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The Servant

The servant froze; a sound? Perhaps not. He continued preparing the meal. She had returned in a foul mood and ordered that dinner should be served at seven that evening. Fifteen minutes to go and so far everything was on time. A good meal, fine wine, an intelligent book to read and maybe her anger would fade.

Another sound; he froze again, A soft tread on a badly fixed board. His hands started to shake as he stirred the food on the hob, dreading the voice that he knew would come.

“Where’s my meal!”

Putting down the pan he scurried to the dining room dropping to his knees before her.

“It will be ready in ten minutes,” he started “at seven as you requested Madam,” he continued as she smacked him once across his bare arm.

“I am not pleased. I am really not pleased. You are paid to anticipate my wishes. Instead you laze around and answer back. Your pleasure will come at a high price. I shall consider way in which you can amuse me tonight. Wine and my meal quickly! Go!”

Pausing only to pour her a glass of wine, he returned to his work, trembling, trembling inside at the thought of what might be in store; trying hard not to make a mistake in his terror. Oddly, he loved her and wished only to serve her well. She had rescued him from the gutter of despair, educated him and given him a home. She could be amusing and even kind but when frustrated in achieving what she thought was right she could be cold and cruel. And as she had to keep up appearances in public, he was her only source on which to vent her anger, and he knew that he didn’t mind. He was aware that today had been bad for her and so he had prepared as good a meal as he possible.

She stood in the candle lit room and pondered. She was tall and dignified, good looking and frustrated. It seemed a shame to have to use her servant so, but she paid him well. Without him she would be lost, and if, from time to time, he needed a little encouragement to reach her standards of perfection then so be it. She could give him pleasure, she could give him pain, she would do what she felt was appropriate, her judgement was law. She was mistress he was servant, each knew their place and their duty.

She knew he was loyal and respected him for it. Once, she had hit him absent-mindedly with her riding crop when a friend, if that was the word, was present. Of course nothing was said, but later she happened to hear this woman telling her servant, her servant mind you, that he should not have to put up with such behaviour. She smiled with the recollection of his answer. “What my mistress, whom I am honoured to serve, chooses to do to me is her business and mine and I would thank you not to interfere.” That friend had not been seen since. She wondered if perhaps he liked being beaten, perhaps he needed it. Anyway she would do what she would do.

She thought of her day in the town that day and her anger increased. The noise, the youths, their clothes, all that had seemed ordered in the past was now chaotic. She had tried to help some of the needy, to offer them the benefits of her knowledge and experience but they yawned, they were bored. They hogged the space of others; they demanded respect but never gave it.

At least her servant had some intelligence and she had taught him respect. But she was hungry and he was not prepared, a small snack would have kept her content until the meal. So he would suffer. Men should learn about pain. All her life she had suffered and men just ignored it. So he would feel some of her pain tonight and the tension would go from her. Though perhaps, she mused, she might offer him some pleasure, a reward if he acts well. She laughed, men think of one thing only and done properly, rewarding him could perhaps reward her.

The servant made final adjustments to the meal making sure it was hot throughout. This meal lost all of its attraction when it got cold and the sauces congealed. He wished they had a hot plate for the table but he would remember to return the dishes to the stove between servings. He walked carefully into the dining room as the clock struck seven carrying various bowls on a tray.

The smell was appetizing, the food looked good, and already she felt calmer.

“Fetch a plate,” she commanded, “you will dine with me!”

Returning to the kitchen he found a plate and cutlery, but in his haste to return he tripped and fell; the plate broke and the knife and fork slid across the floor, stopped by his mistress’s foot.

“Idiot!” she snapped. “Animal!”

Trembling with shock and apologising he made to rise but she stopped him with a glance.

“The place for animals is on the floor, not at the table. And animals don’t wear clothes. Remove them!”

Whilst still lying on the ground he struggled to remove his shirt and trousers: she rose and went across the room to her private drawer and brought back some restraints and a small flexible cane. “On your knees animal.”

Twice she struck his buttocks with some force and then without any thought of inflicting pain or not she swiftly fastened his wrists tightly together behind his back, his ankles likewise and then his wrists to his ankles. A collar went round his neck, a lead attached and a sharp tug had him face down on the floor by her feet. She paused in thought for a moment and then without warning lashed him twice more across the back.

She smiled, sat down and served herself some food.

For a while she savoured the warm, well prepared food and a feeling of comfort began to sweep back through her. Glancing at her servant she pulled his lead up so his face was level with her lap. She held out a small piece of meat and with the beginnings of a smile made him beg for it; satisfied she placed it in his mouth and he gratefully swallowed it.

Perhaps all would be well he thought; the food, which he now knew was good, was having a calming effect on her. No mistakes, he thought, no mistakes, please no mistakes. He started to tremble a bit fearing what she might do if angered.

From time to time she would feed him a scrap as she ate and drank and read from a book. The book appeared to grip her and she ate less and less as the time passed. The servant felt more confident that all would be well and his mind wandered a little so he did not see her absent-mindedly offer him another scrap. As he saw it and went to receive it, he knocked it off the fork and onto the floor. He froze in terror but she had not noticed. He knelt there shivering as she read on.

The clock chimed the half hour. She had stopped eating and was more and more engrossed in her book. Just as the clock struck eight she reached a chapter’s end. Sighing softly she closed the book and once again turned her attention to her surroundings. She put another piece of meat in her mouth and almost immediately spat it out again onto he plate.

“This is cold,” she snapped. “This is disgusting”

Looking down at her kneeling, trembling servant she noticed the food on the floor. Anger returned in a flash. Pushing her chair back she picked up her plate with its now congealed food and placed it on the floor in front of him. “Messy messy Pig! Lick that clean, not a spot to remain.”

With the lead she dragged his head down and pushed his face in the cold concoction. And whilst he sucked and licked and gagged she amused herself by random lashes across his back, his thighs, his buttocks. Quickly she timed the strokes to the moment he lowered his head to the floor so that his reaction made him push his face in the mess.

Eventually most of the food was consumed and she tired of this game. She released his arms and legs and commanded him stand and face her. She saw a glimpse of dismay in his face. He knew he had let her down, one mistake leading to another. If only people took care, she thought.

“Calling you a pig was wrong,” she said, “they are tidy eaters.” Moistening a napkin with water from the jug she gently washed away the worst of the mess from his face.

She looked at his body which was well kept if a little overweight and smiled gently. Then looking him straight in the eye she took his balls and penis in her hand and said softly, “I might have a use for this later”

Unable to prevent it he hardened.

She smiled flirtatiously and continued, “But not at the moment!” and squeezed tightly digging her nails into his flesh.

With one final lash she told him to clear the table and to join her in the sitting room in five minutes, then left.

Swiftly he cleared and cleaned table floor and himself and six minutes later went nakedly into the room where she waited for him by an open and burning fire.

The smile was gone and she pointed to a place against the wall where he had been stood many times before. In silence she fastened his wrists together and to a rope stretched over a hook close to the ceiling. With surprising strength she pulled this rope tight forcing him to full stretch and beyond and fastened then end to a hook nearby.

Sixty seconds earned him six strokes of the cane delivered firmly though without anger. They both knew that a point was being made.

She picked up a crossword and settled down in an armchair. Asking his advice, discussing possible words and lashing him with her cane if she thought he was being less than helpful she slowly returned to her normal state. Ten minutes passed and she put the cane to one side: ten more minutes and she stood suddenly and complaining of the warmth in the room proceeded to remove her dress. She stood for a moment in stockings and basque, a beautiful woman whatever her age, though she would have denied it had he dared to speak. Once again he hardened and she laughed.

“We can’t have that, I need you to concentrate on the clues,” and she bound a cloth round his eyes but released him from the stretching rope, retying his hands behind his back. He knelt gratefully by her side.

Fifteen more minutes and the puzzle was solved. For a few more minutes she sat quietly then rose and walked a few paces round the room. The returning to stand in front of him she removed the blindfold.

She was naked. The triangle of soft pubic hair was inches from his face. She pulled him to her and he knew what was expected. Softly his tongue came out and licked the hairy mound. Then as she slightly spread her legs he kissed her inner thighs, left, then right then centre. Minutes passed like this before she sat back on the couch and spread her legs wider. Concentrating now on the wet centre he kissed her hard and licked her softly. His tongue going in and out while she lay back squeezing and stroking her breasts in the way she knew best.

Though he felt like a king she reminded him that he was a servant by pulling with one hand on the lead still about his neck. The other hand picked up the whip. But now he smiled as the whip would now help him do his duty. Placing the tip of his erect penis in the soft opening between her legs he waited for the first and gentle stroke. It came forcing him deep inside her. More and stronger and faster hits rhythmically timed made him move back and forth within her, until the time came when she dropped the whip and dug her fingernails into his buttocks, forcing him deep inside her until they both together and separately came and lay back spent.

Time passed and she moved to finally untie him and remove the collar from his neck. They lay side by side on the sofa before the dying fire. Then she turned and came into his arms and he held her tight whilst the tears came and slowly she fell into a deep sleep.

Slowly, gently, he moved her from him and slid to the floor. He covered her naked body with a cotton throw, kissed her gently on the head and left. It would not do for him to be there when she woke.

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