Order in the HouseBy Valley Vixin Chapter 1
London 1810
I should tell you about myself first. I am Lady Anabell Baring, wife to the lord Charles Baring, Earl of Cromer. I am of the North Umbrian gentry, our family being renowned for producing bold soldiers and fertile wives, which the southern nobles have always muttered had to do with too many Vikings in the convent. We do tend to the tall, pale, and on the ladies side, very buxom side, and I have the red hair that crops up several times a generation.
My mother taught me that a woman had two duties, to provide, educate and train heirs for her husbands house, and to keep order in the servants of that house. Honestly, as a woman, this was supposed to be my goal and my joy. It was not much of a burden to provide heirs for my husbands house. I mean, I had been married at sixteen, and by eighteen I had given him two boys (Charles and Henry), which seemed to satisfy him. It was not much of a burden, although he was. My husband was my senior by about twenty years, and about a hundred pounds. My marital duties were a chore that I feared might kill my husband (Charles, as our first boy was named for him, as Henry was named for his father). His face grew red, his breathing like the blacksmith bellows, and I feared the veins in his neck would burst. Instead, his member which tore into me burst instead.
I may not be the best wife in the world as far as keeping order in the house, I am not very stern with the servants, and the older ones tend to terrify me, but I am a garden of earthly delights, as my husband loves to point out at parties, and more fertile than a hundred hectares in Cambridgeshire. It was true, he didn't have to plow my field often to get our sons, and I think he was as glad to stop as I was. I knew I was supposed to just lie back and do my duty, but when he grasped my large bosoms, sucking and biting them, I felt a strange tension build up in me, an agitation, and when he eventually mounted me, I felt like I was building towards some great religious revelation. Either that, or Charles would burst a blood vessel and die, luckily he spent his seed long before either one of us found the gates of heaven. Still, I felt my marital duties awakened a need for something, a hunger. I don't know what for, but for something.
I was just nineteen when I convinced Charles that the with our second baby, the existing dragon (the only possible description of the head maid, entirely too religious even to make an acceptable nun) needed to be put out to pasture and we needed a new head maid. Since Charles had a new steel plant to get into production, he was convinced railway was going to become important and he wanted to be ready for the demand for volumes of steel, and that the new steam engines were going to change not only land travel, but sea travel as well. The future was steel, and my husband was making it. We needed a new maid, a new staff to show our growing prominence, to deal with a new round of social obligations and political obligations. We didn't just need to be like all the older houses who were ready to fade into obscurity, we had to shout how involved we were with the overseas trade and the new industries without actually saying "trade" or "industry". We were old nobility, we were supposed to pretend that squeezing starving peasants was a viable way to stay rich in a world in which that actually lost money.
The solution was twofold. Renovate the mansion to become a mixture of Oriental, Indian, and African styles, to showcase our deep connection to the greater colonies, and replace our doddering ancient, and largely inherited maids with a new staff. The new staff included a mix of Caribbean African maids and cooks from Charles's plantations there, and some excellent Chinese and Indian cooks to add exotic flavours for the many gala we must host to make sure that when discussion of naval construction, rail and road building plans, those discussions would be happening in rooms Charles was either the host of, or invited as guest too.
Kira was the new head maid. She had hair in dark tight cornrows, like tiny braids that make her dark African hair into a strangely compelling cascade of tightly leashed African passion. She is young for the position, only twenty two to my own eighteen, but the rest of the staff, all female from maids to cooks, all are kept under tight control by her. She is slim, having a delicate womanly figure, not as heavy breasted or wide hipped as myself, she is almost elfin in body. Not the sort of peasant body you would expect from a Caribbean girl off the plantation, she looked more like a noble in her features than most of those from the high houses like myself. She had a very expressive face, when greeting guests she was the picture of grace and hospitality, yet you always caught that cat like amusement that said while she gave proper deference to her social superiors, she in no way felt less than even the greatest of them. This carried on with her dealings with staff and tradesmen. She was nothing less than professional in her dealings, but when any of the tradespeople would attempt to press her due to her sex or race, they found her dominant nature rose to the surface and they uniformly came to understand that deals would be on her terms and she would be addressed as ma'am, with their eyes on the floor where they belonged.
It became my custom to express my wants and concerns about grounds, staff, and planning for events to Kira, and let Kira provide the instructions, corrections, and of course, administer the discipline in my name. I told you that I was never that comfortable keeping order in a great house, I come from country gentry, not a rising Earldom, but Kira keeps the servants in line like a born queen. I admire her. I started to watch her, I thought to learn how she does it, but the reality turned out to be something different.
I noticed it first when one of the Chinese cooks got into an argument with one of the local farmers. It turned out she had bargained down the price of the fresh eggs we were buying and pocketed the difference. You must understand, these farmers were our direct retainers. We paid above market price because we needed our local farmers to not only be doing well, but to be seen to be doing well, and know it was because of our house. It was a new age, the opinion of the commons mattered, as a friendly MP who knew that the favor of the lord was required for his seat was important to my lord husband's political and economic needs. When the farmer brought the matter to me, I knew that discipline needed to be swift, and visible. The staff needed to know this would not be tolerated. I told Kira that I needed to witness the discipline so that if I was asked by Charles, I could answer in truth that I had seen discipline carried out.
Oh, how my world changed that day. Kira smiled at me. Slowly, her eyes wandering up my body to meet my own. Those dark brown orbs locked onto my blue ones and I felt myself blushing as her smile widened to an outright grin.
"Yes My Lady, I think maybe you should see how order is kept in the house." Kira said and told me that she would send a maid to fetch me when she was ready to administer punishment. I felt a thrill go through me when she told me that she would have me summoned when she was ready. I don't know why it gave me a thrill to hear her speak that way to me, but at the same time, I was uncomfortable dealing with such harsh matters myself and was willing to defer to my maid in this matter.
Jenna, a short very round, and frequently disciplined young chambermaid came to summon me to the discipline. She was a chambermaid because she needed to be kept from the public at big events. She was a hard working girl, a short round bundle of dark skinned hard working bubbly cheerfulness, but you will never get any sense of propriety in her. She really did seem to have just come from the Caribbean, the sort of Caribbean that spoke of pirates and wenches, and all manner of sin rather than well ordered plantations and well kept manors. Jenna was babbling already.
"Oh Lady Annabelle you are going to love it. I watch every discipline she gives. Of course, that is easy, since half of them are me, but the rest are almost as good. I mean, when its not me I need to take a moment to finish myself, you know what I mean Lady Annabelle? Kira's punishments are enough to make me believe that God want's us to be obedient. I mean, God should just send Kira out, and he could skip the priests altogether. I mean, I prefer to skip them altogether."
Jenna's babbling brought me into the room where Kira sat on one of the tables, a large wooden hairbrush in her hand, and her black boots peaking out from beneath her maid skirt as they swung lazily back and forth. She had very delicate ankles I noted, I caught myself blushing again as I noted. I was so busy noting that Kira didn't seem to have stockings on under her skirts as I believe I saw a bit of chocolate coloured skin above her boot top, that I missed Ming's nakedness.
Ming, the guilty cook, had taken her clothes off and stood naked before Kira.
"Ming, you have been granted the very great privilege of serving in this house. I have been given charge of keeping order in this house, and you have broken that order. Can you tell me how you have broken that order, Ming?"
Kira asked, her eyes like a hunting cat, her smile cruel, her voice hard like iron. Every maid, and cook was watching, most licking their lips hungrily, as if a pack of hounds at a cornered fox.
"I broke the house agreement with the farmers. I made them take less money, and kept the rest. I stole, I broke the house word with the farmers. I shamed the house. I shamed myself." Ming threw herself on the ground, crawled naked to Kira's feet and began to kiss her boot. Kira pushed her boot out to the center of Ming's chest and shoved her to the ground. Then she stalked, not walked, stalked like a panther to the Master's Chair my husband uses when he is at the table, and sat.
Ming rushed to put herself over Kira's knee, naked as the day she was born, but her nipples were hard, and her sex, oh god, the flower of her sex was swelling and open. The black hair around it was failing to hide the mystery of her sex, and revealed to me that for all the mystery of the orient, their women's sex is the same pink as my own inside.
My mind went blank, unable to process, unable to think, as I watched the discipline unfold in front of me.
Kira took the hairbrush and began to spank Ming with the backside, making her golden arse turn a rosy pink. No heavy bruising, she was disciplining not beating, yet she frequently stopped and pulled Ming's head up by the hair to kiss her. Thrusting her tongue into the woman's mouth, before bending her over again to resume spanking her ass with the heavy brush. Then she progressed to dipping her fingers into the weeping woman's sex, and making her lick them off before kissing Kira again.
I felt my breathing too fast, too shallow. I was going to faint. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my own sex was flowering like poor Ming's. Ming was thanking Kira for every stroke, thanking her for every stroke of the brush that beat her, and she was losing all control when dragged by her hair up to kiss Kira, her hands flying to hold Kira's face, and try to pull her deeper into the kiss.
Kira pushed Ming from her lap and stood like a queen before the staff, before me, and all of us cast our eyes down.
"I will have order in this house, I will see that discipline is kept, and that everyone knows their place. Do you understand?" Kira said sternly as poor Ming crawled to her, and pressed her golden face into Kira's black boot and kissed it.
The Lord God as my witness, I thought it was over. My sex was so swollen and tingling now I needed to flee before I was overcome by the devil and thought about touching myself where only my husband should ever touch, but it was not over. Not even close.
Every woman there, including me, spoke as one replying to Kira. "Yes ma'am." I blushed at the words, but in my defense, my corset was so tight, my chest heaving so much, I was almost ready to faint and not thinking clearly.
Ming kissed Kira's boot and begged her. "Please Miss Kira, please may I beg for correction."
Kira smiled, looking me right in the eyes and smiled softly. "Yes Ming, bend over the table and I will administer correction."
Good lord, was she going to be beaten more, surely she had been punished enough. Kira took the hairbrush up again, but this time she held it by the heavy and wide back. She held it to Ming's mouth, and Ming took it into her mouth like food. She took it into her mouth, sucking it, licking it, in an almost sensual manner. Then Kira pulled the hairbrush handle out, took hold of Ming's long straight black hair and wrapped it around her fist. Holding the hairbrush, as if holding the blade of a sword, she slid the hilt, the handle of the hairbrush to Mings dripping sex, and, lord God forgive me, pushed it in.
The handle of the hairbrush was tapered. I suppose it was no thicker than a man's thumb at the tip, but it flared out to much thicker than my Lord Husband's shaft and longer, and yet Kira worked it into Ming like a husband would work his generative organ into his wife. Unlike Charles, she did not simply slam it hard and fast for two minutes and stop, she began slowly, teasing, pausing several times to make Ming taste her own sex on it, or rewet it, I can't be sure which, before sliding it back in.
Kira built the rhythm slowly, thrusting deeper as Ming began to beg, began to say such obscene things.
"Fuck me Mistress. Fuck your little yellow slut. You are my goddess, my queen. Please fuck my slut hole. Make me your whore. Make me your SLAVE!" Ming screamed, and her whole body shook. I thought she had a heart attack, for her whole body shook and shivered, bending like a bow and thrashing around like she was having a fit. Fluid gushed from Mings sex, a white froth already coated the handle of the brush where it thrust into her, but now a new clear fluid pulsed around it, although it did not smell like pee.
Kira kissed the girl, pulling Ming's head back to kiss her wildly. Ming slumped to the ground at Kira's feet, and Kira once again sat upon the heavy table, letting her feet swing gently off the ground.
"Now, I have taught you your place, given you the very great gift of discipline. How will you thank me for correcting and educating you. How will you thank me for keeping Order in the House?" Kira asked.
Ming crawled to where Kira was perched, and without a word, pulled the heavy maid skirt up to her waist, showing that above her black boots, Kira wore nothing beneath her skirt at all. Her sex was hidden behind a neatly trimmed black bush that made my own red forest look both uncouth and very thin in comparison. She was every inch the queen as she spread her dark legs and let Ming kiss her way up from boot to sex.
Sweet Mary Mother of God, was Ming going to kiss up Kira's black thighs? Surely not. Surely only a husband would ever be allowed to touch a woman where her bloomers should cover?
Ming did not stop. Ming kissed between Kira's black thighs, at the join of them. She stuck out her pink tongue and, looking up at the stern face of Kira, she began to lick her sex like a cat eating crème. I saw the other maids begin to touch themselves as Kira looked me right in the eye as Ming stuck her tongue into Kira's sex, then began to suck at the pink pearl at the top of her sex as if she had found her only hope of salvation. Kira placed her hands on Ming's head, and pushed her face into her black sex, beginning to rock her mound against her lover's face like a woman rocks under her husbands thrust. No, like a husband rocks while TAKING his wife. Kira looked me in the eyes and she took Ming's face like a man takes his wife, looking in my eyes with all the control of a huntress, of a goddess, of a queen, while I gripped my own skirt, wishing I dared to lift it to finger myself as the maids did, but I had too many layers between my fingers and my core.
Kira at last gave out a cry, and Ming shifted from sucking Kira's little button to lapping at her like a kitten on spilled crème, cleaning the mess she made. Finally, Ming kissed Kira's mound gently, and Kira pulled her up to feet, face covered in Kira's cum.
Marching Ming over to me, she thrust Ming's face into mine and commanded her.
"Show Miss Annabelle how you have accepted your correction." Kira said, pushing Mings face into mine. I heard the assembled maids and cooks gasp, but I could muster no strength to deny or resist. Ming was mindless in her lust, and she kissed me, thrusting a tongue coated in Kira's love juices into my mouth. I found myself sucking her tongue, thrusting my own back as Ming's hands reached up and grabbed my heavy breasts where they perched above my defending corset. I felt her reach through the heavy fabric and pinch my nipples as hard as she could. God forgive me. I cried out into her mouth as my own body shook. I felt as if I had been struck by lightning, as if I too was having a heart attack or fainting spell. My stomach muscles clenched like I was going to be violently ill, but a blast of pleasure not pain shot through me, and I felt my legs shudder and shake, my core, my sex, my womanhood spasmed as if trying to clamp around something that was not there and I cried out like I was in labour. My own sex shamed me, as I shuddered through release after release as Ming thrust her tongue and mouth filled with Kira's own womanhood's juices into my own mouth. My bloomers were wet, like I had peed myself, but every woman in the room knew that is not what had happened.
Kira pulled Ming back and put her to her knees before me.
"Is madame satisfied with how I keep order in the house?" Kira asked, as if this had been simply another one of those domestic details to be worked out between the Lady of the house and the head maid.
"Yes Miss Kira" I said, unconsciously addressing her as the junior maids did, not as the Lady of the house should.
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