Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Her hand covered mine on the knife handle, guiding my movements with maternal patience. The intimate contact, combined with her casual discussion of my future servitude, sent another unwelcome surge of heat through my core.
“Slower, dear,” she instructed, her breath warm against my ear. “Cooking requires the same patience and attention to detail that you’ll need to learn in the bedroom. Every motion should be deliberate, graceful.”
I tried to focus on the vegetables, but the kitchen seemed to pulse with sexual tension. Colonel Quinst’s eyes tracked my every movement while his wife’s body pressed close behind mine, her hands occasionally brushing against me as she adjusted my technique. The dampness between my thighs continued to build, and I wondered with growing desperation if they could smell my arousal in the confined space.
“Much better,” Mrs. Quinst murmured as I finished the last carrot. “Now the potatoes. Small, uniform pieces—your Guardian prefers his vegetables precisely cut.”
When we had prepared the meal, and the delicious-smelling chicken emerged from the oven, Mrs. Quinst let me sit at the small table in the kitchen and have my own dinner quickly. Then I had to serve them at the dining table, still with my panties around my knees.
The dining room proved more intimate than I had expected, with a small table set for two and a sideboard where the serving dishes waited. The soft lighting cast warm shadows that might have been romantic under different circumstances, but now only emphasized how exposed I felt with my underwear restricting my movement.
“Serve your Guardian first,” Mrs. Quinst instructed from her seat, “then me. Always remember the proper order of precedence.”
I lifted the platter of carved chicken with careful hands, acutely aware of how I had to shuffle rather than walk normally. As I leaned forward to place a portion on Colonel Quinst’s plate, his hand suddenly cupped my bare bottom beneath the short skirt.
“Excellent presentation,” he said conversationally, his palm warm against my naked flesh as if touching me so intimately was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers traced the curve of my buttock with evident interest while I stood frozen, the serving fork trembling in my grip.
“Thank you, Guardian,” I managed to whisper, though my voice came out strangled. The casual way he explored my body while I served dinner sent more treasonous need flooding through me.
His hand moved lower, fingers brushing against the wetness between my thighs with deliberate precision. “Still quite aroused, I believe. Betty, she’s like a fountain.”
I bit my lip to suppress a whimper as he tested my slickness, his touch both invasive and assessing. When he finally withdrew his hand, I nearly collapsed with relief and unwelcome disappointment.
“Now serve your Mistress,” he commanded, wiping his fingers on his napkin with matter-of-fact efficiency.
My legs shook as I moved around the table, the panties around my knees making every step a careful negotiation. Mrs. Quinst smiled warmly as I approached, but her eyes held the same predatory gleam I had seen in her husband’s.
As I leaned forward to serve her, her hand slipped beneath my skirt from the front, fingers finding my bare pussy with unerring accuracy. Unlike her husband’s frank exploration, her touch carried a feminine understanding that made my knees threaten to buckle.
“Such a randy little thing,” she murmured, her fingers circling my most sensitive areas with practiced skill. “Prince Hendren has begun to break you in, but there’s still so much more to learn.”
Her thumb found the small hood that covered my most private place, rubbing with just enough pressure to make my brow furrow and a tiny humming whimper come from the roof of my mouth. I gripped the serving platter so tightly my knuckles went white, fighting not to drop it as shameful pleasure flashed through me.
“Please,” I gasped, “Mistress, no.”
“Hush, dear,” she said softly, her fingers continuing their maddening exploration. “This is all part of your education. Learning to serve while your body is being pleasured will make you invaluable to your master.”
CHAPTER 14
Viola
“Betty, you’re doing an excellent job with Viola’s training,” Colonel Quinst said, setting down his napkin as he surveyed the empty dinner plates with evident satisfaction.
I stood frozen beside the table, the serving platter still clutched in my trembling hands, my face burning from the intimate touches both my Guardian and Mistress had subjected me to during the meal. The panties around my knees felt like shackles, terrible evidence of my degraded state as I waited for whatever humiliation would come next.
“Thank you, John,” Mrs. Quinst replied, her cheeks flushing with obvious pleasure at her husband’s praise. “She’s proving quite responsive to feminine guidance.”
Colonel Quinst rose from his chair, his gaze assessing me with the same clinical interest he had shown throughout dinner. “In fact, why don’t I handle the dishes tonight, Betty? You may take Viola to the bedroom and begin her instruction in pleasing another woman. I’ll join you in a little while.”