Darrington Hall was an impressive building set in its own grounds and the first in the area to have the new-fangled electric light fitted in some of the larger rooms. Sir Charles Darrington was particularly pleased with himself for that, and as the summer of 1884 turned into autumn he looked forward to outsiders seeing his windows ablaze with its light.

“Come,” Sir Charles looked up as following a timid knock his study door opened and the slight figure Mary, the downstairs chambermaid entered followed by a well-proportioned female.

“If it pleases you, sir, this is the young lady applying for the post of upstairs maid.”

Sir Charles looked past the diminutive servant to the woman standing behind her. “Thank you, Mary, you may go, I will ring when we are finished...come closer young lady.” Sir Charles pointed to a spot in front of the large oak desk that he sat behind.

Sir Charles spent a full minute studying the potential employee standing before him. She was smartly dressed in a floor-length grey skirt, high necked white blouse and a tight-fitting grey jacket. Her blond hair was tied in a tight bun and he found himself wondering what it would look like hanging loose. He also noticed her full breasts were barely contained beneath the blouse.

“Name,” he said, his eyes not leaving her for a second.

“Sarah, Sarah Fisher, if it pleases you, sir,” the young girl stammered. “Applying for the position of upstairs maid sir.”

She moved a step closer and held out a large brown envelope, “my references sir.”

Sir Charles took the envelope from her and removed the neatly written single sheet of paper. Always a man with a punctilious nature, he studied it closely.

“I see you come highly recommended by your previous employer. I know Sir George well and am surprised he is prepared to let you go,” he said replacing the reference in its envelope and passing it back to Sarah's hand. A hand he noticed was visibly shaking and again wondered what the slim white fingers would feel like stroking his hard cock.

“Sir George is now a widower, and moving to his sister's house in Scotland, he will have no need of a maid, if it please you, sir.”

Sir Charles rose from behind the desk and pulled the bell cord beside the fireplace.

Almost at once the study door opened and the maid who had shown Sarah in reappeared in the doorway.

“Mary, Miss Fisher will be joining us on a three-month trial employment, please show her her quarters and explain her duties to her.” Without further ado, he resumed his seat and reaching for a pen made a note in his diary.

The note, written in a neat hand reads, perfect for the next meeting of the club, and beside the note wrote the name, Sarah Fisher.

Sarah followed Mary across the huge entrance hall, past the main staircase, just as an elegant older woman in riding habit came down. Unlike most women of the Victorian era, she wore tight-fitting jodhpurs and tall black boots. A crisp white blouse unbuttoned to show just the right amount of cleavage. Her long black hair rested on her wide shoulders. In her right hand, she held a thin riding crop, which she tapped against her polished boot.

“Who have we here Mary? Her voice was cultured with the slightest trace of a French accent.

Mary bobbed in a slight curtsey, “This is Miss Sarah Fisher, Sir Charles has employed her as an upstairs maid my Lady.”

Sarah looked at the lady of the house, curtsied, “hope I can be of service to you my lady.”

Danielle Darrington raised the crop and placed the tip under Sarah's chin, raising her face stared into her eyes. “Oh, I am sure you can be of more service than you can possibly imagine.”

Sarah stood transfixed; Danielle’s amazing green eyes seemed to see into her very soul. But instead of fear, Sarah felt a thrill pass through her, in what she could only describe as sexual.

“Mary, time for my ride, I will want you to draw me a hot bath on my return,” Lady Darington snapped and turning on her heel headed for the front door.

“Yes, madam, it will be ready for you,” Mary said, and then turning to Sarah added in a whisper. “We all know what sort of ride she will be getting.”

“Sorry, I don't understand,” Sarah looked puzzled.

“The only animal that will be between her legs is going to be John the groom and his donkey's dick,” Mary added with a laugh. “Now let me show you our room,”

By the time they had reached the servant’s quarters, Sarah was hopelessly lost. They seemed to have walked along countless corridors and up endless stairs.

“This is our room, your things go in there,” Mary said pointing to a tall narrow mirror fronted wardrobe.

Sarah let her eyes roam over the small room. Two wardrobes, two dressing tables and a wash basin and jug on a stand. The centre of the room was dominated by a double bed.

Mary smiled as she watched her new roommate take in her surroundings. “I sleep on that side,” she said, tapping the right-hand side. “I don't snore, and in the winter nothing beats a good cuddle,” she giggled.

Once again, Sarah felt a sexual shiver pass through her. She had never slept in the same bed as another woman, but there was something fascinating about the petite figure of her new roommate.

“How many other servants are there?” she asked as she unpacked her small valise. The rest of her belongings were being cared for at the local inn in the village.

“Apart from us, there are three other females, Miss Chambers, she is the housekeeper and runs the office, Mrs Chapman the cook, and Martha the kitchen maid. Then there is Thomas and James the footmen, John the groom, and old Harry the Gardener,” Mary said, counting them off on her fingers. “The only ones living up here with us are James and Thomas, their room is just across the hall. They need to be watched those two, always trying to sneak a look at the likes of you and me when we use the servant bathtub down the hall.”

While Mary was explaining the duties, Sarah was expected to perform other things were taking place in Darrington Hall. Sir Charles was writing two identical letters to friends of his. All three men met on regular occasions either at the hall or one of their residences. Where they could indulge their depraved sexual appetites in ways their wives would never condone. Sir Charles had gone so far as to have a large basement room fitted with various pieces of equipment and devices for him to indulge one of his passions, that of bondage and domination.

Darrington Hall was perfect for his other passion, that of voyeurism. The entire building was a maze of secret passages that ran between the thick walls and several small rooms that adjoined larger ones. Over time Sir Charles had drilled many small eye holes in strategic places in the relevant ones. He could now spy not only on his wife's private room, but also on several of the guest rooms as well. He had spent many happy hours masturbating as he watched house guests fucking in what they thought was privacy.

One space he had been unable to spy on being the stable block. He stood up from behind his desk and went to one of the side windows from where he could see the stables. He smiled to himself at the thought of what was happening at that very moment in them. He had watched his wife make her way there on the pretext of riding, or checking on her horse.

Even at the age of sixty, Sir Charles was still a fit and healthy man of huge sexual appetites. His wife, fifteen years his junior was also a highly sexed creature. The difference was in their taste for different forms of sex. Whereas Sir Charles tended towards extreme depravities, his wife was content to fuck in more conventional ways, but much more often. This suited another of her husband’s traits, that of the cuckold.

Now, as he studied the stable block he could see in his mind his wife's naked body writhing under the powerful body of John, the handsome young groom. As he allowed his mind to wander he felt the usual hardening of his cock, a need that had to be satisfied, and soon.

Grace Chambers looked up as the bell rang in her small office. Sir Charles’s study, she smiled to herself. She knew that at this time of the afternoon if the mistress of the house had gone out she would be in the stables, naked and lying back on the small bed in John the groom’s quarters. That would mean Sir Charles was dreaming of his younger wife taking cock. She well knew how much the mistress of the house enjoyed Johns long thick cock, one she herself had dreamed of been impaled on many times. But now Sir Charles would need her attention. He was a man of habit and during the afternoon her cunt would be in no danger... her mouth was a different matter.

Both Grace and Sir Charles were correct in their assumption of the whereabouts of Danielle.

As Lady Darrington entered the stable she stopped for a moment to watch John as he rubbed down the handsome black stallion that she liked to ride. Unlike many ladies of the Victorian era, she never rode side saddle. She much preferred the sense of power she felt with a galloping mount between her thighs, and many an orgasm was to be had as her clit grazed the saddle. But today the only ride she has in mind was on John’s hard rod.

The sound or a sharp crack caused John to look up from his work. He smiled as he saw Danielle strike her leather boot a second time with the crop.

“Shall I saddle Black Lightning for you, madam?” he asked.

Lady Darrington stepped forward and using the tip of the crop, traced the outline of his obviously hard cock over the coarse material of his working trousers.

“No, I don't think we need to bother Lightning today John, the ride I intend to take will require no saddle or bridle,” she said and walked through to the rear of the stable and into his living quarters. “Make sure you are fresh John, fresh and clean.”

John smiled as he stripped off his shirt and soused himself in water from a large trough. He knew that by now her ladyship would be lying naked on his bed. All pretence of class cast aside as she submitted to her carnal desires. Although he serviced all but one of the female members of the household Danielle was by far his favourite fuck.

“You rang Sir Charles?” Grace said as she let herself into the large oak panelled study.

Sir Charles had come out from behind his desk and was now seated in a large red leather Chesterfield armchair. Grace smiled to herself, remembering the many times that same chair had held her naked body, with legs raised onto the arms as Sir Charles had pounded his cock into her willing cunt.

“Yes Grace I have a swelling that requires your attention,” He said opening his black and gold smoking jacket to reveal a hard, throbbing cock.

Grace loved her employers seven inches of glistening fuck meat. Mostly she enjoyed it in her cunt or arsehole, but today she knew by his posture, her mouth would be the recipient of his copious flow of spunk.

While the master and mistress of the house prepared themselves for the afternoon's sexual adventures the rest of the servants were going about their duties.

Harry, the Gardner was working in the kitchen garden and dreaming of days done by when Vera Chapman had entertained him in her kitchen. The times he had rogered her over the large table. Her ample arse quivering, as he slapped it and drove his cock into her. Even now in his seventies, he hadn't given up hope of fucking her again.

Mrs Chapman, the cook was watching young Martha putting away the highly polished copper pots. As the young girl climbed down from the high shelf her long skirt caught on a hook and rode up her leg. Vera Chapman was never on one to miss an opportunity and ran a pudgy hand up the inside of the young girl's leg.

“No drawers on I see my girl, hoping for young James or Thomas to slip you a length are you?” she said sliding a finger into the young cunt.

“Why Mrs Chapman, you know I keeps me cunny just for you!” Martha giggled.

“Tush girl, don't you give me that old flannel, only last week I saw you on your knees sucking both their cocks. Don't try telling me they didn't have that young cunt, and your arsehole as well, I wouldn't wonder.” The old cook said as she finger fucked the young girl. “Now you cum on my finger quick now, then suck my hairy old cunt off just as quickly, we have the dinner to prepare and can't spend too much time satisfying each other.”

Above stairs, in Sir Charles study the elderly peer sat back, eyes closed as Graces experienced tongue worked its magic on his straining prick. She had done this many times and knew when his balls were about to give up their load. The salty taste of precum, the steady jerking of the thick, mushroom-headed shaft in her mouth, and the long animal groan that came from her employer.

Sir Charles lay back, his mind absorbed with the thought of his wife lying back, legs open, and the young groom's huge cock pounding her juicy dripping cunt. This, coupled with the warm saliva running over his cock proved too much and gouts of hot spunk poured into the willing, sucking mouth of his housekeeper.

At almost the same moment John’s spunk filled Danielle Darrington's cunt as she used all the strength of her gripping pussy muscles to milk his pounding cock. The scream of pleasure she let out did not go unnoticed by old Harry in his greenhouse, and with a smile, he pulled out his cock and stroked it. Almost before Danielle's last scream had died away a string of white jism spurted from the old man's cock onto the greenhouse floor.