Journal Entry:
I put my polishing rag into my bucket, wiped my hands on my apron, got up off my knees and followed Mr Wilcox to his office and stood in front of his desk. My stomach was in turmoil, to make matters worse I had an urgent need to pee.
He sat down on the other side of the desk. I felt those eyes drilling into me. He started to speak in that deep clear voice. He said that despite his misgivings the mistress had ask that I be made up to Parlour Maid.
She has asked that, "You be freshly uniformed at all times and that your hands are gloved when not attending to her.' I know you have claimed to have filled in at this level at the manor, but I am skeptical. I know how clumsy and flustered you fairy boys get when in the presents of groups of accomplished women of stature. I do not want to hear any rattling China or spilt tea. You must concentrate on smooth graceful movements. Your actions reflect on the estate."
"Do not let the mistress down." Keeping my eyes lowered, I curtsied and said, "Yes Mr. Wilcox."
Then he did what I was desperately hoping he would not. He pushed his chair back from his desk and taped his knee. I could feel the blood draining from my face as I said the words I knew he wanted to hear.
"Oh, please Daddy can I please play with your happy sausage and make it squirt with joy."
"Of course you can pumpkin," he replied smiling.
I walk around to his side of the desk, sat on one knee and unbuttoned his monster's cave.
It is so much bigger than anything I have had to deal with before. I held it in two hands as I massaged it until he finally orgasmed and flooded the front of my apron, after the third round of my lisping Baa Baa black sheep rendition. I had written to Mistress Judith about it but she had scolded me for questioning a superior's actions and reminded me that when attending to Mr Wilcox. I was literally, 'holding my career in my hands'. I cleaned him up with my mop hat.
"Good Girl," he remarked.
I put him away and climbed off his lap. I held up the corners of my apron to contain the mess and keep it from soaking through too my dress as I stood to leave. He asked me to send Tilly to him if I saw her. Tilly was the Parlour Maid and a friend of mine. I used to practice my hair skills on her in the evening. She was in the corridor as I went to change my apron. I passed on the message. Later that day I saw her shaking people's hands, hugging and sobbing, she was in her overcoat with a small suitcase. She opened the servants entrance door looked me straight in the eye and just said, "Slut" as she left. I've never felt so ashamed....
(Written By: Tulips Fancy)
It would seem that even is situations such as these, one must "rotate the stock", so as to not let it get stale and sedate.
ReplyDelete