Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) (25 page)

A moment passed, she shivered; the night had a chill to it. He helped her under the covers and cradled her.

‘Did I pass, sir?’ she whispered tentatively.

‘You certainly did, my dear,’ he confirmed. ‘And now you must rest, for there is more to come.’

She could not think about that, so she sighed happily and let sleep overtake her.

The following morning Lord Michael roused Elizabeth with a kiss. She stirred, and he whispered that the day was her own. She could sleep in, bathe at her leisure, take a walk, do whatever she wished. At five o’clock, however, she was to go to the guest bedroom.

Elizabeth, still fuzzy from sleep, almost asked why but caught herself in time. She nodded, murmured, ‘Yes, sir,’ and still feeling drowsy, snuggled back under the covers, grateful for the extra rest.

When she awoke fully she was startled to see it was past eleven. She stretched, looked around the room, and realised she felt nicely refreshed. Clearly such a good night’s rest had been greatly needed.

After bathing and dressing she went downstairs, and found Nancy working in the sitting room. She had a twinkle in her eye, but by now Elizabeth knew better than to ask why.

She had a splendid lunch, and then spent the afternoon in the garden reading, enjoying the fresh air. A young kitchen maid brought her afternoon tea at three, and at four-thirty Nancy appeared, telling her she’d best think about coming in.

Upon entering the house Elizabeth thought it seemed oddly quiet. She called out but received no reply, so she went to the sitting room and was relieved to find Nancy straightening the cushions.

‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.

‘Lord Michael and the rest of the staff are out,’ Nancy replied. ‘They’ll be gone all evening, as will I. In fact, I should have left already.’

‘But I don’t understand – is something the matter?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘There’s nothing the matter, and I’m sure things will become clearer as the evening progresses.’

Elizabeth caught her breath. This was about her continuing initiation, she was sure. For some reason Lord Michael wanted the house empty. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine as she tried to imagine why. What was she in for now?

‘You’d best ready yourself for the evening and get to the guestroom,’ Nancy said, reminding her of Lord Michael’s earlier words.

So after her bath, dressed in just a robe, she made her way to the designated room. She felt quite peculiar, being alone in the house. Cautiously she opened the door, and not seeing or hearing anything amiss, slipped into the bedroom. Once inside she noticed some clothes laid out, and an envelope with her name on it sat prominently in the centre of the bed.

As she took a closer look at the dress she let out a little cry. It was a maid’s uniform, but not like any she’d ever seen before. The black skirt was very short indeed, and she could not see any sort of a blouse; just a little frilly white apron with an attached bib that would barely cover her breasts. The little cap was sweet enough, but there were also frilly cuffs and a collar. She sat down on the bed, and with shaking fingers opened the envelope.

In Lord Michael’s distinctly meticulous hand, she read:

Elizabeth,

An old school friend will be joining me for dinner this evening. His name is Sir Andrew, but you are only to refer to him as ‘sir’. You are to show him the same respect you show me.

You will dress as our maid, in the uniform provided. We will be dining out, but upon our return you are to be fully prepared to see to any requirements we may have. There will be no other members of my staff present, as they have been given the evening off, so all responsibilities concerning the comfort of my guest will end with you.

You will station yourself in the kitchen, but be prepared to commence your duties, beginning with drinks in the sitting room, at six precisely.

Lord Michael
.

Elizabeth stared at the note, read it again, and then a third time. She took off the robe, slipped into the skirt, the apron and the cuffs, and studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe. It was positively scandalous.

The bib did cover her breasts, but only just, her cleavage and their outer curves remaining clearly visible for anyone to admire. And the skirt was just
so
short!

If it were just Lord Michael she was serving she’d have been thrilled at the prospect, but he was bringing a friend. How could she possibly present herself in such a fashion? With trembling fingers she tied the lacy collar around her throat.

She looked down at her naked legs. Were there no stockings? Searching the bed she breathed a sigh of relief when she found them under her robe. Sadly though, when she had finished rolling them up her legs, she found the lacy tops were visible a few inches below the hem of the skirt.

She flopped on the bed. This couldn’t be possible! Surely Lord Michael wouldn’t want her to appear in such an outrageous outfit in front of another man? But if this is what he had left for her, then this is what he wanted. It was as simple as that. But could she go through with it? Summoning every ounce of courage, taking a deep breath, she busied herself with her hair, then some lipstick and rouge. If she was going through with this she would look her best.

She looked around for shoes but could not find any. Apparently he wanted her in her stocking feet, and as she made her way downstairs to the kitchen she had to admit the lack of shoes was definitely humbling.

She’d only been waiting anxiously for a few minutes when she froze as a loud tinkling startled her. She looked up. The bell cord in the sitting room was being pulled. It was time to begin her duties. Hurriedly she scurried along the hall, suddenly wondering if she should have already been there waiting for them.

Nervously she knocked, and entered when called. Lord Michael was standing by the fire, and his dinner companion was sitting on the couch. She shot a furtive glance at the stranger, and was unsettled to note that he certainly was not a particularly attractive man.

‘Elizabeth, a sherry for the both of us, and a smack for you,’ Lord Michael said snootily. ‘You should have been waiting for us, ready to serve.’

Elizabeth felt her face burn with embarrassment and she silently cursed herself for realising that requirement too late, and then quickly moved to the occasional table to pour their drinks, finding it a little difficult to control her trembling fingers. Picking up the silver tray she offered the first glass to Lord Michael, then nervously offered the other to his guest. She felt naked as she lowered the tray, and though she dared not look at him directly, she could feel his eyes devouring her cleavage. She did not like his unwanted attention, and it made her shiver.

‘Thank you, my dear girl,’ he whined as he accepted the drink, and she didn’t get a nice feeling about him at all.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied demurely, then forced herself to bob a little curtsy.

‘Put the tray back and come here, Elizabeth,’ Lord Michael said sternly, so she hurried to the occasional table, replaced the tray where it was, and returned to him. ‘Put your hands up on the mantelpiece,’ he ordered.

Flushed with complete embarrassment, she raised her arms and did as he said.

‘You should have been here, waiting to serve us,’ he repeated. ‘You will now receive two smacks to concentrate your mind.’

‘Yes sir, thank you, sir,’ she gasped, her face scarlet with shame. To her horror he lifted her skirt, rendering her bare bottom completely exposed for the strange man to scrutinise.

She cast her tormentor a wide-eyed look of pleading, which was completely ignored by him, and then she stiffened as the palm of his hand landed with a loud smack and a sharp sting. First he spanked one cheek and then the other, asking once the brief but sharp reprimand was completed, ‘Do you still want me to be your master, Elizabeth?’

‘Yes sir,’ she replied stoically.

He nodded, satisfied with her response. ‘That will be all for now,’ he said, in his usual tone of voice. ‘We shall ring if we need anything.’

‘Yes sir, thank you, sir,’ she said humbly, and head bowed, face burning, she left the room.

As soon as she reached the kitchen she slumped on one of the wooden chairs. Had she ever felt so embarrassed in her entire life? How would she ever get through the evening with that odious little man there witnessing her continuing humiliation?

She found a bottle of red wine and dared pour herself a small glass, hoping it might help to calm her nerves. After a sip or two she began to relax, and thought some more about the guest.

Lord Michael had said his name was Sir Andrew, and from her surreptitious glance she noted red hair, cold blue eyes, and a hawk nose; not a person she would care to spend time with, she decided.

Then it suddenly dawned on her that it was a fellow by the name of Sir Andrew who owned the house in which they stayed all too briefly up north. She wondered if he was the very same, and concluded that of course he must be. For some reason the thought comforted her and she felt a little more confident; having stayed in the man’s house, he seemed less of a stranger and consequently his presence less disconcerting.

Four hours later the little wine she’d found had gone, and as the bell at last jingled again, her brief resurgence of confidence evaporated with it. Feeling weary and anxious she went to the sitting room, where Lord Michael was standing with his back to the fire, and Sir Andrew was lounging in the armchair nearby. Both men were contentedly puffing on large cigars.

‘Ah, there you are; I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep on duty,’ Lord Michael said, a little sarcastically, and Sir Andrew sniggered tipsily. ‘But now you’re here we would both like a large brandy to round off the splendid dinner we’ve enjoyed at my club.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, and proceeded to pour the amber liquid from the crystal decanter into the brandy glasses on the sideboard, before placing them on the small silver tray and serving the two gentlemen.

‘Will there be anything else, sir?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he said frankly, ‘you will take hold of the mantelpiece, and move your feet back and apart slightly.’

Her face burned anew, but she summoned her resolve and reminded herself to obey, not think.

‘And since Sir Andrew is my guest, I think he should have the honour,’ Lord Michael decreed.

She shuddered. This was all too much, but despite her misgivings she obeyed, inching her feet back and apart, having to lean forward a little, her back straight and the tendons in her thighs and calves tensed. The fire warmed her front, and she knew her position had caused her short skirt to rise slightly, fearing the lower curves of her buttocks were now visible.

‘Ah, that’s better,’ Sir Andrew mused approvingly.

‘I could not agree more,’ Lord Michael concurred wholeheartedly, admiring the deliciously shapely body leaning against the fireplace beside him.

‘Excellent,’ Sir Andrew mumbled around his fat cigar. ‘What a delightful picture she makes, and no mistake.’

Elizabeth felt herself blush; she was being displayed for their gratification like an exhibit at a gallery.

‘Feet a little further apart,’ Lord Michael instructed, taking a sip of his brandy and then placing the sparkling crystal beside her splayed fingers on the mantelpiece.

She obeyed, cringing inwardly at the way she was being manipulated, emotionally and physically, for the pleasure of the two men. Then she heard the soft chink of lead crystal being placed on mahogany, and the subtle creak of leather as the guest adjusted his position, leaning forward, and she held her breath, awaiting the inevitable.

‘I believe a degree of correction is required, my good friend,’ the man said, ‘for being neglectful of her duties upon our return from your club.’

‘And I would agree,’ Lord Michael said.

There was a tense pause, when the only sound in the room was the crackling fire, and then a cold hand touched her bottom.

‘Such a splendid rump,’ he said, and Lord Michael nodded.