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Part 1 – The Waking of Aristo Slave

I have fucked you twice now and the thought of taking you again, in my world, had slowly been fermenting away in my mind. You to take working class cock in the cauldron of working-class life frankly had become a consuming fantasy again.

As I sit here in the scullery sipping expensive claret (I had come quite adept in secreting half-filled bottles of wine from the dining table!) I reflect on how sex had instantly changed so much for me from the first tentative moment we stepped across the class barrier and fucked in your parlour. Sex shared and enjoyed was an alien experience, being only accustomed for paying for singular sexual relief my whole adult life. But you though are so sexually aware of yourself deriving as much pleasure from the sexual act as your willing pleased partner. For me, the pleasure reached beyond any imaginings I could have thought. At the risk of offence, the fact is, you out whore the whores of the tavern. Not suggesting a woman of your breeding is the same in anyway, but simply your clear superior knowledge of carnal pleasure could teach the wenches a thing or two about the shared pleasures sex offered.

After the first time the idea of having you again on my territory did come to mind. You clearly are a risk taker so why not? In all my years in service I have never heard of a woman of social stature such as yourself actually seeking sexual pleasure and favour from working class stock. If ever such a thing became common knowledge would likely have dire consequences for both parties. You for example have no idea if I gloated with tavern goers how I fucked the mistress of the manor. Why wouldn’t I? The fact is I haven’t and won’t. Why? Well why would I screw up (!) the opportunity to fuck you again by boasting of my single conquest? The other thing is no one would believe me anyway! A babbling fantasist is where my bragging would get me. Even still if the mere suggestion that such an act took place drifted around the manor house, as I said before, dire consequences… While I derived pleasure from imagining taking you as a tavern wench, I had dismissed the idea of it ever being possible.

The second time we fucked at the party for the village in the manor grounds, changed my mind about the possibility of having you in the tavern. Apart from us being risky, we were clearly reckless too. I shudder at the thought of how close we could have been caught, and by your father. The consequences would literately be life changing for both of us. For you the shame you brought to your father and family. It could mean losing your inheritance although unlikely, your life would be different. For me I would have probably been escorted off the premises within the hour. My life as a butler, a respected member within the establishment, gone forever. I would need to leave the village and seek employment far enough away and hope news of my transgressions did not reach potential employers.

But despite the dark consequences, my hardening cock betrayed the pure hedonistic pleasure we sought and enjoyed. The risk and recklessness fuelled our lust and desire for pleasure and sexual gratification. A drug as it were, that took us to new heights of erotic indulgence. If we could be blind to the world around us as we indulged in our total decadent need for each other, why couldn’t we fuck in the tavern?

When we finally came down from the heady heights of our orgasms after our village party fuck, I spilled how much I would love to take you in my world. You smiled broadly and declared “Fuck me anywhere you want!”

Despite my excitement of the possibility, guilt does invade my fantasy. canlı bahis You, certainly in the aristocratic circles you move in are very experienced, educated and well versed in the accepted norms of high society. As for the village, and the working class, and the life that surrounds you, and as polite as I can be, you know nothing at all. It is this that if we can ever indulge our lust and need for each other in the Tavern, I need to educate you in the world I occupy; and that is why I am sitting here in the scullery, waiting for you…

To have my way with you as I desire would be a tentative exhilirating journey. I need to draw you in willingly into my aspirations. To ensure the excitement I have would naturally grow in you. The building hunger in your desire to experience our total decadence would lead to a willing obedience. If any of this can happen may or may not start tonight…

You have been out all day so I had left a note on your pillow, simply saying to meet me in the scullery at 11pm. This could be a challenge for you as the scullery and ‘downstairs’ are places you never visit regularly, but I figure if you are interested in meeting me, you would find your way. There was also the added risk of being spotted moving around the manor at such a late hour. Again, if the desire to meet me was there, you would ignore the ‘dangers’. I pull out my watch, 11:10pm. Ohh well stumbled at the first ‘task’… I sigh and lift the bottle to pour another glass when the door to the scullery slowly opens, a yellow ribbon of light from the hallway gas lamps grow wider as the door is tentatively opened. I stare at the opening door, hardly daring to breath; my heart pounding. Then the silhouette of you is framed in the opening that fills me with relief. You walk hesitantly into the gloomy room checking if it is me sitting at the table. I only have a couple of candles lit so your eyes have to adjust to the darkness. I stand up and walk towards you, close the door behind you and without a word pull you to me and instantly seek your mouth with my tongue, kissing you hard and passionately. My action takes you by surprise, but you instantly respond, our tongues playing urgently, our lips crushing with instant lust and need. Inwardly I am relieved that you are clearly excited and aroused; the dangers once again ignored.

Sadly, as much as I need and want you, anything more would have to wait. I take your hand and lead you to the bench that runs the length of the long kitchen table, and gesture for you to sit down. I pour you a glass of wine and push it towards you. We pick up our glasses, clink them and we each take a large glug of wine. Finally, I speak “I glad you have come mistress as I have something, I want to explain to you”. You smile broadly and giggle, “Oooh intrigued!” and then if reading my thoughts, “It’s about the Tavern isn’t it?” you add with delight.

I look at you and nod slowly. “There are things you need to understand, and when you do, well we will see what happens next”.

“There are two main gathering places in the village for drinking and other social activities. At the main entrance to the village is the Coach Inn, and about a quarter of mile along the main street is the Manor Arms Tavern. Running behind the tavern and parallel to the main street is Gropecunt Lane. This runs between the Inn and Tavern.

It has been called Gropecunt Lane for as long as I can remember. This road is where some whores ply their trade if they are not in the tavern or inn. Some offer their services down dark alley ways, some may a have room they can offer at a price, but most use the Inn or Tavern.

The Inn is where the well to do, the middle bahis siteleri classes drink and socialise. It is also where travellers stop for a meal while fresh horses are prepared. If it is too late, there are rooms for an overnight stay. The women who work there are well out of the price range of us working class. Needless to say, I don’t go there.

The Tavern on the other hand is a lively rowdy place of drinking, gambling and whoring. It comprises two large rooms. The first is accessed from the main street. Very basic with long tables with benches either side, very much like the kitchen table and benches we are seated at. The long bar runs along the wall and through into the second room that is accessed from the first room or Gropecunt Lane. This is exactly the same set up with tables and benches, but here you can drink and spend money for sex. The tavern has no bedrooms, so if you have money and want pleasure, it happens here…

For the menfolk who come here, there is nothing unusual when a whore is bent over the table and taken from behind, or you quickly rescue your ale as a woman is pushed unceremoniously onto her back in front of you and taken. Conversation with the man opposite temporarily stopped as a woman is fucked and groped just inches from you. I often shared a double blowjob with my neighbour, the girl moving between us until we are both satisfied.

All the men have their favourite whores depending on their sexual preferences and what the girls offer. Some only offer hand jobs, but that is the cheapest and understandably the most popular option. A lot of the poorer workers can only aspire to this. Fingering a woman would cost a little more but again for lot of men this would be closest they would get too for a full-on fuck. A blowjob costs more, and if you want the girl to swallow your come, or to come over her tits or face, well that costs more. ‘Doubling up’ is a good earner for the whores. Giving two hand jobs or two blowjobs at the same time, at a ‘discounted’ price works for everyone.

Some women are renowned for being very adventurous and would gladly partake in twosomes or threesomes. Some woman do not actually offer fucking or any direct sexual activity, but a ‘show’ of woman on woman action. It gets a good audience and is a lucrative earner for the women involved.

Fucking is obviously the top price. Anal sex is slightly cheaper. The girls want to keep their pussies ‘clean’ for as long as possible. Being the first one to fuck the pussy carries a premium, and of course if the men are expected to pay top price, they want to check her out to make sure she is telling the truth and, it was this so folklore has it, that has led to the ‘whore’s dress’.

No one knows how long ago the dress code came into being, but all woman selling sex wear it. It also helps to distinguish them from wenches who serve beer and nothing more. Reaching under long heavy dresses and petticoats to feel the ‘goods’ on offer was cumbersome as well as not necessarily complete proof the asking price was warranted.

A panel is cut out from the front of the dress and petticoat. Imagine an inverted ‘V’. It shows all the leg from ankle to full thigh. If stockings are worn, a favourite amongst the menfolk, all was on display. The ‘join’ of the ‘V’ is above the naked pussy. Yes, what is being offered for sale is clearly on display, nothing hidden. Wearing a corset was a given, the ones merely supporting the breasts were favourite. The lace up bodice of the dress had become over time deliberately too small to cover a great deal. Essentially what is for sale is on view, the whore’s ‘shop window’ for all to admire and bargain with…

I stop bahis şirketleri talking and pour us another glass of wine each. I look at you. You are clearly digesting everything I have said. After a short period of time you open your mouth to speak but I stop you. “I have more to say mistress, it won’t take long. You now know about the world of sex I live in. I must tell you about YOU in the world of sex in that place should you choose to come to the Tavern.”

My world of sex is one thing, you turning up in it is another, and I have reason to worry. The obvious concern you would think is you being recognised, but as it is this was the least of my concerns. The fact is very few of the workers who work on the estate and drink in the Tavern would know you. They simply never see you. Even if they did see you, such as at the village party, they could not imagine the mistress of the Manor turning up at the Tavern selling sex. It would not register.

No, my worries are you and the impact on the Tavern when you walk through the door… A new face in the Tavern is always welcome and accepted, but you would make a huge impact…

How can I put it; a lot of the menfolk have no education, cannot read or write, but they do know a woman of breeding and class when they see one. Your skin and look will have a freshness and glow that we do not expect to see in anyone but those who have the wealth to enjoy the finer things in life. Your hair is clean and has a sheen that other tavern girls will only envy.

But all men and women would be instantly drawn to your perfect bald pussy being such a rarely seen delight… The wenches would be envious of you. A challenge from a well-bred beauty they have no chance to compete against. They would wonder why such an evidently class lady had turned up here and not at the Inn where your type would normally ply their trade. More than that why not up at the manor! You might not be aware of it but your father, through intermediaries will lay on ‘entertainment’ after shooting and hunting events. If your father enjoyed the temptations of the flesh, I have no idea, but it was expected practice the host supplied woman as part of the day’s events. Women of certain social mores were wanted across the class divide.

As for the men, they would make their intent and desire very clear with what they want with you. They would be very vocal and direct. Their idea of respect is the amount money they are prepared to spend. Some I know would gladly pay just to touch your bald pussy, such a rarity as I previously mentioned. Some will expect to sample the ‘goods’ before declaring what they want and how much they have to pay. Others would simply grab you as you move around the table displaying your ‘merchandise’. The working women have to be strong to keep their wits about them. They were also very smart at fleecing the men especially as they get drunk. At the end of the night, they walk away with more money than the men left to go home with!

I finally stop talking and take another large mouth of wine and look at you again. Throughout my monologue you have stared intently at me, taking in every word and explanation, and yet not once does your expression change. Now looking at you in the flickering candlelight, you seem slightly flushed but that might be the wine.

“So, mistress that is the world of the Tavern. We who go there see it as all normal, but to an outsider begging your pardon mistress, well I don’t know what they will make of it. Of course, if you still want to experience the Tavern, I will be there to make sure you are protected and nothing to outrageous happens to you, but remember you will be seen as a working wench and will be treated as such”.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I finally get to the question I want to ask.

“So, mistress I have done my best to explain the place to you. Do you still want to go the Tavern?”

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