had disrobed entirely. Their lips danced, and their hands wandered.
The man cupped her breasts, squeezing them tightly as her hands stroked his member. He was hairy, and fairly well-endowed, though more in thickness than length. She sank to her knees, and his cock disappeared under the deer mask. Sloppy wet smacks echoed off the trees as she worked, bobbing her head rapidly until she stopped with a gag, and the man seized up, holding her by the head as he released in her mouth.
Matilda found herself entranced, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't noticed her nipples hardening, her sex growing wet as she watched.
The woman stood, and the wolf-mask pushed her up against a tree, biting at her neck, sucking at her nipples, steadily moving down her body until he was on his knees, just as she'd been. He threw aside the mask, and buried his face between her legs. She writhed, clutching at his hair, biting her lip to stifle her moans, a task she failed in. The deer-mask cried out in joy, giggling and moaning freely.
Matilda watched as the man's head nodded at her bush, his tongue working circles just above her lips. The head maid's hands moved of their own accord, cupping her hefty bust, fingers rubbing at the budding nipples under her blouse. She snapped to, acutely aware of just how dangerous the situation was, and carefully snuck away.
On her way back through the house, Matilda raised quite a few eyebrows as she walked past a refreshment table someone had set up, snatched a bottle of brandy from an ice bucket, pulled the cork with her teeth and downed its contents as she walked.
###
Matilda entered the study, and found Edward was still scratching away at the House's accounting.
"Welcome back. Did you have fun throwing wet blankets over the party goers?"
She didn't answer.
"Tilly?" he asked, concerned. He finally looked up.
She dropped her shoes, creating duo *thuds* against the floor. Her stockings were covered in grass stains, her skirts disheveled. Her blouse had missed a button in its fastening, and from the sway of her massive bust beneath its silk, she'd discarded her brazier. Matilda's stare was determined, passionate. Multiple attempts to pleasure herself in her quarters had failed, and so, she came back to him. "Master…" she drawled slowly as she approached. The waft of alcohol on her breath struck him. "Master, I-..." she stumbled, clumsily straddling him and his chair. "Master, I need you."
"Is that so?" he answered, a devilish smirk spreading over his face.
Matilda leaned close, and pressed her mouth to his ear. "There's… There's something I want you to do."
"And what would that be?"
She pulled away, and sat on his desk. Inhibited by her drinking, she struggled to remove her undergarments, and Edward readily assisted her, until under her hiked up skirts, her wet sex was allowed to breathe. "M-Master, I-... I want you to…" She had no words to describe what she wanted, between a lack of experience discussing the topic and a shyness of spirit, even with Edward. Serving his hunger was one thing, asking to have her own fed was another.
"Master… P-please…" She spread her legs, and with two fingers, spread her lips as well. "Mama needs you."
There was a shift, a change in his countenance. His dominating spirit shrank, and he knelt, submissive, pressing his lips to her thigh in a gesture of worship.
Never had Matilda abused this quirk of their relationship, their dichotomy as both Master and servant, and as mother and son. Even without a blood relation, Matilda considered this aspect of their bond sacred, something to be treasured above all else, and certainly not something to invoke for the purpose of slaking a carnal whim.
However, sitting on his desk, exposed and inviting, her sex hot, dripping wet, and mere inches from his lips, lust overwrote all other functions of her mind. Matilda told herself this would be the only time.
This was a lie.
She stroked her lips with her fingers. "Mama needs you to use your mouth, right here." Matilda leaned back, pushing her hips forward as he leaned in, eager to please. "Be good for me," she muttered with a moan as his tongue traced the edges of her lips. "Be good for me, baby, and I'll… I'll…" Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she bit her lip as he worked her clit. The pressure built as Edward's fingers penetrated her lips. He stroked upwards, working the soft spot found there as his tongue worked circles on her clit, and Matilda moaned aloud as her first orgasm hit, quick and exhilarating. She dug her fingers into his hair and bucked her hips as the pleasure failed to subside, and her body seized in euphoric bliss. Her sex flooded his mouth with its release, and with a satisfied groan, she finally fell limp, a smile across her face.
He stood, proud of his work and short of breath, her wetness dripping from his lips.
"Come here, baby," she softly called. "Bring Mama your cock."
Obediently, Edward came around the desk to where Matilda hung her head off its edge. He brought his head to her lips, and with a lustful hunger they parted, engulfing his length.
When she serviced him as a servant, she allowed him to control the pace, allowed him to use her throat, and fuck her as he saw fit. She was his, after all.
But now, he was hers. One hand gripped his balls in her palm, and she pulled them forward to draw his length into her mouth, and pulled them back to draw him out. His hips worked at her command, and any fault in his rhythm earned him a gentle, but firm squeeze to his testicles. The first few times, he whimpered in displeasure, but as they went she believed he would vary from her orders on purpose, to receive his punishment deliberately.
Her other hand snaked between her thighs, her fingers coming to her sex again. She'd never felt the need to engage in self-satisfaction until their relationship sparked. In the months since, she'd gotten plenty of practice, both at his behest as he enjoyed watching her, and in the privacy of her own chambers, on nights where sultry dreams robbed her of sleep. She cupped her hand into the familiar, curved shape, such that rapid strokes saw her fingers penetrate her cunt, stroke her soft spot, and work her clit all at once.
Soon, her wetness drenched her hand, and her walls seized as another orgasm washed through her. At the same moment, she drew Edward close, taking his cock as deep down her throat as she could. He groaned in pleasure before she released him, gasping for breath, a trail of saliva hanging between her lips and his head.
"Sit for me." Matilda nodded to hsi chair, and Edward complied.
In her spirit, Matilda knew herself to be a servant. She wouldn't have survived the years of her career if it wasn't fulfilling, in heart and soul, to serve. Even in the bedroom, she knew her true place was in service to her Master. Even then, there was a thrill in holding the leash, in speaking an order and seeing it done. Above all else, it was eye-opening to see things from his perspective, to feel how he felt, to know that the joy he filled her with in his obedience was what she gave him in hers.
She rose off the desk, and stood before him. "Clean me," she ordered.
"Yes, Mama." He leaned forward, and buried his mouth against her bush, lapping up her wetness with his tongue. Edward wrapped his arms around her hips, drawing her into his work, His hands cupped the weight of her ass, massaging and squeezing it. The gentle flicker of his tongue brushed up her thighs, over her lips, through her hair, searching for every drop of honey to be found.
"Good boy," she cooed softly. "So good for me." Matilda dug her fingers in his hair, and sharply pulled him back. He was clay in her hands, soft and pliable. She brought her mouth to his ear, and dropped her voice to a low growl. "What would you like to do to me?"
Edward squirmed, his breath sharp, his heart pounding. Pulling his strings and eliciting such a response with only a few words excited her. "I want to-"
She slapped him. "Do not demand. Ask."
She hadn't meant to do anything of the sort. It was a reflex, an instinct that came with holding the leash, and seeing him shrink from her ever so slightly broke her heart.
"Yes, Mama," he answered meekly. "May I… M-may I…" his eyes fell to her bust, and he edged closer.
She arched her back, pushing them forward. A hand reached up, and thumbed open a button. "Yes?"
"May I suck your nipples, Mama?"
"Yes, you may," she answered happily. Slowly, her hands worked to undo her blouse, each button revealing another length of cleavage. In truth, while she enjoyed taunting him, making him wait for what he desperately wanted, it was just as torturous for her. Matilda's nipples hardened at the prospect of release, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his latch. Finally, she pulled her blouse free, and tossed it aside, leaving her bare from the waist up.
She felt a pang of self-conscious doubt. She'd hoped with the regularity Edward drank from them, they would shrink, but if anything they had only grown more to meet his need, each more than twice the size of her head when held up by support. Age and gravity compounded against so much mass, and her breasts sagged heavily. Far from the perky busts of the other girls that worked for House Caylen.
Still, even after months of seeing them multiple times a day, Edward's eyes went wide, his mouth spread in a joyous smile before latching to her nipple. He used both hands to hold one up as he suckled. Matilda drew closer, until she was straddling him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coddling him as his chin ran white with her milk.
"Good boy," she sighed softly as the warm release of nursing spread through her chest. "My good boy." She kissed the top of his head.
His cock throbbed against her, and Matilda shifted her hips to bring her wet lips to his head. As he slid inside her with ease he shuddered, and she threw her head back in ecstasy. Matilda slid down until his full length was inside her, and rocked her hips back and forth as her walls squeezed his cock. She held her tit for him, and his hands wandered freely, groping the fat of her belly, her thighs, and especially her ass, all points of her self-doubt. The Master showed her body constant attention, grabbing at her soft parts and slapping her backside even when they weren't intimate, passively throughout the day. While her doubts would likely never fully leave her mind, Edward's adoration for her body set them at bay, at least for a while, and for a moment, she felt beautiful.
He bucked his hips against her, desperate for release. Matilda held him tighter, and whispered in his ear, "Gently, baby. Slowly. I want to savor you." She drew her hips up, rising until she'd almost released him, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, lowered herself again, making him squirm and fight for every inch to push back inside her. "Be good for me. Be patient." She pressed his head into her breast as he sucked harder. "Every drop is my gift for you, baby."
Edward's hands dug under her thighs, and he strained as he stood, lifting her bodily with him. She yelped, surprised, holding tight as he placed her on his desk. His hips bucked, now free to fuck her at his pace, but her legs wrapped about his waist, locking him in and preventing him from drawing out of her.
"Please," he begged. "Please, Mama, please!"
"Shhh," she cooed softly. "Hush, Sweetie, you have to be quiet."
Edward ignored her. His thrusts grew in power and desperation as he grunted, his breath short, his eyes frantic. It was all Matilda could do to stop from sliding off the desk entirely. She released him, and he immediately flew into a fury, his cock pounding her sex, drawing its full length out and driving it back in with rapid thrusts. The clap of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the walls, and Edward growled like a dog taking a bitch in heat. Matilda lifted her breast, and he latched readily. Pleasure washed through her chest, compounding with the lightning that shot up her spine from her sex, but in truth, she mostly wanted to muffle the noise he made, for fear of being heard.
Having been teased for so long, Edward's final thrust came quickly. The sharp, sweet pain of having her cervix hit jolted Matilda, and was followed quickly by the warmth of his seed. His cock spasmed, and she felt his warmth run out of her, running down the edge of her ass.
###
Making their way back to their chambers had been a treacherous affair. Intoxicated as she was, both on alcohol and love-making, Matilda's shaky legs could barely carry her. She'd donned her blouse again, but couldn't button it, as Edward constantly undid her efforts, reaching his hands in to grope her. All the way, his attention was on her, reaching for her breasts, cupping her ass, whispering his desires in her ear.
Distracted as she was by his assault, she led him back to their chambers, and as far as she could tell, no one had caught them.
They lay in bed, nude, with Edward latched to her breast. Matilda stroked his hair as he suckled, their bodies entwined beneath the sheets. "Such a naughty boy. Such a needy boy. Whatever will I do with you?"
Edward's answer was to suck harder as his hands reached down and cupped her buttocks.
"I love you, my Master," she cooed softly as she kissed his head. "I love you, my boy. I am yours, always."
His member poked at her hip, rigid and demanding. Gently, she guided him to lay on his back. Matilda followed, her breast never leaving his mouth as she reached down, and took his cock in her hand. Her fingers danced up and down his shaft, savoring every contact with his silken skin. His head flared, his veins popped, his balls tightened. She'd spent surprisingly little time simply looking at it, and in the pale moonlight, marveled at his length, savored every detail, every ridge and mark.
She tightened her grip, and stroked it, having mastered the exact tightness, the exact placement of her fingers he loved most. Her thumb was placed such that it rubbed against his head with every stroke, and her pinky was bent, such that its nail traced up and down his shaft, a sharp spice of pain to the pleasure.
He broke his latch with a moan, and looked up at her, his face pleading. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you, Mama."
"I love you too," she answered as she brought her breast back to him, her other hand cradling his head. White milk trickled from its nipple, and he readily drank as his orgasm edged closer.
With a thrust of his hips, thick ropes of seed fell over her hand, and he let out a throaty groan as he came.
Edward fell silent. Exhaustion and the late hour quickly brought him to sleep, and he dozed quietly, still suckling. Matilda lay next to him, holding his head to her chest. Her tongue flickered over her fingers, and she savored the taste of his salty-sweet seed as she licked her hand clean. When she was done, she wrapped his arms around him, and fell asleep as well.
———x———