around to the front, still on my knees beside the tub. Ralf’s head is tilted back, resting on the rim behind him. His eyes are closed. I commence lathering his chest, taking care not to press on the wound.
“I will not break, Linnet, nor will you hurt me,” he mutters.
“No, my lord.” I continue my efforts with renewed confidence and not inconsiderable vigour.
As I reach his waist I hesitate. Should I halt here? Or start my task again, this time at his toes and work up?
“Only if you wish to, little one. It is your choice.”
Ralf answers my unspoken question, giving me permission to explore if I like, or not, as I prefer. I retrieve the flannel which has fallen into the water and carry on my ministrations.
Beneath the rippling water Ralf’s cock is solid, erect. I may be a virgin but serving wenches talk below stairs. I know this state to denote male arousal, which pleases me. I glance up to see he has closed his eyes again and appears relaxed at my touch. I nibble my lower lip for several moments, contemplating what I might do next. I allow the flannel to float to the bottom of the tub as I wrap my hand around his thick, hard manhood.
Sir Ralf lets out a low hiss but does not open his eyes. A slight smile plays across his mouth but that is the extent of his reaction. I resolve to do better.
I tighten my grip and slide my hand up, toward the wide, flaring head. Ralf lifts his hips a little, enough to raise his cock above the surface of the water. I see droplets on the smooth head but I am uncertain if they are from his bath, or if they come from within, from the slit which I now perceive at the tip.
“Rub your thumb across the top, little maid.” The soft tone at my ear startles me. I had not heard Piers move from the bed and my attention has been fixed on Ralf so I was not watching the other man in the chamber. He is behind me now, offering encouragement.
If the situation is bizarre, I choose to ignore that fact. In any case, it does not seem so. It feels quite natural to be here, with both brothers, pleasuring one whilst the other looks on.
“Should I use both my hands?” I whisper the question, hoping not to sound too naive, too innocent.
“That would be good. Grip hard at the bottom of his shaft and use your other hand to caress the head. Yes, like that.”
I follow Piers’ guidance, swirling my thumb around in the fluid gathering at the tip of Ralf’s erection. He opens his eyes to regard first me, then his brother.
“My thanks. Your assistance is appreciated.”
Piers gives a low chuckle. “You are most welcome. I trust you would do the same for me?”
They exchange another look. Something has passed between them, though I cannot decipher it.
He murmurs his response. “I would, naturally, should Linnet desire that.”
I twist my head to look over my shoulder at Piers, then back to Ralf. “I do not understand…”
“Do not worry, little maid. ‘Twill be all right.” Piers cups my cheek in his hand and brushes his lips across mine. “Now, you have work to do here, do you not?”
Perplexed, I return to my task. Under Piers’ expert guidance, I draw my fist up and down the wide shaft, intrigued by the satin delicacy of the skin and the unyielding solidity beneath. If anything, Ralf’s cock swells and hardens in my hands, twitching as I increase the vigour of my movements.
“Leave the head for a moment, reach lower to cup his balls.”
“Like this?” I do as instructed and Ralf lets out a groan.
“Aye,” chuckles Piers. “I reckon exactly like that. Squeeze them in your hand, feel his balls moving.”
I do so and Ralf opens his eyes. “Wench, you take instruction as well as you take a switching. A rare treasure.”
“Thank you, sir. I think.”
Piers moves in closer behind me. He is looking over my shoulder, watching my efforts closely. He trails his fingertips across my throat, displacing the neckline of my borrowed gown. “This is a fine garment, little maid. It
“I will not break, Linnet, nor will you hurt me,” he mutters.
“No, my lord.” I continue my efforts with renewed confidence and not inconsiderable vigour.
As I reach his waist I hesitate. Should I halt here? Or start my task again, this time at his toes and work up?
“Only if you wish to, little one. It is your choice.”
Ralf answers my unspoken question, giving me permission to explore if I like, or not, as I prefer. I retrieve the flannel which has fallen into the water and carry on my ministrations.
Beneath the rippling water Ralf’s cock is solid, erect. I may be a virgin but serving wenches talk below stairs. I know this state to denote male arousal, which pleases me. I glance up to see he has closed his eyes again and appears relaxed at my touch. I nibble my lower lip for several moments, contemplating what I might do next. I allow the flannel to float to the bottom of the tub as I wrap my hand around his thick, hard manhood.
Sir Ralf lets out a low hiss but does not open his eyes. A slight smile plays across his mouth but that is the extent of his reaction. I resolve to do better.
I tighten my grip and slide my hand up, toward the wide, flaring head. Ralf lifts his hips a little, enough to raise his cock above the surface of the water. I see droplets on the smooth head but I am uncertain if they are from his bath, or if they come from within, from the slit which I now perceive at the tip.
“Rub your thumb across the top, little maid.” The soft tone at my ear startles me. I had not heard Piers move from the bed and my attention has been fixed on Ralf so I was not watching the other man in the chamber. He is behind me now, offering encouragement.
If the situation is bizarre, I choose to ignore that fact. In any case, it does not seem so. It feels quite natural to be here, with both brothers, pleasuring one whilst the other looks on.
“Should I use both my hands?” I whisper the question, hoping not to sound too naive, too innocent.
“That would be good. Grip hard at the bottom of his shaft and use your other hand to caress the head. Yes, like that.”
I follow Piers’ guidance, swirling my thumb around in the fluid gathering at the tip of Ralf’s erection. He opens his eyes to regard first me, then his brother.
“My thanks. Your assistance is appreciated.”
Piers gives a low chuckle. “You are most welcome. I trust you would do the same for me?”
They exchange another look. Something has passed between them, though I cannot decipher it.
He murmurs his response. “I would, naturally, should Linnet desire that.”
I twist my head to look over my shoulder at Piers, then back to Ralf. “I do not understand…”
“Do not worry, little maid. ‘Twill be all right.” Piers cups my cheek in his hand and brushes his lips across mine. “Now, you have work to do here, do you not?”
Perplexed, I return to my task. Under Piers’ expert guidance, I draw my fist up and down the wide shaft, intrigued by the satin delicacy of the skin and the unyielding solidity beneath. If anything, Ralf’s cock swells and hardens in my hands, twitching as I increase the vigour of my movements.
“Leave the head for a moment, reach lower to cup his balls.”
“Like this?” I do as instructed and Ralf lets out a groan.
“Aye,” chuckles Piers. “I reckon exactly like that. Squeeze them in your hand, feel his balls moving.”
I do so and Ralf opens his eyes. “Wench, you take instruction as well as you take a switching. A rare treasure.”
“Thank you, sir. I think.”
Piers moves in closer behind me. He is looking over my shoulder, watching my efforts closely. He trails his fingertips across my throat, displacing the neckline of my borrowed gown. “This is a fine garment, little maid. It
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