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Old 18-Aug-18, 17:36
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Default Smothering his Lordship

PART ONE

Cedric Beeton’s face – never the most cheerful on a good day – grew dark and sombre. The other members of the household looked on attentively as he spoke.

‘Lord Dexter means to alter his will,’ he informed them gravely. ‘His nephew, James, will inherit the entire estate. We are to be left with nothing.’

Mrs Lake leaned forward in her chair, her round face flushed red. ‘But ‘e promised us faithfully,’ she protested. ‘He said we would want for nothing in our old age.’

‘That’s right, ‘e did!’ agreed Alfred, the thin-faced footman to her rear. ‘We ‘as our rights, surely?’

Beeton shook his head. ‘His lordship has changed his mind,’ he explained, ‘and now means to change his will likewise. He has asked me to send for his solicitor, Mr Morrowby. Nothing can be done.’

‘We must stop ‘im, sir!’ cried a shrill voice from the fourth person in the room.
Beeton allowed his gaze to linger on the plump, shapely curves of Millie, the downstairs maid.

‘And how do you suggest we manage that?’ he asked despondently.

Millie looked left and right, as if fearful she might be overheard. Then, in a low voice, as if she still dreaded discovery, she whispered, ‘We must smother ‘im!’

‘Dear God!’ exclaimed Beeton, unable to contain his surprise. ‘You cannot be serious!’

‘He’s an old man!’ said Millie, as if that were reason enough. ‘Not long for this world in any case.’

Her voice rose a fraction. ‘His doctor said so hisself. I heard ‘im. Only last week. “You have a weak heart,” he told his Lordship “and must have no shocks. A shock could be fatal to you.”’

‘As would being smothered,’ remarked Beeton with a weary sigh.

‘We deserves our reward,’ said Millie stoutly. She looked at Beeton and Mrs Lake in quick succession. ‘You two especially. You’ve worked for ‘is lordship nigh on twenty years. And he’s never paid you no wages. He promised you the ‘ouse instead. It’s your right! And ‘e promised me ‘is paintings, too – instead of me wages.’

‘And me ‘is horses, so’s I could set up a stable!’ said Alfred – who had never ridden in his life, but was sure there was money to be made at the races.

‘Millie is right,’ said Mrs Lake, entering the argument for the first time. ‘We are ‘is only servants and ‘e has used us badly. It ain’t right, Mr Beeton, and that’s a fact. It ain’t!’

The butler shook his head again. ‘But to smother him…’ he muttered. ‘I do not think I could do such a thing. To hold a pillow over his face …’

‘It don’t ‘ave to be a pillow,’ said Millie quickly. ‘We don’t ‘ave to do it like that.’ She glanced at the cook, took a deep breath and hurried on. ‘Mrs L and I could take it in turns to sit on ‘is face. That’d do him in for sure and no one the wiser!’

‘Sit on his face?’ cried Beeton. His own cheeks had lost all their remaining colour. ‘You cannot sit on his Lordship’s face! Such a thing is utterly monstrous!’

Mrs Lake raised a plump hand in the air. ‘Hear the girl out, Mr Beeton,’ she counselled. ‘This is our future we’re talking about. The old man promised us everything. He shouldn’t go back on ‘is word.’

Beeton sagged. ‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘When you say …’ He hesitated, drew a deep breath, then gathered himself afresh. ‘When you say … sit on his–’ He stumbled to a halt. He could barely bring himself to say the words.

‘Sit on his face!’ repeated Millie quickly. ‘I mean it, too. Without our drawers! Me and Mrs Lake. In the nudie!’

‘Oh, my word!’ Now it was the cook’s turn to look bewildered. She waved a hand in front of her nose, as if it were a fleshy substitute for smelling salts.

‘Sit on ‘is Lordship’s face?’ she repeated. ‘Without our drawers?’ She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but lapsed into a petrified silence.

‘We don’t ‘ave to smother ‘im ourselves,’ insisted Millie. ‘Not all the way. Just wear ‘im out. We can take it in turns to hold ‘im inside our bottoms till ‘e stops breathing. It wouldn’t be doin’ ‘im in. We wouldn’t suffocate ‘im. We’d give ‘im pleasure, rubbing our bottoms on ‘im.’ She pumped her fist crudely in the air. ‘We could fiddle with ‘is todger, too. That’d finish ‘im off – if we milked ‘im like a cow! Till it all came out! His heart would give way, for sure!’

Beeton’s eyes opened so wide they threatened to take over his forehead.

‘You cannot be serious?’ he muttered. ‘You cannot mean to sit on his Lordship’s face – as naked as the day you were born – and … and rub yourself on him?’

‘It’d be a kindness,’ said Millie. ‘I’ll do it meself, if you want. On me own. I don’t mind. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sat on a man. I know what to do!’

‘Not the first time?’ squealed Mr Beeton, before remembering his position in the household and closing his mouth tight.

Millie shrugged. ‘My last master liked me to sit on ‘is face,’ she announced carelessly. ‘He said it made ‘im happy to sniff my little hole.’

Beeton watched as Alfred’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t speak. Words were suddenly beyond him.

‘He doubled me wages if I let ‘im put ‘is tongue inside,’ said Millie proudly. A big grin brightened her face. ‘He always liked that. Said it made ‘im ‘appy to know ‘e was up my secret place.’

Beeton found his voice at last. ‘Dear Lord above!’ he cried. ‘The man actually put his tongue …’ He waved one hand in the direction of Millie’s skirt. ‘Inside … inside …’ Words failed him again. It was as if he were drowning in a sea of madness.

‘Inside my arse, yes!’ said Millie quickly. ‘The master said it was the best place in the world.’ She puffed out her chest. ‘He said if ‘e knew he had to peg it one day, then he ‘oped it could be inside a woman’s bottom!’ She looked from Beeton to Mrs Lake, then Alfred, then back to the ashen-faced butler. ‘That’s why I say that sittin’ on ‘is Lordship’s face would be a kindness. A bum is better than a pillow any day.’

Beeton leaned forward, still struggling to come to terms with what was being suggested. He took another deep breath. ‘You would be prepared to sit on his Lordship’s face … and suffocate him with your bottom?’

Millie nodded. ‘I would,’ she said quickly. ‘If’n you and Alfred hold ‘im down for me. So’s ‘e can’t get away.’

A long silence followed – broken at last by Mrs Lake. ‘She’s right,’ said the older woman. ‘We ‘ave to do ‘is Lordship in. He made us a promise and ‘e should keep it. If this is the only way then …’ She took a deep breath, too, and straightened her back. ‘I’m happy to sit on ‘im, too.’

Beeton regarded the two women gravely for several seconds. There was a look of grim determination in their eyes and he knew – to his horror – that they meant every word they had spoken.

Turning his attention to the young footman, he muttered weakly, ‘What do you say, Alfred? Will you help me hold his Lordship down – while … while the women take it in turns to sit on him?’

Alfred’s face crumpled briefly, as if a bad smell had entered the room. An image of a dozen horses racing towards the finishing line – and all of them his – rose up in his mind. Unfolding to his full height, he replied in a firm voice,

‘Yes, I would, sir. If that’s what it takes to get what’s rightly ours – then, yes, I’ll ‘old ‘is Lordship down … while the women do ‘im in with their bums!’

Beeton shook his head wearily. Still he wavered. He could end this madness here and now. Tell the three of them that such a thing was impossible. That – like it or not – they must accede to his Lordship’s change of will. But then the image of a country cottage – one paid for with his share of the estate – swam across his mind’s eye and he faltered. To have worked for so many years without payment – in return for comfort in his old age. To have that snatched away …

No! By God, if his Lordship meant to betray them, then they had every right to take what was theirs. In whatever way they could.

He sat back in his chair, like a king on his throne, and addressed the others gravely.

‘Very well,’ he said, his lips trembling around every word as he spoke. ‘We will do it.’ He took a deep breath, swallowed hard and hurried on before he changed his mind. ‘We will do it this very night.’ He raised his head and his words rang out around the kitchen.

‘We will smother his Lordship!’

To be continued
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