I remember the day he had brought the girl home almost a year ago. It wasn't his first, but she seemed more innocent than the others. She had walked tentatively into the kitchen, her eyes widening at the sight of the lamb roast on the cook stove. A bit scrawny, she was a beautiful girl with wide gray eyes and mouse-colored hair. Her cheeks had been pink from the cold drive home.

“Just in time for supper, milord.”

“Excellent, what timing.” He had lifted the cape from the girl's shoulders and tossed it onto the pantry bench. “May, this is Sarah. She will be in my employ as a housemaid. You are to supervise her and show her what her duties will be. Please make her feel welcome. Start her out with some supper, won't you? I'll take mine in the study.”

I had taken the girl by the hand, directing her to the staff table in the kitchen. She ate quickly, hunched over her plate, guarding it. All the girls from the orphanage were that way at first. She'd been fighting for food her entire life, and it would take some time for her to learn that wouldn't happen to her here. But other things would happen to her here. And young Sarah was about to learn what those other things would be.

She was the fourth (or was it the fifth?) chamber slave Lord Benson had taken since I'd come to work for him. It was accidental that I came to learn of his nefarious leanings, but once I knew, I was blackmailed into helping with the girls' 'training.' The day I discovered the first girl is a memory seared into my mind forever.

I was tending to my usual housekeeping duties in the upstairs of the great house. My weekly waxing and polishing of the upstairs hall floor takes me directly past the heavy wooden door to milord's secret chamber. While I am charged with keeping up his sleeping chambers, this was a separate chamber, one off limits to every staff member. Nobody, as far as I knew, had ever seen it. We all assumed it was his study, and that he did important work in there.

This particular day, on hands and knees outside the door, I heard a muffled cry from the chamber. I stopped polishing for a moment and listened. There it was again! It was a distinctive sound – one of a girl's voice in distress. Who could it be? There were no other female staff employed in the house since the housemaid Yvonne left for her new assignment several months ago. Worried that someone may have broken into milord's secret room, I rose hurriedly to open the door and find out the nature of the intrusion. To this day, I regret my decision.

I stood at the doorway, just inside the door. My hand was still on the brass handle, gripping so tightly that I felt the palm of my hand being pinched. Bound to a wooden contraption reminiscent of some medieval torture device, was Yvonne the housemaid! Leather straps held her arms above her head. Another one was bound tightly around her mouth, accounting for the muffled sound of her cries. Her legs were pulled wide apart and a large metal road held her legs this way, each ankle tied to the rod with the same leather straps. Some type of metal clip was attached to each nipple, and Lord Benson was yanking on these as he rammed his member into her poor arse!

“My God!” I was unable to prevent my outcry of horror.

Yvonne looked to me with eyes wide and her cries became louder. Lord Benson turned to look at me, but didn't stop his relentless pounding of the poor girls hole. After another moment or two, he grunted loudly, convulsed, and then fell on top of her. Turning his head toward me, he ordered me to come in and close the door. He finally lifted his sweaty body from the girl's, and pulled on his trousers.

“I must say, it's quite inconvenient that you found us, May.”

I stuttered, trying to say something in response, but nothing would come out.

“Well, I'm afraid you'll just have to be a part of my little hobby now.”

“Never!” I hissed through my teeth at his suggestion that I take part in his sickness.

“Really, May? What do you plan to do then? Tell the authorities? Do you really think an ex-convict house cook will be taken seriously? Above a land baron?” His cruel laugh cut through me. “No, you'll be a part of this just as I say. I'm quite sure you don't want to end up back in the women's prison. Am I right?”

I stared at him, my mouth hanging. He was deadly serious. It would take a single word from him to have me sent back to the penitentiary. I was trapped and he knew it. I had no choice but to comply. I was horrified, but I could never go back to that prison! Don't you see that? I could never go back.

I spent the next years convincing myself that I was doing what I could to make the girls lives a little bit easier. He did release them after a year. And so far, all of the girls went on to other households where they were well fed, cared for, and never had to worry about having to sleep on the streets. In exchange, they provided the master of the manor with services that satisfied his most unusual desires. Now, it was Sarah's turn.

As if on cue, she came skipping into the kitchen, her cheeks bright.

“May, guess what? Lord Benson told me he has a gift for me! Oh, I wonder what it could be? He's such a kind man, isn't he?”

I watched her dance through the kitchen, knowing that tonight I would be helping to move last year's girl to the brothel in town. And tomorrow, the staff would hug Sarah goodbye and wish her well on her new adventure, having been told she was offered a new job with a family in a neighboring village. Tomorrow night, I would be serving Sarah supper in her new chamber, where she would stay for a year. She would likely be restrained to Lord Benson's bed for the first week, allowed release only to bathe and relieve herself.

She would spend the next year as a slave, existing solely for the pleasure of Lord Benson. He would use her in any way he desired, without regard to her feelings. She would be bound, whipped, fucked, forced to serve numerous men, denied any contact with the outside world, and at the end of a year, she would be given to one of his friends. And she would like it.

“Yes. A kind man. He certainly is a kind man.”