Be Mine - Thomas Sharpe X Reader (Erotica)

A True Gentleman

"Do I have to go back out there? I can't....I...I won't!" I say with as much conviction as I can muster.

The cook, Mrs Moore, regards me dismissively and returns her attention back to the bustling kitchen where several other servants and footmen are busy tending to their various duties.
"You can and you will, my girl! Tis' not for the likes of us to question orders from upstairs."

Rolling my eyes my hands go to my (Y/H/C) hair and I tug on it in sheer frustration. This is like a nightmare. An ongoing, never ending nightmare that I can't wake up from.

I've been working in service at Aldermont Hall for eight weeks now, as my impoverished parents can no longer support myself and my three younger brothers. My father is the local blacksmith in the small parish of Thaxted, Northwest Essex, and a chance encounter shoeing the horse of Major Cecil Hanbrooke -- a local wealthy business owner and ex serviceman -- landed me a position working as one of the staff here at the Aldermont Estate, situated in the glorious countryside.

At first I was nervous, wary of leaving home and with good reason. Our modest cottage in the village is a far cry from this huge stately home. Until arriving here, I'd never had to polish silver, buffer oak-panelled floors, and clean out fire grates.
I'm still quite young, yet old enough to be in employment.

Not that I'm work shy, I've grown used to sharing the cramped sleeping quarters with the other girls; Maria, Emma, Enid, Charlotte and Kitty. At first, having to get up at 5:00am each morning to set the fires in each of the rooms was a shock to the system. By the end of the day I'm usually exhausted, and want to fall into bed and sleep.

But that's often easier said than done.
Yes, what makes this job unbearable is the unwanted attentions from the male members of the household. Nothing could've prepared me for that.

As I've only recently come of age, I suppose you could say that I was still naive. Being virginal and innocent to the ways of men and their 'needs' as people refer to it.
Well, I didn't realise that working as a domestic maid often means that having to tolerate being pawed by the upper-class male inhabitants is practically in the job description.

I was shocked to discover this, and it isn't getting any easier.
I won't put up with it, and have spent a lot of my time fighting off Gerald -- the oily, obnoxious oaf of a son -- and even the master, Major Hanbrooke himself.
My unwillingness to engage in their sexual advances doesn't dampen their ardour though. On the contrary, they both seem to like toying with me. Like a game of cat and mouse. It's sick and twisted, the way they get some kind of sordid thrill out of pestering me for sexual favours. It's become their sport and they get off on the power they wield over us helpless girls.

"You're better off just giving into them (Y/N)" Maria told me, sadly. "They won't stop until they get what they want."

Ugh.
Never.
I won't let myself be bullied into being fondled by some dirty old pervert, or his over-amorous son.
Some of the other girls are too afraid to resist because they know they'll lose their job, and work for girls of our class is hard to find in these remote parts.
What's even worse is a couple of them even gave in willingly, bought by the trinkets that are offered to them in return for their 'favours'.
Lace handkerchiefs, bottles of perfume, even diamanté broaches are given to the most enthusiastic bed partners.
It turns my stomach. As much as I'd love a fancy lace hanky or nice bottle of scent, I would never prostitute myself for it.

"Come along girl, get yourself upstairs. They're waiting for dessert." Old Bradley, the head butler barks at me impatiently.

I feel like I want to cry. But of course, I won't.