Cruxton Abbey

[Loxuru]

I’d love you to try out my two-person rack!”

A fine Christmas tale, Wragg!

Enjoy the double rack, Santa brought you!

And a merry Christmas!

 

[Jollyrei]

And together they cried, as the rack pulled them tight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Surely destined to be a new CruxForums Christmas classic.
Wassail!

 

[Barbaria1]

The serving maids, lightly dressed though they habitually were, sported holly sprigs in their hair, bright red g-strings, and festive tassels on their nipples.

G-stings and tassels? Geeze!!!

Today he was content to sit quietly, admiring the view, as with unerring precision she dispensed a glass of claret without spilling a single drop.

I’ve learned a lot by experience in service at Cruxton Abbey. Spill a drop and it’s the dungeon for you.

Task completed, she straightened up, tassels swinging enticingly

I’m such a tease when I want to be …

His Gropiness

And together they cried, as the rack pulled them tight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

A Christmas to remember. Loved it, Wragg!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

 

[E-DigitalFantasy]

There was nowhere in all England as festive as Cruxton Abbey at Christmas. From the gloriously lit gardens, past the forty foot tall fully decorated tree in the great hallway, and into any room you pleased to visit all was a merry blaze of colours and bells which could not fail to warm the coldest of hearts.

The serving maids, lightly dressed though they habitually were, sported holly sprigs in their hair, bright red g-strings, and festive tassels on their nipples. Even Lord Wragg smiled as Barbara approached him with a silver salver upon which was yet another holly sprig, an empty glass and a full decanter of claret.

Full of yuletide cheer on Christmas Eve, his Lordship nevertheless refrained from whacking her tight little, which always forced her to spill the claret and thus give him an excuse to cart her off to the dungeons. Today he was content to sit quietly, admiring the view, as with unerring precision she dispensed a glass of claret without spilling a single drop.

Task completed, she straightened up, tassels swinging enticingly, and regarded him suspiciously.

“Are you quite well, milord?” she enquired.

“I am perfectly fine, thank you, Barbara.” He raised his glass, inspected the claret critically, then, finding it to his liking, he wished her a very Merry Christmas, before sipping it appreciatively.

“And to you, too, milord.” Barb bowed, and withdrew decorously to the kitchen, where she found Alice industriously peeling potatoes ready for tomorrow’s dinner. Alice expertly flicked a stray piece of potato peel off her own nipple tassel, then looked up as Barb entered.

She saw the puzzled expression on Barb’s face. “What’s up, Barb?”

“I just served His Gropiness with a glass of Claret in the library and he never even glanced at my tight little, let alone whack it as usual.” She turned so that Alice could study that part of her anatomy, which, clad only in the aft parts of a G-string, was perfectly adequately displayed. “Does my bum look big in this?” she asked, with concern.

View attachment 1406952

It was Alice’s professional opinion that Barb had by far the finest hindquarters ever sat upon by woman, and a critical inspection revealed not one jot of deterioration. “No, Barb. It, like the rest of you, is looking wonderful.”

“I do hope he’s not ill.” Barb looked worried. “I mean, I know he’s a miserable randy old git, but I wouldn’t wish misfortune upon him, especially not at Christmas.”

Just at that moment, the bell from the library rang. Alice dried her hands and checked herself in the mirror. “I’ll go,” she said. “I always end up in his lap whenever I go to him.”

So Barb took over the potatoes, and Alice headed to the library.

“You rang, milord?”

“Ah, Alice!” he gazed at her appreciatively enough over the top of his glasses. “I find myself feeling a little peckish. I wondered if you might bring me a bowl of nuts?”

“Very good, milord.” Mystified, Alice bowed, and withdrew.

“He just wants a bowl of nuts,” she reported to Barb.

“What, he didn’t want you to sit on his lap?”

“Nope. Just asked for nuts and that was it,” replied Alice, pouring some assorted nuts into a bone china bowl.

“Well, take him those, and I’ll see you in an hour,” Barb winked knowingly.

Back in the library, Alice approached His Lordship.

“Your nuts, milord.” She always enjoyed saying that.

She placed the bowl on the table beside him, then alluringly leaned across him to fetch the nutcracker nearer. Her nipple tassel was barely inches from his nose, which was also within the almost visible cloud of her perfume, but nevertheless she retrieved the nutcracker and set it up beside him without incident.

He took the nutcracker himself and happily cracked open a walnut.

“Thank you, Alice,” he said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, sir… Err, will there be anything else?”

“No thank you, Alice, these nuts are perfectly satisfactory.”

“Very good, milord.”

Back in the kitchen, Alice was completely nonplussed. “That’s it.” she said. “He’s gone off his trolley.”

“I thought you were back quick! What, didn’t he even touch you, either?”

“No.. he looked at me happily enough, but that was it. I practically waved my boobs in his face, but all I got was ‘thank you Alice, Merry Christmas.’”

“We’re doomed,” said Barb. “I’d better start looking for another job.”

“Me too, but I’ll never find one as good as this. And we’d never find somewhere where we could work together..” Alice had tears in her eyes.

Just then, Briggs, the butler, came in.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kiss, Miss Moore.”

“Good afternoon, Mr Briggs,” they chorused.

“Are you all right, ladies? You seem a little edgy?”

“We’re worried about His Lordship,” announced Barb.

“He’s just not himself today!” added Alice.

“In what way is he ‘not himself’? He was every inch Lord Wragg when I parted from him, not twenty minutes ago!”

“He’s not as… friendly as usual,” stated Barb, trying to be diplomatic.

“Has he been discourteous in some manner?” Briggs raised an eyebrow. It didn’t seem to him to be in the least unusual for Lord Wragg to be discourteous.

“No, just less, um, attentive.” Barb felt she was beginning to struggle rather.

Briggs gazed at her without the slightest sign of comprehension. Excellent butler though he was, he never had and never would understand the serving girls. They were something of an alien species to him. “Miss Moore, I fear that I do not have the faintest idea what you mean. Please accept my assurance that His Lordship is in perfectly robust health, and you need have no concerns on that score. I suggest that you both get on with your tasks!”

Barb gave up. “Very good, Mr Briggs.” She turned her attention to the spuds and bashed them thoroughly. Alice set to work on the parsnips.

Eventually, Briggs had done whatever it was that he had come to the kitchen to do and he departed.

“Fat lot of good he was,” grumbled Alice.

“Wrong kind of chromosomes,” agreed Barb. “We need Eulalia. She will know!”

Eulalia was Lady Wragg’s Lady in Waiting, and there was nothing that she didn’t know about the Earl and Countess of Cruxton, nor indeed about anything else that was worth knowing.

“She’ll be here at three for her tea!” Eulalia was as reliable as clockwork.

At five to three Alice made sure that the kettle was boiling, and she had the tea poured just as the Westminster chimes were sounding from the grandfather clock in the hall. True to form, Eulalia entered on the stroke of the hour.

“Hullo, Alice! Hullo, Barb! Oh! Tea! Thank you!” Eulalia always seemed both surprised and grateful to find tea awaiting her, even though she would wonder if the earth had ceased to revolve upon its axis if it wasn’t there.

Alice passed her a freshly baked mince pie. “Eul, can we ask you something?”

“You don’t need to. You are wondering if Lord Wragg is quite well?”

Barb and Alice goggled at her in shock. “How did you know?”

“Well, unless I am much mistaken, Barb’s tight little has remained unslapped and Alice has not been required to spend an hour sat in his lap?”

“Exactly, Eul! Barb’s been all ready to start scanning the ‘Situations Vacant’ columns in ‘The Lady’”

“Oh, don’t do that, Barb. Your job’s perfectly safe. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see what, and when?” Barb was intrigued.

But that was all that Eulalia had to say on the subject, and nothing more could be extracted from her on the subject from then until bedtime, leaving Barb and Alice seething with curiosity – especially after they had served his Lordship with five courses at dinner, and not even the after dinner port and cigars brought the slightest reaction from Lord Wragg, other than polite ‘thank yous’ and ‘that will be alls’.

So to bed they went none the wiser.





T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the Abbey

Not a creature was stirring, even Wragg wasn’t crabby

When, just before dawn, there came a great shout

And nobody knew what the fuss was about!

From the dungeons at Cruxton came cries of great glee

So Barb’ra, unwisely, rushed straight down to see

With Alice behind her she rushed down the stair

They were shocked to discover what greeted them there!

A large new contraption, created from wood

Delivered by Santa ‘cos Wragg had been good;

And Wraggy was flowing with deep Christmas joy

So thoroughly chuffed with his new Christmas toy!

And they knew he was back – that Lord Wragg of old

The moment he saw them, they heard themselves told:

“Come Barb’ra, come Alice – lay down on your back

I’d love you to try out my two-person rack!”

They took off their nightwear, they knew that they should

(For maids in the dungeon must always be nude.)

They lay down as bid, for they were good girls

As the rack was adjusted, the ropes were unfurled;

They did not complain as he fitted the tether

Then turning the ratchet they both stretched together!

And together they cried, as the rack pulled them tight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

There was nowhere in all England as festive as Cruxton Abbey at Christmas. From the gloriously lit gardens, past the forty foot tall fully decorated tree in the great hallway, and into any room you pleased to visit all was a merry blaze of colours and bells which could not fail to warm the coldest of hearts.

The serving maids, lightly dressed though they habitually were, sported holly sprigs in their hair, bright red g-strings, and festive tassels on their nipples. Even Lord Wragg smiled as Barbara approached him with a silver salver upon which was yet another holly sprig, an empty glass and a full decanter of claret.

Full of yuletide cheer on Christmas Eve, his Lordship nevertheless refrained from whacking her tight little, which always forced her to spill the claret and thus give him an excuse to cart her off to the dungeons. Today he was content to sit quietly, admiring the view, as with unerring precision she dispensed a glass of claret without spilling a single drop.

Task completed, she straightened up, tassels swinging enticingly, and regarded him suspiciously.

“Are you quite well, milord?” she enquired.

“I am perfectly fine, thank you, Barbara.” He raised his glass, inspected the claret critically, then, finding it to his liking, he wished her a very Merry Christmas, before sipping it appreciatively.

“And to you, too, milord.” Barb bowed, and withdrew decorously to the kitchen, where she found Alice industriously peeling potatoes ready for tomorrow’s dinner. Alice expertly flicked a stray piece of potato peel off her own nipple tassel, then looked up as Barb entered.

She saw the puzzled expression on Barb’s face. “What’s up, Barb?”

“I just served His Gropiness with a glass of Claret in the library and he never even glanced at my tight little, let alone whack it as usual.” She turned so that Alice could study that part of her anatomy, which, clad only in the aft parts of a G-string, was perfectly adequately displayed. “Does my bum look big in this?” she asked, with concern.

View attachment 1406952

It was Alice’s professional opinion that Barb had by far the finest hindquarters ever sat upon by woman, and a critical inspection revealed not one jot of deterioration. “No, Barb. It, like the rest of you, is looking wonderful.”

“I do hope he’s not ill.” Barb looked worried. “I mean, I know he’s a miserable randy old git, but I wouldn’t wish misfortune upon him, especially not at Christmas.”

Just at that moment, the bell from the library rang. Alice dried her hands and checked herself in the mirror. “I’ll go,” she said. “I always end up in his lap whenever I go to him.”

So Barb took over the potatoes, and Alice headed to the library.

“You rang, milord?”

“Ah, Alice!” he gazed at her appreciatively enough over the top of his glasses. “I find myself feeling a little peckish. I wondered if you might bring me a bowl of nuts?”

“Very good, milord.” Mystified, Alice bowed, and withdrew.

“He just wants a bowl of nuts,” she reported to Barb.

“What, he didn’t want you to sit on his lap?”

“Nope. Just asked for nuts and that was it,” replied Alice, pouring some assorted nuts into a bone china bowl.

“Well, take him those, and I’ll see you in an hour,” Barb winked knowingly.

Back in the library, Alice approached His Lordship.

“Your nuts, milord.” She always enjoyed saying that.

She placed the bowl on the table beside him, then alluringly leaned across him to fetch the nutcracker nearer. Her nipple tassel was barely inches from his nose, which was also within the almost visible cloud of her perfume, but nevertheless she retrieved the nutcracker and set it up beside him without incident.

He took the nutcracker himself and happily cracked open a walnut.

“Thank you, Alice,” he said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, sir… Err, will there be anything else?”

“No thank you, Alice, these nuts are perfectly satisfactory.”

“Very good, milord.”

Back in the kitchen, Alice was completely nonplussed. “That’s it.” she said. “He’s gone off his trolley.”

“I thought you were back quick! What, didn’t he even touch you, either?”

“No.. he looked at me happily enough, but that was it. I practically waved my boobs in his face, but all I got was ‘thank you Alice, Merry Christmas.’”

“We’re doomed,” said Barb. “I’d better start looking for another job.”

“Me too, but I’ll never find one as good as this. And we’d never find somewhere where we could work together..” Alice had tears in her eyes.

Just then, Briggs, the butler, came in.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kiss, Miss Moore.”

“Good afternoon, Mr Briggs,” they chorused.

“Are you all right, ladies? You seem a little edgy?”

“We’re worried about His Lordship,” announced Barb.

“He’s just not himself today!” added Alice.

“In what way is he ‘not himself’? He was every inch Lord Wragg when I parted from him, not twenty minutes ago!”

“He’s not as… friendly as usual,” stated Barb, trying to be diplomatic.

“Has he been discourteous in some manner?” Briggs raised an eyebrow. It didn’t seem to him to be in the least unusual for Lord Wragg to be discourteous.

“No, just less, um, attentive.” Barb felt she was beginning to struggle rather.

Briggs gazed at her without the slightest sign of comprehension. Excellent butler though he was, he never had and never would understand the serving girls. They were something of an alien species to him. “Miss Moore, I fear that I do not have the faintest idea what you mean. Please accept my assurance that His Lordship is in perfectly robust health, and you need have no concerns on that score. I suggest that you both get on with your tasks!”

Barb gave up. “Very good, Mr Briggs.” She turned her attention to the spuds and bashed them thoroughly. Alice set to work on the parsnips.

Eventually, Briggs had done whatever it was that he had come to the kitchen to do and he departed.

“Fat lot of good he was,” grumbled Alice.

“Wrong kind of chromosomes,” agreed Barb. “We need Eulalia. She will know!”

Eulalia was Lady Wragg’s Lady in Waiting, and there was nothing that she didn’t know about the Earl and Countess of Cruxton, nor indeed about anything else that was worth knowing.

“She’ll be here at three for her tea!” Eulalia was as reliable as clockwork.

At five to three Alice made sure that the kettle was boiling, and she had the tea poured just as the Westminster chimes were sounding from the grandfather clock in the hall. True to form, Eulalia entered on the stroke of the hour.

“Hullo, Alice! Hullo, Barb! Oh! Tea! Thank you!” Eulalia always seemed both surprised and grateful to find tea awaiting her, even though she would wonder if the earth had ceased to revolve upon its axis if it wasn’t there.

Alice passed her a freshly baked mince pie. “Eul, can we ask you something?”

“You don’t need to. You are wondering if Lord Wragg is quite well?”

Barb and Alice goggled at her in shock. “How did you know?”

“Well, unless I am much mistaken, Barb’s tight little has remained unslapped and Alice has not been required to spend an hour sat in his lap?”

“Exactly, Eul! Barb’s been all ready to start scanning the ‘Situations Vacant’ columns in ‘The Lady’”

“Oh, don’t do that, Barb. Your job’s perfectly safe. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see what, and when?” Barb was intrigued.

But that was all that Eulalia had to say on the subject, and nothing more could be extracted from her on the subject from then until bedtime, leaving Barb and Alice seething with curiosity – especially after they had served his Lordship with five courses at dinner, and not even the after dinner port and cigars brought the slightest reaction from Lord Wragg, other than polite ‘thank yous’ and ‘that will be alls’.

So to bed they went none the wiser.





T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the Abbey

Not a creature was stirring, even Wragg wasn’t crabby

When, just before dawn, there came a great shout

And nobody knew what the fuss was about!

From the dungeons at Cruxton came cries of great glee

So Barb’ra, unwisely, rushed straight down to see

With Alice behind her she rushed down the stair

They were shocked to discover what greeted them there!

A large new contraption, created from wood

Delivered by Santa ‘cos Wragg had been good;

And Wraggy was flowing with deep Christmas joy

So thoroughly chuffed with his new Christmas toy!

And they knew he was back – that Lord Wragg of old

The moment he saw them, they heard themselves told:

“Come Barb’ra, come Alice – lay down on your back

I’d love you to try out my two-person rack!”

They took off their nightwear, they knew that they should

(For maids in the dungeon must always be nude.)

They lay down as bid, for they were good girls

As the rack was adjusted, the ropes were unfurled;

They did not complain as he fitted the tether

Then turning the ratchet they both stretched together!

And together they cried, as the rack pulled them tight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

View attachment 1406953

A wonderful Christmas tale Lord Gropiness Have fun with your double rack Lord Wragg. I have a feeling you will be showcasing it at your New Year's Eve party.

 

[twonines]

Now, Lord Wragg is not feeling crabby,
His new rack, he finds far from shabby.
Soon , Alice and Moore
Will be on it, for sure,
Their cries ringing round Cruxton Abbey.

 

[Barbaria1]

Alice and I are stretched out tight
We accept being racked without a fight
Because Wragg is our Lord
We endure rack and board
To humor his whims is our delight

(Happens every Christmas)

 

[Wragg]

(Happens every Christmas)

Oh I wish it could be Christmas ev'ry da--ay!

 

[Barbaria1]

Nothing to gain were we to fight
To torture us is Lord Wragg’s right
As service girls we do
Our sexual slavery rue
Somehow it doesn’t seem quite right

 

[Wragg]

Somehow it doesn’t seem quite right

Really?

But... but... it would be a crying shame not to use that double rack, and it means you can always have company beside you! I thought you'd love it!

I'd hate you to be feeling all lonely and unloved as you suffer!

 

[Quiet Paul]

There was nowhere in all England as festive as Cruxton Abbey at Christmas. From the gloriously lit gardens, past the forty foot tall fully decorated tree in the great hallway, and into any room you pleased to visit all was a merry blaze of colours and bells which could not fail to warm the coldest of hearts.

The serving maids, lightly dressed though they habitually were, sported holly sprigs in their hair, bright red g-strings, and festive tassels on their nipples. Even Lord Wragg smiled as Barbara approached him with a silver salver upon which was yet another holly sprig, an empty glass and a full decanter of claret.

Full of yuletide cheer on Christmas Eve, his Lordship nevertheless refrained from whacking her tight little, which always forced her to spill the claret and thus give him an excuse to cart her off to the dungeons. Today he was content to sit quietly, admiring the view, as with unerring precision she dispensed a glass of claret without spilling a single drop.

Task completed, she straightened up, tassels swinging enticingly, and regarded him suspiciously.

“Are you quite well, milord?” she enquired.

“I am perfectly fine, thank you, Barbara.” He raised his glass, inspected the claret critically, then, finding it to his liking, he wished her a very Merry Christmas, before sipping it appreciatively.

“And to you, too, milord.” Barb bowed, and withdrew decorously to the kitchen, where she found Alice industriously peeling potatoes ready for tomorrow’s dinner. Alice expertly flicked a stray piece of potato peel off her own nipple tassel, then looked up as Barb entered.

She saw the puzzled expression on Barb’s face. “What’s up, Barb?”

“I just served His Gropiness with a glass of Claret in the library and he never even glanced at my tight little, let alone whack it as usual.” She turned so that Alice could study that part of her anatomy, which, clad only in the aft parts of a G-string, was perfectly adequately displayed. “Does my bum look big in this?” she asked, with concern.

View attachment 1406952

It was Alice’s professional opinion that Barb had by far the finest hindquarters ever sat upon by woman, and a critical inspection revealed not one jot of deterioration. “No, Barb. It, like the rest of you, is looking wonderful.”

“I do hope he’s not ill.” Barb looked worried. “I mean, I know he’s a miserable randy old git, but I wouldn’t wish misfortune upon him, especially not at Christmas.”

Just at that moment, the bell from the library rang. Alice dried her hands and checked herself in the mirror. “I’ll go,” she said. “I always end up in his lap whenever I go to him.”

So Barb took over the potatoes, and Alice headed to the library.

“You rang, milord?”

“Ah, Alice!” he gazed at her appreciatively enough over the top of his glasses. “I find myself feeling a little peckish. I wondered if you might bring me a bowl of nuts?”

“Very good, milord.” Mystified, Alice bowed, and withdrew.

“He just wants a bowl of nuts,” she reported to Barb.

“What, he didn’t want you to sit on his lap?”

“Nope. Just asked for nuts and that was it,” replied Alice, pouring some assorted nuts into a bone china bowl.

“Well, take him those, and I’ll see you in an hour,” Barb winked knowingly.

Back in the library, Alice approached His Lordship.

“Your nuts, milord.” She always enjoyed saying that.

She placed the bowl on the table beside him, then alluringly leaned across him to fetch the nutcracker nearer. Her nipple tassel was barely inches from his nose, which was also within the almost visible cloud of her perfume, but nevertheless she retrieved the nutcracker and set it up beside him without incident.

He took the nutcracker himself and happily cracked open a walnut.

“Thank you, Alice,” he said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, sir… Err, will there be anything else?”

“No thank you, Alice, these nuts are perfectly satisfactory.”

“Very good, milord.”

Back in the kitchen, Alice was completely nonplussed. “That’s it.” she said. “He’s gone off his trolley.”

“I thought you were back quick! What, didn’t he even touch you, either?”

“No.. he looked at me happily enough, but that was it. I practically waved my boobs in his face, but all I got was ‘thank you Alice, Merry Christmas.’”

“We’re doomed,” said Barb. “I’d better start looking for another job.”

“Me too, but I’ll never find one as good as this. And we’d never find somewhere where we could work together..” Alice had tears in her eyes.

Just then, Briggs, the butler, came in.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kiss, Miss Moore.”

“Good afternoon, Mr Briggs,” they chorused.

“Are you all right, ladies? You seem a little edgy?”

“We’re worried about His Lordship,” announced Barb.

“He’s just not himself today!” added Alice.

“In what way is he ‘not himself’? He was every inch Lord Wragg when I parted from him, not twenty minutes ago!”

“He’s not as… friendly as usual,” stated Barb, trying to be diplomatic.

“Has he been discourteous in some manner?” Briggs raised an eyebrow. It didn’t seem to him to be in the least unusual for Lord Wragg to be discourteous.

“No, just less, um, attentive.” Barb felt she was beginning to struggle rather.

Briggs gazed at her without the slightest sign of comprehension. Excellent butler though he was, he never had and never would understand the serving girls. They were something of an alien species to him. “Miss Moore, I fear that I do not have the faintest idea what you mean. Please accept my assurance that His Lordship is in perfectly robust health, and you need have no concerns on that score. I suggest that you both get on with your tasks!”

Barb gave up. “Very good, Mr Briggs.” She turned her attention to the spuds and bashed them thoroughly. Alice set to work on the parsnips.

Eventually, Briggs had done whatever it was that he had come to the kitchen to do and he departed.

“Fat lot of good he was,” grumbled Alice.

“Wrong kind of chromosomes,” agreed Barb. “We need Eulalia. She will know!”

Eulalia was Lady Wragg’s Lady in Waiting, and there was nothing that she didn’t know about the Earl and Countess of Cruxton, nor indeed about anything else that was worth knowing.

“She’ll be here at three for her tea!” Eulalia was as reliable as clockwork.

At five to three Alice made sure that the kettle was boiling, and she had the tea poured just as the Westminster chimes were sounding from the grandfather clock in the hall. True to form, Eulalia entered on the stroke of the hour.

“Hullo, Alice! Hullo, Barb! Oh! Tea! Thank you!” Eulalia always seemed both surprised and grateful to find tea awaiting her, even though she would wonder if the earth had ceased to revolve upon its axis if it wasn’t there.

Alice passed her a freshly baked mince pie. “Eul, can we ask you something?”

“You don’t need to. You are wondering if Lord Wragg is quite well?”

Barb and Alice goggled at her in shock. “How did you know?”

“Well, unless I am much mistaken, Barb’s tight little has remained unslapped and Alice has not been required to spend an hour sat in his lap?”

“Exactly, Eul! Barb’s been all ready to start scanning the ‘Situations Vacant’ columns in ‘The Lady’”

“Oh, don’t do that, Barb. Your job’s perfectly safe. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see what, and when?” Barb was intrigued.

But that was all that Eulalia had to say on the subject, and nothing more could be extracted from her on the subject from then until bedtime, leaving Barb and Alice seething with curiosity – especially after they had served his Lordship with five courses at dinner, and not even the after dinner port and cigars brought the slightest reaction from Lord Wragg, other than polite ‘thank yous’ and ‘that will be alls’.

So to bed they went none the wiser.





T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the Abbey

Not a creature was stirring, even Wragg wasn’t crabby

When, just before dawn, there came a great shout

And nobody knew what the fuss was about!

From the dungeons at Cruxton came cries of great glee

So Barb’ra, unwisely, rushed straight down to see

With Alice behind her she rushed down the stair

They were shocked to discover what greeted them there!

A large new contraption, created from wood

Delivered by Santa ‘cos Wragg had been good;

And Wraggy was flowing with deep Christmas joy

So thoroughly chuffed with his new Christmas toy!

And they knew he was back – that Lord Wragg of old

The moment he saw them, they heard themselves told:

“Come Barb’ra, come Alice – lay down on your back

I’d love you to try out my two-person rack!”

They took off their nightwear, they knew that they should

(For maids in the dungeon must always be nude.)

They lay down as bid, for they were good girls

As the rack was adjusted, the ropes were unfurled;

They did not complain as he fitted the tether

Then turning the ratchet they both stretched together!

And together they cried, as the rack pulled them tight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

View attachment 1406953

Standards are clearly being maintained at Cruxton Abbey. Such impressive attention to detail for the comfort of the female guests/inmates

 

[bobinder]

“I just served His Gropiness with a glass of Claret in the library and he never even glanced at my tight little, let alone whack it as usual.” She turned so that Alice could study that part of her anatomy, which, clad only in the aft parts of a G-string, was perfectly adequately displayed. “Does my bum look big in this?” she asked, with concern.

A highly entertaining tale for a long winter night, featuring Alice and Barb. I don't know how many stories you have written with Barb as a character, but this is probably your fifth story to include Alice, and the first in which she is not crucified by the Romans. However, she does not escape justice entirely unscathed, being racked on his Lordship's new, adjustable, king size bed.

This charming tale of life above and below stairs at Cruxton is illustrated in the author's characteristic style, employing Femjoy sources for Alice. Initially, the two maids are neatly inserted just beyond the table in the kitchen, pending their subsequent finale together on the rack, which is ably manipulated by its new owner. His Lordship seems to be modelled by Christopher Lee (?) and if so, the Hammer Studio connection is quite appropriate. Altogether very nice work, thank you, Lord Wragg, and Happy Christmas everybody!

Incidentally, there is another version of the kitchen scene, which includes all three of the main characters - but the 'hide and seek' theme implies that we are witnessing the events following the delivery of the rack...

(Image hosted on DeviantArt Sta.sh. Full size picture - https://sta.sh/01m7wvh8dytj )​

 

[Wragg]

A highly entertaining tale for a long winter night, featuring Alice and Barb. I don't know how many stories you have written with Barb as a character, but this is probably your fifth story to include Alice, and the first in which she is not crucified by the Romans. However, she does not escape justice entirely unscathed, being racked on his Lordship's new, adjustable, king size bed.

This charming tale of life above and below stairs at Cruxton is illustrated in the author's characteristic style, employing Femjoy sources for Alice. Initially, the two maids are neatly inserted just beyond the table in the kitchen, pending their subsequent finale together on the rack, which is ably manipulated by its new owner. His Lordship seems to be modelled by Christopher Lee (?) and if so, the Hammer Studio connection is quite appropriate. Altogether very nice work, thank you, Lord Wragg, and Happy Christmas everybody!

Incidentally, there is another version of the kitchen scene, which includes all three of the main characters - but the 'hide and seek' theme implies that we are witnessing the events following the delivery of the rack...

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Ah yes, Alice has just realised that it's more difficult to hide under the table when you are three inches taller than you were yesterday...

As for not crucifying her, well, I promised @mp5stab that I would give poor Alice a rest from the cross.

Okay, Em, she's had her rest, now where did I put those nails?

Thanks for the kind words, Bob, and yes, Christopher Lee as Mycroft before he was cast as Sherlock Holmes himself.

 

[Jollyrei]

As for not crucifying her, well, I promised @mp5stab that I would give poor Alice a rest from the cross.

Well, it's not like the girl gets off scott-free anyway. Lord Wragg is quite happy with his new Christmas toy.

Okay, Em, she's had her rest, now where did I put those nails?

Oh let the girl rest for one holiday. It's always so tragic when you crucify Alice. I don't need to sit here sobbing at Christmas. Just crucify Emily. You know she'll appreciate it.

 

[Loxuru]

His Gropiness

I know he’s a miserable randy old git

“That’s it.” she said. “He’s gone off his trolley.”

Such a disrespectful talk about their good master!
I think, the double rack was not delivered a minute too soon, for the sake of discipline!

 

[Wragg]

Such a disrespectful talk about their good master!
I think, the double rack was not delivered a minute too soon, for the sake of discipline!

I know, isn't it disgraceful?

I give them a roof over their head and a steady job and that's all the thanks I get!

 

[Jollyrei]

Of course, if you let the girls just do whatever they want without supervision, some very strange things happen at Cruxton Abbey. Here we have a bit of a Christmas mystery. It looks like Santa or Father Christmas has had some sort of accident. The girls aren't talking and one of Lord Wragg's old friends is a bit perplexed by the whole situation. What happened to Father Christmas? Was it something in the biscuits, or was the sudden appearance of three lovely naked girls, after a long sleighride and a harrowing trip down the Cruxton chimney, simply too much for the old boy's ticker?

MERRY CHRISTMAS, HO, HO, HO!
(WELL, SOMEBODY HAS TO FILL IN IF FATHER CHRISTMAS IS, ER, INDISPOSED.)​

 

[Loxuru]

Of course, if you let the girls just do whatever they want without supervision, some very strange things happen at Cruxton Abbey. Here we have a bit of a Christmas mystery. It looks like Santa or Father Christmas has had some sort of accident. The girls aren't talking and one of Lord Wragg's old friends is a bit perplexed by the whole situation. What happened to Father Christmas? Was it something in the biscuits, or was the sudden appearance of three lovely naked girls, after a long sleighride and a harrowing trip down the Cruxton chimney, simply too much for the old boy's ticker?

View attachment 1407783
MERRY CHRISTMAS, HO, HO, HO!
(WELL, SOMEBODY HAS TO FILL IN IF FATHER CHRISTMAS IS, ER, INDISPOSED.)​

Perhaps, when seeing the mentioned 'one of Lord Wragg's old friends, Santa thought it was only Halloween, and he had arrived two months too early!? How could he have made such a mistake? This could ruin his reputation!

 

[Wragg]

Of course, if you let the girls just do whatever they want without supervision, some very strange things happen at Cruxton Abbey. Here we have a bit of a Christmas mystery. It looks like Santa or Father Christmas has had some sort of accident. The girls aren't talking and one of Lord Wragg's old friends is a bit perplexed by the whole situation. What happened to Father Christmas? Was it something in the biscuits, or was the sudden appearance of three lovely naked girls, after a long sleighride and a harrowing trip down the Cruxton chimney, simply too much for the old boy's ticker?

View attachment 1407783
MERRY CHRISTMAS, HO, HO, HO!
(WELL, SOMEBODY HAS TO FILL IN IF FATHER CHRISTMAS IS, ER, INDISPOSED.)​

Perhaps, when seeing the mentioned 'one of Lord Wragg's old friends, Santa thought it was only Halloween, and he had arrived two months too early!? How could he have made such a mistake? This could ruin his reputation!

Oh, for Heaven's sake, Barb!

The odd decanter of claret is bad enough, but Santa Claus?????

That takes carelessness to a whole new level!

 

[Barbaria1]

Oh, for Heaven's sake, Barb!

The odd decanter of claret is bad enough, but Santa Claus?????

That takes carelessness to a whole new level!

And what may I ask is the punishment for killing off Santa?

 

[Jollyrei]

And what may I ask is the punishment for killing off Santa?

PROBABLY ANOTHER SESSION ON LORD WRAGG'S NEW RACK, I WOULD THINK. I SUPPOSE I'LL HAVE TO CART OFF SANTA AND SEE WHAT CAN BE DONE. I MEAN, HE'S ALSO AN ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION, AND HE'S PROBABLY QUANTUM, SO IT'S UNLIKELY THAT HE'S COMPLETELY DEAD. GIVE HIM A BOWL OF EGGNOG AND HE'LL BE FINE, I EXPECT. DO YOU WANT A BISCUIT?