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The day the Lady of Cottonhall summoned me into her chambers, I had been stealing apples. My heart beat tremulously in my chest, and my voice was a whisper lost in the evening breeze when I answered “dinner for mi lady”, to her query of who was there.

“Enter,” she said, with the most laid back of voices that yet had a bite to it in a way that was solely hers.

My fingers squeezed so hard at the platter in my hands that my knuckles turned white—knuckles which were yet throbbing from my knock on the black hardwood door. I pushed the door open and entered.

There was a lump in my throat that I did not dare swallow, and my neck was as stiff as a stick in my bid to ensure that I didn’t look towards mi lady, in the hopes that she would forget why she had sent for me, which I was still dreadfully sure had to do with my little foray at apple picking that evening. I went straight towards the dresser, one leaden foot after the other, and placed the tray on it.

“Bring it over here,” she said, causing my heart to take rude stops and then jump right into a frantic trot like a panicked horse.

I picked the tray up and turned with it towards mi lady’s bedpost which was near as high as the stone ceilings and covered with a veil so white and silky soft like that which hid the very face of God. I had never been in her bedchambers before, but I had heard stories. Matter of fact, I had not seen her since the day the black carriage brought my sister and I into her service, so many moons ago—the same day I saw the apple trees for the first time. Fiona, my sister, had been rejected, while I had been accepted with a stern warning to stay away from the apples, which I was certain mi lady had caught me staring at. Good Lord, how I cried as the carriage bore Fiona away. I was so sure that I would die under the dreadful watch of such a lady, but all such worries quickly disappeared from mind when Agathe took me into the kitchen and gave me some milk.

Agathe was the cook, and together with her husband, Francois, the butler, ran the workings of the house. I had never seen mi lady since that day—and I remember now that it had been four moons since—but I had heard things let slip from the lips of the other servant girls and sometimes even Agathe and Francois themselves. The very one which troubled me in that very moment, was the knowledge that mi lady was in consort with the devil, and stole the souls of little girls. That, in addition to the fact, which was common knowledge, that she had killed all three of her former husbands. They said that the only reason her current husband yet lived was because he was a clergyman—a Reverend—and God had seen fit  to take him far away from her on important missions. Yet, what was even more confounding was how beautiful she looked that day when I saw her, because I knew that witches were supposed to be old and ugly, with skin hard like leather, exactly like the wing of bats which I had heard they lay within the dead of night when the rest of the world slept. Her beauty was even now coming back to me, as it sat right there, suffused into her voice when she said—

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

I hurried up to her bed, and stood confused for a moment as to where to lay the tray, when she drew open the veil. Her skin was the color of milk, and glowed in the faint traces of moonlight which filtered in through her window, which had been thrown wide open, and through the supple folds of the veil. In that split moment in which I looked away, I caught a glance of her wicked eyes in the way they fixed themselves on me—those whirlpools of gleaming blackness in which I could stare so deeply and lose myself.

She took the tray from my hands, and set it on her laps.

“Mi lady,” I said, and turned away as she got right down to her meal.

“What is your name?” she said just as I got to the door. I froze in my steps, my heartbeat racing again at an escape rudely terminated.

“Mi lady?”

“I meant, by what name are you called?” she said.

“El-el-Eleanor, mi lady,” I stammered.

“Come over here, come keep me company.”

“Mi lady?”

“Do not speak to me with your back turned, and I asked you to come keep me company,” she said.

Tears rose to my eyes, but I blinked them away as I turned. I was certain that this was it; this was the end. I would go to her, and she would steal my soul, and I would die. Still, I went to her—inching slowly as I did—for I did not know to do anything else.

“My, my, how frightened you look. So dreadfully pale,” she said. I could hear the laugh in her voice. It was only proper, I reckoned. A mouse, once caught in a cat’s paw had no say in the matter if he chose to make it his plaything.

“I reckon I must be a bit of a Lady Bathory to you.”

“Mi Lady?”

“I steal the souls of little girls, maidens, don’t I?” she said.

My eyes must have looked like mice holes as they drew wide in horror. Somehow she had known, somehow she must have seen the thoughts that were rolling through my head, and she must have been angry for being so slandered, and I realized I had to tell her that the thoughts were not actually mine, but malicious spiteful things I had her from my fellow servants, and I was nearly done spilling out all their names and what they had said before even this realization was done.

“Easy, easy, child,” she said, laughing uncontrollably at something I had said, when she should have been furious. “I am sure if the girls were to find out how very easy you were made to spill the beans, they would not speak with you anymore. My, my, I did not mean to frighten you this much—and I haven’t even started.”

I just stood there, feeling like a fool which I most definitely was. I could neither quite understand what had just happened nor why she was taking things so mildly, for that matter. If Lady Patricia, in whose service I had been before coming to Stonehall, were in her shoes, she would have rounded up all the servants and whipped up a storm by now.

“Come here, child, I want to look at you,” she said.

I wiped my face and walked right to her. It might be odd, but it seemed that so thoroughly unburdened of the weight of the whispers of my fellow servants, I became light footed as I went to her.

“Sit,” she said, and I glanced around for a stool on which to sit, but she pushed the veil even wider open and put the tray aside, pulling up her legs to make space for me.

“Here.” She patted the space on the bed before her. There was such kindness in her almond eyes and warmth in her smile that I did not even question if indeed this was some trap to get me punished for assuming too much. I sat on the bed.

“There. Eleanor. That is your name, is it not?” she said. And though I could not see, for I was looking straight ahead and away from her, I could tell that she was looking at me, staring as one would a curiosity.

“It is,” I said. “My name is Eleanor.”

“And it is a beautiful name for one so fair,” she said.

My cheeks grew hot immediately that mi lady, herself, should pay such a compliment to me. She, who was so divine and so graceful. Even now, I can still smell her. She smelled of roses of the garden, like she bathed in them every evening. I have since come to learn that ladies of such wealthy houses do in fact partake in such fanciful things—wasteful of the things that edifies God.

“Tell me, Eleanor; do you like apples?” she said.

There it was; the trap so artfully set had sprung, and I was caught. I could either tell the truth, which she definitely already knew, or I could tell a lie, and risk her sore displeasure.

“Come on, I still remember how fondly you looked to the trees the day that you were brought here,” she said. Looking at them was not all I had done to those trees since the day of my arrival, but she already knew that. I chose not to think of the issue of what Henry, the stable boy, had begun to do to me by those trees; which is to say that I did think of it, but quickly drew away from the thought for fear that she would see it in my mind.

“I do, mi lady. I do like apples,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “Then you can have as many apples as you want.”

“Mi Lady?”

“You can have as many apples as you want,” she said. “Provided you don’t share it with Henry.”

That struck me dumb. Henry. Why was she talking of Henry, unless...

“That is the name of the stable boy, is it not?” she asked as she sliced a bit of her bread and smeared honey over it before throwing it into her mouth.

“Yes,” I said, breathing through my mouth. “That is his name.”

“He is funny, is he not? He makes you laugh?” she said.

“He does,” I said.

“That’s how it begins,” she said, spreading honey on bread, frantically. “Although, now one ever tells you how much heartache comes of that later in life, or how dreadful you would have to choose between such excitements and the comforts of marrying into the family of a rich lord if you are to make anything of your life.

“Even worse, nobody warns you of how handicapped and inept they will be when it comes to...much nicer matters as pertains to a woman.”

She bit into her slice of bread, watching me as she chewed.

“Tell me, has Henry attempted to put his tool in you yet?”

If my cheeks were hot before, they were on fire now. How could mi lady be speaking of such things? They were so unladylike. And yet, I couldn’t deny the odd fascination at the idea that perhaps we could in fact talk about it. I could feel a subtle moistening of my nether lips.

“Oh, he must have, by now. As dull as he strikes me, he cannot be that dull,” mi lady said.

“He—he has,” I said, feeling a weird shudder run through me.

“He has tried or he has put it inside you?”

“He has tried,” I said. “But I have not let him.”

“Wh—why? What are you waiting for?” she asked, sounding very surprised.

“I—I don’t know,” I said.

“Perhaps that is for the best,” she said. I turned to face her and saw she had a peculiar smile on her face that bespoke mischief. “Perhaps that has led to other delights?”

The memory of Henry asking me to hold his thing and milk him like a cow, and to take him into my mouth—which I refused—crossed my mind.

“Tell me, Eleanor,” mi lady said, smearing something wet across my lips. “does he make you hold him in your hands?”

I was too stunned to realize what was happening as mi lady pressed her lips against mine, kissing me as she sucked the honey off my lips.

I gasped when she pulled away. What was going on? What had just happened? And even as I questioned all this in my head, I could feel the flood that was spreading all over my thighs, making them slippery as they rubbed, one against the other.

“He makes you hold him, doesn’t he? Makes you stroke him,” she said as she dipped her hand into the cup of honey and brought two of her fingers to my lips. One of them smeared honey over my lips.

“I wonder if he’s got enough imagination to make you take him into your mouth,” she said as the other finger slid in between my lips, feeling my mouth with much sweetness as she stroked my tongue.

I could not question this invasion of my person, I was too busy glorying in the heady feel all of it gave me, as well as the tingly sensation it sent down to my cunt. There, I said it. My cunt clenched, relaxed, and clenched again.

“Pleasures all for him, pleasures all for them,” she continued. “Never enough. Never considerate, never caring that we might have needs of our own.”

Mi Lady drew me in for another kiss, and this time I welcomed her, letting my lips part slightly in reception of her prying tongue.

“Hmm,” she moaned into my mouth as she sucked the sweetness off my lips, drinking me.

This time, when she pulled off, I very near sank my fingers into that rich raven colored hair of hers to pull her back. But I saw she was tugging at the cords that fastened the neck of her night dress, and once she had them loose, she pulled the top of her dress lower down and let out her left breast.

Until that moment, I had never had any reason to look at another woman’s breast properly, not even my own. And now in the presence of one, I realized how much I wanted to kiss it, to let my tongue trace the borders of her bold black areola and to suck that engorged nipple into my mouth. I squeezed my legs tighter in response. But mi lady wasn’t done.

She scooped some milk out of the cup I had brought her, using her fingers, and smeared it all over her nipple and areola. She did this twice, then she reached out to me.

“Come,” mi lady said.

I crawled over the folds of bed sheets like a baby to her.

“Good girl,” she said as she took my face softly in her arms and kissed me. It was a light kiss; tender, loving, and quickly done. Then she pushed me lower down until I was level with her tit. I did not need further urgings to take her into my mouth.

“Mmmm,” she moaned. “Like that, child. Just like that.”

I did not know how best to go about it, I just let my body be my guide as I licked the milk off her areola and sucked at her nipple. I realized she gasped a little when my tongue grazed her nipple, and gave it another lick.

“Right there, Eleanor. Right there.”

I was still sucking at her tit when I felt her reaching into my dress for my own tits. I felt my body fold into itself. I had never trusted anyone with my body that far, and some part of me still realized that this was a woman and for some reason, all of this was unnatural. Still, I wouldn’t pull away from her breast.

“Gently now, child,” she said to me, cooing like I really was her baby. “Let me show you true pleasure.”

I was not yet fully sure that I should be letting her take possession of my body in that way, yet there was something in her voice, so much promise it held. I opened to her like a flower, even my thighs fell open.

My body was one exposed mass of nerves when her hand closed around my right breast for a mild squeeze. And when her thumb glided over my nipple, I was certain that nothing else in the world existed, apart from that minute part of my body upon which it seemed all the pleasure in the world had come to settle. My only reaction was to draw her nipple harder into my mouth, except this time it came through my teeth.

“You like that, I see,” she said through her teeth, as she stroked my nipple again and again. She was referring to my hips which had settled into a humping dance of theirown.

I groaned when she took her hand away from my breast.

"Shush!" She said as she reached over for the cup of milk. I watched as she brought it up to her and poured milk all over her breast. My mouth went wide open to catch as much of the cascading flood as I could, but I ended up with much of my face getting bathed in milk, just like the most of her breast which I rose a little higher to lick and suck.

She raised my chin up for a kiss and I claimed her lips for myself, losing myself in this feeling I had only dreamt of but had not expected would be coming from a woman. This feeling went up several notches higher when I felt her pulling the helm of my dress up. She was reaching for it, fishing—she was going to touch me there. My body went on fire.

This was dirty, unholy, sinful, I thought to myself as the tip of her fingers grazed the top of my thighs and circled my pelvis. Yet I could not help melting further into her. This was much more intense than the way I felt when I raised my dress up for Henry to have a glance. Up till that moment, Henry was the only person who had looked at me there, and yet here she was about to—

"Mi Lady," I said, trying to pull myself up and away from her. Things had gone too far.

"Mi Lady, please I can't, let's not—"I said, struggling and finding myself trapped by the folds of clothes and beddings around me, and Mi lady, she was strong. She held me down on the bed as she rose over me.

"What is the matter, Eleanor? You do not want to be taken care of?" She asked.

She pulled her night dress over and off her in one quick sweep and dumped it on me, trapping me in more softness that smelled of her—roses and light sweat.

She was totally naked before me, and deeply set in the alarm that had risen in my throat and was fitting to choke me was the knowledge that this was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. I could not possibly do this with her, she was too perfect for me, I was much too below her station. But she was having none of that as she threw herself on me and began to kiss me again.

Her lips were hard in claiming mine this time and her body was supple, writhing against me, drawing me further in like the serpent of Eden and even in my half breathed protestations, my hands wanted to grab her and hold her and feel the softness of her as well as the silky sponginess of her bush. But if that wasn't hell enough, she pushed her leg in between my thighs and pushed harder against my cunt with her knee. I lost all control of my faculties as my legs clamped up on that leg of hers and I began to hump against her knee, letting my crotch ride up and down and push harder into it, generating a heat in my cunt that I felt would destroy the world in one gigantic ball of fireworks were it to get any bigger. Still I humped that leg, reaching for more.

What was mi lady doing to me? All I had come to do was deliver dinner, what had she turned me into in such little time?

The relief I should have felt was not to be had when she pulled up, off me. I wanted more of her. Where was she going? My heartbeat sped up when I realized where she was going. She was going to look at me.

"Mi Lady," I said, struggling to pull myself up as she slid lower.

"Mi Lady, we shouldn't do this," I said as she took hold of my thighs and spread them open, yet I fear they fell apart all too easily. I was wet enough to drown a hippopotamus, and when my thighs fell open, my nether lips did too with a wet sound that was so loud I swore I heard it. I could smell my own excitement in the very air itself. And when mi lady's mouth closed up on my cunt I must have died.

All I know is that the room swarm around in my head and everything went black. When I came to, mi lady was still eating me out. The entirety of me was so sensitive I felt the very bumps of her taste buds as they ran up and down the entry of my cunt and against my cunt knob.

"Mi Lady," I moaned. Why I was calling her I could not tell. She was driving me insane with her ministrations and the light kisses and bites she was stealing from my thighs. My hands clenched and unclenched. I wanted to sink them into her hair and pulled her further into my cunt. I wanted to pull her up and kiss her. I wanted to hold her against myself and never let go. Still she kept on eating and drinking me. Was this it? Was this what they meant when they said she stole the souls of little girls? If so, then I wanted her to steal mine, to own me twice over. I would gladly do anything she asked if only that meant this never ended. Yet it ended.

She lifted her head and pulled herself up. I could see the sheen of my juices on her lips. I pulled her up to myself and kissed her, cleaning up all traces of myself off her. She pulled away from the kiss and smiled at me.

"After tonight, I never want to see you again with Henry. I own you now," she said.

"Yes, mi lady," I said and meant it.

"Ready to give 'mi lady' as much pleasure as she has given you?" She asked.

"Yes," I said, nodding vigorously just in case she could not tell how eager I was.

"Good," she said, pulling herself up to her knees which she crossed over my head.

Beneath the light mesh of hair, her cunt lips spread open before me and a pearl of her juices came to settle at the edge, ready to drop into my mouth any moment. I took in a deep breath of her smell and felt myself wanting to claim her now. I could see the wrinkled eye that was her anus and I never knew that something I always thought of as dirty could rouse up such hunger and desire within me. I gripped her hips with both hands to pull her down on me, and I heard the sound of galloping horses racing towards the house.

"Oh god," she gasped. "No."

I did not know the cause of her worry, and I did not care as I pulled her down onto my lips.

"No, Eleanor," she gasped, struggling to get off me. "That is my husband."

I wanted mi lady right then, and I would have her. And if her husband chose that moment to appear from his year-long sojourn to the American colonies, well so be it. I pulled mi lady down on me and latched my lips on to her cunt. And though her moans were filled with much protestations, I knew from the grinding of her hips, this was a pleasure sorely needed.

***

"Who wants to hear about my exploits in Salem?" Cotton Mather asked as he burst into the bedchambers.

"My lord husband, you have arrived," Mi Lady said, sliding out of bed, fully dressed in her night dress.

"Yes, and full of tales of divine judgment upon evil women doing wicked and unnatural things throughout the world," he said, ignoring my weak-kneed bow as I took away the platter of mi lady's half eaten dinner. The last glimpse I caught of her that night, was of her staring back at me with half a smile over her husband's shoulder in an embrace.

As I trudged through the hallways towards my station, I hoped that we had truly escaped that night, and that there would be many more nights to come. I had after all promised my soul to my lady.