Smothering his Lordship!

Feb 21, 2017
81
11
8
#1
PART ONE

Cedric Beeton’s face – never the most cheerful on a good day – grew dark and sombre. The other members of the household looked on attentively as he spoke.

‘Lord Dexter means to alter his will,’ he informed them gravely. ‘His nephew, James, will inherit the entire estate. We are to be left with nothing.’

Mrs Lake leaned forward in her chair, her round face flushed red. ‘But ‘e promised us faithfully,’ she protested. ‘He said we would want for nothing in our old age.’

‘That’s right, ‘e did!’ agreed Alfred, the thin-faced footman to her rear. ‘We ‘as our rights, surely?’

Beeton shook his head. ‘His lordship has changed his mind,’ he explained, ‘and now means to change his will likewise. He has asked me to send for his solicitor, Mr Morrowby. Nothing can be done.’

‘We must stop ‘im, sir!’ cried a shrill voice from the fourth person in the room. Beeton allowed his gaze to linger on the plump, shapely curves of Millie, the downstairs maid.

‘And how do you suggest we manage that?’ he asked despondently.

Millie looked left and right, as if fearful she might be overheard. Then, in a low voice, as if she still dreaded discovery, she whispered, ‘We must smother ‘im!’

‘Dear God!’ exclaimed Beeton, unable to contain his surprise. ‘You cannot be serious!’

‘He’s an old man!’ said Millie, as if that was reason enough. ‘Not long for this world in any case.’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘His doctor said so hisself. I heard ‘im. Only last week. “You have a weak heart,” he told 'is Lordship “and must 'ave no shocks. A shock could be fatal to you.”’

‘As would being smothered,’ remarked Beeton, with a weary sigh.

‘We deserves our reward,’ said Millie stoutly. She looked at Beeton and Mrs Lake in quick succession. ‘You two especially. You’ve worked for ‘is lordship nigh on twenty years. And he’s never paid you no wages. He promised you the ‘ouse instead. It’s your right! And ‘e promised me ‘is paintings, too – instead of my wages.’

‘And me ‘is horses, so’s I could set up a stable!’ said Alfred – who had never ridden in his life, but was sure there was money to be made at the races.

‘Millie is right,’ said Mrs Lake, entering the argument for the first time. ‘We are his only servants and he has used us badly. It ain’t right, Mr Beeton, and that’s a fact. It ain’t!’

The butler shook his head again. ‘But to smother him…’ he muttered. ‘I do not think I could do such a thing. To hold a pillow over his face …’

‘It don’t ‘ave to be a pillow,’ said Millie quickly. ‘We don’t ‘ave to do it like that.’ She glanced at the cook, took a deep breath and hurried on. ‘Mrs L and I could take it in turns to sit on ‘is face. That’d do 'im in for sure and no one the wiser!’

‘Sit on his face?’ cried Beeton. His own cheeks had lost all their remaining colour. ‘You cannot sit on his Lordship’s face! Such a thing is utterly monstrous!’

Mrs Lake raised a plump hand in the air. ‘Hear the girl out, Mr Beeton,’ she counselled. ‘This is our future we’re talking about. The old man promised us everything. He shouldn’t go back on ‘is word.’

Beeton sagged. ‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘When you say …’ He hesitated, drew a deep breath, then gathered himself again. ‘When you say … sit on his–’ He stumbled to a halt. He could barely bring himself to say the words.

‘’Sit on his face!’ repeated Millie quickly. ‘I mean it, too. Without our drawers! In the raw! Me and Mrs Lake.’

‘Oh, my word!’ Now it was the cook’s turn to look bewildered. She waved her hand in front of her nose, as if it were a fleshy substitute for smelling salts. ‘Sit on ‘is Lordship’s face?’ she repeated. ‘Without our drawers?’ She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but lapsed into a petrified silence.

‘We don’t ‘ave to smother ‘im ourselves,’ insisted Millie. ‘Not all the way. Just wear ‘im out. We can take it in turns to hold ‘im inside our bottoms till ‘e stops breathing. It wouldn’t be doin’ ‘im in. We wouldn’t suffocate ‘im.
We’d give ‘im pleasure, rubbing our bottoms on ‘is face.’ She pumped her fist crudely in the air. ‘We could fiddle with ‘is todger, too. That’d finish ‘im off – if we milked ‘im like a cow! Till it all came out! His heart would give way, for sure!’

Beeton’s eyes opened so wide they threatened to take over his forehead. ‘You cannot be serious?’ he muttered. ‘You cannot mean to sit on his Lordship’s face – as naked as the day you were born – and … and rub yourself on him?’

‘It’d be a kindness,’ said Millie. ‘I’ll do it meself, if you want. On me own. I don’t mind. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sat on a man. I know what to do!’

‘Not the first time?’ squealed Mr Beeton, before remembering himself quickly and closing his mouth tight.

Millie shrugged. ‘My last master liked me to sit on ‘is face,’ she announced carelessly. ‘He said it made ‘im happy to sniff my little hole.’

Beeton watched as Alfred’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t speak. Words were suddenly beyond him.

‘He doubled me wages if I let ‘im put ‘is tongue inside,’ said Millie proudly. A big grin lit up her face. ‘He always liked that. Said it made ‘im ‘appy to know ‘e was inside my secret place.’

Beeton found his voice at last. ‘Dear Lord above!’ he cried. ‘The man actually put his tongue …’ He waved one hand in the direction of Millie’s skirt. ‘Inside … inside …’ Words failed him again. It was as if he were drowning in a sea of madness.

‘Inside my arse, yes!’ said Millie quickly. ‘The master said it was the best place in the world.’ She puffed out her chest. ‘He said if ‘e knew he had to peg it one day, then he ‘oped it could be inside a woman’s bottom!’ She looked from Beeton to Mrs Lake, then Alfred, then back to the ashen-faced butler. ‘That’s why I say that sittin’ on ‘is Lordship’s face would be a kindness. A bum is better than a pillow any day.’

Beeton leaned forward, still struggling to come to terms with what was being suggested. He took another deep breath. ‘You would be prepared to sit on his Lordship’s face … and suffocate him with your bottom?’

Millie nodded. ‘I would,’ she said quickly. ‘If’n you and Alfred hold ‘im down for me. So’s ‘e can’t get away.’

A long silence followed – broken at last by Mrs Lake. ‘She’s right,’ said the older woman. ‘We have to do 'is Lordship in. He made us a promise and 'e should keep it. If this is the only way then …’ She took a deep breath, too, and straightened her back. ‘I’m happy to sit on ‘im, too.’

Beeton regarded the two women gravely for several seconds. There was a look of grim determination in their eyes and he knew – to his horror – that they meant every word they had said.

Turning his attention to the young footman, he muttered weakly, ‘What do you say, Alfred? Will you help me hold his Lordship down – while … while the women take it in turns to sit on him?’

Alfred’s face crumpled briefly, as if a bad smell had entered the room. An image of a dozen horses racing towards the finishing line – and all of them his – rose up in his mind. Unfolding to his full height, he replied in a firm voice, ‘Yes, I would, sir. If that’s what it takes to get what’s rightly ours – then, yes, I’ll ‘old ‘is Lordship down … while the women do ‘im in with their bums!’

Beeton shook his head wearily. Still he wavered. He could end this madness here and now. Tell the three of them that such a thing was impossible. That – like it or not – they must accept his Lordship’s change of will. But then the image of a country cottage – one paid for with his share of the estate – swam across his mind’s eye and he faltered. To have worked for so many years without payment – in return for comfort in his old age. To have that snatched away …

No! By God, if his Lordship meant to betray them, then they had every right to take what was theirs. In whatever way they could.

He sat back in his chair, like a king on his throne, and addressed the others gravely.

‘Very well,’ he said, his lips trembling around every word as he spoke. ‘We will do it.’ He took a deep breath, swallowed hard and hurried on before he could change his mind. ‘We will do it this very night.’

He raised his head and his words rang out coldly around the kitchen.

‘We will smother his Lordship!’



To be continued ...?
 
Feb 21, 2017
81
11
8
#6
PART TWO

‘What is the meaning of this?’ cried Lord Dexter from his bed, as his servants filed into the room one after the other. When he saw – to his horror – that both Millie and Mrs Lake were dressed in their night gowns, he clamped his hands to his face and his voice rose to a scream.

‘Get out! Get out!’ he yelled, embarrassed to be seen in his own nightwear, a simple gown that covered his otherwise naked body from top to toe.

‘We wish to speak with you, my Lord,’ said Beeton calmly. His voice maintained a deep respectful tone, at odds with the dreadful act that was about to be perpetrated by the women of the household. ‘It concerns your decision to change your will.’

‘My will?’ repeated Lord Dexter shrilly. ‘My will is my own concern – as should the decency of these two ladies be yours, Beeton!’ he cried, gesturing towards the women.

‘You promised us a fair reward,’ said Beeton, not wishing to be deflected and, even at this late stage, hoping to salvage something from a grim situation. ‘In return for unpaid service all these years.’

‘My nephew will see you right,’ returned Lord Dexter. ‘But he has needs, too, and blood is thicker than water.’ He waved again in the general direction of Mrs Lake and Millie. ‘Now be gone. All of you – and we will say no more of this.’

‘That is your last word, my Lord?’ said Beeton. ‘You mean to change your will? We are to inherit nothing. Despite your promise to us?’

‘It is – and you are not!’ said Lord Dexter defiantly. ‘As for promises! Pah! You are servants, man! Surely you did not seriously expect me to leave you everything?’ The old man laughed dismissively. ‘What utter tosh!’

Beeton turned towards Alfred and gave a brisk nod. ‘In that case, my Lord, you leave us no choice.’

Lord Dexter frowned and his wrinkled old face shrivelled up like a prune. ‘Leave you no choice? What do you mean: leave you no choice?’

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Alfred, having crossed the room to stand near the crown of the bed, took hold of Lord Dexter’s shoulders and heaved him around so that he was now sideways on to the bed. At the same time, Beeton moved to the far side and tugged on his employer’s legs, pulling him forward.

‘In heaven’s name!’ squealed Lord Dexter. ‘Unhand me, the pair of you! I’ll have you flogged for this! Just see if I don’t!’

If he was shocked at his unexpected treatment from the men, it was magnified a hundredfold when the two women hauled off their dressing gowns and discarded them on the carpet.

Lord Dexter’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped as the women strode towards him, as naked as the day they were born.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he cried, kicking in vain against the men who held him down.

‘Millie and Mrs Lake are going to sit on you,’ said Beeton matter-of-factly. ‘Each of them in turn …’ He swallowed hard, struggling to force out the words. ‘Each of them,’ he repeated stubbornly, ‘will take you into her bottom … and rub her little hole on your face until you stop moving.’

‘Rub her little hole on me?’ squealed Lord Dexter. ‘Are you mad, man? Release me at once! Release me, I say!’

‘We’re not gonna suffocate you,’ said Millie, as if her words might somehow comfort him. ‘We’re just gonna wear you out – till you can’t take any more and you snuff it.’

‘Snuff it?’ shrieked Lord Dexter. ‘In God’s name, woman! You can’t be serious!’ He threw back his head and gazed miserably into his footman’s upturned face.

‘It’s what you deserve,’ said Alfred bitterly. ‘You gave us your word – and then you took it back. That ain’t right.’ His nostrils flared angrily. ‘That’s why you’ve got to be smothered!’

Lord Dexter heaved violently – to no avail – then turned towards his faithful butler.

‘Beeton!’ he cried, with genuine dread in his voice. ‘For the love of God! Stop this now! Stop it now, I say! Please!’ I beg you!’

The grim-faced butler returned his look sorrowfully. ‘It’s not in my power, my Lord,’ he replied, with a doleful shake of his head. ‘The women have to sit on you.’ He narrowed his lips for a second. ‘They have to take you into their bottoms…’

The words had scarcely left his mouth, when Millie climbed onto the bed and threw a big, meaty thigh across Lord Dexter’s chest, then wriggled back towards his head.

From his vantage point directly behind Lord Dexter, the colour leeched from Alfred’s face as Millie’s backside opened wide and he caught sight – for the first time – of the dark, muscular knot of her anus.

Lord Dexter looked up and caught sight of it, too – at precisely the same time. Like Alfred before him, his skin paled and his mouth dropped open.

‘In mercy’s name, Beeton!’ he cried. ‘I can see the hole in her bottom! Beeton! I can see her little hole!’

Clinging tightly to the old man’s legs, Beeton watched – stunned into silence – as Millie eased herself into position over her victim’s head. He watched, open-mouthed, as she reached back, held on to her buttocks, and slowly lowered herself onto Lord Dexter’s face.

The old man tossed his head from side to side, weeping like a child, and muttering madly. When a pair of strong hands took hold of his neck and hauled his face into an upright position, he squealed like a stuck pig.

Rolling his eyes backwards, he caught sight of the plump cook’s earnest-looking face staring down at him.

‘There’s no getting out of this, sir,’ she announced gravely. ‘Millie’s going to rub her little hole on your face – and then I’m going to show you mine.’

‘I don’t want to see your little holes!
’ screamed Lord Dexter. ‘Please! I beg you!’ he wailed, with another terrified look at Millie’s anus. ‘No man should see the little hole!’

He tried to turn his head as Millie lowered herself a fraction. With Mrs Lake holding onto him, however, he was unable to look away.

‘Oh, God save me!’ he wept, as tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. ‘God save me from her little hole!’

‘Nothing can save you now!’ cried Millie defiantly. ‘My bottom is coming for you!’

The old man arched his back and kicked again. Beeton held on grimly to his master’s legs, aware of the old man’s distress. In heaven’s name, he asked himself – what would it be like when she actually sat on him? When she took him between her buttocks?

Looking directly ahead, Beeton watched, ashen-faced, as Millie lowered her rump. Distressed tears ran freely across his master’s cheeks as the young maid’s hole came ever closer. Any minute now, and …

A last strangled squeal broke from the back of the old man’s throat as Millie’s bottom opened up around his face. Mrs Lake felt his head shudder strongly, and was forced to close her eyes so as not to loosen her grip. Millie was relying on her to keep his Lordship’s head in place, she mustn’t let the young girl down.

As for Millie herself, she was forced to bite down hard as Lord Dexter’s head wriggled between her buttocks, the tip of his nose all but lodged inside her anus.

‘Ooh!’ she shrieked, unable to contain her delight. ‘His Lordship’s up me! He’s up me bloomin’ bumhole!’

‘Dear God,’ muttered Beeton as he clung to the old man’s legs. As for Alfred, he almost lost his grip completely. From where he stood, he could see the top of Lord Dexter’s head, barely visible now between Millie’s huge buttocks. The realisation that his Lordship’s nose was actually inside the fat maid’s passage caused a cold knot to form – somewhere between pleasure and despair – in the pit of his stomach. To see Mrs Lake holding on to their master’s head, preventing all chance of escape, sent a shiver of excitement through his groin, and, to his shame, he felt his penis harden inside his pants. It didn’t help matters any to find himself so close to the cook’s large breasts which wobbled freely as she clung to Lord Dexter’s head.

They had agreed – before entering his Lordship’s bedroom – that Millie and Mrs Lake would take it in turns to sit on the old man’s face for as long as they dared. Their idea was not for one of them to suffocate him, but for the two of them to wear him out with their bottoms. After almost two minutes under Millie’s rear end, Lord Dexter had begun to wriggle so furiously that the young maid was certain he was close to passing out. Desperate for air, he had opened his mouth to its fullest extent, allowing Millie to squeeze her plump vagina into the gap. With his nose in her anus and his tongue beating a terrified tattoo against the plump swell of her pussy, the young girl was close to coming. But she knew that if she remained in place any longer, she would suffocate Lord Dexter for sure.

Reluctantly, she hoisted herself from his head, her sticky flesh clinging to his face as she rose. A rich aroma – a blend of earthy cunt and anus – drifted up, filling Alfred’s nostrils as, unable to help himself, he sucked several deep breaths into his lungs. Not for the first time, he very nearly swooned, relaxing his grip on the old man’s wrists as Millie’s arse-scent swamped his senses.

As Mrs Lake released her hold on him, Lord Dexter threw back his head and uttered a pitiful wail. His face was wrinkled, red and drenched in Millie’s sweat and juices.

‘God help me, someone!’ he cried mournfully. ‘God help me, pleeeease!’


To be continued ...
 
#12
PART TWO

‘What is the meaning of this?’ cried Lord Dexter from his bed, as his servants filed into the room one after the other. When he saw – to his horror – that both Millie and Mrs Lake were dressed in their night gowns, he clamped his hands to his face and his voice rose to a scream.

‘Get out! Get out!’ he yelled, embarrassed to be seen in his own nightwear, a simple gown that covered his otherwise naked body from top to toe.

‘We wish to speak with you, my Lord,’ said Beeton calmly. His voice maintained a deep respectful tone, at odds with the dreadful act that was about to be perpetrated by the women of the household. ‘It concerns your decision to change your will.’

‘My will?’ repeated Lord Dexter shrilly. ‘My will is my own concern – as should the decency of these two ladies be yours, Beeton!’ he cried, gesturing towards the women.

‘You promised us a fair reward,’ said Beeton, not wishing to be deflected and, even at this late stage, hoping to salvage something from a grim situation. ‘In return for unpaid service all these years.’

‘My nephew will see you right,’ returned Lord Dexter. ‘But he has needs, too, and blood is thicker than water.’ He waved again in the general direction of Mrs Lake and Millie. ‘Now be gone. All of you – and we will say no more of this.’

‘That is your last word, my Lord?’ said Beeton. ‘You mean to change your will? We are to inherit nothing. Despite your promise to us?’

‘It is – and you are not!’ said Lord Dexter defiantly. ‘As for promises! Pah! You are servants, man! Surely you did not seriously expect me to leave you everything?’ The old man laughed dismissively. ‘What utter tosh!’

Beeton turned towards Alfred and gave a brisk nod. ‘In that case, my Lord, you leave us no choice.’

Lord Dexter frowned and his wrinkled old face shrivelled up like a prune. ‘Leave you no choice? What do you mean: leave you no choice?’

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Alfred, having crossed the room to stand near the crown of the bed, took hold of Lord Dexter’s shoulders and heaved him around so that he was now sideways on to the bed. At the same time, Beeton moved to the far side and tugged on his employer’s legs, pulling him forward.

‘In heaven’s name!’ squealed Lord Dexter. ‘Unhand me, the pair of you! I’ll have you flogged for this! Just see if I don’t!’

If he was shocked at his unexpected treatment from the men, it was magnified a hundredfold when the two women hauled off their dressing gowns and discarded them on the carpet.

Lord Dexter’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped as the women strode towards him, as naked as the day they were born.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he cried, kicking in vain against the men who held him down.

‘Millie and Mrs Lake are going to sit on you,’ said Beeton matter-of-factly. ‘Each of them in turn …’ He swallowed hard, struggling to force out the words. ‘Each of them,’ he repeated stubbornly, ‘will take you into her bottom … and rub her little hole on your face until you stop moving.’

‘Rub her little hole on me?’ squealed Lord Dexter. ‘Are you mad, man? Release me at once! Release me, I say!’

‘We’re not gonna suffocate you,’ said Millie, as if her words might somehow comfort him. ‘We’re just gonna wear you out – till you can’t take any more and you snuff it.’

‘Snuff it?’ shrieked Lord Dexter. ‘In God’s name, woman! You can’t be serious!’ He threw back his head and gazed miserably into his footman’s upturned face.

‘It’s what you deserve,’ said Alfred bitterly. ‘You gave us your word – and then you took it back. That ain’t right.’ His nostrils flared angrily. ‘That’s why you’ve got to be smothered!’

Lord Dexter heaved violently – to no avail – then turned towards his faithful butler.

‘Beeton!’ he cried, with genuine dread in his voice. ‘For the love of God! Stop this now! Stop it now, I say! Please!’ I beg you!’

The grim-faced butler returned his look sorrowfully. ‘It’s not in my power, my Lord,’ he replied, with a doleful shake of his head. ‘The women have to sit on you.’ He narrowed his lips for a second. ‘They have to take you into their bottoms…’

The words had scarcely left his mouth, when Millie climbed onto the bed and threw a big, meaty thigh across Lord Dexter’s chest, then wriggled back towards his head.

From his vantage point directly behind Lord Dexter, the colour leeched from Alfred’s face as Millie’s backside opened wide and he caught sight – for the first time – of the dark, muscular knot of her anus.

Lord Dexter looked up and caught sight of it, too – at precisely the same time. Like Alfred before him, his skin paled and his mouth dropped open.

‘In mercy’s name, Beeton!’ he cried. ‘I can see the hole in her bottom! Beeton! I can see her little hole!’

Clinging tightly to the old man’s legs, Beeton watched – stunned into silence – as Millie eased herself into position over her victim’s head. He watched, open-mouthed, as she reached back, held on to her buttocks, and slowly lowered herself onto Lord Dexter’s face.

The old man tossed his head from side to side, weeping like a child, and muttering madly. When a pair of strong hands took hold of his neck and hauled his face into an upright position, he squealed like a stuck pig.

Rolling his eyes backwards, he caught sight of the plump cook’s earnest-looking face staring down at him.

‘There’s no getting out of this, sir,’ she announced gravely. ‘Millie’s going to rub her little hole on your face – and then I’m going to show you mine.’

‘I don’t want to see your little holes!
’ screamed Lord Dexter. ‘Please! I beg you!’ he wailed, with another terrified look at Millie’s anus. ‘No man should see the little hole!’

He tried to turn his head as Millie lowered herself a fraction. With Mrs Lake holding onto him, however, he was unable to look away.

‘Oh, God save me!’ he wept, as tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. ‘God save me from her little hole!’

‘Nothing can save you now!’ cried Millie defiantly. ‘My bottom is coming for you!’

The old man arched his back and kicked again. Beeton held on grimly to his master’s legs, aware of the old man’s distress. In heaven’s name, he asked himself – what would it be like when she actually sat on him? When she took him between her buttocks?

Looking directly ahead, Beeton watched, ashen-faced, as Millie lowered her rump. Distressed tears ran freely across his master’s cheeks as the young maid’s hole came ever closer. Any minute now, and …

A last strangled squeal broke from the back of the old man’s throat as Millie’s bottom opened up around his face. Mrs Lake felt his head shudder strongly, and was forced to close her eyes so as not to loosen her grip. Millie was relying on her to keep his Lordship’s head in place, she mustn’t let the young girl down.

As for Millie herself, she was forced to bite down hard as Lord Dexter’s head wriggled between her buttocks, the tip of his nose all but lodged inside her anus.

‘Ooh!’ she shrieked, unable to contain her delight. ‘His Lordship’s up me! He’s up me bloomin’ bumhole!’

‘Dear God,’ muttered Beeton as he clung to the old man’s legs. As for Alfred, he almost lost his grip completely. From where he stood, he could see the top of Lord Dexter’s head, barely visible now between Millie’s huge buttocks. The realisation that his Lordship’s nose was actually inside the fat maid’s passage caused a cold knot to form – somewhere between pleasure and despair – in the pit of his stomach. To see Mrs Lake holding on to their master’s head, preventing all chance of escape, sent a shiver of excitement through his groin, and, to his shame, he felt his penis harden inside his pants. It didn’t help matters any to find himself so close to the cook’s large breasts which wobbled freely as she clung to Lord Dexter’s head.

They had agreed – before entering his Lordship’s bedroom – that Millie and Mrs Lake would take it in turns to sit on the old man’s face for as long as they dared. Their idea was not for one of them to suffocate him, but for the two of them to wear him out with their bottoms. After almost two minutes under Millie’s rear end, Lord Dexter had begun to wriggle so furiously that the young maid was certain he was close to passing out. Desperate for air, he had opened his mouth to its fullest extent, allowing Millie to squeeze her plump vagina into the gap. With his nose in her anus and his tongue beating a terrified tattoo against the plump swell of her pussy, the young girl was close to coming. But she knew that if she remained in place any longer, she would suffocate Lord Dexter for sure.

Reluctantly, she hoisted herself from his head, her sticky flesh clinging to his face as she rose. A rich aroma – a blend of earthy cunt and anus – drifted up, filling Alfred’s nostrils as, unable to help himself, he sucked several deep breaths into his lungs. Not for the first time, he very nearly swooned, relaxing his grip on the old man’s wrists as Millie’s arse-scent swamped his senses.

As Mrs Lake released her hold on him, Lord Dexter threw back his head and uttered a pitiful wail. His face was wrinkled, red and drenched in Millie’s sweat and juices.

‘God help me, someone!’ he cried mournfully. ‘God help me, pleeeease!’


To be continued ...
PART TWO

‘What is the meaning of this?’ cried Lord Dexter from his bed, as his servants filed into the room one after the other. When he saw – to his horror – that both Millie and Mrs Lake were dressed in their night gowns, he clamped his hands to his face and his voice rose to a scream.

‘Get out! Get out!’ he yelled, embarrassed to be seen in his own nightwear, a simple gown that covered his otherwise naked body from top to toe.

‘We wish to speak with you, my Lord,’ said Beeton calmly. His voice maintained a deep respectful tone, at odds with the dreadful act that was about to be perpetrated by the women of the household. ‘It concerns your decision to change your will.’

‘My will?’ repeated Lord Dexter shrilly. ‘My will is my own concern – as should the decency of these two ladies be yours, Beeton!’ he cried, gesturing towards the women.

‘You promised us a fair reward,’ said Beeton, not wishing to be deflected and, even at this late stage, hoping to salvage something from a grim situation. ‘In return for unpaid service all these years.’

‘My nephew will see you right,’ returned Lord Dexter. ‘But he has needs, too, and blood is thicker than water.’ He waved again in the general direction of Mrs Lake and Millie. ‘Now be gone. All of you – and we will say no more of this.’

‘That is your last word, my Lord?’ said Beeton. ‘You mean to change your will? We are to inherit nothing. Despite your promise to us?’

‘It is – and you are not!’ said Lord Dexter defiantly. ‘As for promises! Pah! You are servants, man! Surely you did not seriously expect me to leave you everything?’ The old man laughed dismissively. ‘What utter tosh!’

Beeton turned towards Alfred and gave a brisk nod. ‘In that case, my Lord, you leave us no choice.’

Lord Dexter frowned and his wrinkled old face shrivelled up like a prune. ‘Leave you no choice? What do you mean: leave you no choice?’

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Alfred, having crossed the room to stand near the crown of the bed, took hold of Lord Dexter’s shoulders and heaved him around so that he was now sideways on to the bed. At the same time, Beeton moved to the far side and tugged on his employer’s legs, pulling him forward.

‘In heaven’s name!’ squealed Lord Dexter. ‘Unhand me, the pair of you! I’ll have you flogged for this! Just see if I don’t!’

If he was shocked at his unexpected treatment from the men, it was magnified a hundredfold when the two women hauled off their dressing gowns and discarded them on the carpet.

Lord Dexter’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped as the women strode towards him, as naked as the day they were born.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he cried, kicking in vain against the men who held him down.

‘Millie and Mrs Lake are going to sit on you,’ said Beeton matter-of-factly. ‘Each of them in turn …’ He swallowed hard, struggling to force out the words. ‘Each of them,’ he repeated stubbornly, ‘will take you into her bottom … and rub her little hole on your face until you stop moving.’

‘Rub her little hole on me?’ squealed Lord Dexter. ‘Are you mad, man? Release me at once! Release me, I say!’

‘We’re not gonna suffocate you,’ said Millie, as if her words might somehow comfort him. ‘We’re just gonna wear you out – till you can’t take any more and you snuff it.’

‘Snuff it?’ shrieked Lord Dexter. ‘In God’s name, woman! You can’t be serious!’ He threw back his head and gazed miserably into his footman’s upturned face.

‘It’s what you deserve,’ said Alfred bitterly. ‘You gave us your word – and then you took it back. That ain’t right.’ His nostrils flared angrily. ‘That’s why you’ve got to be smothered!’

Lord Dexter heaved violently – to no avail – then turned towards his faithful butler.

‘Beeton!’ he cried, with genuine dread in his voice. ‘For the love of God! Stop this now! Stop it now, I say! Please!’ I beg you!’

The grim-faced butler returned his look sorrowfully. ‘It’s not in my power, my Lord,’ he replied, with a doleful shake of his head. ‘The women have to sit on you.’ He narrowed his lips for a second. ‘They have to take you into their bottoms…’

The words had scarcely left his mouth, when Millie climbed onto the bed and threw a big, meaty thigh across Lord Dexter’s chest, then wriggled back towards his head.

From his vantage point directly behind Lord Dexter, the colour leeched from Alfred’s face as Millie’s backside opened wide and he caught sight – for the first time – of the dark, muscular knot of her anus.

Lord Dexter looked up and caught sight of it, too – at precisely the same time. Like Alfred before him, his skin paled and his mouth dropped open.

‘In mercy’s name, Beeton!’ he cried. ‘I can see the hole in her bottom! Beeton! I can see her little hole!’

Clinging tightly to the old man’s legs, Beeton watched – stunned into silence – as Millie eased herself into position over her victim’s head. He watched, open-mouthed, as she reached back, held on to her buttocks, and slowly lowered herself onto Lord Dexter’s face.

The old man tossed his head from side to side, weeping like a child, and muttering madly. When a pair of strong hands took hold of his neck and hauled his face into an upright position, he squealed like a stuck pig.

Rolling his eyes backwards, he caught sight of the plump cook’s earnest-looking face staring down at him.

‘There’s no getting out of this, sir,’ she announced gravely. ‘Millie’s going to rub her little hole on your face – and then I’m going to show you mine.’

‘I don’t want to see your little holes!
’ screamed Lord Dexter. ‘Please! I beg you!’ he wailed, with another terrified look at Millie’s anus. ‘No man should see the little hole!’

He tried to turn his head as Millie lowered herself a fraction. With Mrs Lake holding onto him, however, he was unable to look away.

‘Oh, God save me!’ he wept, as tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. ‘God save me from her little hole!’

‘Nothing can save you now!’ cried Millie defiantly. ‘My bottom is coming for you!’

The old man arched his back and kicked again. Beeton held on grimly to his master’s legs, aware of the old man’s distress. In heaven’s name, he asked himself – what would it be like when she actually sat on him? When she took him between her buttocks?

Looking directly ahead, Beeton watched, ashen-faced, as Millie lowered her rump. Distressed tears ran freely across his master’s cheeks as the young maid’s hole came ever closer. Any minute now, and …

A last strangled squeal broke from the back of the old man’s throat as Millie’s bottom opened up around his face. Mrs Lake felt his head shudder strongly, and was forced to close her eyes so as not to loosen her grip. Millie was relying on her to keep his Lordship’s head in place, she mustn’t let the young girl down.

As for Millie herself, she was forced to bite down hard as Lord Dexter’s head wriggled between her buttocks, the tip of his nose all but lodged inside her anus.

‘Ooh!’ she shrieked, unable to contain her delight. ‘His Lordship’s up me! He’s up me bloomin’ bumhole!’

‘Dear God,’ muttered Beeton as he clung to the old man’s legs. As for Alfred, he almost lost his grip completely. From where he stood, he could see the top of Lord Dexter’s head, barely visible now between Millie’s huge buttocks. The realisation that his Lordship’s nose was actually inside the fat maid’s passage caused a cold knot to form – somewhere between pleasure and despair – in the pit of his stomach. To see Mrs Lake holding on to their master’s head, preventing all chance of escape, sent a shiver of excitement through his groin, and, to his shame, he felt his penis harden inside his pants. It didn’t help matters any to find himself so close to the cook’s large breasts which wobbled freely as she clung to Lord Dexter’s head.

They had agreed – before entering his Lordship’s bedroom – that Millie and Mrs Lake would take it in turns to sit on the old man’s face for as long as they dared. Their idea was not for one of them to suffocate him, but for the two of them to wear him out with their bottoms. After almost two minutes under Millie’s rear end, Lord Dexter had begun to wriggle so furiously that the young maid was certain he was close to passing out. Desperate for air, he had opened his mouth to its fullest extent, allowing Millie to squeeze her plump vagina into the gap. With his nose in her anus and his tongue beating a terrified tattoo against the plump swell of her pussy, the young girl was close to coming. But she knew that if she remained in place any longer, she would suffocate Lord Dexter for sure.

Reluctantly, she hoisted herself from his head, her sticky flesh clinging to his face as she rose. A rich aroma – a blend of earthy cunt and anus – drifted up, filling Alfred’s nostrils as, unable to help himself, he sucked several deep breaths into his lungs. Not for the first time, he very nearly swooned, relaxing his grip on the old man’s wrists as Millie’s arse-scent swamped his senses.

As Mrs Lake released her hold on him, Lord Dexter threw back his head and uttered a pitiful wail. His face was wrinkled, red and drenched in Millie’s sweat and juices.

‘God help me, someone!’ he cried mournfully. ‘God help me, pleeeease!’


To be continued ...
This is a fantastic premise with delicious prospects. I do love build-ups where Ladies especially discuss their intentions, rather than there being an immediate leap of a Female onto a face! Keep up the excellent work Dark Rider...
 
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PART THREE

As Millie eased herself into a standing position, Mrs Lake advanced and swung a big, meaty thigh across his Lordship’s chest.

Immediately, he tilted his head forward, and his eyes widened into damp circles of fear.

‘Get your hole over ‘is nose if you can,’ advised Millie, taking hold of Lord Dexter’s head and twisting it around so that he was face-up again. Her eyes narrowed seriously. ‘He can’t breathe once ‘is nose is up your passage.’

Emitting another ear-piercing scream, Lord Dexter arched his back. It was all Beeton could do to hold onto his master’s legs, while Alfred struggled with his arms.

‘Who’d ‘ave thought ‘e ‘ad it in ’im?’ muttered Millie, clinging on tightly to the old man’s head.

‘He don’t want to be smothered!’ said Alfred forcefully. ‘Not inside a woman’s bottom! No wonder ‘e’s fightin’ so ‘ard!’

As he watched Mrs Lake shuffle back, manoeuvring herself over his Lordship’s head, Beeton felt his stomach hollow. The cold knot grew colder still when Lord Dexter’s face crumpled and he shrieked miserably.

‘Beeton, please!’ he cried. ‘Don’t let her sit on me, please! Don’t let her take me into her bottom!’

As Mrs Lake reached back and peeled her buttocks apart, the poor man shrieked again.

‘I can see her hole!’ he cried mournfully. ‘Dear God, I can see her little hole! Beeton! In God’s name, help m–’

He never finished the sentence as the fat cook brought her backside down over his face. A strangled yelp broke from inside her crack, as the old man’s body gave another furious kick.

‘Oh, my word!’ gasped Mrs Lake as she felt his nose against her anus.

‘Is ‘e wriggling?’ asked Millie unnecessarily. Holding onto his head as she was, she knew the answer to her question well enough.

‘It’s like having a big fish down there!’ squealed the cook. ‘Fresh out of the water!’

‘His nose’ll be up you in a minute!’ warned Millie. ‘He can’t help ‘imself. He‘ll be right up the hole and into yer passage!’

Alfred released a muted groan and bucked his hips. He was finding it hard enough to hold on to Lord Dexter’s arms without further distraction. Painfully aware of the bulge in his pants, he groaned again as a pleasurable shiver rolled through his balls.

‘Hang on!’ giggled Millie in his ear. ‘Alfie’s got a stiffy in his pants, Mrs L!’

‘Dirty young boy!’ cried the cook, wriggling her buttocks from side to side.

‘He wants to change places with ‘is Lordship!’ said Millie, tightening her hold on Lord Dexter’s head. The old man was struggling furiously now.

‘I bloomin’ well don’t!’ yelled Alfred. His face twisted miserably. ‘I don’t want to die inside a woman’s arse!’

‘Then how come your pecker’s up?’ laughed Millie. ‘If it ain’t all excitin’ you?’

‘Leave the lad alone!’ urged Beeton, still holding on to his Lordship’s flailing legs. In the past few minutes, he had become increasingly aware of his own excitement. It had been bad enough while Millie had been in the saddle. Now that Mrs Lake, a lady for whom he had long harboured feelings, was wriggling with such energy on their master’s face, he could no longer conceal his arousal.

His excitement was not lost on the cook, whose gaze, he noted to his embarrassment, was now firmly locked on the swollen bulge of his rod. When she opened her mouth, as if to speak, he feared the worst but, instead, she threw back her head and howled with obvious delight.

‘He’s in me!’ she shrieked. ‘Oh, mercy me! His Lordship’s in my bottom!’

Wriggling with renewed enthusiasm, Mrs Lake leaned forward, her fingers closing around the hem of Lord Dexter’s cotton nightshirt, tugging it back sharply to reveal his own rigid erection.

‘His Lordship’s up, too!’ she shrieked. ‘All the men are bloomin’ up!’

‘That means ‘e wants it, Mrs L!’ cried Millie. ‘We ain’t doin’ wrong! We’re makin’ ‘im ‘appy with our bottoms!’

Holding on firmly to Lord Dexter’s scrawny legs as they kicked again, Beeton doubted very much that this was a pleasurable experience for the old man. That said, there was no denying the fact that their master was fully erect, his short but solid penis dancing merrily in the air. His stones, too, appeared unusually large, swollen – it seemed – with his Lordship’s seed. When Mrs Lake leaned forward a little and cupped them in her hand, the old man gave a violent jolt. The two movements together caused the cook’s heavy buttocks to slide forward a fraction, allowing Lord Dexter to pull his head free and wail miserably.

‘Naughty boy!’ admonished Millie, forcing him back into Mrs Lake’s crack. ‘Tryin’ to wriggle out of cook’s arse!’

Lord Dexter released one last, despairing groan before any further protest was stifled inside Mrs Lake’s bottom. His body gave a tremendous heave, followed by a series of feeble jerks. Though his torment had not diminished, it was obvious he was growing weak.

It was hardly surprising, thought Beeton. The poor man had scarcely been able to draw a breath for several minutes, entombed, as he was, in both women’s bottoms. It was a miracle, he considered, that his master’s heart had not already given out. How much more could the old man take ... before the women finished him off?

To be continued ...
 
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PART ONE

Cedric Beeton’s face – never the most cheerful on a good day – grew dark and sombre. The other members of the household looked on attentively as he spoke.

‘Lord Dexter means to alter his will,’ he informed them gravely. ‘His nephew, James, will inherit the entire estate. We are to be left with nothing.’

Mrs Lake leaned forward in her chair, her round face flushed red. ‘But ‘e promised us faithfully,’ she protested. ‘He said we would want for nothing in our old age.’

‘That’s right, ‘e did!’ agreed Alfred, the thin-faced footman to her rear. ‘We ‘as our rights, surely?’

Beeton shook his head. ‘His lordship has changed his mind,’ he explained, ‘and now means to change his will likewise. He has asked me to send for his solicitor, Mr Morrowby. Nothing can be done.’

‘We must stop ‘im, sir!’ cried a shrill voice from the fourth person in the room. Beeton allowed his gaze to linger on the plump, shapely curves of Millie, the downstairs maid.

‘And how do you suggest we manage that?’ he asked despondently.

Millie looked left and right, as if fearful she might be overheard. Then, in a low voice, as if she still dreaded discovery, she whispered, ‘We must smother ‘im!’

‘Dear God!’ exclaimed Beeton, unable to contain his surprise. ‘You cannot be serious!’

‘He’s an old man!’ said Millie, as if that was reason enough. ‘Not long for this world in any case.’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘His doctor said so hisself. I heard ‘im. Only last week. “You have a weak heart,” he told 'is Lordship “and must 'ave no shocks. A shock could be fatal to you.”’

‘As would being smothered,’ remarked Beeton, with a weary sigh.

‘We deserves our reward,’ said Millie stoutly. She looked at Beeton and Mrs Lake in quick succession. ‘You two especially. You’ve worked for ‘is lordship nigh on twenty years. And he’s never paid you no wages. He promised you the ‘ouse instead. It’s your right! And ‘e promised me ‘is paintings, too – instead of my wages.’

‘And me ‘is horses, so’s I could set up a stable!’ said Alfred – who had never ridden in his life, but was sure there was money to be made at the races.

‘Millie is right,’ said Mrs Lake, entering the argument for the first time. ‘We are his only servants and he has used us badly. It ain’t right, Mr Beeton, and that’s a fact. It ain’t!’

The butler shook his head again. ‘But to smother him…’ he muttered. ‘I do not think I could do such a thing. To hold a pillow over his face …’

‘It don’t ‘ave to be a pillow,’ said Millie quickly. ‘We don’t ‘ave to do it like that.’ She glanced at the cook, took a deep breath and hurried on. ‘Mrs L and I could take it in turns to sit on ‘is face. That’d do 'im in for sure and no one the wiser!’

‘Sit on his face?’ cried Beeton. His own cheeks had lost all their remaining colour. ‘You cannot sit on his Lordship’s face! Such a thing is utterly monstrous!’

Mrs Lake raised a plump hand in the air. ‘Hear the girl out, Mr Beeton,’ she counselled. ‘This is our future we’re talking about. The old man promised us everything. He shouldn’t go back on ‘is word.’

Beeton sagged. ‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘When you say …’ He hesitated, drew a deep breath, then gathered himself again. ‘When you say … sit on his–’ He stumbled to a halt. He could barely bring himself to say the words.

‘’Sit on his face!’ repeated Millie quickly. ‘I mean it, too. Without our drawers! In the raw! Me and Mrs Lake.’

‘Oh, my word!’ Now it was the cook’s turn to look bewildered. She waved her hand in front of her nose, as if it were a fleshy substitute for smelling salts. ‘Sit on ‘is Lordship’s face?’ she repeated. ‘Without our drawers?’ She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but lapsed into a petrified silence.

‘We don’t ‘ave to smother ‘im ourselves,’ insisted Millie. ‘Not all the way. Just wear ‘im out. We can take it in turns to hold ‘im inside our bottoms till ‘e stops breathing. It wouldn’t be doin’ ‘im in. We wouldn’t suffocate ‘im.
We’d give ‘im pleasure, rubbing our bottoms on ‘is face.’ She pumped her fist crudely in the air. ‘We could fiddle with ‘is todger, too. That’d finish ‘im off – if we milked ‘im like a cow! Till it all came out! His heart would give way, for sure!’

Beeton’s eyes opened so wide they threatened to take over his forehead. ‘You cannot be serious?’ he muttered. ‘You cannot mean to sit on his Lordship’s face – as naked as the day you were born – and … and rub yourself on him?’

‘It’d be a kindness,’ said Millie. ‘I’ll do it meself, if you want. On me own. I don’t mind. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sat on a man. I know what to do!’

‘Not the first time?’ squealed Mr Beeton, before remembering himself quickly and closing his mouth tight.

Millie shrugged. ‘My last master liked me to sit on ‘is face,’ she announced carelessly. ‘He said it made ‘im happy to sniff my little hole.’

Beeton watched as Alfred’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t speak. Words were suddenly beyond him.

‘He doubled me wages if I let ‘im put ‘is tongue inside,’ said Millie proudly. A big grin lit up her face. ‘He always liked that. Said it made ‘im ‘appy to know ‘e was inside my secret place.’

Beeton found his voice at last. ‘Dear Lord above!’ he cried. ‘The man actually put his tongue …’ He waved one hand in the direction of Millie’s skirt. ‘Inside … inside …’ Words failed him again. It was as if he were drowning in a sea of madness.

‘Inside my arse, yes!’ said Millie quickly. ‘The master said it was the best place in the world.’ She puffed out her chest. ‘He said if ‘e knew he had to peg it one day, then he ‘oped it could be inside a woman’s bottom!’ She looked from Beeton to Mrs Lake, then Alfred, then back to the ashen-faced butler. ‘That’s why I say that sittin’ on ‘is Lordship’s face would be a kindness. A bum is better than a pillow any day.’

Beeton leaned forward, still struggling to come to terms with what was being suggested. He took another deep breath. ‘You would be prepared to sit on his Lordship’s face … and suffocate him with your bottom?’

Millie nodded. ‘I would,’ she said quickly. ‘If’n you and Alfred hold ‘im down for me. So’s ‘e can’t get away.’

A long silence followed – broken at last by Mrs Lake. ‘She’s right,’ said the older woman. ‘We have to do 'is Lordship in. He made us a promise and 'e should keep it. If this is the only way then …’ She took a deep breath, too, and straightened her back. ‘I’m happy to sit on ‘im, too.’

Beeton regarded the two women gravely for several seconds. There was a look of grim determination in their eyes and he knew – to his horror – that they meant every word they had said.

Turning his attention to the young footman, he muttered weakly, ‘What do you say, Alfred? Will you help me hold his Lordship down – while … while the women take it in turns to sit on him?’

Alfred’s face crumpled briefly, as if a bad smell had entered the room. An image of a dozen horses racing towards the finishing line – and all of them his – rose up in his mind. Unfolding to his full height, he replied in a firm voice, ‘Yes, I would, sir. If that’s what it takes to get what’s rightly ours – then, yes, I’ll ‘old ‘is Lordship down … while the women do ‘im in with their bums!’

Beeton shook his head wearily. Still he wavered. He could end this madness here and now. Tell the three of them that such a thing was impossible. That – like it or not – they must accept his Lordship’s change of will. But then the image of a country cottage – one paid for with his share of the estate – swam across his mind’s eye and he faltered. To have worked for so many years without payment – in return for comfort in his old age. To have that snatched away …

No! By God, if his Lordship meant to betray them, then they had every right to take what was theirs. In whatever way they could.

He sat back in his chair, like a king on his throne, and addressed the others gravely.

‘Very well,’ he said, his lips trembling around every word as he spoke. ‘We will do it.’ He took a deep breath, swallowed hard and hurried on before he could change his mind. ‘We will do it this very night.’

He raised his head and his words rang out coldly around the kitchen.

‘We will smother his Lordship!’



To be continued ...?
Hey Dark Rider, wanted to send a comment out on another book of yours Devil Queen...dam man what a fantastic story and read...loved it all, had me on the edge and well craving a sequel....will there be one? Love your books buddy...bought a few of them so far, purchased "Smother Plateau" today...