Milly and Mister Mills

I have a couple of word documents where I jot ideas, sometimes just a couple of words, sometimes a hundred or more. My Goddaughter is a manager in a childrens nursery and one of her part time members of staff is a wet nurse for a family where mum has had a double mastectomy, yesterday she had to review CCTV footage as a child had sustained a badly cut knee, as a result she has saw two members of staff having sex in the room where eleven babies were supposed to be sleeping. That provided the basis for this short story to include several other ideas.

Imagine the scene, this fairly slim woman bent over and strapped to the antique refrectory style kitchen table, ankles held in place with nylon luggage straps below the lowest bulge of the turned legs and arms down each side of the table, they are also restrained with luggage straps crossed to the opposite corner legs. I must add that cushions from the solid oak chairs had been used to protect ankles and wrists and where arms hung down over the square edges of the four inch thick table top.

All I could do was wait for Mister Mills to return. I couldn’t say or scream anything due to the damask serviette stuffed in my mouth.

Lord and Lady of the house were out at one of their regular events and we try to take advantage of their eight hour absence with a fuck session. I’m a thirty year old virgin and I knew my pussy juices had been running and with every expectation there was a flow onto the table top, down the side and drips on the slate floor slabs or very likely down a leg but I hadn’t felt that. There had to be puddles of breast milk as I always had a decent let-down during a proper orgasm and today I was in middle of my third or fourth when the bell rang.

I’m Milly, yes I know Milly and Mister Mills but I hated being called Millicent after Millicent Martin, the singer was my mothers favourite, every day she would load six long playing records on the autochanger record player in the lounge and play them loud enough to be heard over the Hoover vacuum cleaner right through the house. I couldn’t stand her singing but that is where my name came from. I’ve been working here for seven years as the nursery wet nanny, initially for Master Thomas but he self weaned with his final feed after his sixth birthday party and violently threw-up, hopefully that was due to not being able to count how many sausage rolls, crisps, cheese and pickle sandwiches, cakes, jellies, ice creams, banana milk shakes he’d comsumed. Now I’m feeding his six and four year old siblings Miss Emily and Master John, along with his Lordship when her Ladyship goes to bridge and thinks she doesn’t know.

Mister Mills is close to fifty and he is… Well to be honest his job is the home; Butler, house keeper, Chauffeur, does everything apart from cooking meals, day to day cleaning and children. There are five women who come in for the other duties and I think they work out times to suit themselves, collectively they are known as Sally.

Master Thomas is away at school for six week periods six terms per year. Master John and Miss Emily are at local Prep school and not due home for another three hours.

The bell rang again a few minutes later but from my position I could not see the indicator board. A little while later the bell rang again and I was starting to get chilly. I was starting to hurt and my feet were freezing. The bell rang again and woke me, the second time that happned I noted the children were due home in twenty minutes meaning I’d been tied up for two and a half hours since Mister Mills went to respond to the bell. I knew something bad had happened.

Some of you might be saying; ‘Hang on a minute, thirty year old virgin breastfeeding the family and having regular sex with the Butler’. And you would be right. I always considered myself to be asexual or at the very minimum gay as I’d had a few female friends where intimate contact had been common. However the only thing that has ever found its way into my little ol’ cunny hole is the regular pile of tampons and my fingers.

As a ten year old one of my girl friends came to live with us for six weeks when her father was posted elsewhere for work, her bed was installed in my room but the big adventure of semipermanent sleepovers began. The six weeks turned into twelve then six months, a year and then the time stopped being counted. We often shared a bed, especially in the winter to be warmer. Our girly games progressed into more intimate contact as we compared our changing bodies and together we discovered breast play and sucking which I loved. Between us we researched the facts of life in our selection of reference books at home, we had an encyclopedia which ran to five volumes and about eighteen shelf inches which gave us a good headstart and other terms to research, we also had a big book in the book case which had been in the family for well over one hundred years from the time my grandmother several generations back was in service and the whole cycle of pregnancy, child birth and breastfeeding was described in great detail for the fatih escort position of nanny or nursery nurse including the requirements for the position of ‘wet nurse’. I was hooked, we both were, and we made the decision to go through the process of lactation from that book. There were a selection of no longer available substances mentioned but my friends father worked for a pharmaceutical company and she knew some of his colleagues including one who knew someone who was prepared to provide the modern equivalent. It took nearly a year for both of us to properly produce milk but once we’d started it was just a question of keep suckling to encourage more. Our nightly and morning routines for a long time was at least fifteen minutes of breastfeeding on each breast each and we joked about sixty-nining as we suckled each other.

I’m sure you have all heard of ‘tit men’ well I’m a ‘tit girl’ and love to suckle and be suckled, I really loved the way my nipples looked so big and long compared to all the others my age when we changed for games and showered. At the age of eighteen I fell and broke some ribs which punctured a lung, I really wasn’t well and had several lots of surgery. The hospital consultant quickly realised my lactating state and asked about my baby while I was in hospital. Oh boy did the wheels turn quickly and a lactation speciallist from maternity rapidly came to visit, I was soon provided with a breastpump and happily sat there for a long time everyday providing milk. The pump felt gorgeous and gave me regular orgasms, not the same as a real experienced mouth but a gorgeous alternative. I’m sure they kept me in hospital much longer than it would have otherwise been for my supply of milk and I didn’t have a problem with that. I went for walks around the coridoors daily, one lovely sunny day I headed out to the fish pond and sat on the bench watching the fish for a couple of hours and seeing the signs for maternity on the way back and feeling the weight in my breasts coupled with the noise of a crying baby followed my instinct. A new mother and baby were struggling to feed and the presence of the lactation specialist offering advice didn’t seem to make any difference. I could feel the let-down starting and offered my service, straight away the baby latched onto my longer nipples and instantly I discovered my vocation.

That first orgasm from a babies suckling was almost instant and I was hooked.

Through hospital contacts I was in almost constant demand and a year later I left my horrible office job to live-in as a wet nurse until the decision to wean was made. Two more fairly short term jobs later I found myself being introduced to Master Thomas.

I’d been living here for two years before the intimacy of living together, I don’t mean as partners or lovers, rather the intimacy of living and sharing my working and social space with Mister Mills had gradually developed to a more friendly relationship with little touches and very occassional hugs as a family would and another couple of years later there was a completely accidental intimate contact between face and naked breast, in fact it could have been a very nasty situation. He took Miss Emily from me when she had finished feeding and for some reason the cosy chair slipped when I stood. I reached out and somehow knocked his arm which basically made Miss Emily fall and put Mister Mills off balance. Fortunately I fell back into the chair in a very reclined position and Miss Emily landed on my lap with the horriffic sound of Mister Mills knee cap cracking on the hard slate floor and his head hard against my naked breast. His teeth left a very obvious bleeding bite mark above and partly in my areola.

After surgery to insert a pin in the broken patella, Mister Mills spent two days in hospital, our relationship changed rapidly as we shared more duties when he returned very heavily strapped up, Mister Mills became a dab hand at changing nappies and rocking them to sleep while I did some of the more mobile jobs. We laughed about the Dracula style bite mark and looking like a nipple piercing where his canine teeth had made the punctures nearly an inch apart in my areola. However with the increased physical contact during baby handling came an increasingly intimate environment and little hugs grew until they were inappropriate.

Mister Mills knee cap healed well according to the second check-up and my bite mark faded almost to nothing in eight weeks. And then…

I’d fed Master John and stood from the cosy chair, Mister Mills took my place to do the rocking to sleep part and as I bent to place him in his arms a big drip of milk formed on my nipple, normally I’d use the muzzy to wipe it but that was already on Mister Mills shoulder and trapped, he saw the drip and suggested I move closer to let him clean it and held out his tongue. This was the first time Mister Mills had ever shown any interest, well apart from the bite, and being so accustomed to my breasts being shared by three children and their father at çapa escort this point it didn’t feel particularly strange to let him lick me clean, it was just that, a couple of licks and done.

The line had been crossed.

Mister Mills bedroom is in the basement servants quarters whereas mine is on the second floor with the childrens rooms. Several days after that simple action I went to the kitchen late at night for a snack and heard the unmistakable sound of wanking and my name. After that we seemed to grow much closer.

My uniform, well not actually a uniform, more a suggestion for plain dark skirt and white top. I had a selection of both with skirts at about knee length, his Lordship had commented favourably a couple of times when I had worn one which is a little shorter and in the summer I’d always liked them shorter so I started wearing some heavily pleated skirts, some of which were only a couple of inches below fanny level which I only wore when her Ladyship was at her regular Bridge meetings.

Mister Mills started cupping my arse at any oportunity and when very short he would get his hand under it. He would watch me breastfeeding and I’d watch the lump grow in his immaculately pressed black Chinos. He’d often lick me clean after feeding and I would try to leave a drop there for him. I’d leave blouse buttons undone to let him have a decent view. Yes we were teasing each other something rotten and then one day I was standing at the refrectory table sorting childrens clothes, I happened to be bending right forwards to reach something, actually I can say I was placing one of Miss Emilys cardigans on a pile, when Mister Mills came in the room, at the time I was wearing one of the shortest skirts in a very dark maroon colour and I imagine my knickers were on prominant display to him. It was the first time he stood behind me and rubbed his erection against my bum, when I didn’t try to stop him he pulled my knickers down and I suddenly realised that firm thing against a buttock wasn’t a hand.

The instant I said to stop he did and started apologising, after returning his willy to his underpants he left the room. It must have been an hour later I saw him again and a fairly uncomfortable conversation where I explained I was a virgin brought us back to an even keel. Not long after that two of the Sally’s were there and I walked in into the room as one said her husband fucked her arse a bit rough and was still hurting, the other suggested using haemeroid cream. I joined in and asked what they were saying as it didn’t make sense. Wow did I get a surprise as the conversation elaborated on the detail of my previously unknown form of sexual activity. It had never occurred to me that anything went into a rectum, that anything could go into a rectum and the Sally’s found some amusement in that, and amazement that I’d never had sex.

Well there was some trepidation when I had a little play later and my pucker stayed firmly puckered, I really thought they had been having a laugh with me and next time one of them was there another conversation took place. Later on that evening I tried the things she suggested and I was quite surprised how my rectum reacted, I used zinc and caster oil as a lubricant and it didn’t take long for my finger tip to happily slip inside. That led to going a little further each time and the first time my middle was buried to the hilt felt strange but surprisingly comfortable. A few weeks of playing and suddenly a second finger could slot in beside the first. The downside to my new found experimentation was the mess and the changes to my bowel movements, oh and feeling a bit sore in the morning.

I’d had several little secret chats with Sally about my progress and the day I mentioned I’d had three fingers in my bottom she cackled and told me it was time to get arse fucked, at that time I’d have never used those words but in the last month or so I’d learnt a lot f new things from those two Sally’s, and some new words.

I started thinking about it, a lot about it, and started wondering why I was so nervous to relinquish my virginity. I started thinking about Mister Mills and the way he left the room when I said to stop when he got his penis out and rubbed it on my naked buttock, I started thinking about…

In my bed at night with two or three fingers in my bottom, and sometimes the pinky would fit in too, I’d wonder what it would feel like if it wasn’t my fingers mixing with the faeces, what it would feel like if it was something more penis shaped. A cold plastic hairbrush handle didn’t do it for me somehow and my mind was heading towards… Oh to hell with it I was dreaming about Mister Mills putting his penis in my bottom.

I did dream too, my dream was simply a repeat of the time I bent over the table and Mister Mills pulled my knickers down to my thighs then pushed his penis in my bottom and that was it as I didn’t know what else to expect. It felt good, of course it felt good, it was supposed to feel good but that was all I felt, just güngören escort like the old Loony Tunes cartoons where Bugs Bunny says “That’s all Folks” at the end. Except my dream didn’t fade to black like the cartoon, I was bent over the refrectry table with Mister Mills penis filling my rectum and yes it felt good although I didn’t know what good was supposed to feel like.

I had no idea what KY jelly was or what it was used for when Sally passed me the paper bag but another little chat later I did and later on I practiced with it instead of the zinc and castor oil, oh yes it was much better. To find out how much better I found myself checking every night…

Their Lord and Ladyships have a regular appointment every eighth day and we take advantage by getting some work done knowing we will not have to respond to the bell. I had a pile of the childrens laundered clothes on the refrectory table, just like the time Mister Mills exposed himself to me and I carefully positioned a new tube of KY jelly where it would be obvious, the ironing board was at rightangles to the table and yes I was ironing the clothes and placing them in appropriate piles, just like I regularly do except I was on the opposite side of the table with my back to the door.

Being an old property designed for service staff the big and heavy door between ‘the house’ and the basement is a thing with a substantial metal latch so from the moment someone starts opening it there is probably two seconds between the metalic clunking to being opened enough to see within, I knew there was no-one else present so the moment I heard the noise I grabbed a cardigan and bent over to place it on the furthest pile. This was back in the summer of 1995 which some on here will remember was somewhat warm, I paired my shortest and thinnest skirt, which started out as a lightweight petticoat and well over twice the length, with the smallest knickers I had. Thongs were very much in fashion with a ‘whale tale’ but I didn’t wear them very often due to constantly bending over with the children. I was wearing one that day with the dental floss right in my bottom cleavage, I’d been practicing so I knew my little white whale tail was totally on display below my little black diaphanous skirt.

I knew by the intake of breath and grunt that Mister Mills saw the display the moment the door had opened sufficiently, he came straight over and after placing the breakfast tray on the ironing board gently smacked my bottom, said I was a naughty girl then rubbed both buttocks. I looked down between my arm and the polished table to the very obvious tent in Mister Mills black Chino’s and wriggled my bum.

He was still rubbing my buttocks when he asked about the tube of jelly and all I did in responce was wriggle my bum some more, I tried to move far enough sideways for his fingers to slip into my cleft but it took about five or six movements and then I pushed back against his hand. I was on a roll now as I felt him fiddling, it may seem like a strange description but I couldn’t see what he was doing, I could feel touches all round, from above my anus to way round above my clitoris and continued wriggling against his touches until… until I felt a finger feeling at my fanny lips and I said not to go there.

As good as gold he moved his finger away and fiddled with my clitoris for a while, each time I felt pushing against my fanny I repeated to not go there but then I felt the unmistakable touch of something slap bang on target and my anus reacted to it. Again I pushed back towards the touch and it stayed there, I guessed it was a finger and it wriggled.

I reached out to the tube of KY and Mister Mills hand got there first, the contact with my anal sphincter ceased and a few moments later returned with the very unmistakable feeling of cold jelly and the firm touch within the blob of jelly, I pushed against it and did one of my trying to poo actions to relax my sphincter and for the first time I felt my anal invasion by someone elses action. The rest was very slow, light pressure and a little twisting and I felt the finger very slowly going all the way in, it must have taken three or four minutes and felt so delicious, I liked the way it was all unhuried and tender and when I felt his hand flat against my buttocks. The surprise was Mister Mills pulling or rolling his finger towards his palm. All of my playing had been from the front so rolling my fingers forwards had always been towards my fanny, his similar action was backwards and also catching the bottom of my spine. I could beel my muscles relaxing to accept his touch, I assumed he could feel it too as he started gentle in/out movements and then the invasion of a second digit.

Oh it felt good and I repeated the pushing and pooing action to let the second finger in and fairly quickly with some more of the cold jelly a third and fourth joined them, the strange actions by four bigger fingers than mine felt good, really good, very good, so good I started clenching my buttocks and getting aggitated. My arms pushed forwards, knocking some of the clean clothes to the floor, to hold on to the far side of the oak surface as I clenced very hard in my first ever orgasm by someone elses ministrations, I froze with everything tensed for ages as Mister Mills continuing little movements helped the wave after wave of orgasmic sensations ripple through me.

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