On a rainy afternoon, I’m taking a pot of fresh brewed tea up to my master, my family’s been serving his for generations, and I have been working here since I was a lad, guided and molded into a decent butler for Master Arwel, with whom I had grown up alongside, but we never really knew one another, ten years I’ve been on the job now, started when I was fifteen after my Father died of illness.
The air is chilly around my ankles as I climb the monumental stairs, and I can hear the rain tapping out it’s incoherent rhythm against the building, intensifying and easing off with the wind which wails eerily through the windows. It’s warmer as I climb and I relax more letting the warmth sink in, and by the time I reach the top, walking past a bust of master Arwel’s Father, the warmth is pleasant, and the wooden tray in my hand is much more stable.
I approach his study room gingerly, knocking on the large oaken door and waiting until I hear him say “Enter,” in his usual stern tone.
I open the door to see him staring grimly at me over his glasses which are perched on the end of his nose, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes have worsened again, it seems like he’s aged fifty years over the past ten in which I have served.
“Your tea, sir,” I call politely.
He scans me for a moment before he replies sternly, facing his work again, “Yes, bring it here.”
Quietly and swiftly as I can, I approach his desk and pull out the spare table, laying the tray down and picking up the teapot, carefully pouring a stream of deep brown liquid into the cup. It seems very loud, being the only noise present in the brightly lit room, aside from the gentle rain outside and the monotonous sound of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
I finish pouring and set the teapot down, picking up the tiny jug of milk and pouring a drop of it into his tea, then I set that down and pick up the saucer, placing it on a clear spot for him.
I return to my neutral stance, holding my hands behind my back. My master has such an intimidating aura, I really dislike serving him evening tea.
Master Arwel takes a sip of the tea and grumbles, putting it back and slouching over his work once more.
Suddenly the bell in the main hall sounds, indicating we have a visitor.
“Excuse me” I bow, turning on my heels, sighing inside as I remember how cold it is downstairs, I slide out of the room silently, closing the door behind me gingerly and then rushing down the cold stairs as the bell sounds again.
Waiting for me when I finally open the door after crossing the impractically long reception hall Is a stunningly beautiful woman sheltered from the rain by the roof of the porch, tall and slender with black hair done into a bun, she is dressed in a beautiful evening gown split at the side, her hip and left leg completely exposed aside from the thigh high stockings she’s wearing, although she isn’t wearing any underwear from what I can tell… she also wears a fur coat, from which the sleeves of the gown drape, her skin, however, is as pale as death, and her eyes glow a sinister crimson.
Next to her is stood an equally beautiful woman in scant ornate armor, her flowing red hair matches the livery of her armor, she brandishes an umbrella rather than a sword and wears a bored expression on her face.
I struggle to stop my jaw dropping as I stare at the stunningly beautiful pair.
“Greetings, may I see the master of the house?” the posh woman asks patronisingly, seeming to relish my stunned reaction.
I glance up at her face, “Ah-certainly, I’ll get him immediately,” I stammer, unable to keep my eyes from her voluptuous body, “Please come in and beseat yourselves,” I step aside, motioning towards the large sofas set up for our rich guests.
The pair step inside and the pale lady tells me “Make sure you give him my name, Matilda Langenberg.”
“Yes milady,” I quickly reply, shamefully staring at her perfectly shaped breasts.
As they brush past me I just can’t help myself from looking at the armored woman’s exposed behind, I just can’t stop staring even as I shut the door behind them, resistance is futile.
They don’t say a word to me, even as I walk back to the stairs. I glance back at them and see the rich lady chuckling to herself, perhaps she wanted me to gawk? I notice a ghostly claw surrounding her arm where before I saw the long sleeves of the gown, I take a second glance and they look like draping sleeves again as she lowers her arm, I’m sure I’m seeing things.
I get back to my master’s room and knock on the door, more absent mindedly this time, starting to wonder why her retainer needed such heavy armor for a house call…
“Yes,” my master calls.
I open the door and lean in to inform him, “There is a Lady ‘Matilda Langenberg’ here to visit you, sir,” I say, watching his eyes light up as I mention her name.
“I’ll be there shortly, kindly seat her in the tea room and brew us some fresh tea, Howell,” he says trying to hide the spark of excitement in his voice.
I walk swiftly to his side and put the half empty cup and it’s saucer back onto the tray and pick it up, sliding the table away, on my way out master Arwel speaks up again, “Lady Langenberg enjoys lemon tea, Howell, I’m sure we have some.”
“Will you be having some too, sir?”
“Please” he nods.
And with that I close the door gently and carry the tray downstairs, we could do with some maids around here to make my life easier.
I slink over to the kitchen and tip out the tea, such a waste. I put some more water to boil and walk back out into the main hallway, walking towards the beautiful lady awaiting me, I stop, trying my damnedness not to stare at her cleavage.
“My master will be right with you, may I have your coat, milady?” I say as politely as I can as the majority of her pale breasts stare at me.
“Kindly” she replies, keeping her arms together at her front as she stands up and turns around.
I slide the coat from her and drape it over my arm, getting a strong waft of her expensive perfume, which tickles my nostrils and makes me feel funny, I struggle mentally to suppress the growth between my legs without much luck
I hang the coat on the nearby hanging rack next to the seat and turn to face her again, staring at my soul with her dark blood red eyes set in her gorgeous face, I blink a few times and almost take a step back from her dazzling beauty, but I’m unable to look away, she has me hooked.
I turn bright red as I realise she can probably see the tent at my crotch, I feel vulnerable and incredibly embarrassed under her intense gaze, a chill runs down my spine and I start to shiver.
She smiles captivatingly and my chest tightens, I manage to stammer out intelligible words, “Uh… m-m-my m-master is uhh waiting up-upstairs… m-milady,” I piece together my sentence stiffly, feeling my cheeks turning up the heat, “p-please uhh follow me… umm” I stammer, hastily bowing, I feel like I should say sorry, but my moronic display seems to amuse her, and I can see her trying not to laugh as I walk up next to her, offering her my arm.
She places a hand on my arm and we walk up the stairs… I can feel her ice cold hand on my forearm through my sleeve as I hold my hand in a fist next to my hip, I feel her frigid fingers caress my sleeve, and I’d like to say my hairs are starting to stand on end, but they already were in the first place, and the stiffness at my crotch starts to hurt, she's too close.
I lead her to the room and open the door, my head is swimming as I lead her to her seat, after she is seated in the lavish tea room I bow, “Master Arwel will see you in a moment” I say, hoping my speech sounds normal.
“Thank you,” she responds, watching me with her lustrous eyes as I hobble out of the room. I start breathing heavily after I close the doorand wait until I regain my composure.
I walk to my master’s work room and knock on the door again, this time he opens it swiftly, forcing me to take a step back, he doesn’t look pleased.
“What kept you?” he growls, narrowing his eyes.
“My apologies, sir,” I bow, a bead of sweat developing at the side of my head, I despise working for this dumb fart.
He grumbles and walks to the tea room, pausing, his attitude changes completely, he opens the door and seems taken aback by her alluring body and attire, but says cheerily, “greetings, my sweet,” as though he had practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror, I notice her face is as stiff and business-like as when I’d first opened the door, before she saw my reaction, that is.
He closes the door and I hurry down the stairs, the water’s probably boiled over by now. I see the armored retainer stood stiffly in the hallway staring out soullessly like a statue, I stop briefly, “You may sit down” I call, trying my best to smile before scurrying to the kitchen.
I walk through the door and relief washes over me as I see the kettle has not yet boiled over, I quickly pick out the best teapot and get two lemon tea infusers from the cupboard, then I put a tea towel over the handle and pour the boiling water into the teapot, followed by the infusers, I place the pot on a tray with the best teacups and saucers and head out in a hurry.
The lady’s retainer is still stood like a statue, staring out into space, I sigh and begin climbing the steps, it’s gotten much warmer. I can really smell the tea now, I hate lemon tea, the feeling in my sinuses cause my face to screw up, and I stop at the top of the stairs, almost falling backwards, the china on my tray clattering as I try to regain my balance, the floor seems to bend and twist, I feel like I’m already falling slowly, but I manage to stabilise myself using a lower step, taking a moment to catch my breath, my face probably looks a mess.
I make it to the door and knock, -I’ve developed tough skin on my knuckles after all this time- and master Arwel answers in a lighter tone than normal, “Come in, Howell.”
I open the door to see Lady Langenberg’s eyes come to life again, and master Arwel’s unnerving fake smile as I head towards the little table.
She keeps speaking, “I like your butler though, I think he’ll make-”
“Oh, yes, Howell, wonderful chap isn’t he? I feel he’s lacking in presence, though, but I can’t afford to have maids though…” Arwel cuts in and rambles on with a pressured expression, acting as though I’m not here. Stupid git, you’ve been living alone here your whole life.
I place the cups and saucers out before them and pour the Lady’s tea first, it smells disgusting… perhaps its gone off…?
“Oh, lemon tea, how exotic” she exclaims in between master Arwel’s sentences, but he continues rambling on as though nothing happened, I genuinely believe he’s aged more than ten years, perhaps I’d better look in a mirror for once.
Lady Langenberg looks up at me and mouths, “thank you,” with a little smile, and Arwel pauses, starting his next sentence with a hint of his usual grumpy tone, which dies away as his sentence continues, I don’t even register what he says.
I wait patiently next to the table for master Arwel as his voice keeps groaning on, just as monotonous as the rain’s gentle pattering against the building, the wind has died down, and that damn clock driving me crazy, this is getting so depressing, Lady Langenberg looks like a radiant flower in a graveyard at dusk.
After a while I notice master Arwel really getting annoyed, he turns to me, “please leave me with the esteemed Lady, Mr. Howell” he says, his voice like sandpaper.
“I was going to ask if you wanted anything else, sir, such as sandwiches, or if you would like me to-”
“No, get out, and don’t talk back” he interrupts, his voice even rougher.
“Yes, sir” I reply densely and leave the room, closing the door gingerly behind me and sighing as I descend the stairs heavily… something’s fishy.
“Why do I even work here, I’m not paid and my master is a complete muppet who can’t even afford to heat the damn house… And he’s acting odd...” I grumble as I reach the bottom, then I freeze, remembering the lady’s retainer, I look at her unreadable face staring straight at me like a rabbit caught in a bright light.
The knightly woman stares for another moment, an expression creeping up on her face that suggests she knows something I don’t, then she goes back to her statue-like state, staring out into space. I look at the top of the stairs, the door is still closed and I can hear Lady Langenberg talking for once, I breathe a sigh of relief and head to the kitchen for a break, still tense, could there be something going on beneath this simple meeting? I’m pretty damn sure I’ve never taken the master any mail from a ‘Lady Langenberg’.
I manage to start cooking during the time I wait, we aren’t having any meat today, I wonder why master Arwel has such a big house if he struggles to pay for it...
I haven’t been called, but I’m going to clean away the tea set and brew more tea, I need an excuse to assess the situation again.
I walk from of the kitchen and out into the main hall, the statue woman is still standing there staring off into space, almost as if she’s become part of the house now, she fits the dreary mood the mansion is in today.
I notice her giving me a warning look as I start to climb, but I don’t turn back in case she didn’t want me to see. When I reach the top of the stairs I’m about to knock when I hear Lady Langenberg’s voice.
“Alright, sign here,” I hear her say.
I take a step back, hoping I’d misheard, then I hear master Arwel, “Alright, there, I’ll go pack my things,” he says cheerily.
I find myself unable to move as I hear footsteps approaching the door, a bead of sweat running down my head as I hear the floorboards creak much, much louder than usual, my world freezes as I hear his hand on the doorknob. I’m a goner.
The door opens and I see Arwel’s face a bit more perked up than usual… naturally happier looking, he pauses for a moment looking at me.
“good timing Mr. Howell, I don’t have time to explain so I’ll leave you with goodbye” he says hastily, walking to his bedroom as my jaw hits the floor… no punishment for overhearing? no long winded scolding?
He’s leaving? What?
I run these words through my mind for a moment, processing, when Lady Langenberg calls me ever so softly into the room.
I swiftly turn to face her as though I were a dog being called, she’s looking at me as a wolf would grin at its prey before biting into it, I gulp loudly, a chill running down my spine. I approach her as she wears the predatorial smile of a wolf and gingerly sit in the seat opposite Lady Langenberg, faintly I can hear the master running down the stairs laughing to himself.
“I, Matilda Langenberg, have bought this property and all within it, thank you, Mr. Howell, for keeping it in good condition” she says calmly, smiling, as though talking to a child, “I suppose you’re wondering what will happen to you now, Mr. Howell,” she utters, staring at me… weirdly, I- I don’t know how to react...
“Usually you would go with him... but... would you be interested in a job as my butler? It will be just as… physically demanding… as your previous job…” she says, smiling predatorily as she gets up and walks closer, my eyes are drawn to her hips, my mouth dries up. She perches herself on the table in front of me and fixing me with that stare, “...but I think you would enjoy it so much more,” she utters entrancingly, an icy cold hand slides onto my knee, every fiber of my being standing to attention just for her.
“um-uhh o-of c-course!” I manage to blabber out, completely entranced by her eyes, which seem to draw in my very soul.
Her smile deepens as she shifts aside and pushes a sheet of paper and a quill toward me, and speaks the words of evil.
“Sign here, my dear.”
And as though it were a command I slide the chair a little further forward, pick up the quill and pause before I sign with my messy signature, feeling like I’m signing my own death warrant, then I feel a soothing cold under my chin followed by the deathly cold touch of her delicate fingers, sending electricity through me as she gently forces me to look back at her face, mere centimeters from mine… Though… I can’t feel her breath.
“There, all mine, I trust you’ll work your hardest for me?” she utters, and after a while of staring into her beautiful face, her eyes burning into me, her blue, lifeless lips warning me, contradicting the enticing allure of her beauty, she is the embodiment of death. I want to run, rip up the document and get as far away from here as possible, but something behind the icy coating of her iris is calling me back. I gulp, and my next words are the real contract, a promise, to obey her, heart and soul, until the day I die.
On a dark evernight I’m taking a pot of fresh brewed tea up to my mistress by the dim candlelight, I’ve been freed from my family’s long line of being oppressed, and I have been working here for about six months now, living in luxury with my beloved Lady Langenberg, with whom I am now happily married, but I still enjoy being her butler, eleven years I’ve been a butler now, started when I was fifteen after my Father passed away.
The surrounding atmosphere is pleasantly cool against my bare chest as I climb the beautiful decaying stairs, and I can hear the erotic moaning of an undead and her husband quite far off, intensifying and easing off slowly as they reach climax over and over. It’s colder as I climb and I relax more embracing the cold, and by the time I reach the top, walking past a bust of Matilda and I kissing. The icy cold is pleasant, and the silver tray in my hand is quivering slightly as I anticipate what is to come.
I approach our bedroom gingerly, knocking on the large oaken door and waiting until I hear her call “Come in, darling~” in her usual enticing moan.
I open the door to see her laid on the bed in my favorite set of her lingerie, she seems to grow more beautiful each day, it seems she’s been wanting sex more often over the last six months, and although there is already a small tent appearing at the crotch of my trousers, I stick to my formalities with a smile.
“Your tea, my dear,” I utter breathlessly.
She scans me for a moment before smiling devilishly and staring at me with her lustful eyes, “Of course, darling.”
Slowly and purposefully as I can, I approach the bed holding her stare with a lustful look of my own, gritting my teeth as I lay the tray down on the bedside and pick up the teapot, carefully pouring a stream of dark liquid into the cup. It seems very loud, being the only noise present through the tension between us in this dimly lit room, aside from the couple outside getting quieter.
I finish pouring and set the teapot down, picking up the tiny jug of pink liquid and pouring just a drop of it into her tea, then I set that down and indicate with my hand that it is ready to drink, holding eye contact with her as I watch her sit up.
I return to my neutral stance, holding my hands behind my back. My mistress has such an alluring aura, I’m fighting the urge to take her now...
Matilda takes a sip of the tea and sighs, putting it back and staring back at me.
“You make wonderful tea, darling,” she utters, reaching for my chest and caressing me with a cold ghostly claw and an even colder hand, “but that’s not why you’re here,” she coos, drawing me into the bed with her...