"You Rang, Madam?" Chapter 5

by Julius
Copyright August 2007



Phoebe doubted she’d ever forget that walk across the car park.

As she’d climbed down from the Rolls, Hudson had said softly, “I shall watch Madam’s bottom every step of the way to the gate.”

She thought he probably would and she’d tried to neither emphasize nor subdue the swing of her hips. The thought of his gaze on her buttocks kept her arousal simmering. His cock had been so wonderful,their coupling so intense. She remembered her gutter talk; her slut-like squirming on his lap and a sweet, wicked joy seemed to fill her. Phoebe had been a slut; Hudson’s slut and she’d loved it.

The sun and the warm breeze quickly dried the sweat from her dress and her skin. Even the wetness of her hair at the back of her neck was blown dry. But the wetness between her legs didn’t dry. Hudson’s come,mingled no doubt with her own, seeped from her and were renewed as fast as they dried. There was a wonderful cool spot between her thighs, where the breeze found her knickerless pussy.

Phoebe was acutely aware of her lack of panties. She’d never, never been out without underwear before in her life. Her little, white, cotton unmentionables were in the chauffeur’s pocket!

As she went through the gateway to the stands, a breeze eddied at her from behind and lifted her skirt. She made desperate efforts at getting the hem down. The cool air over her warm buttocks made her very aware of her nakedness. If that happened with people about … her face and neck flushed hotly at the thought. She hoped Hudson had seen it.

Oliver had barely missed her. He wasn’t in a good mood; he’d not backed a single winner and was only too happy to set off for home when she suggested it.




They got into the Rolls. Phoebe was glad to see that Hudson had opened all the windows. She was certain the scents of their lovemaking still lingered. She sat where Hudson had sat. The very spot where she’d squatted astride him. Their eyes met in the rear view mirror and he nodded.

“A pleasant afternoon Madam?”

“Very nice thank you, Hudson.”

“Let’s get going, Hudson, shall we?” Sir Oliver’s afternoon obviously hadn’t been quite so pleasant.

Phoebe let her head fall back. She closed her eyes. She’d deliberately not smoothed her skirt under her, but had sat her bare bottom on the soft, warm leather where Hudson’s had been. She longed to slip her hand up under her skirt, to cup her happy pussy and to comfort it.




Hudson wondered if Marie would last a week. It seemed she was a writer or wanted to be one. Her new job gave her accommodation and a modest income and that seemed to be all she wanted. But she was conscientious and cheerful. The problem was, she seemed to consider herself the equal of all in the household.

She refused to call him Mr. Hudson, as was required. Instead, she called him Jack as did cook in her angrier moments. He’d explained that he was Hudson to Sir and Madam and Mr. Hudson to the rest of the staff, but she still called him Jack.

Worse, she didn’t call Madam, Madam, but called her nothing at all. It was the same with her treatment of Sir Oliver. Hudson was outraged and had explained after her latest omissions, with barely contained anger, how things should be done. All to no avail.

But she was so cheerful and efficient; twice the servant that Agnes had been. She seemed quite happy to wear the uniform but any gestures of respect were, it seemed, out of the question. She had all of Agnes’ old uniforms. They’d been dry cleaned and fit herperfectly, except for length. She was taller than Agnes and the now relatively short skirt made her look very, very attractive to Hudson.

But just as no one could get her to respect her betters, neither could anybody seem to fire her either. So Marie performed her duties perfectly by day and wrote in her little room by night. Hudson seemed unable to do anything with her, yet the house had run smoother, and somehow happier, since her arrival.

On Friday, six days after the racing at Ascot, Phoebe was awakened by Marie. Awakened and surprised; Marie had brought her breakfast in bed.

“Good morning!” cried Marie, flinging wide the curtains, “Maggie let me use the kitchen.”

Phoebe buried her face in the pillow. The sunlight was brilliant and painful. Nobody called cook by her name, not until now anyway. Delivering breakfast in bed was not required. Phoebe thought about firing Marie right then and there. The smell of toast reached her and her stomach growled.

She struggled herself into a sitting position andMarie slid the tray onto her lap, a tray full of poached egg and toast and marmalade. A small pot of tea made it into her favourite breakfast.

Her irritation faded and she said, “Thank you, Marie.”

“No problem.”

What sort of remark was ‘No problem’ wondered Phoebe? Marie did have some odd turns of phrase.

Marie perched herself on the side of the bed. Phoebe bit back her instinctive rebuke and forked a piece of egg into her mouth.

“Do you always sleep alone?”

Phoebe looked around the room and nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Then she added defensively. “Well not always of course.” She blushed then. Horribly flustered, realizing what she’d said, what it implied.

Marie laughed. “So we’re both lonely at night.” She got off the bed and went to the window and stood looking out. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Phoebe tried to frame a response but, with a mental shrug, set about her breakfast instead.

While she ate, she kept glancing at Marie, who was still gazing out of the window, little more than a silhouette. The uniform suited her. Strange she should wear it, while showing no willingness to follow the rest of the conventions. The skirt was too short and Phoebe thought of those silly, fancy dress outfits that were supposedly those of a French maid.

“Thank you Marie,” she said, putting down an emptycup.

Marie came back to the bed again and sat.

“You’re welcome,” she said and then, out of the blue, asked, “Are you and Jack, Hudson I mean, having an affair?”

“Marie!” Phoebe did her best to sound outraged.

“Oh come on, the way you behave around each other, I guessed it right away.”

Then she got off the bed and said, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

When Phoebe had put the last piece of toast into her mouth Marie reached for the tray. As she took it the bedclothes slipped down, baring Phoebe to the waist.

She pulled the sheet back up to cover her breasts. She had felt, as much as seen, Marie’s eyes on them.

Marie smiled, “They’re lovely. Isn’t Jack a lucky man?”

After Marie had left with the tray, Phoebe sat very still, clutching the sheet over her bosom. She thought back to when she’d first asked Hudson to lift her dress and wondered, just what had she started?

There’d been something about the way Marie had commented on Jack’s luck. A note of envy, not of Phoebe’s breasts she thought, but of Jack.




While Phoebe was eating her surprise breakfast, Hudson was moving about his bedroom changing his clothes. He’d driven Sir Oliver to the station under rain-laden clouds. Walking back to the house from the garage he’d got soaked in a sudden downpour. As he hung his chauffeur’s jacket on the back of the door he remembered Madam’s knickers. Taking them carefullyfrom the pocket he pressed them to his nose. Her scent still clung to the fabric, his cock reared. Hudson eased his briefs off his hips and wrapped the scrap of cloth around his cock.

A week, he thought, no six days, since she’d squirmed and come in his lap in the back of the Rolls. He would dearly love to go and wake her with his cock.

Hudson squeezed himself and wished, remembering the hot, wet grip of her pussy. His hand moved, steadily running his panty-lined hand up and down his cock.

Suddenly his body convulsed and he spurted into Madam’s underwear. He came helplessly, jet after jet into the white cotton.

Dear God! Jerking off into a woman’s underwear like a lad. But he didn’t care, he’d needed it and where better was there than in his mistress’s sweet little panties?

He crossed to the wash basin and carefully rinsed them and hung them to dry. He’d choose a good moment later in the day to hand them to her. It was past time for another frolic, long past time.




After dinner that evening the phone had rung and Sir Oliver had been summoned to answer it.

Seizing his chance, Hudson pulled the panties from his pocket and passed them to her.

“Washed and dried, and pretty as ever Madam,” he said.

“Oh Hudson! Thank you,” she paused, smiling up at him,“that was a lovely thing we did. I can’t stop thinking about it.” She balled up the panties and slipped them into a pocket of her dress.

“Hudson?”

“Madam?”

“Hudson. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Madam, I doubt you’d think the kind of thoughts I’m thinking.”

“Oh but I think I am, Hudson,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “you’re thinking you’d like to get into me again … soon. And I’m thinking, Hudson, that I want more of this.” Her small hand darted out and cupped his groin.

“Oh exactly, Madam.”

“Well, I’ve been wondering, Hudson, it’s high time someone did some sorting out of the stuff we’ve got stored in the attics of this house. Perhaps you could find a little spare time in your duties and we could go up there and have a look round.”

“I’d be delighted, Madam. Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“Very well Hudson, tomorrow morning.”



The ascent had been every bit as tantalizing as she’d no doubt intended. He’d brought the ladder and put it in place. Madam had insisted in going up first. She’d worn a skirt of course, a knee-length denim one. The view was quite delightful. Hudson stood at the bottom of the ladder to steady it and he’d been quite free to gaze upwards, up her skirt, up at her bare derriere.

“Madam!” he said with mock gravity. “I gave you a pairjust yesterday evening.”

“I’m sorry, Hudson, I quite forgot in my haste. How thoughtless of me.”

He watched until she reached the top step, and thenbegan his own ascent. The wooden stepladder was a little rickety and he didn’t look up until his head and shoulders were through the ceiling.

She’d lain back and rested her feet in the far corners of the hole. Hudson’s head was between her knees and he was facing her bare pussy.

“Did you ever see one of these in an attic before, Hudson?” she asked, her voice full of laughter.

“No, Madam, I can’t say that I did.”




When, moments later, Marie’s voice called, “Is your Mistress up there Jack?” Hudson came close to falling.

But he kept his head and answered, “Yes Marie, she is.”

“I’m just off to the village, wondered if she needed anything?”

He peered down at her but before he could answer,Madam called, “No, thank you Marie, but it was kind ofyou to ask.”

Marie’s footsteps receded as she went downstairs and he was alone again with Madam’s pussy. He bent and kissed her gently at her centre and she moaned in response. He raised his head again.

“Make me come with your mouth, Hudson,” she asked and added softly, “Please, Hudson, with your mouth.”

His eyes were now accustomed to the gloom after the brightness below and he saw she was holding her skirt with her hands, exposing herself to him, from the waist down. Her thighs and pussy were open.

His cock responded eagerly and he slid a hand down into his pants to position it more comfortably.

“Don’t tease me, Hudson.” She brought her knees together, pressing the sides of his head gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Madam.”

“I rather think you would and I should love it, but not now.” She moved her hands from her skirt and with her fingertips pulled her pussy lips,apart, opening herself. “Not now, Hudson.”

Hudson had often wondered at the way many men seemed to find the female genitals repugnant. He bent, and with his tongue, gently licked her, licked the length of her pussy. Her scent enveloped him. How anyone could fail to delight in this pretty patch of paradise?

His cock responded as always and he went to work between her thighs.

He took a mouthful of her and bit gently, then harder, until she squirmed. He could taste her but the flavour eluded him. She was sweet and he told her she tasted of strawberries. He kissed and sucked and nibbled everywhere but her little clit. He was teasing her of course.

But her arousal was mounting. Her legs closed and opened about his ears. Her hips thrust her mound against his face. He could hear her breathing, when her thighs weren’t over his ears.

She began saying, ’Please,’ over and over. He eased the pressure of his mouth or slowed his tongue, tryingto keep her near her threshold. Her movements became more rapid, more urgent, and her voice begged for release.

His own arousal threatened to take him and his straining cock over the edge.

Relenting at last, he took her clit between his lips, and began loving it with his tongue tip.

She uttered the word, “Yes!” just once and her body went rigid for a moment, then she climaxed. Her pubis humped against his mouth with bruising force. Her whole body spasmed and struggled, as she fought through her orgasm.

He feared she’d hurt herself on the rough wood and sharp edges. He struggled to restrain her and finally she began to subside.




Hudson was almost dozing. He was still stood on the ladder, his head resting on her thigh. Finally she stirred and tried to move her leg. He raised his head and chuckled, “Is Madam recovered?”

“I’m not sure. I may never recover.” She sighed and asked, “Where did you learn your skills, Hudson?”

“Part of my training, Madam.”

She drew her feet towards her and sat up. Her knees were spread wide and she gaped open. Hudson grinned.

“What’s so funny, Hudson?”

“Madam looks uncommonly unladylike,” he said, “but most attractive.”

“I feel wonderfully unladylike, Hudson.”

She struggled to her feet and Hudson climbed up carefully to join her.

“I haven’t been up here for years. Look at all the stuff!” she said.

The attic was huge and stacked with boxes and trunks. Old picture frames and pieces of furniture were piled everywhere.

Hudson found a switch. Two light bulbs lit and the jumble was suddenly even more impressive.

He watched her move cautiously about, looking at the chaos. She paused at a trunk and raised the lid. Itwas full of what looked like curtains. She lifted some out and laid them on the dusty floor.

“We could build a little nest up here, Hudson.”

She kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her skirt. Her blouse followed and she stood naked.

“Well?” She gestured at him and he began undressing.

Her breasts were lovely and he stared at them, as he took off his clothes.

She hefted them in her cupped hands. “Still unladylike, Hudson. Am I a slut, Hudson?”

“Never, Madam, never.”

She dropped to her knees and beckoned to him.

“If I were to grab your lovely cock and jerk you off all over these tits, I’d be a slut wouldn’t I, Hudson?”

Hudson said nothing. He very much wanted her to grab his cock and moved to stand in front of her.

“We’ve been so busy trying to make me pregnant, Hudson. Do you know, I’ve never seen a man come? Iwant to. I want to see you come, Hudson. Would you let me?”

His cock was erect again and she was staring at it, delight on her face.

“I’m not sure I would be able to stop you, Madam.”

She reached out her hand, “Oh please, don’t stop me.”

Her hand was gentle as she ran it up and down his length. Hudson looked up, there was a rafter justabove him, and he reached up with both hands. He movedhis feet apart and sighed, as he watched her inspect him.

She spat in her hand and began pumping him. Now she did look like a slut. A beautiful, big-breasted slut.

Her hand, her saliva, his cock. ‘Who’d have thought?’ he wondered. But oh god, it felt good. She stopped anddribbled her spit into her palm again. She looked up,wide-eyed and strangely innocent.

“I’ll suck it next time, I’ll suck your lovely cock next time.”

He just groaned. Her hand, her obscenities, she turned him on beyond belief. Already his balls were squirming in their sack and his buttocks were clenching and he was thrusting to meet the slide of her fist.

“That’s right, Hudson, fuck my dainty little hand. I’m going to make that cock come, Hudson. Going to make it come. Going to watch it come, watch my Hudson come.”

She was lost in the moment, he realized. He saw her drop her other hand to her groin and he watched her arm moving, as she pleasured herself.

He wouldn’t last much longer he knew. But then she stopped and blew on his spit-wet erection. The chill on his cock made him gasp. She wouldn’t tease him like this, would she?

Yet again she spat into her hand and grabbed him. She squeezed him until it hurt and then began to slide her small hand up and down once more. In a moment, the first spasm rippled through his belly and he knew he was coming.

“Yes, Hudson, come with that lovely cock. Yes, yes, yes!”

She stared, her eyes blinking rapidly, expecting his first gush, willing him to come.

Come he did! The first spurt landed on the bridge of her nose and she squealed in delight. The second hit her top lip and then she bent him cruelly down, directing his come onto her breasts.

“Hudson’s cock, Hudson’s cock, coming, coming, coming.” A little girl’s voice, a delighted, wildly excited little girl.

He was suddenly wobbly-kneed and weak. He dropped a hand and grabbed at her hair, as his last spasm writhed in his groin.



Marie’s voice seemed to paralyze them both. “Surely I could have done that for you … Madam.”