Saturday, 23 May 2015
04:49:59 PM (GMT)
I cannot tell you my master's name. It's not my place to disclose it. But it is
necessary, in order to tell my story, that I describe his position in the kingdom,
and once I do that, perhaps you can figure out for yourself who he is.
He is a knight, from a respected lineage, and also the keeper of the royal library.
I'm sure you know him.
I am his maidservant. I've been employed in his service for a year now, and I was
most grateful for the work. You see, working for him comes with the privilege of
accessing the royal library. I have been interested in language from a young age, and
my master doesn't mind if I look through the old books after I've finished my chores.
I think he underestimates just how much I understand. I can read and write now
Another reason I am grateful for my employment with him, is that not many people
would accept my services. My mother's mother, a woman I never met, was a Druid, a
member of a mysterious and mystical people that inhabit the forest outside of our
borders. I've never met a true Druid, and I know nothing of their ways, other than
their runes, which my mother taught me to read, and probably are to blame for
sparking my fascination with reading. The people of our kingdom detest Druids, and it
seems to me their hatred is without cause, but it always happens that people fear
what they do not understand.
The other reason my company is often unwelcome, is because, simply put, I am a
bastard child. My mother never married and my father was never named. She and I were
always outcasts, poor and desperate. I believe that she did try her best to be a good
mother, but it didn't suit her. Sorrow was always upon her. When I was thirteen, she
killed herself with poison and left me to fend for myself.
The one thing I do have is my looks. I don't look like the typical Druid, dark-haired
and serious; my hair is ash blonde, my countenance amiable. I have large blue-grey
eyes and pale freckles on my milky-white skin. My legs are slender, my hands are
delicate; my breasts are full and round, my waist made small with cinching. I dress
in simple peasant clothing, although I do have a lovely pink and black cloak that
Master gave to me as a birthday gift. (I wanted a white one, but I'm not one to
complain.) My hair is long, hanging just below my waist, and always seems to tangle
itself, despite my attempts at brushing it. It often hangs loose down my back, for my
days are long and my errands are many, and I don't have the time to braid it each
It is obvious that Master only took me as a servant because he found my appearance
pleasing. It was a rather bold decision on his behalf, one that certainly didn't do
much to improve his reputation. But his other servant, Simon, was overworked, and so
he finally came to the goat pasture where I'd been laboring in exchange for meager
portions of food (collecting chips of manure for fertilization of the fields — I
try not to think of it), and told me he had considered and accepted my offer, and
that my beguiling looks had played no small part in his decision.
My master is considered handsome by many of the women in our kingdom. He is tall,
with olive skin, dark hair and green eyes. However, I thought nothing of this. My
only desire was to gain access to books, to nurture my one true love, and the one
gift my mother had left me — reading. (And I supposed servant work would be
favorable to working in the goat pastures.)
After nearly a week of cleaning and running errands for my master, he finally brought
me with him to the royal library. He noticed right away my interest in the books, and
nodded in understanding as he realized the nature of my intentions. However, he told
me reading was of little use to a woman. He would let me look through the big book of
royal seals and family crests, family trees and ancient lineages, because it was the
only book that contained more pictures than words, and he thought it better that I
not "strain my mind" with the complex writings of the other old tomes.
This worked in my favor, however, for I learned to read, at first by memorization. I
would recognize a crest from the shield of a knight, and compare his name with the
shapes of the letters. Soon I recognized the patterns, and several nights a week I
would practice. During the day time, I would spell the names of the people I passed
by in my mind, practicing. I felt very clever, deciphering the mysteries of language
all on my own.
At the time, after our session in the library, or after I served him his evening
meal, whichever we were doing that night, I would leave and go sleep in the storage
shed of a nearby farmer, hidden among the sacks of grain. Being an orphan, I had no
family and no house to inherit, and I didn't have the means to build my own. When I
overslept one morning, and the farmer discovered me, curled up and shivering in my
velvet cloak with mice nibbling at my hair, he chased me out and demanded to speak to
my master. Having no other choice, I confessed the name of the knight I served. He
took me to him, angrily accusing me of stealing from his supplies. My master
dismissed his complaints with scarcely an apology, asking what business would a young
woman have with dusty old sacks of grain? He assured the farmer if he were to take an
inventory of his stored goods, he would find them all there, and the farmer left, and
never spoke a word of it again, for I had not touched a single oat, even when my
stomach growled in the night.
This was how it happened that my master began insisting I spend the night in his
quarters. I tried to tell him I couldn't possibly do such a thing, but he wouldn't
hear of it. He bought me a nightgown, and a cushion to sleep on. I was terrified to
think what people would say about the situation, but he assured me that no one would
know. For a few months, no one did know, until Simon arrived early one morning and
saw me dozing in Master's chambers. Luckily, I was only sleeping on the floor that
time. Other times, I would sleep in Master's bed. Nevertheless, Simon lost what
little respect for me he had that morning, and looked upon me as one would look upon
a worm or a leech for the rest of the time we knew each other.
I discovered something peculiar when I began sleeping in Master's chambers: he loved
his cock. Before I blew out the candles each night, he would have me sit on the end
of the bed and watch as he rubbed it. I wasn't allowed to look away or to move. It
made me very uncomfortable, seeing him exposed like that, listening to his breathing
grow intense as he neared climax. But it was also fascinating, seeing as I had never
seen a man's private parts up close before. I began to enjoy watching him pleasure
himself. He would make me clean his cum off the bed before we went to sleep, and
sometimes I would take a small taste of it when I thought he wasn't looking.
The first night he decided to really involve me, I had just returned from having a
saddle repaired, and carrying the heavy thing from the stables to the workshop and
back again had left me exhausted. He was already lying on his back with his legs
apart, relaxing and watching me through sleepy eyes, one hand massaging his cock. It
seemed very large to me, although I hadn't seen any others to compare it to.
"Come here," he said simply. I took my place at the end of his bed, prepared to watch
"No, come here, get close to me," he said.
I forced myself not to hesitate as I crawled nearer.
He cupped my face in his hands and pulled me over his body, until our faces were
close. I could feel his cock bumping gently against my leg as he kissed me. He began
undressing me. Once I was naked, I tried to leave the bed to go fetch my nightgown,
but he held onto me and didn't let go. He began stroking my neck and pushing my head
towards his private area. "Tonight you're going to suck me off," he said.
I was very afraid, as I took his cock in my hands and gently put my mouth on it,
because I worried that my teeth would hit it and cause him pain. I didn't have much
of an idea how to please a man physically, but he showed me patiently how to suck him
off. When I finally made him cum, he leaned back and gave a deep moan, and the hot
liquid spread over my tongue, the taste filling my mouth. He panted through a sleepy
smile and pulled me against him, holding our naked bodies close. He gripped a handful
of my hair and held me possessively, then gave my bottom a slap and licked my face
with his hot tongue. "What a good girl you are," he whispered.
After that first night, I sucked him off many times. I became attached to his
attention, and to the action of sucking itself. On the nights when he was too tired
to play with me, I would curl up and suck on my thumb, finding comfort in the
Months passed, and every night, I would get ready for bed, and then look to my
master. If he didn't acknowledge me and only rolled over with a groan and closed his
eyes, I would go to sleep on the floor with my thumb in my mouth and my other hand
warming the sensitive places between my legs. Other nights I would curl up beside him
in bed, if there was room; he liked to stretch out in his sleep.
Those were the uncommon nights. Most nights, he would take out his cock and say,
"Come put those pretty lips to work." Then I would pleasure him until his cum dripped
down the back of my throat. I would feel my own privates begin to get dripping wet as
Then, one night during a full moon, when the room was brightly lit even without the
candles, Master got out of bed and walked to where I was lying on a cushion on the
floor. I was half-asleep, and didn't realize I still had my thumb in my mouth and my
hand between my legs. When I opened my eyes a bit and saw him standing over me, I
gasped and my hands flew to my sides. I didn't like him seeing me so vulnerable. He
seemed almost angry as he lifted me roughly to my feet.
"It seems I've been rude. My girl's horny and I've done nothing to satisfy her." He
bent me over the bed and exposed my pale, round bottom. My heart beat fast all the
way up into my throat. I had no idea what he was going to do to me. But he didn't
take out his cock. He simply began smacking my ass, for endless moonlit minutes,
until it was red and sore and I whimpered with every touch. Then he reached between
my legs and rubbed his fingers over my privates. They were soaking wet. He moved his
fingertip in a circle around my clit, never touching it, only teasing me. I felt
tears come to my eyes when he finally began to tap on it and I had my first real
orgasm. He turned me around and laid himself on top of me, his weight pressing me
into the bed. He put his hand against my lips, the hand that was soaked in my
sex-fluids, and I licked it obediently.
"How does that taste, sweetheart?"
I shivered. It tasted good, but I was too overwhelmed to speak.
He leaned in and licked the tears from the corners of my eyes.
The next night, he spooned me in his bed. With one hand he played with my breasts,
making me gasp when he pinched my small, sensitive nipples. With the other, he rubbed
my privates until his hand was wet, then he brought it up to my mouth so I could lick
it off. He seemed to get satisfaction from feeding me my own cum. He pleasured me all
During my daily errands I began to grow paranoid of everyone who passed me on the
street or in the marketplace. It was normal for me to receive sneers and odd glances;
however, I feared, irrationally, that the citizens of the kingdom knew what a little
whore I was. I panicked whenever someone made eye contact with me, fretting that
somehow they might see into my dirty soul, see that my master fucked me at night. (He
hadn't truly fucked me, not then — but I feared they would think that all
Master only made things worse for me when I got into bed with him one night to suck
him off, and he said, "You're lucky I don't just fuck you. But it would be a shame to
waste those pretty, talented lips of yours. Lips like those need to be used. Suck me
I began to worry every night that he would finally fuck me. I was afraid it would
hurt. I was afraid of being a whore. I was afraid of being used but never loved. But
I couldn't disobey him; he was my master, a knight, a man. He outranked me in every
way. I could only hope he would be gentle.
It was only about a month ago that he finally did it. It was a peaceful rainy night.
He had me pinned down in his bed and he was humping me playfully through my
nightgown. He did that sometimes, to get me wet, to get himself hard. But being
pinned beneath his weight was turning me on so much, and when his big, hard cock
pressed against my clit, I couldn't help it, I let about a little moan that turned
into a whimper. I blushed red at the helpless little noise I had just made; Master
also seemed a bit surprised. Then he immediately began to press harder, making me
gasp with each thrust. He smiled at me, and got off me. He pulled my nightgown off
over my head and squeezed my exposed breasts tightly. "Do you know what I'm going to
do to you?" he asked quietly, with an intimidating smile.
I couldn't speak — but I spread my legs a bit in suggestion.
"That's right. That's right, sweetheart. I'm going to fuck you, right here," he said,
pushing a finger into my privates. He shoved my legs even farther apart, breathing
heavily, still smiling. He pressed the heel of his hand against my clit, making me
moan. "I waited so long," he whispered, "to make you a woman... but you seemed so
innocent, I wanted you to be ready. You look younger than you are, you know that?
Well, except for these," he said, giving my breasts a squeeze. "Nothing girlish about
these... It will hurt you a bit, but bear with it, the pleasure will be worth the
pain. You'll feel so much better once you've been fucked good and hard. It's much
more satisfying than the way I usually play with you."
My heart was pounding, I nodded slightly, blushing intensely. "Yes, sir," I managed
He began running his hands over my body; he cupped and squeezed my breasts, rubbed my
thighs, massaged my shoulders, kissed my lips, tickled my stomach, rubbed me deeply
all over. I sighed and enjoyed his touch. He nibbled my neck while he played with my
privates, checking to be sure they were very wet.
Then, holding me down with one hand and gripping his cock with the other, he began
rubbing the tip of it between the wet lips of my pussy. I bit my lip, my breath
heightening in anticipation.
"Relax," he whispered. "It will hurt you less if you just relax."
That didn't help much. I was so nervous.
"Keep your legs spread."
I hadn't realized I'd been slowly closing them. I focussed on holding them as open as
With a sigh he lowered his weight onto me, sliding his cock into me. Without
hesitation he gave a powerful thrust, crushing my resistance and sliding his cock
deep into my core. My eyes widened and I nearly began to hyperventilate. It hurt, it
was so big, my pussy felt so full. He lay on me and took deep, slow, even
breaths until I began to do the same. Once he was satisfied that I had calmed down,
he gripped my hips and pulled it out roughly.
"Ahhh...ah...ah..." I whimpered. I wanted more, I wanted it back inside me.
He lifted me up, so I was kneeling before him, and then he bent me over, showing me
how to arch my back downwards so that my shoulders were lowered and my bottom was up
in the air. He shoved his cock back into me, deeper this time, and I watched my tears
fall onto his bed sheets. I listened to the rain outside and his breathing above me.
He fucked me hard, rocking his body against mine, pounding every inch of his cock
into me so that I felt the head of it press against my cervix. I felt my pussy
tighten around his cock and he moaned loudly. "Careful sweetheart, you're going to
make me cum too soon if you keep that up," he warned.
He thrust roughly into me, occasionally reaching down to grip my breasts hard or
shove my face down into the bed.
He pulled my hair. "You're the perfect little fucktoy," he growled. He choked me.
"Get used to this, babygirl, you'll be in this position a lot more often from now
on." He smacked my ass. He gripped my hips hard, dripping his fingernails into my
flesh, still thrusting roughly into me. It was more than I could take. I gasped and
panted as I began to climax. He only pounded me harder. It hurt even worse than when
he first put it in, and I moaned helplessly, loving it. Soon he was orgasming too,
soaking my insides in his fresh, hot cum. When he finished, he pulled out and
collapsed backwards onto the bed. I paused to catch my breath, then I crawled over to
his cock and cleaned it off with my tongue. He smiled down at me, more pleased than
I'd ever seen him. I cuddled up with him on the bed and we fell asleep together.
Last edited: 23 May 2015