A manor house maid provides sensual comfort when her mistress returns, in tatters, from the woods.
Manor-house maid Elizabeth will never understand her mistress' behaviour. Why slip out the window every time the moon is full only to return with her flesh torn and her gown tattered? A beast must be involved, as "Milady" always returns ready for a bath. Elizabeth can't imagine why her mistress returns to the mysterious creature's rough embrace month after month. Why not stay home and enjoy the maid's loving caress?
Warnings: This paranormal lesbian romance contains explicit erotic encounters. Appears in the anthology "Girls Gone Carnal: Lesbian Vamps, Witches and Weres."
When I catch sight of Milady stumbling out of the forest, I hop back into the bed we share.
Under the covers, I wait to hear her footfalls in the garden below, and then her whimpers of exertion as she climbs the old stone wall. The window hardly creaks as she opens it wide and moves through like a specter. Only when I hear the rustle of her skirts do I sit up in bed and rub my eyes as though I had been sleeping all the time.
“Ah, you have ventured out,” I say as she casts off her cape.
I observe the state of her gown and sigh. It has been torn anew where I stitched it up last month. The front of her bodice hangs open, her naked breasts scarcely concealed by underthings. Her nipples glow pink through dirty white silk. The scratches across her ravaged chest are red and raised, but her wounds are not bleeding tonight.
“I have ventured out,” she concedes at last. When Milady runs her fingers through her tangled hair, twigs and leaves and all manner of things fall to the floor. “But now I have returned and I shall require my bath forthwith.”
She wipes dirt from her cheek, but it persists. Her hands are as muddy as her face.
I slip out from bed and throw a shawl across my shoulders. Bowing ever so slightly, I reply, “Yes, Milady,” and tiptoe from her chamber in my simple cotton nightdress.
Cook ensures the stove is always lit, and water always upon it for those who wish a cup of tea late into the night. I replace the two kettles I’ve taken before leaving the kitchen. The hot water steams as I climb the darkened staircase, quiet as a mouse though my arms shriek with pain. This task is onerous, but there is nothing I would not endure for Milady.