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Author's note:
(Because it may be triggering for some, please be aware that a brief discussion between characters touches on rape themes, with occasional references throughout.)
I hope you are enjoying this series. Emily can't understand why I find it so difficult to simply write down her experiences, but then, her language is a century older than mine.
As we are now on part 6, and the 'author's note' at the beginning of part 1 only covered up to part 5, here is the obligatory warning-slash-spoiler: story-heavy, lesbianism, domination, submission, femdom, oral, rimming.
Hope you enjoy.
Copyright © 2023. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorised use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.

Part 6*lt;/p*gt;
The staircase was empty, but the corridor below was not.
I brushed past a footman who exclaimed in surprise. *quot;Miss?*quot;
I didn't stop; I couldn't. He could enjoy his eyeful; I'm sure it wasn't his first in a place like this.
His voice followed me up the passageway, *quot;Are you alright? Do you need help?*quot;
I gathered I looked quite the state. I wonder if he saw how red my ass was - but of course he did. It's tough to miss a bright, red, freshly-spanked bottom on a nude, running girl.
Desperate for solitude, I took the first door I came to. It was a small drawing room and - I thanked the stars - it was empty. I had explored much of the general layout of the house and had found many of the rooms, but had not been in this one, until now. There was a long sofa and matching chairs; a small fireplace, currently bare; some cabinets and such. All I needed was a space to get dressed.
I pulled on my clothes, my heart dropping as I suddenly realised I'd forgotten my shoes. How could I have left my shoes in his room? Fortunately, I'd been assigned two pairs - I had another, as-yet unworn pair under my bed - because I was most certainly not returning for them. I left the sanctity of the small drawing room, thanking it for being there when I needed it, and stepped back into the corridor. The footman I'd passed was nowhere to be seen.
One advantage of Laxton was that it was so big, so sprawling, that even in the middle of the day and with all the staff, it was often the case that you would hardly see anyone as you moved around.
I often found myself wondering where they all went. I envisaged there was probably a 'laugh at Emily' room hidden away somewhere I was yet to explore where they gathered in large groups, sharing stories. That theory certainly explained why the passageways, the library, even the area by the pool always seemed to be empty.
But this afternoon it turned out not to be the case, as is often the way when you need it to be. I passed several other maids, not really seeing or recognising any of them, and two further footmen. I ignored the one or two comments directed at me; I just needed my room, and perhaps Lucy.
She was probably still by the pool. I wasn't going there.
I felt I could trust Lucy. I'd given her so much - and, in fairness, she had been unstinting in her kindness to me.
*quot;I'm sure it's nothing, Emily. Please don't fret. Lucy has much experience at Laxton; she has probably simply been selected for an important task.*quot;
Tracy's voice played in my memory. How did the master of Laxton know so much? He said he'd spoken to Mrs. Dempster and to Lucy. What did she tell him about me? Why did she tell him anything about me?
Maybe she'd said little, or nothing, and Mrs. Dempster had told all. I didn't care about Mrs. Dempster sharing - it was her job, after all. I expected it. But Lucy was my friend.
I suddenly felt betrayed, and I wasn't sure why. I felt guilty for feeling this way. My thoughts turned dark.
Maybe Lucy had not been given a choice. Or maybe it was simply that she placed her loyalty to Laxton above our friendship.
I didn't know. Perhaps I'd never know. Maybe she hadn't even said anything at all.
And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that Lucy had been indiscreet; that she had shared too much.
I recalled, again, the comment she had made by the pool.
*quot;Oh, I doubt it,*quot; she had replied, *quot;Most would be too busy to notice, and the only one I can think of likely to see us certainly wouldn't mind the view.*quot;
It was hard to believe it was only yesterday; so much had happened in such a small space of time.
But she'd known. She'd known there was a chance - if not a likelihood - that he would see us. Had she done it on purpose? I knew she was an exhibitionist. Was it just a thrill to her? A risk to take? Or was there something greater a-foot here? I wondered if she had been told to, instructed.
*quot;Lucy, you are to take Emily to the pool. Be sure to be there at noon. And...*quot; I could well imagine that, delivered in the severe voice of Mrs. Dempster.
I was almost back to my room. I thought it likely none of the girls would have returned yet. Shoes or no shoes, I had considered ulus escort going to the library instead, but both Mrs. Dempster and Lucy knew that I sometimes hid there. At least in my room there was a bed. And shoes.
My feet were cold, but the floors were clean and smooth.
Clearly someone around here had been doing some cleaning; I certainly hadn't done any.
What manner of place was Laxton, full of nude, shaven, young, spankable, beautiful girls, employed to hardly work?
I had been so naïve. So foolish. It had all seemed so good, so easy.
The marvellous house, the extensive grounds. The modern facilities. The empty rota. The food, the pool. The freedom. Was this freedom, or a gilded cage for creatures kept at the master's pleasure?
I did not know anymore.
I slipped into my room; it was empty.
I fell onto my bed, suddenly sobbing.
My world had been shown to be a dark shadow of what I had thought it to be.

**lt;/p*gt;
I lay on the bed for almost a half hour, my thoughts swirling all around, lost in confusion and misery.
Then I stood up.
This was not me. I would not lie here, giving in to depression.
I walked to the window, needing the sunlight, and spent some moments watching birds flying over and around the attractive grounds within my view.
How could something so beautiful be so dark?
Perhaps the darkness was not in Laxton; perhaps the darkness was in me.
I thought back over what had happened.
*quot;Emily...?*quot; he was puzzled, concerned.
*quot;Emily, wait...*quot;
*quot;Emily, I won't hurt you...*quot;
I turned from the window, thinking.
So what if Lucy had told him things about me? He was her employer, I reasoned. It was, after all, common knowledge that I was not fully shaved - I took a shower with half of the people who lived here, just yesterday morning.
And the pool... had she not kissed me, softly, tenderly? Had she not given me the option - more than once - to say no?
She had not raped me. He had not raped me. That was another time, another person, another place.
And I hadn't told anyone here about that.
Hmm, well... maybe the doctor. But the doctor didn't strike me as the sort of person prone to frequent bouts of over-sharing.
He'd given me the option to leave. He'd made no attempt to restrain me when I had left.
He'd made me orgasm. Twice. I hadn't exactly put up a fight.
Damn, damn, damn. Had I got it all wrong, again?
I wondered, now, if I'd fulfilled the terms of our arrangement. I wondered if he would call for Mrs. Dempster, and have me punished and sent home, for not 'committing' as he'd said I must.
*quot;Emily, wait...*quot;
*quot;Emily, I won't hurt you...*quot;
I didn't think he would. I thought, on reflection, that he cared. He didn't want to show he cared, but I think, perhaps, that he did.
He probably cared for all the girls, to some degree or another. I certainly wasn't anything special.
I remembered his eyes, holding mine, forcing me not to look away.
My stomach squirmed.
I remembered his hand on me, touching, penetrating me. It had felt good. No... it had felt glorious. He'd made me come, twice, and he'd hardly even moved.
He probably did that for all the girls, too.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, sighing.
I realised I still didn't even know his name.
I'd called him 'master'. I'd begged him to let me come.
Oh, what a fool I was. What a naïve, inexperienced, trusting, foolish girl I was.
I wondered if perhaps it was me. Perhaps it had always been me. I thought back, trying to remember if I'd somehow suggested to Terry that I'd be easy, I'd be willing. Maybe that's why he'd raped me; maybe he thought I wanted it.
No... I decided I couldn't reconcile that; it wasn't true. I resolved not to compare Laxton to my past life, to a single past mistake, a mistake I wasn't responsible for. Terry could go to hell... he was my past.
My past Terry may be, but I recognised now that somehow the experience had tainted me.
It was for that, and that alone, that I had pushed away during the spanking, falling to the floor. I'd felt his hardness beneath me... of course he would be aroused. I had been aroused. He'd had a naked girl across his lap, her bottom beneath his hand, her juices dripping onto his knee... what man would not be?
And then I'd run away, leaving him.
I shook my head.
I lay down on the bed again. I stared up at the ceiling, alone with my thoughts, and tried to decide what I should do.

**lt;/p*gt;
I heard them coming, giggling together, and sat up. Annie opened the door, walking in with energy and exuberance.
*quot;Oh, hello, Emily! We missed you at the pool! We had such a lovely time!*quot;
I saw her obvious happiness and felt nothing. I was numb.
*quot;Tracy and I dunked Lucy! It was hilarious!*quot; Annie walked over to her yenimahalle escort bed, spinning through the room in a demonstration of unrefined gaiety and joy. How could I have thought this place was dark when people like Annie thrived within it?
But that was a rational argument, not an emotional one, for I still felt nothing.
*quot;Annie, hush up a moment,*quot; Lucy was looking at me.
*quot;What?*quot; Annie said, surprised.
Tracy was standing beside Lucy now and was also looking at me.
*quot;Something's happened, hasn't it?*quot; Lucy asked. She was always so perceptive.
I looked at her. She was so beautiful, standing tall beside my bed, nothing but concern showing on her face.
I looked away. My emotions churned inside me.
*quot;Emily...*quot; just my name, on her lips; full of worry, full of care. Not even as a question; just as if to say, 'I am here'.
I felt my mask slip. I felt my dam burst.
My face fell into my hands, and I cried. I cried, and I cried. It felt like my heart had broken, sobs wrenching my chest and shaking my shoulders, and the anguish was unbearable.
Suddenly Lucy was there, taking me in her arms. Tracy was on the other side of me too, stroking my hair. Annie had fallen quiet.
I felt, rather than saw, Lucy look across over my head, to Tracy.
*quot;Should... should I get Mrs. Dempster?*quot; Annie asked, in a small voice.
*quot;Definitely not,*quot; said Tracy, firmly. Thank goodness for her.
*quot;Shall I get the Doctor?*quot; Annie asked again.
*quot;Annie, sit down for a moment, will you please?*quot; That was Lucy, her voice calm as always. I loved her for that. *quot;Let's give Emily some time.*quot;
We sat in the room, the four of us, while I wept my heart against Lucy's shoulder - for the second time that day, no less. What must she think of me? But she had never, ever judged me; always accepted me. Tracy didn't stop stroking my hair, and even Annie managed to remain quiet.
I cried harder, then, because it proved to me: there was no darkness in Laxton. Not with people such as this. The darkness was in me, and me alone.
I jerked as a knock came on our door, surprising us; the owner's approaching footsteps covered by the noise of my crying.
*quot;I will send them away!*quot; Annie said, jumping up. I could hardly imagine Annie sending away a bothersome fly, but... well, I appreciated the sentiment. Lucy would probably get up in a moment and handle it. She was dependable like that.
Annie walked to the door, opening it, and I heard her gasp aloud. *quot;Mr... Mr Mills! I'm sorry, I mean, Sir!*quot;
Oh, so that is his name.
I felt all the girls spring to their feet, and I'd been leaning so hard against Lucy I had to catch myself to stop from falling onto the bed.
Lucy blocked much of my view, but I caught a glimpse of him standing there, in our doorway, as all the girls performed a curtsy in unison; I had not yet risen. I noticed that he was dressed... apparently, one does not visit the servants naked beneath a satin robe.
*quot;I am sorry to intrude,*quot; his cultured voice filled the room, *quot;but I wish to talk to Emily. And to Lucy, too. Annie, Tracy - perhaps you might leave us.*quot;
*quot;Yes, Sir,*quot; again, unison. I watched as they filed out of the room respectfully, bobbing another curtsy as they passed him in the passageway. I briefly heard Annie's excited voice, before Tracy shushed her.
He stepped into our room, closing the door behind himself. *quot;Lucy, it is Emily I came to speak to, but I wish you to stay. She will need you for what I have to say.*quot;
*quot;Of course, Sir,*quot; Lucy said, and with the insight I had come to know her for, she once again sat beside me, sliding her arm around my shoulders.
I realised my crying had stopped as soon as I'd realised he was at the door. No doubt my face was streaked with tears. I realised I didn't care anymore; I was numb again, watching him. His words had had little impact; I knew why he was here. I was only surprised he hadn't sent Mrs. Dempster to convey this message.
Perhaps he wanted to fire me, in person, for not finishing 'part two'.
He looked briefly around the room before perching himself on the edge of Tracy's bed, opposite us. He was dressed in smart black trousers, with a deep-blue waistcoat over a crisp white shirt, open at the collar, a matching cravat beneath. The waistcoat and cravat brought out the colour of his eyes; I wondered if he knew; I suspected he did.
*quot;Emily,*quot; he began, *quot;I want you to know that I have just spoken to the doctor. I...*quot; he paused, carefully choosing his words. *quot;I am sorry for not doing so... before. It was... a foolish mistake, and one that I will endeavour to never make again.*quot;
I blinked in surprise, and felt Lucy tense beside me, too. I received the impression that it was a rare thing indeed for this man to apologise. He didn't seem to be very good at it. On the other hand, he'd come all this way for that singular purpose.
It tunalı escort was not in the least what I would've expected.
*quot;I would completely understand if you wished to leave,*quot; he continued, then paused, as if he didn't like what he was saying. Here it comes, I thought, a polite way of saying 'get out, we don't want you here'. Shame he doesn't have the balls to...
*quot;If you choose to leave, I shall arrange for my carriage to take you home, with six months' pay.*quot; He stopped again, his blue eyes watching me, his face impassive.
My witty brain had no come back to that. Six months' pay for three days of no work? A fortune, for doing nothing. Was this generosity, or guilt money?
*quot;I would, however, take it as a personal accomplishment if... you would choose to stay.*quot;
He was looking at me, and I still hadn't spoken, still hadn't moved. I realised I should probably say something, but my words had left me. My arm tightened around Lucy's waist.
He nodded, as if accepting a disappointment, and rose slowly.
*quot;Please let Mrs... please let Lucy know your decision, when you have made it. Take as much time as you need.*quot; He stepped to the door. *quot;Good afternoon, ladies.*quot;
*quot;Good afternoon, Sir,*quot; Lucy replied, her voice hushed.
She waited for the door to close. We listened as his feet carried him off down the corridor.
Lucy turned to me, an expression of shock across her face. *quot;Emily... What on earth was that about?!*quot;
She looked so surprised, so stunned, that I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to laugh. I had no idea what was going on with me; I was bereft of any emotional regulation whatsoever.
*quot;I wouldn't know where to begin,*quot; I said instead, dully, and slumped forward onto my hands once more.
*quot;Hmm,*quot; said Lucy, firmly. *quot;Well, fortunately, I would.*quot; I looked up at her as she rose.
*quot;You need shoes... and then you need to come with me.*quot;
He could've at least brought my shoes. They had just begun to get comfortable. The other pair would probably rub and give me blisters.
*quot;I don't want to go anywhere, Lucy,*quot; I said, tiredly.
*quot;That's fine, we can stay here, and I will spend the next ten minutes tickling you.*quot;
I glanced up. *quot;That's not funny.*quot;
*quot;It wasn't a joke.*quot;
*quot;You're mean.*quot;
*quot;You have no idea.*quot; She stuck her tongue out at me, and it was so ridiculous I couldn't help it; I smiled back.
She reached out and took my hand, *quot;Come with me, please.*quot;
She sounded so sincere that I let myself be pulled to my feet. *quot;Oh, very well. Where are we going?*quot;
*quot;For a walk, outside.*quot;
I made a noise. I didn't want to admit that, actually, that sounded quite nice. Lucy was so irritatingly right all the time.
She picked up my shoes, but I took them from her and slipped them on; I hadn't forgotten how to dress myself and didn't trust Lucy not to baby me. I didn't want her to baby me. Well... not more than she had already, I supposed.
We stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, my hand in hers.
We walked away from the house, in a direction I had not previously explored. The valley lay down to our right, which would put the greenhouses directly behind us, on the other side of the house. Ahead and to our left I could see trees that would run for miles, but there was still much garden between us and that wilderness.
Lucy led me through some topiary and hedges, down several gravel paths that wound through gardens with beautiful summer flowers, at last coming to a stop near a fountain, hidden in a secret garden with unkempt bushes all around. Two stone benches waited there, tinged green with a hint of algae, each nestled in a living willow arch, and we sat together on one.
We hadn't said a word since we'd left the house.
I watched the fountain, the water spurting out of the mouth of a truly ugly gargoyle, but it carried its own charm despite that. The water was carried away to elsewhere in the grounds in a canal of stone that wound artistically around the garden's edge and off out of sight, and I realised the fountain must be fed by another spring, though smaller than the one for the pool. I slowly began to relax, sitting there beside Lucy, listening to the constant tinkle of the water.
Of course, the garden was lovely, but it was peace and solitude too. I wouldn't expect Lucy to take me anywhere else.
She sat beside me, quietly, patient, pressed from shoulder to hip and warm against me.
*quot;Mrs. Dempster took me to see him,*quot; I began. I realised I wanted to tell her everything. *quot;It turns out I'd broken his statue of Hed... Hedony, or something.*quot;
*quot;Hedone,*quot; she said.
*quot;Yes. Her wing broke off when I knocked her from the bedside table this morning.*quot;
*quot;Oh, that's a shame,*quot; she said, then had the decency to blush a little as I stared at her. I laughed briefly then; I hadn't known Lucy could remember how to blush.
*quot;You're adorable when you blush,*quot; I said, teasing her, but then I sobered, and carried on with my story. *quot;He gave me a choice: a spanking with Mrs. Dempster in the hall, or...*quot; it was harder to continue than I expected. I sighed. *quot;I had to... remove my hair. You know, down there.*quot;
Lucy's eyebrows raised. *quot;When you're feeling better, I'd love to see,*quot; she said, bumping me with her shoulder and smiling.