I worked for Miss Fletcher till the New Year. I had earnestly tried to convince myself that I was content with working as her maid. I was making good money, and I wasn’t even spending it. Simply put, there was no reason to take another job.

But at night, I would look at the stuffed rabbit the Warricks had left behind. As I stared into Finn’s button eyes and roughly sodomized myself with the bedpost, I knew I couldn’t shake this filthy need. Whatever the Professor and his wife had done to me, there was no turning back. The pain and degradation were ambrosia, and after having my taste, nothing else would satisfy.

“You were a hard worker, Miriam. And I wish you all the best.” She walked me to the train station with the trunk I had bought. It was mostly empty. Plenty of gold, but I could no longer imagine what I wanted. So there were just some clothes, a few simple pieces of jewelry my regulars had given me as a going-away present, and Finn.

“Thank you, Miss. I am truly indebted. I am grateful for the opportunities you afforded me.”

She embraced me while shaking her head. “Don’t thank me, girl. I don’t think I’ve set you on a good path. The Ravencrofts have a reputation. I fear you now hear such warnings of their cruel ways as a siren call. Promise me you’ll leave if it gets to be too much.”

She had been rather motherly in my last few days. “I will, Miss. I promise.”

It was an empty vow. I had heard the tales of the evil Ravencrofts. Servants talk, and there was a lot to say of Mrs. Warrick’s family. I knew I wouldn’t walk away, that I would not break under their abuse. In fact, I had hoped them to be every bit the monsters I had heard in the stories.

———

It had been two years since I arrived at the Ravencroft Estate. Much to my delight, all the despicable rumors and terrifying gossip about the family were incorrect.

They were so much worse, and I had the scars to show for it.

Mrs. Warrick’s family estate was a constant bustle of people coming and going. Their lineage and money were old. They were descendants of ancient English nobility, as any of them would gladly regale you with their history. They are significantly less likely to mention that the family had fled to the Americas after a particularly nasty scandal. I had heard dozens of stories as to what transpired. But whatever the actual reason may be, a Ravencroft will never set foot on English soil again for fear of their necks.

They had ties and dealings with many powerful families. The latter part of their fortune is currently tied to stockyards and textiles, but they have fingers everywhere in this country. They are as powerful as they are perverse.

As far as I know, I’m currently the sole family maid who has been with the estate for more than a year. One might attribute the constant turnover among my peers to the stressful work environment. There were never enough servants to maintain the household, and the lords and ladies of the house were not tolerant of this failure. But it was their more… sociable relations with the help that turned most stomachs.

“Is it time to get up, Miriam?” Agnes had woken as I stirred to start my first duty of the morning. Poor thing. Her family was rather well off a few years ago. Not nobility, of course. But comfortable. Then a fire swept through the city, orphaning her and leaving her penniless. She was taken in by an Aunt, worked to the bone, and sold to the Ravencrofts. Her Aunt knew full well what fate awaited her in this place. Her first night here, Agnes came to my room. She was sobbing and afraid. As well she should have been. The girl asked if she could sleep with me that night, and there hasn’t been a day since she hasn’t shared my bed.

I petted her short hair. In the short time I had known her, she’d become precious to me. At a mere sixteen years of age, she was a tiny girl. Likely a result of the malnutrition during her formative years under her Aunt. Not much of a shape to her, one could easily mistake her for a young boy if she dressed the part. She had soft brown hair and the prettiest dark eyes. I was easily a head taller than her. For her sake, I hoped she would grow soon. Her body was youthful, which was a preference of some of the more wicked members of the household. “Go back to sleep, Agnes. I have a few chores to see to before we start our day.”

Nodding, she grasped Finn tightly. I let her sleep with him. They seemed to belong together. My little mouse and my rabbit. I heard her slight snore and watched her bring her thumb to her lips. She suckled it when she slept. A habit I found most endearing.

Thus far, she had remained unspoiled. A feat I accomplished through much dark dealings. And this morning, I had to make a payment on her continued protection. I locked the door to my room behind me. It was a good, solid lock that I had negotiated for with the Master. It made my room the only place I was safe. And the only place I could keep Agnes free from the deviants that surrounded her.

I left her. I had a turnaround service to perform. And my customer would be waiting.

Lars was a giant of a man. The largest of all of the Master’s servants, he was charged with the constant repairs needed across the estate. He was a skilled laborer in his late fifties. He also had the reputation of a mean drunk. And I needed something from him. He was the only man who could keep the rest of the Ravencrofts’ servants in line. The only one who could shield young Agnes.

I tiptoed through the hall in my nightgown. The men’s rooms were separated from the women’s by little more than a sign over the hallway that had said, ‘No Men Allowed’. It was never effective. In fact, had Agnes not come to my room that first night, she would have been visited upon by the first servant who dared to make their move in the dark of the night.

I cracked Lar’s door. The smell assaulted my senses as soon as I cracked it open. He was thick, with arms the width of my head. During the summer months, I don’t believe I ever saw his sweating stop. And her certainly never bathed. After this morning, he would enjoy my scent on him for days.

“Father, I had a frightful dream.” Lars had always wished for a little girl, though never for any wholesome reason. In exchange for his protection, I would be his daughter every two weeks. And with what he did to me then, I thought it divine intervention that he only ever had sons.

He stirred in his bed. He preferred an interior room with no light. His space was rife with the odor of a long-unemptied chamber pot and his general foul body stink. I would have preferred the smell of swine. He appeared as a massive lump wrapped in damp blankets, and he gestured for me to come in from the doorway. “My poor girl. Why don’t you sleep with Father? I’ll keep the bad things away.”

I nodded and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. My heart raced. The room was pitch black. I took a few steps toward his bed, feeling my way in the dark, when his massive hand snatched my wrist and pulled me onto his old, hard mattress. “Th-thank you, Father.”

This game of pretend he enjoyed, it reminded me of why I left home. How my own father had drunkenly attempted to force himself upon me before I left. It was a disturbing sickness, for a Father to lust over his own child. As with many of the experiences I had faced since moving here, I was disturbed by how roused such excitement in me. I felt my cunny grow warm and damp as he held me against his body, his soured booze breath hot on the back of my head.

He liked to lie there before he started. Sometimes I would almost find myself drowsing in that hot little room in his sickening embrace. As I did this morning, I was quite tired imagining the work I had ahead. Then his hips began to rock against me, pressing his large prick against my backside.

Lar’s calloused hand began grasping at my chest. I tried to cover my breasts with my hands, and Lars easily swatted aside my efforts and fondled me from over my nightshirt. I think he preferred when I made him force himself upon me. He was consistent in his wants. I realized it was like being in a play. I had my lines to deliver, and this wouldn’t be over till the crude scene reached completion. “Father, what are you doing?”

“My, what a beautiful girl you’ve become. You are as pretty as your Mother was.” This sent a chill through my body. Once again, I recalled my father calling me my Mother’s name as he tried to pull me into his chambers. A memory that now flooded my mind with a confused interest.

His molestation grew rougher as he started squeezing, drawing out my moans. I don’t believe he meant it to hurt, but it did all the same. He was a brute at the best of times. “Father… please. You’re confused. You shouldn’t touch a young girl in such ways.”

“Miriam, do you love your Father?” I felt his sweat already soaking into my thin gown as his chest began to heave with heavy breaths.

“Of course, Father. You know I love you more than anything in the whole world.” His prick had stiffened fully. This is what he really craved, the unconditional love of a child while filling her with his poisoned sin.

“Then prove you love me.” He sat up, and the worn legs of the bed creaked as though they would break. “Let me love you, as your Mother did.”

“But, Father?!” I tried to act shocked. It was getting harder as we played out his fantasy again and again. “What would Father Matthews say?”

I could hear him taking off his shirt, and I sat at the edge of the bed. I needn’t wait for the answer. The result was inevitable. I pulled my gown over my head and lay it by my feet. I could almost say the words with him if he would like, “He would tell you it’s a daughter’s duty to honor thy Father.”

His large hand took me by the shoulder, and he lay be down into his malodorous bedding. He knocked his knees against the inside of mine, wordlessly issuing the command to spread my legs wide. My hips were stretched wide to accommodate his girth. His pot belly hung down, and the weight rested on my thin stomach. He grunted as Lars shifted himself, and I could already feel his perspiration dripping down onto me. “Aren’t you happy your first time is with your Father?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

His fat tongue licked my neck, and I whimpered. The words may be stale, but the feelings he inspired offered the same bewildering thrill. That disturbing, horrid sickness that brought an excitement from the most secret part of my heart. I had always worried that people would have figured out my desires, like Mrs. Warrick had. If they knew I enjoyed this treatment, I would lose all leverage I had.

But I wouldn’t let them. I had learned since then. How to mask my enjoyment, and how to show them what they wanted. For instance, Lars wanted my love and devotion. But he wanted it painted in fear. “Father, I’m scared,” I sobbed as I felt the head of his stubby cock prodding.

“Do as I say, my girl. Or else Father will make this hurt.” It was a vicious promise, and one I wanted to see kept.

“No! You musn’t!” My legs were already around his sides. My efforts to escape were fought in earnest, knowing they were doomed before I even began. But as the angered growl filled the dark room, I knew I had pushed him and forced his hand.

He seized my wrists and pinned them by my head. “Miriam, you are a bad little girl. Father didn’t want it to be this way.”

Of course he did. They always do.

I sobbed as the assault began. He was clumsy in the dark, the whiskey stink on him, and erratic thrusts that prodded my delicate pubic region suggested he was still partially drunk. “Hold still, girl!”

“Father, I am! I swear!” His hand swatted me across the face. I could taste copper and feel a warm trickle running down from my lip. The excitement in my belly grew, and had I a free hand I would have grasped his manhood and led it straight to my cunny. The desire had become so ravenous I would have begged him to savage me if I would have thought it would do any good.

But I simply had to wait. After all, even an untrained rifleman might hit a target eventually if they have enough shots. And finally, he found his. I felt the invasion of his throbbing head curl my toes and send chills down my spine. I was grateful for the darkness. It hid my grin. “Today, you are a woman, Miriam.” Every time we played this game, he relished robbing me of my virginity. I suppose that was partly the beauty he saw in this fantasy.

The roughness made me gasp as he worked himself deeper inside me. I tried to make it difficult for him. I wanted him to feel the tightness he desired. It pained me, but I reveled in the hurt. It wasn’t just the brutal slamming of his hips, but the entire mass of the ogre bearing down on me. “Father, gentle. It feels like I’m being torn open.”

Lars’ breath sucked in, and I felt him swell. He was close. So was I. The sound of him violating me was a dull, wet slapping. The sickening, tacky noise when he withdrew was accompanied by my groans. “Do you love your Father?”

“Yes!” He needed me to say it for him to finish. “I love you, Father.” He groaned, and his rancid breath and slobber fell onto my face. “I love you. I love you.” My voice was getting weaker. He laid his weight into me till I could hardly breathe. His cock throbbed as he began to kiss me, his rough whiskers scraping my face as I met his lips with my own. The taste of him made me gag, and that repugnant sensation granted me my climax.

I always came with Lars. There weren’t many who accomplished such a feat during my couplings with them. It wasn’t that he fucked me well. No, it was the way he made me feel. Small. Helpless. Dirty. And as his cock pulsed inside me, filling me with his seed, he collapsed on top of me. His hot pig flesh smothering me as he grunted and rocked his hips till he was spilling out of me.

With the fantasy complete, he rolled off. I sat up on the edge of the bed, my body now carrying the stink of his. I would need to clean it off before I made my rounds with Agnes. The Lords and Ladies of the house didn’t like sharing with their servants. My foot tapped around the floor and found my nightgown, and I slipped it on over my head.

“Next time, bring your little sister.” He had been asking for Agnes lately. He had his eyes on the slight girl. I’m sure he would be thrilled for an even younger daughter to violate. But he would not have her. She was mine.

“Lars. So help me, if you lay a hand on her, I will plunge a knife into your gullet while you sleep.” I had learned I needed an edge to survive in the place, and I would make good on my threat.

He chuckled as he rolled back toward the wall, pulling the blankets back on top of him. “That’s adorable. Let’s see how long it lasts.” He was already snoring again as I let myself out.

————

I took the key from my nightshirt and unlocked my door. Agnes was still sleeping soundly with the covers over her. She clutched Finn tightly and sucked her thumb. I was still not right, giddy and covered in Lars’ rancid filth. We would have to begin our chores soon, and I really didn’t have time for what I was about to do.

I struck a match and lit the candle on the table. “Miriam?” She stirred, her dark eyes opening. She looked at me, knowing what I had done to protect her. And that’s why she said nothing as I pulled down the blankets, revealing her petite little body. She no longer wore clothes to bed. She liked making it easy on me. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing much to tell. Lars is always the same. I was his child, and he ravaged me.” She bit her lip. She was a funny girl, terrified of what was done to me, yet always curious. Agnes liked me to recant my tale when I had her. Especially when I wouldn’t let her watch. She lay on her back, her tiny breasts looked so pert in the morning with her swelled, tight nipples. I leaned down and kissed each one. She smiled, and went as still as death. I liked her like that. Then, straddling her thigh, I began to grind myself against...