When the butler heard that his tyrannical overlord had finally bit the dust, he rejoiced for five days and five nights. Hours of raucous drinking and violent love-making ensued in the dimly lit pub, continuing on into his roach-infested house.
He was finally free from that pig-nosed, horse-faced hornswoggler, and his time working at Sollowen Mansion would be a horrendous trial no longer.
So it surprised the butler in his drunken stupor, when, merely those five days later, he discovered that the mansion was to be taken over by a new lord.
‘What?’ he exclaimed, spitting his ale profusely, all over the bulky bartender, ‘already? Nobody can want Sollowen already, it’s a shit heap!’
‘Oh no,’ the scullery maid said, perched beside him, ‘we’ve been quite popular, so it seems. The latest bidder paid an absolute fortune for the luxury of our assistance. It’s said they paid over £3500 for the estate; they were remarkably eager too.’
And so that is how the unpleasant butler found himself knocking on the door of the masters private suite, bringing in some crumpets and butter, at precisely four in the morning. No warning, no introduction, no one had even met their new master as of yet.
All they knew, was that said ratbag had moved in at approximately midnight, and was now calling for some breakfast at the most ungodly hour imaginable.
If he thought his previous master was unbearable, then this would be a colossal surprise to the system, the butler mused angrily. This man was clearly an intolerable, selfish cunt.
But still, a job is a job. How would he paid for his orgy of hedge-creepers every evening, without caring for the overly rich pensioners of this god-forsaken world?
And so he opened the door, and let himself inside.
The original lord of Sollowen was a chimney. He would smoke day in, day out, even smoking in the bath and smoking whilst he made love. As such, his room smelt suitably nauseating. No matter the complaints of his various wives and chambermaids, cleaning the room simply was of no help. The smell would continue to permeate and stain the mansion, ensuring his presence would always remain.
But the chamber was now filled with a lingering scent of lilies. Sweet, supple stems floating atop crystal vials, upon every surface of the room. Smoke stains which formerly smeared the walls grey were now gone, removed in place with dusty flower-wreaths and intricate cobwebbed portraiture. As you can imagine, it shocked him even further, to approach the king-sized bed, to discover the tiniest, almond figure adorning its satin sheets.
Multiple emotions struck the overwhelmed butler at this moment. For one thing, he was amazed at how the young, slim figure had not been engulfed in the crimson canvass around her. Delicate, kissable toes peeked out from under the blankets, twitching ever so slightly.
However, the most compelling sensation he felt was the puckering of his member at the sight of such an alluring woman. In her state of unconsciousness, she had left herself almost entirely exposed, her smooth chest and plump buttocks being the only remnants of her figure left to the imagination.
Who was she? The butler wondered, pacing up and down, was she his new masters young daughter, perhaps? If so, this job just became a great deal more interesting.
No wonder he hadn’t introduced himself to the household staff, regardless of his relationship to this woman he no doubt just wanted to take her upstairs and ravage her as quickly as possible!
A hasty, customary search of the remainder of the master’s suite proved to the butler that there was no one else residing in the room. The woman appeared to be the only person living here. The wardrobe, formerly full of stoic, charcoal tuxedos and top hats, had been replaced with luxurious, velvet gowns, and, as he most eminently noted, a bevy of lacy unmentionables which he took a great deal of time perusing.
The bathroom, similarly, was adorned with more carnations and lilies, alongside an electromechanical vibrator, one of those few inventions for women who grew hysteric in their urges and needs. Even the butler blushed a deep red at the thought of such an idea, and it wasn’t even hidden away!
So, the estate was under rule by this young lady? He wondered. Why? And how could she have amassed such a fortune to ever afford this place? Was she a widow to some wealthy oil merchant? Was she royalty?
Having been all-consumed by curiosity, the butler returned to the bedroom, leaning over the woman with a look of utmost confusion plastered across his face.
Her perky breasts heaved up and down with every breath, and her eyes opened, minty fresh, consumed by those stately lashes.
‘Ah’, she yawned, sitting up and allowing her blanket to fall even further down below her navel, ‘those crumpets I asked for. It’s about time!’
Finally, one of my original stories, for my series For I Am No Lover of Lilies! I’ve been posting so many prequels and sequels to Carter’s work, despite having several original shorts sitting in my documents, waiting to see the light of day.
I love this one! I’m tempted to extend it and write some more about this mysterious and alluring lady of the manor…
If you haven’t read any of my Gothic shorts yet, I highly recommend doing so! You can have a nosy at my Gothic tag here!
Copyright © 2016 Rebecca Sherratt