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Cruxton Abbey

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Wragg

Wragg

Chronicler of Crux
Staff member
Part 1: Cruxton Abbey, August 1912

With some trepidation, Paulson rang the dinner gong for the evening meal. At least, he reflected, it was just the family this evening, if it had been a larger affair with guests, there would have been hell to pay.

The family processed in to the dining room. The Right Honourable Robert Sciuridan, the sixth Earl of Rattington, escorting his mother, Violet, the Dowager Countess. Behind him his wife, Eulalia, Countess of Rattington, and his eldest daughter, the Lady Barbara, and then his two youngest daughters, the Lady Erin and the Lady Melissa.

Paulson followed them in, accompanied by two footmen, Thomas and James.

The family were seated, with due ceremony, then Paulson stood to attention behind Eulalia, and coughed gently. “If it please your Ladyship...”

“Yes, Paulson?”

“I regret to inform you, my lady, of an enforced change to this evening’s menu. I fear that the planned Coburg pudding has been spoiled, and that we have had to substitute a simple King Charles II Syllabub.”

“Spoiled, Paulson? How?”

“Unfortunately, my lady, the kitchen maid failed to give it her due attention and I fear it was burned in the oven. Mrs Fridges, the cook, is beside herself!”

The Earl chipped in. “I say, Paulson, this is most irregular! It’s all very well for today; I’m sure we can rough it with a bowl of syllabub, but tomorrow we have guests! His excellency the Brazilian Ambassador, and His highness Prince Shevak of Yuwait, heir to the Sultan of Yuwait! We couldn’t possibly present them with Syllabub!”

“Indeed not, your Lordship, I am very sorry, sir. Please accept my assurances that the miscreant maid is being dealt with.”

The Dowager put down her lorgnettes, through which she had been regarding the menu card with some disfavour, and pierced him with a glare. “In my day, she’d have been horsewhipped for such a crime!”
Paulson bowed. “Your ladyship, I understand that Mrs Evans, the housekeeper, is administering a very similar punishment at this very moment.”

The Lady Barbara smiled, wondering if she could invent some pretext by which she could go and observe proceedings. Sadly, she could not, so she contented herself with picturing it in her imagination as she allowed James to place a bowl of consommé in front of her.
 
Blaire howled as the whip cracked across her naked buttocks for what felt like the thousandth time. By God, the Dark Princess is on form tonight, she reflected bitterly. All the junior serving staff called Brangwen Evans, the housekeeper, that, from her habit of always wearing long black dresses, her imperious manner, and her fearsome administration of justice. Some said she even kept Mr Paulson to heel with her riding crop.

She wasn’t finished yet. “What on earth where you day dreaming about, girl?” she demanded. “If it was some layabout boy from the village, you’ll be out! Come on, tell me, there’s more where this comes from!” Mrs Evans administered another crack of the whip.

“Owwwww! I wasn’t daydreaming about any boys! I don’t know any boys! How can I? You make me work from dawn till dusk! I’m just the cook’s slave! I could never get out of this house to meet any boys, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

“Insolent girl!” Crack!

There was no way Blaire was going to tell her who she was really daydreaming about. Roxie, the parlourmaid, with whom she shared her simple twin bedded bedroom right up in the attic. Roxie, the sweetest, sexiest, loveliest human being on the planet. Roxie, who had taught her more about love, sex, and about her own body in the last six weeks than she’d learned in the previous twenty years of her life! But it was their secret, and it had to stay secret!

So she made up some story about how she’d been thinking back to playing in the meadows when she had been a child, and Brangwen, being convinced anyway that Blaire was a dreamy girl whose mind was never on the job, swallowed that without difficulty. So she administered a couple more gentle flicks of the whip, as she thought (a view not shared by the howling Blaire), and then packed her off to clean the stove thoroughly before bedtime.

It was gone eleven before Mrs Fridges and Mrs Evans pronounced themselves satisfied with the stove, which in Blaire’s opinion now shone brighter than when it was first delivered fifteen years ago!
 
Mr Paulson was sitting in his office, polishing some brass before retiring for the night. Mrs Evans brought him some cocoa, and also had a cup for herself.

“Oh! That is kind of you, Mrs Evans! I must say, this is very welcome after a long hard day. Do sit down.”

She sat. “Honestly, that girl Blaire! She will be the death of me! She was just sat there, gazing out of the window, completely oblivious to the smoke rising from the oven! Poor Mrs Fridges, I really thought she’d have an apoplectic fit! She poured her life and soul into that Coburg pudding!”

Mr Paulson ignored the hyperbole, he had problems of his own. “I thought that the Dowager was going to spear me with her lorgnettes!” he declared, heading into hyperbolic regions himself. “I do hope that you have, erm, encouraged Blaire not to repeat the misdemeanour?”

“We had words, which I reinforced with a few taps from my crop. Mustn’t spare the rod and spoil the child, must we?”

Mr Paulson licked his lips. “Indeed not, Mrs Evans.” He sipped his cocoa. “And we must keep your right arm in good form!”

She winked at him. “There is nothing wrong with my right arm, or with any other part of me, Mr Paulson.”

He gazed at her, admiringly. “I can see that, Mrs Evans!”
 
Blaire climbed the back stairs somewhat stiffly, and wasn’t surprised to find that Roxie was already in bed by that time.

But she wasn’t asleep.

“Oh Blaire! Tanda told me that you got the most awful thrashing from DP! Are you all right?”

“Not really, Roxie, I’m dreadfully sore!”

“Oh, Blaire, let me see!”

She emerged from her bed. Neither Roxie nor Blaire bothered with nightdresses in August and Blaire felt the moisture start to flow as she saw Roxie’s body in the candlelight.

Roxie undressed Blaire carefully, taking care not to rub her raw backside with any clothes, and then Blaire lay, face down, on her bed. Roxie was weeping, and a tear fell onto Blaire’s bottom.

“Ow! Roxie, I appreciate your tears, but they do sting when they drip onto my bum!”

“Oh, my poor Blaire! They say you burned the pudding. What were you thinking of?”

“Not ‘what’, Roxie, ‘who’. You of course! I was remembering last night!”

“Well, you’ll be much too sore for a repeat performance tonight!”

“Wanna bet?” Blaire knelt up, and reached around the back of Roxie’s head, and drew her lips to hers. For a while there was silence, as their tongues twisted and danced around each other’s mouths. Roxie loved the taste of Blaire, and she loved the look of Blaire, her slim, athletic body really turned her on. And Blaire never seemed to run out of energy – no matter how hard Mrs Fridges had been driving her in the kitchen all day, she always had energy to spare for Roxie.

Soon Roxie was moaning, quietly so as not to be overheard from an adjoining room, as Blaire’s tongue and teeth transferred to her breast and nipple, while her fingers caressed the other. Not that Roxie’s own fingers were passive, and one hand was on one of Blaire’s breasts, while the other gently caressed the small of Blaire’s back, just above her sore backside. This position brought her mouth close to Blaire’s ear, sometimes she nibbled at it gently, and sometimes she whispered phrases like ‘Oh, Blaire, you are SO gorgeous!’ into it.

Blaire eased Roxie down onto her bed, then reached up and released her own hair, shaking her head so that her long hair cascaded down over her shoulders like an auburn waterfall, glowing in the candlelight. Roxie loved Blaire’s hair and she arched her back in erotic ecstasy as Blaire allowed it to fall, like soft rain, onto Roxie’s breasts, then she began to kiss down Roxie’s abdomen, pausing for a while at her navel, before her tongue began to explore among her labia, finding the clitoris, and beginning to tease it.

Then it was gone! Roxie slid out from beneath Blaire, turned around, and slid back in, head first. In moments her pussy was back in front of Blaire’s mouth, but as she resumed her cunnilingus, she could feel Roxie’s tongue on her own clitoris. Gently moaning, communicating by the arching of their backs and the movements of each pelvis, both Roxie and Blaire instinctively knew the level of arousal of the other, movements of tongues now firm, now gentle, each carrying the other up that mountain of pleasure, until, with simultaneous pulsings of orgasmic joy, they arrived at the summit within a second of each other.

Roxie turned around again, and Blaire nuzzled against her, semi prone, one hand still caressing Roxie’s breast, until they both fell into a deep sleep, Blaire’s in particular was far deeper and more satisfying than it would otherwise have been, filled as it was with Sapphic dreams of her sexy, lovely, wonderful Roxie.
 
Wragg134 said:
Part 1: Cruxton Abbey, August 1912

With some trepidation, Paulson rang the dinner gong for the evening meal. At least, he reflected, it was just the family this evening, if it had been a larger affair with guests, there would have been hell to pay.

The family processed in to the dining room. The Right Honourable Robert Sciuridan, the sixth Earl of Rattington, escorting his mother, Violet, the Dowager Countess. Behind him his wife, Eulalia, Countess of Rattington, and his eldest daughter, the Lady Barbara, and then his two youngest daughters, the Lady Erin and the Lady Melissa.

Paulson followed them in, accompanied by two footmen, Thomas and James.

The family were seated, with due ceremony, then Paulson stood to attention behind Eulalia, and coughed gently. “If it please your Ladyship...”

“Yes, Paulson?”

“I regret to inform you, my lady, of an enforced change to this evening’s menu. I fear that the planned Coburg pudding has been spoiled, and that we have had to substitute a simple King Charles II Syllabub.”

“Spoiled, Paulson? How?”

“Unfortunately, my lady, the kitchen maid failed to give it her due attention and I fear it was burned in the oven. Mrs Fridges, the cook, is beside herself!”

The Earl chipped in. “I say, Paulson, this is most irregular! It’s all very well for today; I’m sure we can rough it with a bowl of syllabub, but tomorrow we have guests! His excellency the Brazilian Ambassador, and His highness Prince Shevak of Yuwait, heir to the Sultan of Yuwait! We couldn’t possibly present them with Syllabub!”

“Indeed not, your Lordship, I am very sorry, sir. Please accept my assurances that the miscreant maid is being dealt with.”

The Dowager put down her lorgnettes, through which she had been regarding the menu card with some disfavour, and pierced him with a glare. “In my day, she’d have been horsewhipped for such a crime!”
Paulson bowed. “Your ladyship, I understand that Mrs Evans, the housekeeper, is administering a very similar punishment at this very moment.”

The Lady Barbara smiled, wondering if she could invent some pretext by which she could go and observe proceedings. Sadly, she could not, so she contented herself with picturing it in her imagination as she allowed James to place a bowl of consommé in front of her.
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Too clever for comment at this point.
 
Oh good lord Wragg! I don't know who else could make me laugh hysterically while wincing in imaginary pain and soaked from not so imaginary lust!:devil: What a fantastic little story! I would very much like to see it continue!:p I'm glad my cycling coach doesn't take lessons from Head housekeeper Evans!:eek: Course I also wish I had a roommate like Roxie...:D
 
cxslave said:
Oh good lord Wragg! I don't know who else could make me laugh hysterically while wincing in imaginary pain and soaked from not so imaginary lust!:devil: What a fantastic little story! I would very much like to see it continue!:p I'm glad my cycling coach doesn't take lessons from Head housekeeper Evans!:eek: Course I also wish I had a roommate like Roxie...:D
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I really should leave you and Roxie alone, but, you know how it is, Wragg has problems with his imagination :eek::rolleyes:
 
Wragg134 said:
I really should leave you and Roxie alone, but, you know how it is, Wragg has problems with his imagination :eek::rolleyes:
Click to expand...

Since when having a mind full of a heaving, writhing, caressing, sighing, moaning, bucking, gasping hot sweaty pair of beauties such as Roxie and Blaire making mad passionate love in the front room of your imagination been a problem? :devil:
 
RacingRodent said:
Since when having a mind full of a heaving, writhing, caressing, sighing, moaning, bucking, gasping hot sweaty pair of beauties such as Roxie and Blaire making mad passionate love in the front room of your imagination been a problem? :devil:
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Maybe it's something I can come to terms with, since you put it that way ;)
 
"The Lady Barbara smiled, wondering if she could invent some pretext by which she could go and observe proceedings. Sadly, she could not, so she contented herself with picturing it in her imagination as she allowed James to place a bowl of consommé in front of her."

Oh what a vivid imagination I have!:rolleyes:;):D
 
Barbaria1 said:
"The Lady Barbara smiled, wondering if she could invent some pretext by which she could go and observe proceedings. Sadly, she could not, so she contented herself with picturing it in her imagination as she allowed James to place a bowl of consommé in front of her."

Oh what a vivid imagination I have!:rolleyes:;):D
Click to expand...
We all know how much Lady Barbara enjoys seeing Blaire on the receiving end of a good whipping...:rolleyes:
 
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