"In the Kitchen" © Copyright, Gabrielle Cote: 2001
All Rights Reserved - Copy/Duplication Prohibited
Email: gabriellecoyote@yahoo.com


"Good morning, Miss Melody." Daisy opened the curtains and the window and revealed a windy, wet day. Rain streamed down the windows. "Shame about the weather today, but it will be a good day to explore inside the Châteaux."

"Yes," I said around a mouthful of toast, "I’ll be wanting to get to work. If the Contessa really wants a dress before the ball, I’d better get started." I am a seamstress. And I had been invited to the Chateaux to make a ball gown for La Contessa. I was eager to get to work.

"She’ll see you tomorrow, she is…engaged, just now. But Mrs. Merton the housekeeper, asked is you could come down to the kitchen. She had a question for you."

"Oh?" The tea was sweet and hot, just how I liked it.

"It’s probably to do with her gown for the Servant’s Ball. She has one already done up but I think she was hoping for your opinion on it." She winked at me sassily and sauntered out the room.

On that note, I got myself up and dressed and wandered around my floor until I stumbled on the servant's stairway to the kitchen.

The kitchen was as big as a barn and bustling with activity. There were about twenty people in there now, hard at work with all the tasks necessary to feed a large household of people. In the center of this activity stood a tall and commanding woman. I guessed it was Mrs. Merton. She had on a severe, unflattering gray wool dress that hid everything about her so that it was impossible to tell the shape of her body under it. Her hair was tightly drawn into a knot at the back of her head. Her pinched face was accented by a pair of spectacles and a mouth pursed so tightly it was a wonder that she could ever move it. She stood in the center of the cavernous room, her presence filling a large portion of it and eyed the activity around her with a critical eye. The cooks and servants scurried around her like dogs with their tails between their legs.

She carried a small leather stick in her hand and tapped it against her thigh in a menacing manner. She made me very glad that I wasn’t working under her watchful gaze. As she stalked across the room I was amazed to see that it was a man’s boot that peaked put from under the hem of her dress.

As I was standing there, gapping at her, a man sidled up to me. He wore the black fancy frock coat that clearly stated his place at the Châteaux.

"How do you do, Miss. I am Harris, the butler. May I be of service?"

He was the definition of obsequious. He stood at a gentle attention, shoulders bowed, eyes settled somewhere over my left ear. He radiated polite attention. One thing about him that caught me eye was that his new looking black jacket was a little frayed around the seams. The seamstress in me reached out and plucked a stray thread from his shoulder and he flinched away from my touch.

"I’m sorry. You had a thread. My name is Melody and I am a seamstress."

His eye’s lit. "Ah, yes, Miss Melody. So good to finally meet you. Have you had breakfast?" he asked anxiously. "If you are sure then, perhaps you would like to look around? The Contessa won’t be ready for you today, but there is still much to see and do. Please feel free to make yourself at home. Polly here will show you around."

I had a very nice tour of the Châteaux that seemed to last all day. It wasn't until I was getting ready for bed that I realized I was very hungry. In fact I was ravenous. I stole down the kitchens hoping that I might be able to find a kind hearted cook who would feed me. I got lost a few times but figured that if I kept heading downstairs I would eventually find my way to the kitchen.

The kitchen looked even vaster in the darkness of night. The only light available was the small glow of a banked fire in the center of the huge fireplace. This was one of the walk-in varieties, so large that you could roast whole oxen in it. Right now it was empty except for the fire that lighted my way. I could see the gleam of the firelight on the copper pots and pans. It seemed to take an hour to walk all the way across the deserted kitchen but finally I made my way to the pantry door.

Inside there was a huge array of food. Wheels of cheese, strings of garlic and onions perfumed the close room and rows and rows of hard, pink salamis lined the shelves. I settled on a wedge of cheese, a new loaf of bread and a cool mug of pale, bitter ale. I was about to take them out so I could eat them in front of the fire when I heard voices in the main room. Was it the cook?

I eased the pantry door open a crack and peered through. What I saw was quite amazing. Spectacular enough so that I almost dropped my mug of ale. I pulled up a large wheel of cheese, sat down on it and watched what transpired outside with utter fascination.

Here is what I saw.

It was Mrs. Merton. But a Merton so vastly transformed from what I had seen earlier that I could barely believe they were the same person. Gone was the stiff gray dress. In its place was a leather bustier so form fitting that it revealed Merton's generous breasts, narrow waist and flaring hips. It was covered with laces, metal hooks and studs dotted its surface. It ended at the bottom of her lush hips. Her thighs were bare but she was wearing her men's leather boots, which somehow made sense with this intriguing outfit. As did the riding crop which she smacked smartly and repeatedly into her palm. The boots went all the way up her shapely calves and ended just above her knee, leaving a creamy expanse of thigh exposed. It looked very white sandwiched between her black leather bustier and the back boots.

Her hair was loosened from it's ugly, tight knot and cascaded down her back past her bottom, almost to the back of her knees. It was as straight and black as a raven's wing.

She was spectacular. Her pinched mouth had relaxed into a sensuous smile and her hawk like nose just added power and character to her face. Her eyes, were large and shrewd, a snapping gray that turned easily to black in the firelight. I felt a shiver spread up my spine as she moved in her leather costume, breasts straining against the tight and shiny leather.

I was staring at her costume, trying to memorize so that I could make one for myself when I noticed she was not alone. I snuggled onto the cheese, took a deep draught of my ale and prepared to watch what transpired next with great pleasure and anticipation.

Harris the butler was there too. He was kneeling on his knees, hands tied behind his back with a pair of metal cuffs. He was wearing his normal black butler's suit that looked somewhat shabby even though I could tell that the cloth was new. I could see his cock, already heavy and encouraged, straining at the material.

Merton moved closer to the big trestle table, slapping her riding crop against her bare thigh as she moved. I was so close to them that I could see the red mark this left on her smooth, white flesh.

"Harris, are you ready to be punished?" She asked him.

He groveled on his knees, head bowed and said nothing.

She lifted up a long leg and put the heel of her boot on the table. This exposed her naked crotch. Her lips were already red and swollen. She looked wet. Harris quivered and said nothing but I could see him staring up at her, transfixed as I was, by her power and her pussy.

"I know you have been having carnal thought about me, Harris," she said silkily. His trousers bulged so heavily now that there was really no denying this statement.

Harris began to shake slightly as she slapped the riding croup once again

against her thigh.

"Answer me Harris or it could get bad for you."

"Yes, yes I have," he answered with a quiver in his voice.

"Tell me what they are," she replied as she began to saunter over to him. He dared to look up at her as she walked towards him and was captivated by the swell of her breasts and the arrogance in her stride. By this time she was standing over him and he could smell her scent, it was almost more then he could take. It was shear will power that kept him from spilling his seed, I could see sweat form on his brow from the exertion.

"I have thought of burying my face in your pussy and licking you until you beg me to stop, of slipping my dick between your full breasts and pinching your nipples while you suck me till I come," he was almost to the point of no return. His face was red and I could see him shaking with his desire. "I bet you would like that," she said haughtily. "Stand up now," as she cracked him across the back with the riding crop. Harris moaned.

He stood quickly and it was apparent that he was close to the edge as a

small stain appeared on the front of his trousers.

"I think it is time for my knives," Merton said, her voice getting husky and deep.

Knives? I wondered if this was going to take a twist into the truly bizarre.

She sauntered over to the table were the cook kept her precious knives and unlocked a drawer there. Merton pulled out a pair of knives that were so beautiful, I almost gave myself away. I stifled my gasp just in time. They were Italian type stilettos with ornately carved handles and a jewel on each pommel.

Fingering them lovingly, she stroked the blade with her thumb to check the sharpness and nodded with satisfaction. They were sharp.

Merton stalked back across the room.

"You know what I'm going to do now?" She asked him.

He was beyond speaking, so he merely nodded.

"Beg me!" she commanded.

His voice croaked out the words, "Please mistress, cut my clothes off."

"Louder!" The whip cracked on her boots.

"Please, Mistress! I want to be naked so I might serve you!" He did sound like he meant it.

"Very well, Harris," she purred and slid the knife against the seam of his trousers starting at his ankle. She ripped up the seam in one deft stroke that left Harris quivering. I was biting my knuckles now. He must have been able to feel the cool stoke of the knife blade on his skin. The other trouser seam followed suit and his pants fell down around him.

"Now back on your knees," she commanded and he thankfully obeyed.

"Lick my boots," she demanded and as he bent over to obey, she began to stroke his back and butt with the riding crop and to give light, sharp strikes with

it. Each time it struck his whole body would quiver and soon he was begging

her for release. She just put her boot closer to him and kept going. When he seemed at fever peak she stopped and moved away from him.

"Now your coat."

"Yes, Mistress." The knives went into the seams of the coat at his wrists. A flash of the blade and a tweak of her hand and the coat fell away from him until he wore nothing but a clean white undershirt.

She walked to a chair across the room and sat in it with her legs over the arms of the chair so she was fully exposed to him.

"Watch me!" she commanded.

She began to stroke her pussy slowly with obvious enjoyment. She kept her eyes on him as she began to make circles on her nub. I could see the dew

on her as she began to stroke faster. Harris held his breath and so did I. Then she slipped a finger in her pussy.

"Crawl to me" she said in a husky voice. It was all I could do to stay where I was.

He obeyed immediately but it was a long way and I could see that his knees were getting sore by the time he reached her.

"Eat me, and do it like I like it," she commanded and he set to work. He licked the outside of her lips first and gloried in her taste then he sucked on her clit, when he did this she grabbed the back of his head and pulled on his hair forcefully, he began to suck and lick harder now and soon she was grinding her pussy into his face. He was dying to touch her but was held back by the restraints. As she began to move her hips slowly, grinding herself into his face. I could see his tongue flicking in and out of her. Her head was thrown back now, breasts thrust out, face flushed and red. Her fingers clamped down into the wisps of his hair. Her hips began a rhythm so fast and complex, I knew she was beyond control and within moments she was screaming out her climax and riding his face hard.

This pushed him over the edge and he poured himself out all over the kitchen floor in a long shuddering release.

When she finally recovered herself and saw what he had done she was furious.

"Did I say that you could cum?"

"No mistress, but I couldn't help myself, you are so desirable."

"I don't want any of your excuses, stand up and put your hands on this table," she commanded as she unlocked his restraints.

He did as he was told but trembled however with excitement or fear it was hard to tell.

When he did as he was bid she took the restrains and attached him to the

table so he was fully bent over with his arms splayed wide. I could see that he was already becoming excited again, his cock swollen and red already.

She started the punishment by quick, light strikes, which left small red

marks on his butt then as the tempo quickened she began to strike harder and

harder. He took it for a lot longer than I would have been able to. His bottom began to become quite red he began to moan and writhe, he was quite aroused now and with his eyes closed in ecstasy. His hips circled and his shaft continued to grow.

Merton worked his inner thighs and the small of his back but always came back to his bottom. She was also working up a sweat and she began to play with her nipples. Then her hand stole down to her crotch and she began to play with herself, slipping her fingers in and out of her slick folds until she was red and swollen with desire too.

She stopped spanking him and began to caress his butt in a very loving manner.

"You have borne your punishment well," her voiced purred and she ran her nails slowly, even tenderly down his butt.

He moaned loudly and she kissed his butt and shook her long, silky black hair over it. His breathing became slower but his member was straining, red and moist and she was obviously overcome with her desire too.

As she unshackled him from the table, she ran her hair and hands over any available spot on his body until he began to sweat and shake as well.

Finally, she bent over the table, head down ass in the air.

"Take me now, hard and fast!" she demanded and as he positioned himself behind her and entered her in one thrust, they seemed to moan as one person. Then he was riding her hard and fast just as she requested, his hands on her hips. Her hair spilled out over the table like a fan and she arched her back, pushing her hips and butt up to meet each stroke. They writhed and moved as one as he slammed into her and when he reached over and touched her nub she exploded. He was right there with her, arching his back and pumped himself into her with a triumphant shout.

I stayed still and quiet, hidden in my pantry until they were gone. But I could not quite contain my knowing smile the next morning when Harris brought me his butler's uniform and asked me very sweetly if I might sew it up for him.