For a Bet
I arrived at Southby Hall quite unannounced.
The Butler regaled me suspiciously.
“May I help you sir?” he asked.
“Possibly, where is your master?” I asked.
“He is away sir,” he replied.
“Excellent, tell me do you have any silver or paintings?” I asked.
“No sir the master has sold the family silver and paintings,” he explained, “Why do you ask?”
“Always on the look out for a bargain,” I replied, “Surely there is something you could sell me, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I am afraid the master has already sold everything of consequence,” the Butler added, “It is said he would sell his own grandmother were there any prospect of finding a buyer.”
“Excellent,” I agreed, “Well you have passed the test, albeit barely,” I admitted, “I am Stanley Albright and as of this noon I am the new owner of Southby Hall.”
He looked shocked. “Oh don’t worry, he ran out of Grandmothers to sell so I snapped it up at a ridiculous price, just have to decide whether to keep it as a home or turn it into a boarding school like Eton and the like.”
He looked worried, “But what about our jobs?” he asked.
“Bit of a bugger I suppose, getting employment at your age,” I suggested, “Not a lot of call for rotund lazy fellows who spend most of their waking hours dozing in a comfortable arm chair.”
He bridled but held his tongue.
“So how many staff are there?” I asked.
“Well there’s Cook, and Housekeeper and,” he explained.
“Oh save your breath assemble the staff forthwith that I may address them.” I ordered, he hesitated, “Do it man, now, chop chop.”
He scuttled away, the lazy fat oaf.
I wandered around the house taking in the study, dining and withdrawing rooms, library and such like.
The Butler returned, “The staff are assembled in the servant’s hall sir.”
“Good man, lead on.” I replied.
He led me down the servant’s stairs to the servant’s room next to the kitchen where they ate and did household chores like polishing the silver,
A throng of worried faces awaited me, some no more than children. I did a quick count. I ***********ed the young ones, “You, you and you, you should be playing hide and seek not working so away with you and play in the gardens!”
They looked at each other dumbly.
“Away I say, swiftly now,” I repeated.
They scuttled away.
“Now are we all adults for this is not for children?” I asked.
They all agreed.
“Now I have seldom seen such a morose group on ne’re do wells,” I announced, “Forthwith the youngsters have four hours every day for play and recreation.”
I let it sink in, “And those of age have regular intercourse to raise their spirits, but fear not I shall employ a nanny in case progeny are created.”
“I really must protest!” the elderly housekeeper insisted.
“Oh please don’t be alarmed, if you don’t want to be poked there are surely plentiful opportunities for fat, lazy, ugly, argumentative old biddies with no references out there,” I reassured her, “Why Chatsworth or Buckingham Palace will doubtless send runners forthwith to entreat you to head their households.”
“But I am pure!” she whined.
“Then its high time you had some pleasure in your drab humdrum existence,” I insisted, “In fact why not start now, up on the table with you and raise your skirts.”
“I most certainly shall not!” she protested.
“On well on the floor then,” I suggested.
“You shall not lay a finger on me!” she snapped.
“No intention to old girl, I had in mind the Butler,” I explained, “So Butler, do you want a job or nay?” I asked, “For if you wish to remain give the old biddy a seeing to!”
“But sir I cannot!” he whined.
I sought the comeliest serving wench, “You,” I said, “Pop your melons out, slip your smock to your waist and show the Butler what he is missing.”
She gasped.
“Do it now wench, rouse the Butler,” I insisted, “Jobs are not easy to find.”
She dis as I asked and stood naked to the waist, her breasts though not the most alluring were pleasantly full and womanly and certainly roused my member from its slumber.
The Butler’s face reddened, “Go on seek his member, unbutton his hose and extract the snake,” I goaded.
She moved towards him and grasping his hose wrenched downwards. His soft pudgy cock swung loose barely roused. The girl grasped his balls and twisted, “There you don’t like it when I does it to you, never mind you wist me norks near off give half a chance!” she snapped.
His cock sprang urgently to life.
“Keep that away from me!” the housekeeper protested.
“Shut your rattle woman and on the table legs akimbo before his ardour fades,” I insisted.
She refused, “You and you,” I addressed a couple of burly chaps, “Drag the old bitch onto the table would you, the poor old chap’s about to waste his load and that would be such a shame would it not?”
“But sir!” They demurred.
“Drag her not poke her,” I repeated.
“Oh very well,” The housekeeper relented, her eyes fixed on the Butler’s cock, “If I must,” and she sat on the end of the table and raised her skirts. A fat hairy cunt was revealed, more akin to a Baboon than an ordinary English woman’s parts, I should have shorn it with a hedge clipper before I made any attempt to poke it, but the Butler was not so particular.
He advanced upon her one leg in his hose and one out, one boot on and one not, his cock like a broom handle, albeit a rather short one.
They conjoined, not without some difficulty but with two burly lads positioning the housekeeper and my knee against the Butler’s backside somehow his sad pudgy erection was persuaded to enter her surprisingly moist cunt. The ease with which it entered made me suspicious that it was not the first pole to penetrate her, maybe a candle stick or a rolling pin, even a broom handle had been there before.
The throng cheered as the deed was done and then the clock struck six o’clock.
“What the blue blazes is going on!” someone bellowed. It was my chum Stanley Albright.
“One Butler fucking one Housekeeper,” I replied, “I believe you owe me fifty guineas?”
“Hanson you total bastard!” he railed.
“At six of the clock precisely,” I added.
“I was drunk, I was joking,” he admitted feebly.
I laughed and shouted, “Ladies ad Gentlemen, may I introduce your new Lord and Master the real Stanley Allbright,” I indicated the gentleman concerned. “I am afraid my name is John Hanson and I have just won a fifty guinea bet.”
“You tricked me!” the housekeeper cried.
“And me,” the Butler added.
“So you regret it?” I asked.
“Er, no,” the Butler admitted, “Never thought of poking her to be honest, I likes the younger ones usually.”
She slapped him full across the face.
“Truly a union made in heaved,” I observed, “Still if they share a room it will save on the heating bills.”
“Hanson,” Allbright said seriously. “Get out before I do something you will surely regret.
“Absolutely old mate, don’t forget my fifty guineas.” I laughed and I went to leave.
“And take the chambermaid with you, the one you sampled earlier.” he added.
“Hold hard,” I interjected, “You don’t think I sampled a chamber maid do you, tell him girls.”
“He had me in the linen cupboard,” one averred.
“Liar!” I came back.
“And me in the scullery,” another tittered.
“No!” I replied, “You have to believe me!”
“No chance!” He laughed, “Now be gone before I call the constable!” he ordered, “And leave the girls, they are obviously in need of a good seeing to and I shall oblige them myself.”
They had the good grace to look disappointed.
I never did get my fifty guineas bet but I was the toast of my club for ages afterwards and must have consumed fifty guineas worth of ale on the strength of retelling the tale.
Poor old Albright had to live with the indignity for some time, but he did benefit from a contented staff once the Housekeeper and Butler realised screwing each other every Saturday night was better than doing without and finally decide to tie the knot.
As for the chambermaids let us draw a veil over those proceedings though mothers and children were doing well last time I heard from them.....
