Master de Vil and His Maids Ch. 01

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Author's Note:
This story was inspired by the character Cruella De Vil from Disney's 101 Dalmatians and gender bent artwork of Cruella.
Chapter 1 has a slow build to establish the setting, plot, and characters. Later chapters will be shorter and more focused on the sex!
Synopsis: Set in Victorian England (1830s – 1900), a desperate young woman finds herself as a maid in the rich household of a peculiar man with an even more peculiar taste in fashion.
Disclaimer: All characters are fictitious and created entirely out of my own imagination. All characters are at least 18 years old.

"Ellie! Move your lazy arse and get down 'ere!" my mother shouted up the stairs. I groaned and pulled my ragged, patched-up blanket over my head to see if I could sneak in a few more minutes of rest.
"Eleanor Isabella Silvers!" Oh no– Mother used my full name. I am clearly trying her patience this dreary morning.
Breathing out a sigh, I pulled the covers off and called down, "I'm getting dressed right this instant, Mother!" I yanked my worn brown day dress over my corset, buttoned it up to the collar, and tied a clean apron over it. With the worst lack of elegance possible, I scrambled down our creaky old stairs, and threw myself onto a half-rotted stool at the kitchen table.
"Honestly, one would think that after you spent all those years in service at the McWilliams' you would have grown to be a bit more ladylike. Did working as a maid do you no good at all?" My mother huffed.
"Oh Mother, you know I worked long and hard and well for our family. It's only for you that I'm so brute-ish." I grinned impishly.
"You cheeky child!" she scolded. "Oh come 'ere, let me put up your hair."
I handed her the horse-hair brush as she combed through my silky, beautiful black hair. It was my pride and joy, seeing as I had no other praise-worthy attributes. Our family was lower-class–in other words, poor– always have been, always will be. But, a recent depression hit our whole region very hard. I lost my job at the McWilliams' and my father couldn't make a profit from our general store. It wasn't long before we, and all of our neighbors, fell into debt. All of my paychecks, and those of my brothers', Timothy and Richard, went directly to our savings, but even with that, we were still barely afloat. My already meager dowry was gone, and at 18 years old, stuck in this little English country town, I literally had no prospects.
"Oh! How beautiful you are my dear. If only you had a dowry, you could have married anyone you wished!" Mother gushed after she finished putting my hair up in a simple, but feminine chignon.
"Mother…" I blushed, a rosy tint coloring my pale skin.
"But it's true! You have a slim, strong body with just the right amount of womanly curves, and your grandmother's elegant nose and oval face. Why, I wouldn't doubt that you could be a fashion model in those high society magazines!"
"Mother," I sighed, my face scrunching up at her exaggerated compliments. "Enough already. You know at this point I'm lucky to be married at all. Don't we have more pressing matters to attend to? Like earning money to get out of this horrid debt?"
"Yes, yes you do indeed have lots to do today. I have a pile of mending for you, and another basket of laundry, and…" Mother continued to list a lengthy series of chores that was to be entirely my responsibility, and mine alone. Mother had no time to spare because she helped my father run our business everyday, helping to sell whatever it was people needed and keeping the premises neat and clean. Father would be behind the desk, managing the finances and chatting up old customers. Our customers were slowly trickling back in as the depression was waning, but everyone was still practically penniless. My brothers delivered our purchases, but honestly, they should have been married and already had started families of their own if it weren't for our family's desperate circumstances.
It was early evening before I finally had a moments' rest. I knew I shouldn't have been complaining about my family's lack of money, but sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if my mother was right. If I was wealthy, who could I have married? What kind of life could I have lived? I could almost see myself wearing expensive silks and wools on my curves, rubies and pearls decorating my slender neck, and turning heads because of my beauty and of course, plentiful riches. With a rough shake of my head, I quickly snapped myself out of that fantasy. I didn't want to grow conceited and prideful and most of all, hopeful for something I could never have.
Suddenly, an expensive, fancy black coach clattered down the dirt street right past my family's humble little shop. Everyone outside stopped and stared. It's not everyday that somebody from the city, let alone a rich patron, comes through our little town. To my even greater surprise, a handsome young gentleman with a shiny black top hat, shiny black shoes–bloody hell, expensive everything, stepped out of the vehicle and began walking towards me.
"Miss, I know this is incredibly forward of me, but I couldn't help but notice your ravishing beauty. My name is Robert Mulligan and I have a friend by the name of Mr. de Vil who is looking for a beautiful maid for his household. Would you be interested in the position?"
My green eyes widened and my jaw fell open at this unexpected prospect.
"Sir, uh, thank you, I–I suppose I must ask my mother." I stammered out, and quickly rushed inside to find her.
My mother could hardly find the words to converse with the gentleman, she was so surprised at the offer. I stood beside her, listening to this Mr. Mulligan explain who Mr. de Vil was. Apparently Mr. de Vil was a high class clothing designer who even served the Royal family on occasion! I couldn't believe that he would be interested in someone as ragged and destitute as me; not to mention scarcely educated or experienced in the duties of a maid. My previous employer was barely richer than my own family– his household couldn't possibly compare to that of Mr. de Vil! Before I let my imagination run too wild, I refocused on the exchange at hand as I heard my mother finally say,
"Well, I suppose I accept the offer. As you can see, our family is quite desperate because of the depression. We would certainly be eternally obliged to ye if you would send a letter to this Mr. de Vil. I hope you wouldn't mind my requesting you to include Eleanor's letter of recommendation from her previous employer, would ye sir?"
"Certainly not. I'm happy to be of service to my friend, and of course, your humble family as well." Mr. Mulligan graciously replied. Before my mother could ask, I walked back inside as quickly as I could without betraying my excitement and when I was out of sight, the words could not spill from my mouth fast enough as I informed my father about what was happening and told him to go meet Mr. Mulligan at once. Taking the stairs two at a time (definitely not in a ladylike fashion), I rummaged through my drawers to retrieve the letter of recommendation, quickly fixed my hair in the mirror before I left my bedroom, and rushed back to the storefront. I found my father shaking hands with the man, and gifting him a small pot of our very best coffee, which I was sure would taste like drinking soot compared to the quality of coffee he most certainly consumes. Nevertheless, he thanked us and went on his way, his carriage carrying him down our dusty road and out of sight.
Within a week of Mr. Mulligan's unexpected offer, a letter from Mr. de Vil himself came to our doorstep addressed to my father. He had accepted his friend's recommendation and offered me an all expenses paid trip to the de Vil mansion for an employment interview! However, the letter did say that if anything was not to his satisfaction, I would not be hired and would be sent back home, again, all expenses paid. My family was feeling a bit hopeless after hearing that bit, but I refused to let anything bring me down. An opportunity like this was rare–perhaps once-in-a-lifetime rare, and I was not, by any means, going to let it go to waste. My mother quickly packed me my best clothes (which were still second hand from my cousins) and made sure I maintained my beautiful hair as we all waited for the carriage that would take me to Mr. de Vil.
As the letter said, within a few days, the carriage did arrive and I bid goodbye to my family, my friends, and my town. If I was hired, I did not know how long it would be before I would return to them.
The trip itself was extremely comfortable, but quite uneventful. I wasn't bored however, because I was able to see through the window what England outside of my hometown was like. There were far more people than I could ever have imagined! Bustling carriages, trotting horses, shouting, singing, laughing–it was so lively! The traveling took almost 2 days, which included an overnight ride on a steam train that went straight through London. Then, another journey by carriage of an entire morning finally brought me to the de Vil mansion.
And sweet heavens, what a mansion it was! The grounds were enormous, with fountains, ponds, and a vast garden surrounding the incredible feat of architecture that was the mansion itself. Marble columns in the style of the Greeks and Romans adorned the outside walls. Pebbled paths lined the front lawn and led to a large barn behind the estate, where I could hear the faintest sounds and calls of creatures I didn't recognize. Dense evergreen forest growing on rolling hills surrounded the outskirts of the land, reminding me of our medieval past. I barely had time to marvel at the property before I was ushered into a richly-decorated parlor by the butler, a kindly older gentleman.
Immediately, I faced the broad back of a tall, regal man with oddly colored hair; half black, and half white, split exactly down the middle. He turned around upon my entrance. At that moment, my breath hitched in my throat and my heartbeat sped up. Mr. de Vil was certainly the most handsome man I had ever seen! He had a perfectly chiseled jaw with dark, mysterious brows and an alluring, almost mischievous mouth that seemed to be grinning on its own. He was almost a head taller than me, but carried his body with an ease that could only come from the confidence that wealth endows. He had a slim build, but his shoulders filled out the expensive black suit he was wearing. And his eyes! A piercing bright blue gaze locked with mine as I tried my best not to be intimidated by this specimen of a man in front of me.
"You must be Miss Eleanor Silvers. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Cruelton de Vil. You may refer to me as Mr. de Vil for now. Please, sit down and have some tea. I'm sure you must be exhausted from your travels." He purred, extending a hand. Even his voice was deep and attractive! I couldn't do anything but make some sort of nod and pray my palms weren't sweaty as I shook his hand before I sat down in front of an array of flaky pastries and frosted sweets.
"This is Victoria, my head maid. She and I will be interviewing you this afternoon." I had barely registered another presence in the room. As soon as I turned to acknowledge her, I immediately noticed that Victoria was equally beautiful to her master. She had sleek blonde hair with what I can only describe as a feline face–a sharp, thin nose, a pointed chin, and icy blue eyes. She matched Mr. de Vil's tall and slim physique, and she carried her body with all the elegance and grace my mother wished I had.
The interview was quite extensive. For over an hour, they questioned me about my family's circumstances, my personal life, my interests, and my working experience. It felt like ages as I answered them and sat there sipping tea and trying each treat on the table. By the end of the interview—or interrogation it felt like— I had concluded that all of the pastries were equally delicious. And Mr. de Vil and Miss Victoria had concluded that I was suitable for the job.
"Welcome to the de Vil Household, Eleanor." Mr. de Vil announced, offering a handshake. As we officially sealed the deal, I blushed at hearing Mr. de Vil, whom I was now supposed to call "Master," say my first name through those smirking lips.
Without further ado, Victoria led me through the manor to my new living quarters on the topmost floor. As we climbed staircases and passed by ballrooms, dining rooms, sitting rooms, and rooms that seemed to have no use at all, Victoria unexpectedly dropped her cold, expressionless demeanor from the interview and showed me her true colors. She was a vivacious, confident woman who commanded respect and admiration with every fiber of her being.
"Eleanor, to be perfectly honest, I am so pleased that Master de Vil decided to hire you! We haven't had a new girl in years and it's been terribly boring. I'm sure he'll love having you around– I mean, your hair is just beautiful. Everyone's got something that he likes, and for you, it's definitely going to be the hair." Victoria excitedly told me.
Relief was still washing over me as the fact that I actually was employed in a gorgeous residence under an equally gorgeous master sunk in. So, my mind was still a little distracted before Victoria's implications registered. "What do you mean 'everyone's got something that he likes'?" I asked quizzically.
"Why, each of the girls–the maids, have something that's their best attribute. For some it's their soft skin, or maybe delicate hands and feet, or beautiful eyes. For you it's the hair." She shrugged. I stared at her blankly, not sure what to make of her words.
"I'm sorry, Miss…" I hesitated.
"Victoria is fine. No need to call me 'Miss'," Victoria waved her hand dismissively. "All the girls call each other by first name, or even a nickname. You don't have to be so proper. Do you have a nickname?"
"Ellie, short for Eleanor. But either is fine."
"Well Ellie, it seems I got ahead of myself. I didn't explain to you that being a maid here has certain rules. You are forbidden to have a lover, be engaged to be married, or married while you are employed here. If you do so, you will be let go immediately. All maids are retired after 30 years of age, which Master de Vil feels is too old, and then you may be free to marry or continue to be employed however you wish. Master will compensate you generously for your services when you retire and can find you employment at the very best households of society. If you would like to quit before then, you can, but the compensation will be less, depending on the circumstances of you quitting."
My head was reeling from all this information. Forbidden to have a lover? That certainly was an odd rule; I would think that most employers wouldn't care much for their maids' personal lives.
"But what does this have to do with my hair and these 'best attributes'?" I interjected, thoroughly confused. Victoria arched a golden brow and gave me a look that shut me up immediately. I ducked my head, sorry I had so rudely interrupted. I really need to learn to be more ladylike.
Victoria continued on. "Ellie, be sure you remember these rules. They are important to being a maid here, because" Victoria emphasized, "being a maid here requires you to perform certain nighttime services to Master. But you don't have to hear it from just my mouth, let's have all the girls tell you about life here."
At that, Victoria and I ascended the last of the stairs and entered a parlor that was prettily decorated with porcelain vases full of fresh flowers. The upholstery and wallpaper clearly had a spring theme, with floral prints in feminine pale yellows, pinks, and blues. Being on the top floor, sunlight generously streamed in through gauzy curtains, drawing in ample brightness to the large space. One corner was full of bookshelves and lounge seating. Another had several writing desks strewn with ink stained papers and stamps. Yet another part of the room had a full tea set, with rows of treats and silverware neatly arranged in a glass cabinet. At the center of it all was a grand fireplace, with a golden clock on the mantle. Everything in this room was luxurious, but it had a certain lived-in feel, as if this was the place the girls spent their most comfortable and intimate moments.
Distracted as I took in my surroundings, I was startled out of my reverie by Victoria's loud call. "Girls! May I have your attention please? Bring everyone to the common room." Victoria announced with authority. All manners of young women scrambled into the common room from the bedrooms and the communal bathroom. I stood there with my hands clasped tightly in front of my worn burgundy dress, suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious about how out of place I must have seemed in this expensive household.
I immediately assessed that every single maid was stunningly beautiful. Most appeared older than I was and each lady had a distinct, unique look about them. It seemed like every hair and eye color in existence was represented among the girls. Some of them had an innocent, doll-like look; others were more sultry and mature like Victoria. Some were plumper and had more curves; others slimmer like me. I quickly counted 10 in all, including myself.
Victoria shooed everyone in to gather around the fireplace. Now seated comfortably, 9 pairs of inquisitive eyes stared at me while Victoria requested: "Ellie, please introduce yourself and give us a quick summary of your background, like your family's place on society's ladder." I quickly obliged and described where I was from and about the depression and the debt and my lack of prospects before I was hired here. All of the girls nodded sympathetically and looked at me with such understanding that it made me share more and more. I soon understood why as Victoria asked each maid to then share similar information about themselves. Their names were Annabelle (Annie), Marie, Abigail (Abby), Jane, Olivia, Penelope (Penny), Rosetta (Rose), and Susan.
It turns out, every single maid in the de Vil household had come from families similar to mine, or even worse. They were all lower class, poor, and had no dowry's, or employment. Some were even from the streets! Or orphans, or worse, had abusive relatives or guardians. Jane's family was scammed by a horrid investor who tricked her father into gambling their family's pub away. Marie's parents fell ill with smallpox and passed when she was a babe, and she ended up under the care of a local church. By the time she was 12, she had to either be bound to a life of celibacy and devotion at the nunnery or fend for herself at the factories. Even Victoria was from a family living in the heart of London, where they were all forced to work around the clock at a garment sweatshop for just a few coins a day.
Watching the shock, then awe, and finally, understanding dance across my face, Victoria gave my hand a gentle pat and concluded, "And that is why we are all in the debt of Master de Vil, and repay him any way we can, including nighttime services." Everyone's heads bobbed up and down in agreement, a few sharing some teary smiles to each other as they remembered their destitute pasts before working in the de Vil mansion. Moved by their stories, I found myself tearing up as well. Embarrassed, I brushed them away and glanced at that ornate clock on top of the fireplace. We had shared for a few hours— it was early evening already.
Reading the room, Victoria turned to face me and declared, "I think it's time to be fully honest with you Ellie. Girls? Please explain to Ellie here what it is we do for Master de Vil."
I'll never forget the conversation we had that first day I was employed by Master de Vil. As the girls excitedly shared stories about the nighttime services, I could barely speak– I was so utterly astonished! My cheeks and ears burned redder and redder at what I was hearing. Apparently, these so-called "nighttime services" were essentially sharing Master de Vil's bed every night! It seemed that all of the maids were completely in love with the man, and were shameless about the sort of things they did with him. Let me be clear— they spared no details about the sexual, lustful, lewd acts they committed with Master de Vil. They kissed him, fondled his…cock, caressed his buttocks, and sucked on his nipples. And they let him do the same to them! I was listening to tales of being fingered until their pussy juices stained the sheets, French kissing until their lips were numb, and being fucked until they could barely stand up the next day. And what's more, the girls didn't just sleep with him like common prostitutes, they had entire orgies with Master de Vil! The record was 7 girls at once, but the ladies were adamant that he could handle all 10 of us eventually. As the women shared their sexual escapades, my fingers gripped my skirts tighter and tighter until my knuckles were bone white. My mind was reeling with this scandalous discussion! Meanwhile, the girls grew more and more excited, some literally fanning themselves with how aroused they were getting at merely talking about their experiences. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought these women had to be medically insane! This was so improper, so unheard of, and so utterly shameless!

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