The New Girl by Karen Blayne

Oh by the way red tape first.

Be warned these short stories contain mature content or naughty bits and as such may corrupt you if you’re under 12, 16, 18, 21 or 25 depending where you live thus they are not suitable for you so put them back on the shelf and let them age for a year or two.

They were sort of scribbled for fun. They were first posted on asstr.org. If you’ve paid money for this book just be aware the author has not received any payment. In fact no one has permission to charge money for this book and copyright is retained by the author. ©2013 Asstr.org accepts donations if you’re feeling rich or even if you’re not.

Luv Karen

“Molly, I’m off to a house party for a week or two whilst I’m away go and find me another maid, fresh from the country this time.” Molly nodded and slipped down to the Saracen’s Arms to await the lumbering stage coaches as they arrived. When she’d come to London, she’d walked with a flock of sheep from the neighbourhood, well the stage coaches were so expensive and besides the speed they travelled at was barely twice walking pace, not worth the bother really. Still the Saracen’s Arms was where the coaches would arrive. She looked round and saw Mrs. Henderson, and the Rev. Parker she’d better keep out of their way. The first coach arrived with the horses heaving and panting away after pulling their heavy load. No likely ones there, a few minutes later a second coach pulled in and there covered in dust and looking as if she was zonked by all bumps riding on the outside on top of the coach was a likely candidate.

She motioned to the girl on the far side of the coach, “Looking for work?” The girl nodded and climbed down lifting a small bundle down with her. “Let’s away and get you something to eat.”

She took her back to the kitchen and lifted the bath out putting it in front of the fire. Soon a few pans and kettles of hot water and Ellen was beginning to feel human, especially after she was given a bowl of stew to eat. “So what’s it like here then?” “Well we get meat four times a week, fish on Friday of course and often there’s some bacon and kidney around at breakfast time if the family doesn’t eat it all. If you’ve finished, I’ll take you up and find you a room so you can unpack your things. You’ve a few days to settle in before we start work in earnest.”

“I’ve never had a room all to myself before and with a carpet as well.” Ellen unpacked her few belongings whilst Molly sat on the bed. “We have a much smaller staff than they used to have so we can spread out more. I’ve got the old butler’s room. Oh my you’ve a book, can you read?” “I learnt at Sunday school and they gave me it as a prize for coming top in bible studies.” “Can you write as well?” “It was odd that they didn’t teach us to write. Perhaps they thought we might spread revolutionary ideas about. I tried tracing the letters in a book once or twice.” “Well I know there are some slates in the nursery that aren’t used these days so we can practise if we get a bit of time.” Ellen smiled “I’d like that.”

Molly took her shopping so she’d know where the shops were. She even brought her two dress lengths of material that Ellen picked out by herself and some for undergarments when Ellen had looked them over and said she’d never had anything so fine. On Sunday they went to the local church and gazed on the fashionable upper classes in their finery who raised their quizzing glasses in return but didn’t otherwise acknowledge them. In the evenings after dusting the house they sat together in the kitchen by the still warm stove with their sewing baskets making up first one dress up then a mixture of undergarments and night rails. Ellen was glad there were only the two of them as she stood in her nothings as Molly pinned a tuck in here and fashioned a pleat there.

When Sir Francis returned from his few weeks of debauchery in the country, he was delighted to see Ellen’s delicate blonde hair and slender frame. Ellen found herself blushing a little under his gaze. “Molly tells me you can read?” He queried. She curtsied as a replied, “Perhaps after dinner you can read a poem or two to me.” Ellen curtsied once more. Dinner was relaxed unusually the three of them ate together in the small dining room. Sir Francis enquired of Ellen which part of the country she been born in and encouraged her to tell tales of her upbringing. Ellen wasn’t quite sure about the half glass of wine that Sir Francis pressed upon her but she glanced at Molly who was drinking from a glass that was rather more than half full. Molly and Ellen gathered up the plates and took them down to the kitchen to wash before they set. Sir Francis had settled himself down in an armchair by the fire with a glass of vintage port. “Now my dear I think I’d like you to read me a bit of poetry, the Earl of Rochester’s ‘A Ramble in St. James's Park’ perhaps to round off the evening.” Ellen started to read in her clear voice “Much Wine had past, with grave Discourse, of who” She started “This isn’t poetry it’s lewd, it’s disgusting.” “Well of course it is my dear. All the best poetry is lewd. Now continue if you please.” Ellen “I can’t bring myself to say the word.”

“Over here then girl!” Sir Francis commanded. He pulled her roughly across his lap and spanked her firmly once. “Now carry on. You realise it’s quite within my power to beat my servants.” Ellen shook her head “It’s wrong.” Molly tagged along as Sir Francis carried her into the library and tied her helpless to the special frame he’d had constructed to hold reluctant servants still whilst he disciplined them. “I’m leaving in the morning.” She screamed. “Oh I don’t think so, explain why not Molly.” “Well Ellen without a reference it’s unlikely you’ll get a job besides everyone knows you’ve worked for Sir Francis and with his reputation no respectable household will employ you.” “But they needn’t know.” “You’ve been seen at the shops with me and why do you think there was such interest in whom I was with on Sunday at church, and they knew exactly where you’ve been working.” “I should have gone with that motherly woman or the reverend at the Inn.” “Yes but they both run brothels. At least here, you get a half day off occasionally. It’s not so bad really Sir Francis pays us five pounds per month rather than five pounds a year and he'll be quite happy to be pleased with your mouth.” Ellen looked puzzled “I’ll show you later, as long as you don’t go picking up gentlemen in St. James’s park like Arabella did and get in the family way you’ll be fine.” What happened to Arabella?” “She was turned off. You're her replacement. Now just relax and let Sir Francis kiss you. It might feel a bit odd when he puts his tongue inside your mouth the first time but remember it distracts him from using the strap.”