Written by: Jenne

The following morning, Estelle awoke early to the unfamiliar quiet of the house. As she opened her eyes slowly and adjusted to the sights that surrounded her, she also began to recall the events of the night before. She shuddered at the thought. Her sleep had been less than restful, her dreams full of visions.

She rose from the bed and began to dress. Having no idea what the time was, she pondered as to what she should do next. Should she wait for someone to come and get her or should she try to find her way to the kitchen? After a few minutes her decision was made for her. A knock on the door, made her jump. It opened and a young girl entered the room.

"Cook said I was to fetch you," she announced as she entered the room.

"Oh, thank you," Estelle replied.

"Follow me then if you're ready," the girl commanded. Estelle felt that she had little choice but to obey. Not that she had any wish not to. Being alone in this strange house was not a prospect that she relished.

She followed where the young girl led. After a short walk, Estelle once again found herself in the kitchen. Cook beckoned them to enter.On the pine table was a plate of breakfast and a mug of tea waiting for each of them. Estelle sat and began to eat.

"Did you sleep well, child?" Cook asked Estelle.

"Yes, thank you Cook," Estelle lied. "Good, the Master wishes to see you later."

Estelle froze at the mention of the Master. The breakfast was good and she had almost forgotten the previous nights events. She trembled at the very thought of meeting him again. He had been gentle and his actions had in no way been menacing, but Estelle just had not come to terms with the events. She still had many unanswered questions running through her mind.

"I forgot to introduce you to Daisy," the Cook said, breaking into Estelle's review of what had happened after her robe had hit the floor of the Master's bedchamber. "What was I thinking of? Daisy is a good girl. Been her for awhile now, ain't you?"

"Yes, Cook," Daisy said with a barely audible sigh in her voice. Estelle studied her as she ate. She was a petite figure. Her red hair was tucked into her cap with just a few strands escaping, adding to her girlish looks. Her complexion was fair and the freckles that generously dotted her face furthered the look of freshness. Daisy turned and smiled at Estelle. The twinkle in her eyes was barely visible, but it was there.

Estelle finished her meal and wondered what awaited her now. Daisy cleared the plate from in front of her.

"Daisy take Estelle to the Master!" Cook directed. "He is in the main sitting room" Again Estelle's heart jumped, the blood began to flow faster round her body, and the heat rose to her head. She realised that she was scared once more. What was the Master going to do to her today? She had never envisaged that any man would produce such diverse feelings within her being. These feelings were so alien that they frightened her more than the thought of meeting the Master again.

Cook noticed the change in her body language. "Try not to worry,child, I told you no harm will come of you here." Cook said trying to calm Estelle's fears. To some extent it worked. Estelle did feel better as she left the sanctuary of the kitchen.

"How long have you been here?" Estelle asked Daisy once they were back in the hallway.

"About a year, I think," Daisy replied. "Seems like longer sometimes.It's not too bad here, though my last job was just awful." Estelle waited for the girl to explain, but she suddenly stopped and turned to whisper. "Did the Master treat you well last night?"

Estelle had to strain to hear the question. "Yes," she replied,matching the low tone. "At least I think so. How do you . . . uh,know if . . . ." The girl cut off her stammering with a gentle touch on the upper arm and a soft look.

"Don't worry, he must be pleased or he would not summon you today."

Her words made Estelle wonder if the Master always did such things to his servants. It was pretty clear that her purpose, part of it at least, was his entertainment and that more of the same was in store for her. What she didn't know was how typical all this was in this house. Had the Master's mouth found Daisy's private place as well? Was Daisy still serving their Master in that way? Had there been others? Were there others still?

Her chance to ask Daisy any of these questions ended when they the girl stopped before a heavy door. As Daisy knocked, Estelle's fears poured back into her. Her heart again pounded, she could hear the blood pulse through her head, and perspiration gathered on her forehead,despite the coldness of the passage. At the response from within,Daisy opened the door and smiled as she held it for Estelle to enter. Estelle smiled nervously back and stepped inside. The door closed behind her, with Daisy on the other side. Again she was alone with the Master.

She found herself in the same room where the Master had first received her. No bed here. The Master beckoned her to sit in a large chair opposite him. Both chairs were turned slightly to catch the warmth of the fire in the huge fireplace that dominated the room. The absence o f a bed, the conversational posture of the chairs, the fact that she hadn't been bathed and dressed--barely dressed--before being brought to him all eased her fears somewhat. Still, as she sat, she wondered what fate awaited her today, or tonight, at the hands of this man. The thought both frightened her and excited her at the same time.

They sat in silence for what seemed to Estelle an eternity. She dared not speak, as this would have been rude, but his stare made her uncomfortable. She tried to avoid his gaze, but it was not an easy task. She wanted desperately to look at this man. He had taken something from her last evening and she wanted to see him. She steeled herself and took her eyes from the floor. She looked at him. His eyes were blue and they seemed to penetrate her body as he looked at her.

The silence and his constant gaze stretched her nerves to breaking point. She again detected the warmth that radiated from his smile as she meet his gaze with her own. The lines that were in his face appeared darker than she remembered. Despite his silence and penetrating stare, or perhaps because of them, her fears began to evaporate slowly. She could say she read anything in his demeanour,but what she saw in his was enough to quell her deeper fears.

"So, my dear, how are you finding the house?" The unexpectedness of his soft voice startled her.

"It's fine, thank you, Sir," was the only suitable reply she could muster.

"Good, you pleased me last night. I wished you to know that." The last part of the response was not really directed at her, or so it seemed to Estelle. "Cook will see to your needs while you are here. Do you have any questions for me?"

She had so many, but thought it impolite to ask them, so she remained silent.

"You must have some, child," he coaxed. "Come now, don't be shy. Your mother led me to believe that you were inquisitive. Please do not disappoint me.

"Feeling that avoiding impertinence any further would be the greater sign of disobedience, she quickly asked the question that had been dwelling on her mind since she had approached the great house, and that had only partly been answered in his bed chamber.

"What are my duties to be while I am in your service, if you please,Sir?"

He smiled at her question. Was he mocking her? "Did your mother not brief you in this matter?"

"To be honest, Sir, no. My mother told me that I must obey you at all times and that, Sir, is what I intend to do."

"I am glad to hear that child. At the moment, I wish you to be my companion. If I wish to see you, you will comply, yes?"

"But of course, Sir." When he said no more, she sensed that he was not going to offer her specific details, not yet. Still, she had received an indication of her duties the previous night.

He rose and gestured that she do the same. She stood facing him. He stared deep into her eyes. This unnerved her once more. Then she remembered something and jerked her gaze back to the floor.

"Why do you look away?" he asked, reaching forward gently cup her cheek in his hand.

"I am sorry, Sir. My mother taught me that one in service does not presume to look at the Master. I had forgotten."

He lifted her chin, so she had no choice but to look at him. "As long as your service is to be my companion," he said softly, "you are to share with me your eyes, as well as your questions and opinions and all else you may think will interest me. Do you understand?"

She felt lost in the depth of his eyes. "Yes, Sir."

He drew nearer still. "You are rare child in this day and age," he said. "Such innocence is hard to find in one so beautiful." He leaned forward and gently kissed her. His lips felt rough as they brushed against soft one. He took her into his arms and held her to his chest.Suddenly she felt safe and warm, wrapped in his arms.

"Now your education will really begin, my child. I shall teach you the ways of the world that your mother never did."

He broke from the caress and undid the belt of his robe. She stared at the protrusion that was once more exposed to her sight. She remembered the excitement that it had produced last night and wanted to experience it once more. He placed his hand upon hers and guided it towards the shaft. She recoiled as she touched it, scared that she would hurt it in some way.

The Master held her hand there firmly. The flesh was soft but the erection was hard. She could feel it pulsing as she grasped it. The Master sank back into the large chair and Estelle was forced to kneel in front of him. Her face was almost level with the object that she now held in her small, tender hands. She studied the object fascinated, captivated by it. Its ridges, its shape, the deep indigo-coloured veins that were so clearly visible to her inquisitive eyes. The Master watched her as she studied. The whole situation had an unreal air to it, but Estelle had become so absorbed in her study that everything else seemed of little consequence. As she watched her hand slowly circumnavigate the shaft, a slow dribble of liquid formed at it s tip. The substance had the appearance of alabaster and when it oozed down she found it made the shaft slippery so that her hand could slide over his pulsing skin with ease. The more she used her hand, she more she gripped and squeezed, the more liquid she could produce from the tip. This she took as a good sign

The Master smiled at her. She wanted above all else to please him, to show that she would do his bidding and learn her lessons well. She increased the pressure of her grip on his shaft once more and enjoyed the feeling of it jump in her hand. It seemed to her that this was what she was supposed to be doing. The Master placed his hand onto the tip of his own shaft and allowed his fingertip to slide over the fluid that it produced with such ease. Slowly he placed his liquid covered finger to his mouth. He tasted the liquid, seeming to enjoy the substance.

Estelle watched him as he did so. The feelings that it stirred within her were not the type that would be easily explained. She watched as once more he coated his fingertip with more of the opaque substance. This time, however, he placed his fingertip onto her lips as if inviting her to partake of the liquid. The thought scared her. Her heart wanted to her to taste it, but her brain told her it was wrong.It could not be right, could it? Again she heard the words of her mother ring loudly in her ears. "You must obey!" Obediently she began to tentatively lick the substance that he now offered her. She was surprised that it did not taste nearly as bad as her imagination had led her to believe. In fact, the taste was certainly not unpleasant. It was a taste not unlike buttermilk. Certainly, it was not abhorrent to her, and the way she sucked on his finger obviously pleased the Master.

"You wish to please me child?" he enquired in a low, soft voice. Estelle nodded. She wanted to please him, and her awareness of her own hard nipples and the wet patch between her thighs filled her with the guilty certainty that she wanted to please herself as well, that following his orders would satisfy this new craving within her. "Then I suggest you follow my instructions," he continued. "Can you be trusted to do that?" "Yesss, Master," Estelle replied in a mouse-like voice.

"I would like you to use your tongue to clean my tool," he said in the kind of voice she imagined he might use to tell her to use a cloth and polish to clean the silver. "I will guide you as you do, so that I obtain the pleasure I require." The instruction was issued in such an authoritative voice that Estelle had little choice but to obey. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as he offered the instruction. Why was he doing this? Why did he want her to do this?She was so eager to please that she knew that no matter how repulsive the idea may be, she would do his bidding. She looked at the tool that was still throbbing in her small hands and closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes!" the Master commanded. "I wish you to see your work." Fear washed back over her. She felt the sweat begin to trickle down her back, soaking her dress, as she reopened her eyes. She was so scared, this part of him was so big and her mouth so small, she hoped that lick it was all he wanted her to do.

Cautiously she began to move her tongue forward. She felt the tool throb within her hand and harden still more she extended her tongue and touched it. She was amazed to find that it felt good as her tastebuds tried to make sense of the sensations that hit them. Slowly she began t o manoeuvre her tongue over the shaft, feeling the ridges and the veins as she did so. The Master let out a small groan as she reached the ridge that appeared to separate the top from the rest.

Spurred on by this response and having no wish to anger the Master,she concentrated her administrations on this area. She ran her tongue softly around the ridge and from the reactions of both the tool beneath her tongue and her Master's breathing, this had been the right action to take. She knew that he was watching her every move at this point.This scared her, but his soft groans as she used her tongue helped to soothe her nerves somewhat.

"That is good, my child, so good," the master encouraged her.

Soothed and becoming much more confident, she explored the shaft further, finding what made it pulse and stiffen, and noting what seemed to have no good effect. He had called it his "tool," but it occurred to her that her tongue was the tool and this part of him was the wood she sculpted. She relaxed again and began to enjoy not just the feeling of his response to her touch, but also the feeling of power that this gave her over him. Dare she think that? Why not? He could direct her actions, but he couldn't read her mind. This thing she did for him somehow seemed to bring master and servant to the same level,or even raised her higher, just while she did it, while she had him in her control. Emboldened by such thinking, she took the liberty of anticipating his next command, of making it her choice rather than his.

So she took the very tip of his tool and placed it between her tender lips.

"Umm," he uttered as she did so.

Again this spurred her on. She took his tool a little further into her mouth. She wanted to do this now, needed to do it. She felt the power, seized hold of it. He was powerless to resist as she continued on her journey of discovery. He was no longer at the helm, and this pleased her. She wanted to control him now. She had no idea why, only that this was an immense feeling that washed over her very being. She revelled in the power and craved more. She ran her tongue over his tool now as a cat would wash his fur, feeling the tool purr as she did so.She took it deeper and deeper into the soft flesh of her mouth as she continued to run her tongue over it. The Master had no control over anything she did now, and she sensed that he had no wish to either.

As her confidence grew, she tried new things with both her mouth and her tongue. She flicked the tip of his tool with her tongue, watching the Master close his eyes as she did so. She felt his tool begin to twitch and pulse still more. Its hardness excited her, as did the way her mouth glided over its hard and yet soft flesh. She was enjoying this a great deal and shifted her position slightly so she could keep doing it for as long as she chose to work her magic on him.

Then, without warning, he grabbed her head and began to push her further onto his tool. She wanted to gag, but found a way of resisting the reflex. At first, she was alarmed that he had retaken control, was commanding this new motion. But then she understood that he was responding to her actions, reacting as an sheep might to a dog herding it to pasture. And she found this new sensation pleasurable in its own right, as she adapted to his urgent guidance. She allowed him to guide the speed at which she took his tool. Faster and faster he pumped his rigid tool deeper into her and faster and faster she slid her lips along nearly its entire length.

Again she had control. He dug his fingers into her hair, but no longer tried to control the pace. But then, just as she had adjusted to the new rhythm, had felt the warmth growing deep in her own middle,where he had given her such pleasure before, he took back the reins and arched his back to thrust himself farther into her than ever before. She knew something was happening, but had no idea of what until suddenly he let out an almighty roar and his tool erupted into her mouth.

She felt the liquid hit her tonsils, she felt the liquid run down the back of her throat. The ferocity as it hit her throat at first startled her, but then she began to enjoy the sensations. The feeling was amazing, she loved it, revelled in it. The flavour of that strange mucous liquid was like nothing she had tasted before, not even like the small sampling before. She savoured it as it continued to pump into the receptacle her mouth offered.. As the hardness within his tool began to subside, she licked every last drop of the liquid from it.This was what he had told her to do at the start of the lesson, when he told her to clean his tool, and this was what she was intent on doing.She lapped it from him, the kick that she had received from the power she had just felt driving her forward still. She did not fully understand the feelings but went with them just the same.

As she finished, the Master looked down at her once more and he did not need words to tell her that her actions had pleased him. The expression of satisfaction on his face said all that needed to be said.He said nothing else as he dressed in his robe once more. She wondered what he had planned for her next lesson, and she wandered what she could do about the urgency she was feeling in her own loins.

He beckoned her to sit on the chair opposite him and she did his asking. Again he studied her. "My child, are you sure that you have never had any tuition in these matters before?"

"Yes, Sir," Estelle replied, her voice confident, her gaze steady into his. "I have never done any of . . . these things until I came to you."

"Then, my child, you are a rare thing indeed." He smiled contentedly as he uttered the words. "Your mother said you were a child that would respond well to these lessons and I feel that I am duty bound to report to her that she was right."

He spoke with a bemused air. Was he mocking her? This she could not tell, as neither his words nor manner gave anything away. She wanted to please him, but the secret feeling of power that she had just tasted was what had excited her so during the lesson. Why this should be, she could only guess, but she wanted more of it, much more.

As they sat in silence, she pondered her fate. Why had he not touched her today? She had wanted him to, she still wanted him to. Her body ached for his touch once more. She was sure that he knew this, so why had he offered her nothing? Again the questions began to invade her mind, began to bubble up to the surface. He had told her to be inquisitive.

But before she could open her mouth, the Master reached to the side of his chair to pull on a rope that produced the sound of a bell from somewhere else in the house. Almost instantly, Cavendish appeared in the doorway, not knocking because he had just been summoned.

As she followed the silent figure into the hallway, she wondered. What now? What more did this man have in store for her? Only time would tell, but she was sure both of them sensed that something had happened within that room today. Was it a shift in the balance of power? She was confident that time would indeed tell, and she realised she was not afraid of the answer.

Then she turned from these bigger, longer range questions to a more immediate one. What was she going to do about this throbbing between her thighs?

Part 3