Wine, Sodomy and the Lash

The life of a housemaid, Vivienne thought, was an odd one anywhere. But it was all the odder in the grand establishment she had found herself work at, tucked away in the countryside beside a river. It was one of the few estates in the far North that would consider hiring a human at all, let alone one of her reputation for sluttish behaviour, and sometimes she still marvelled at the view out the small window of the fine elven trees that gleamed on distant hills, swaying softly in the breeze, an undulating sea of golden hues and silver glimmers beneath. The dawn light in winter came but wan and weak, and the hues were cool, but in summer the entire hillsides seemed as if freshly polished and set beside a fire.

A feeble mumbling, too muddled and faint to even hope to be comprehensible even if Vivienne spoke Elvish, came from the bed as her fellow chambermaid and sleeping companion - and casual lover - woke to the chill of the morning air on her surprisingly full frame. For years, Vivienne had laboured under the misconception that all elves were of necessity flat and willowy, informed only by the sight of adventurers and soldiers. She had swiftly realized her mistake on making the acquaintance of 'Melissa' (her bed-partner's real, Elven name was sufficiently difficult that she had never been able to pronounce it, and the pet name of Melissa had spread first to the rest of the staff, and then to the entire household) and her figure.

Most Elves might have envied her own chest, which was inviting without being boastful, full without extravagance. But Melissa laboured with the sort of bosom that Vivienne had not thought possible for a human, leave alone an elf - great mountains with a deep and enticing valley between them, barely covered adequately by her maid's dress. The pink nipples were now erect, exposed to the cool air for Melissa's habit of sleeping nude, and the sight drew a blush and a faint smile to Vivienne's own lips before she turned away. There was no good to be had in trying to rouse Melissa more quickly - the Elf took her own time, but was always ready in time for service, slowing only when bothered by others.

Her morning routine was a familiar one now, well honed by months of practice. A swift touch of the brush dealt with her hair, tied back nicely (other households might insist on pinning or hiding it away, but the Starshadows were of unconventional taste in this as well, preferring nothing more complex than a simple tail for their womanservants - the subject of giggling and laughter when newcomers were told the reason why was because they were the easiest to use as handles, and the quickest to retie if pulled out mid-thrust!) and it saved precious minutes that permitted proper bathing. Vivienne slipped from the bedroom, quiet on her bare feet, and padded in the wan light down the hallway of the servant's quarters to the north-facing bathrooms set aside for them. Steam already drifted from beneath the door before she stepped in, and the warmth of it flowed against her like a wall, a great roiling wall of wafting out behind her as she slipped inside.

It was one of those perquisites of work in this strange great house - hot showers. Other establishments gave scant time at all to bathe, and Vivienne's last placement had only cold water in a jug for the maids, but here - oh, here was lovely. She slipped off her nightgown, hooking it up and joining the other girls under the water, sighing softly as it flowed over her body, making sure only to keep it from her hair to save time and spare the earlier effort of brushing it. Others had less luck on that front - the tutor and librarian, Ninette, was a chubby little gnome who spent long minutes drying her hair with magic each morning. Her disadvantage in height left her no choice but a thorough soaking daily, where Vivienne and the rest might avoid it save when desired.

Violet, a new maid, especially seemed to favour such lengthy showers; difficulty adjusting to the unusual demands of her newest employers left her raw and sore and desperately craving the relief of the hot water on muscles overworked, on the bruises around her throat, her breasts, and blemishing her pert backside. Vivienne's own bathing was brief, but thorough, with ivory soap and a cloth before she turned out from the shower, wrapping herself in a towel, and left - sidestepping the still-groggy Melissa as the elf wandered naked into the bathroom, feet padding on the wet tile.

The rest of her morning toilet was just as rote and mechanical, a daily affair long rendered free of the thrills it had first offered. It had been a true shock on arriving to be issued the delicate silky undergarments that she now slid on each morning. They were the loveliest she had ever possessed or been given, and she'd been sure the reason that the stern - and perpetually nude - Housekeeper had told her at the time had been some practical joke. What manner of employer would issue such finery simply in the event of one day 'making private use' of one of their servants? Her laughter had evaporated quickly at the lack of others joining her, the quite serious looks on faces, the presence of that nude Housekeeper.

It had, it transpired in her first few days, been entirely accurate. One of the Ladies of the House had taken a liking to her and dragged her to bed, and had thrilled at the touch of the silk slip she wore beneath her simple linen dress. It was a simple part of the work, a daily reality here, and it went some way towards explaining other irregularities. Daily showers were no mere luxury, but a necessity for the pleasure of their employers in their bodies. The hair in tails, likewise, was a purely pragmatic reason for all the way new girls giggled at the suggestion. And even the unusual number of staff had its place - far too often a maid or two might disappear into a bedroom for an afternoon or an evening, or be detained making up a bed by an amorous employer's sudden desire to sample her talents.

Over those luxurious undergarments was entirely unremarkable - dark grey cotton that did little to either hide or emphasize shape for all but those of the most unusual and extravagant figure. A small, simple apron over that, but no cap in this house. Sensible shoes, of course - as much as their employers might have wished for the highest heels and most outrageous stilettos for sex appeal, some small concessions had to be made to practicality if any work at all was to be done. Suitably attired and checking herself once over in the mirror and finding nothing out of place, Vivienne descended the double stair to the ground floor to begin her work. Days like this, where no company was expected nor a great number of the extended family in attendance, were among the easier - many hands make for light work, even if the work itself be arduous.

The kitchen, as always, was already alive with the scent and tumult of cooking, the scent filling the servant's corridor but prevented from escaping further by the enchanted green baize of the door that seperated servant from master. A pass through the servant's lobby and the grand dining room, where the single row of tables was lit by the delicate rays of sunlight streaming through the glass, led Vivienne to her first port of call for the morning - the breakfast room.

It was the mark, she was informed, of a truly great family to have more rooms than common sense might suggest or economy might demand. The presence of no less than five seperate rooms for eating - and that by the family and their guests alone, not the servants! - was one of those great extravagances beyond all reason, and the breakfast room stood to Vivienne as the epitome of such splendour, at all odds with the cheerful but simple decor of the room. It lacked the raw finery of the dining room's gilt and marble, in favour of a Southern style far closer to that she remembered from her old home, a taste insisted upon by the Lady Starshadow as a reminder of her own roots.

It made simple work - little more than drawing and dusting the curtains of the grand window facing the east, attending to the table and chairs with a fresh cloth, and supervising one of the lower maids (Violet, today) in the work of the daily scrubbing of the fire grate on the western wall, rendering it fit to shine and glow with the small warming fire set in it for the family's comfort during their breakfast. The morning room was already being attended when she poked her head through the hallway door into it, and she turned her attention elsewhere, to one of the stranger additions to the house's architecture.

A small door lead off the drawing room into an unusual cluster of rooms - a tiny anteroom, little larger than her arms outstretched to both sides in each direction, that lead itself into a suite of rooms. There was the private bathroom there, a simple affair of a shower tub and warming rack for robes, and the watercloset in its own seperate enclosure accessible from the anteroom for privacy's sake. And there was the object of her attention tucked away behind another door still in that tiny antechamber, a room referred to in front of most guests as the 'fainting room' but which had an entirely different true purpose that still made Vivienne blush whenever she entered it to prepare it for the day. It was the so-called genteel spanking room of the family, a place where modest guests might slip way to to enjoy the sadomasochistic pleasures the family was renowned for away from potential prying eyes, or where the mistresses of the house might take a plaything in the middle of an otherwise strait-laced gathering for private excitement.

To all external appearances, it was little more than a small apartment lit by a warm lantern with a fainting lounge and an ottoman for the feet. But hidden away in the cunning little cupboards favoured by the family, the hooks of which were visible only to a discerning eye or to those already aware of its presence, was a veritable array of tools of torment. Daily, someone attended them with a feather duster, and today, it was Vivienne's turn. Fingers trembled lightly as she opened the tiny hooked latch of the near invisible compartment in the wall, unfolding it on silent hinges. The sheer variety of tools always left her in frightened awe at the imagination of her employers.

There were the usual paddles, in every variety from hard wood to soft padded cloth and leather. Crops and small rods, of course, alongside far crueller canes of the lightest and heaviest varieties. Stranger items lurked in the cupboard as well - a fine silver backed hairbrush, bristles long dispensed with and now used only to redden bottoms sat beside a small steel spatula. Each item needed to be brushed over and turned, and Vivienne paid close attention to each, checking for signs of undue wear that might need repair (or replacement, in the case of the canes), lest she miss one that needed the attention and had it used on her later in punishment! These rooms necessitated a careful eye above the usual, and more hands still. Other employers might be content with a weekly brushing of their displays of tools or toys or curios, but the Starshadows were of particularly unrelenting demand in this affair, and there were many such hidden compartments throughout the estate.

By the time she was finished, it was already time to make up the beds, with the other maids having already handled the calling to breakfast and the tea service in bed for those so inclined. The roster had been posted upstairs in the hallway beside the shower door - the one place it could be certain every servant would see before service even if the Housekeeper or the Butler were taken ill - and she and Melissa were to work together in the family rooms upstairs. Now, with the family awake, she had little choice but to take the servant's corridor, a cunning little piece of architecture that was sandwiched between the great music room and the main corridor, buffering the dining room and drawing room from the tumult of sound when there was entertainment that was not of universal attendance by the family. It admitted her back into the bustling servant's quarters, and up the back stairs beside the china closet to the second story to the brushing room (the 'boy' there was, in defiance of tradition, not only a woman but a woman of maturity. No child was permitted on the staff, for the simple reason of propriety) and then the upstairs hallway.

They began with Melos's bedroom, working quickly and efficiently together. Melos's lady's maid had already seen to the essentials of the morning, lighting the fire and preparing her mistress's bath, but it was left to the chambermaids to attend the beds. It was no light work, for even feathers in great quantity reach surprising weight and bulk, and it took both of them (one at opposing corners) to flip the mattress over, as they did daily, and to then fluff the bed properly that it might be as comfortable each night as the one before.

It was only by dint of their long practice that they could handle a room quickly, especially with the need to clean the carpets and the need to change the sheets out entirely daily. Some bedrooms might escape that and resemble the usual practice in such houses of a change over a week, but the young Lady Melos was a woman of singularly bloody appetites, and as usual there were fresh crimson stains on the sheets from where some paramour or other of her's had taken a knife to her supple skin and coaxed sanguine appetites from her trembling body. Little wonder that she ate so heartily, the two joked - she must be in danger of running entirely dry if she missed a single meal of meat! Near daily, there was blood or cum or some other intimate fluid that necessitated a full change of the fine soft linens.

They left the bed unmade to air, and moved to Sonsine's, as usual unused. The feral elf stayed almost exclusively in the old House, and when she did sleep in the big house, spent the night sandwiched between her two wives in the master bedroom instead. It made it a much simpler affair - a quick dusting, without a need to attend the bed save by opening it to air. Other rooms followed with the same attention to detail - dusting, sweeping the carpets and the curtains, changing out sheets well ahead of time for the strong likelihood among the family that it was necessary regardless of any external evidence. They left the master suite to last, as they usually did on days when Bliss's lady's maid was unavailable, and Melissa was a trembling mess as they approached the door, pale and wan and fidgeting with nervous agitation.

"I'm sure it won't be as bad this time, Melissa." Vivienne said, voice gentle in an attempt to soothe her companion, a hand delicately on her arm. "But she asked for you by name last night, so you know you can't refuse. You go in there and attend to her, as she asked, and I'll take care of the rest." She leant up on her toes then, pressing a delicate kiss to Melissa's cheek, before stepping forward to gently knock at the door and open it for them both.

Just as in Melos's room, the fire was already lit (and well it should be by this hour), one of the duties insistently reserved by the Housekeeper to her own attention. Her owners, she felt, deserved nothing less than her personal attention to this small matter of comfort and warmth, though as a habit she left the curtains drawn for Bliss's lady's maid or her replacements. Today, however, they were already open and the lady of the house was up. As was her fashion in the mornings, she was entirely naked, inspecting herself in the mirror, and she scarcely looked over her shoulder in the reflection at them for more than a moment before wordlessly beckoning Melissa.

This was routine as well, in its own way, though the exact depredations were never the same. With the Lady's wife - and oh, how the titles got confused with three Ladies in that marriage! - in attendance, Melissa might expect to be fucked and used for simple - if rough - sexual pleasure. But in her absence for business, there was only the Lady Bliss's cruel humours to anticipate with that trembling fear. Vivienne was safe from those, at least, and it left her with liberty to attend to the bed, drawing back the sheets and ignoring the dreadful words of scorn that Bliss was heaping upon Melissa. The two were of similar shape, or would be if the Lady were not so firm an advocate of tightlacing that even without a corset her stomach stayed of remarkably waspish thinness. Even without the visual magic of this fine, thin waist to offset her enormous bosom, the noblewoman was larger by a modest margin than her servant, and she passed on the cruelties and debasements her own prodigious chest brought to her onto Melissa on a regular basis.

In the corner of her eye, Vivienne saw a hand raise, and then the smack of skin on skin made her wince as the Lady Bliss slapped Melissa across the face. It wasn't her place to interfere, and she had more than enough on her plate simply with the unruly - and extra large - bed's dressings. This part of the job had taken time to adjust to, the casual cruelty of their employers, and she quietly winced again on behalf of her partner in cleaning and part-time lover at the sound of a soft sniffle.

"Look at you... Parading around, showing off your tits in this tight little dress of your's..." The Lady Bliss crooned, quieter than usual but audible to Vivienne even over the struggle to turn the mattress single handedly. From the corner of her eye, she glanced again to find the naked blonde now leaning into Melissa, stroking her reddened cheek, smiling at her - and that smile quickly turn to a mean smirk as her hands dropped to begin unbuttoning the plain dress. "We both know you're proud of them, Melissa, so show them off properly."

Melissa trembled, flushing crimson, and raised her hands to try and cover herself - only to receive another of those sharp slaps across the face in answer, whimpering and turning from sniffling to soft tears rolling down her cheeks. Vivienne bit her lip, watching openly for a moment before returning to the bed, managing finally to turn it over at great effort and returning to the endeavour of fluffing out the feathers anew to keep lumps at bay. Before she'd come here, such a thing would have appalled her, and it still did - but after so long with these strange and awful people, it made her throb between her legs, made her breath hitch. The knowledge that as much as she cried and begged, Melissa suffered the same response of dreadful, unnatural desire for this cruel and degrading treatment made it all the more delicious, and despite herself - despite her attempts to behave - Vivienne slowed in her work, found dust where there really was none in the bedhead, sneaking peeks all the while.

Tears streamed down Melissa's cheeks as she leant into the degradation at the hands of her mistress, splashing onto the great pale expanse of her ample bosom now that it was exposed in full. She was forbidden to wear a slip as the others did for ease of access by the Lady Bliss to her breasts on demand, instead wearing only a bra that now lay on the ground before her, crudely pulled off with little care if the fastenings bent. Some whispered command made her turn white for a moment before her cheeks burned scarlet, and she voiced a tremulous, wordless protest that was cut off with another of those slaps. She ducked her head then, and tearfully nodded, stepping back from Bliss to fold her arms neatly behind her back, pushing her chest and her tits out.

Some letter or other, Vivienne thought, must have aroused the Mistress's anger. It was rare that she took to such openly physical methods with the maids - not for fear of discovery, but for simple personal preference - and rarer still that she treated Melissa's breasts quite so inelegantly as she did now. Without care for the young elf's tears and squeaks of pain, she lay slaps into them, sharp and fast from side to side, hissing insults at her.