Her hands tighten the restraints around my ankles, calves and thighs then around my wrists and biceps. I feel utterly helpless and at her mercy."What's your safe word?" She barks at me."Banoffee," I utter back.I hear her heels click against the floor. I have no idea what to expect but feel conscious that this is in a communal area, and everyone walking past will be able to witness it. I ready myself.The first slap takes me by surprise. Not because it's painful but because it's from her bare hand and feels amazing. Every so often, she changes sides and increases the intensity until my backside feels slightly warm and tingly.Her hands then reach down to my crotch, and she unzips the underwear giving her easy access to me. Her hand slips in and starts stroking my cock then cups my balls which she tugs on gently. A groan leaves my mouth. I'm dying to be touched by her."Did I tell you to talk?" She shrieks.Angry, she stops touching me, and I hear her walk away again to get something else.. There would be a low-key ball that evening for the family and the few family friends. I had been helping to prepare the ballroom. George would have to make sure that Sir Henry’s evening clothes were immaculate. It would not be easy to remove the creases after the clothes had been unpacked from the journey. Once the ball was under way I expected that I would see George in the Servants’ Hall. I wasn’t sure whether I was looking forward to meeting him again, or not. Did I really want him as a husband? My difficulty was that there was no one else remotely interesting. The unmarried men here were uneducated clods and I had little chance of meeting anyone else. If I were a lady’s maid I might travel to London, or Bath, or anywhere, but I was a parlour maid. Parlour maids stayed put. My first encounter with George was awkward. He tried to grab me for a kiss. I turned my face away. He tried again, caught his foot in my skirts and fell over. Mrs Jones, the housekeeper, came into the.
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