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                                 (fm, b/d, s/m)

WARNING: All Fantasia stories contain some or all of the following:
Non-consensual sex, rape, bondage, heavy pain, torture, incest, degradation,
underage characters. If these things offend you, do not read.
        ...............................................................

                                  THE SERVANT
                                by V.P. Viddler

      "You think I'm a bitch, don't you, Hopkins," Cicily Upshur said, sitting
in the large kitchen in her palatial home on Long Island.

      Cicily was twenty-six, tall, slim, aristocratic looking, with soft dark
hair and hard dark eyes, and a striking lovly face and a luscious, curvy body.

      "That is not for me to say, Madam," Hopkins said. Hopkins, butler and
general factotum of the Upshur house, was a compactly built man who might be
thirty or forty or fifty.

      "I'm asking you your opinion, Hopkins," Cicily said. "I know you think
I'm a bitch. You might as well say so."

      "It is not my place to do that, Madam," Hopkins said, continuing to make
preparations for that night's formal dinner party.

      "Poor Hopkins," Cicily said. "I do make your life hell, don't I?"

      Hopkins said nothing.

      "Always giving you orders. Always snapping at you. Nasty, impatient,
imperious. And not giving a damn. Right, Hopkins?"

      Hopkins said nothing.

      "Oh, say it, Hopkins," Cicily said. "I won't fire you. I know you hate
me. All servants probably hate their employers, but you must hate me in the
worst way. Because I'm so bitchy and nasty and overbearing. Right, Hopkins?
Answer me, damn it!"

      Hopkins took a breath. "If you insist, Madam," Hopkins said. "What you
say has -- a certain amount of truth."

      Cicily laughed. "How diplomatic! A certain amount of truth. You hate me,
don't you Hopkins?"

      "At times, Madam, I must admit," Hopkins said.

      "I'll bet. And what else will you admit, Hopkins? Do you think about
getting back at me sometimes?"

      "I'm not sure what you mean, Madam."

      "Yes you are. You think about putting me in my place. Don't you? Of how
it would be if you could give ME orders. Make me YOUR servant. By way of
punishing me for the way I treat you. Don't you, Hopkins?"

      "Madam, I --"

      "Say it, for god's sake. You snivelling cowardly bastard, don't crawl
like a worm, I said I wouldn't fire you, didn't I? This is your chance to tell
me what you think of me. So say it, Hopkins. You would like that, wouldn't you?
To put me in your place. To punish me. To make me obey you. You do think about
that, don't you, Hopkins?"

      "Yes," Hopkins said, stopping what he was doing. "Yes, Madam, I do. I do
think about that."

      "Of course you do," Cicily said. "Tell me about it."

      Hopkins took a breath. "It is as you say, Madam. All servants, I suppose,
think that way sometimes. About how it would be to be the master. To show you
how it feels. To get some of my own back, if you will. I think how it would be
to put you -- to show you --"

      "To punish me," Cicily said.

      "Yes," Hopkins said. "I think of that too."

      "To hurt me," Cicly said. "To make me suffer. For what I've done to you.
Is that it, Hopkins?"

      "I -- Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "And what else?" Cicily said.

      "Madam?"

      "Do you think I'm attractive, Hopkins?"

      "Attractive, Madam?"

      "Attractive. Physically."

      "Why -- yes, Madam."

      "Do you think I have a good body, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "Am I to answer truthfully, Madam?" Hopkins said.

      "By all means, Hopkins," Cicily said.

      "Then yes, Madam, I do."

      "Thank you, Hopkins," Cicily said. "Now -- truthfully, Hopkins -- when
you think about -- what you'd like to do to me -- do you ever think about me in
a -- sexual way?"

      "Madam, I think I shall not continue with this conversation, if you don't
--"

      "Hopkins," Cicily said. "I don't care what you want to do right now, all
right? You are my servant, remember? And I want you to answer me. I order you
to answer me, Hopkins, do you understand? I demand that you answer whatever I
may ask you -- and answer truthfully -- or I WILL fire you, Hopkins. Instantly.
With no references, no severance pay -- nothing. Is that what you want,
Hopkins?"

      "No, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Then answer me. Now."

      "The answer is yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Oh?" Cicily said. "You do think of me sexually, is that right, Hopkins?"

      "Yes, Madam."

      "You think of how it would be to possess me. Don't you?"

      "Yes, Madam."

      "You think," Cicily said, "of how I would look naked. Is that right,
Hopkins?"

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Yes," Cicily said. "I'll bet you do, Hopkins. And when you think about
getting back at me, Hopkins -- of punishing me for what I do to you -- you
think of doing it to me while I'm naked. Do you?"

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Naked," Cicily said. "And -- bound, Hopkins?"

      Hopkins nodded slowly. "Yes, Madam. That too."

      "Ah," Cicily said softly. "I thought so. And, Hopkins -- once you have me
that way -- in your power -- stripped naked -- bound hand and foot -- what
would you do then? How would you punish me, Hopkins? What do you think of doing
to me?"

      "Madam, I --"

      "And would you take my body -- would you possess my body, Hopkins- -would
you do that first? Before you punish me? Or wait until afterwards?"

      "Both, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Both?"

      "Both," Hopkins said. "I would take you first, Madam, so that you would
be undistracted, as it were, and fully aware of what was happening to you. Your
mind unclouded by pain, still in the first clear consciousness of your
subjugation. So that you could fully appreciate the horror of it -- of having
your body violated, despoiled, by your own servant. And I would have you again
afterwards, to satisfy the lust that I have no doubt your degradation and
suffering would rouse; and to do it, furthermore, on your already pain-wracked,
agonized, brutalized and helpless body. Madam."

      "I see," Cicily said softly. "In that case, I assume, Hopkins, you would
have me bound flat. On your bed, perhaps. With my legs, obviously, spread
apart. Is that right, Hopkins?"

      "At that point, Madam, yes," Hopkins said. "I do not, however, envision
your bondage as being limited to one position only."

      "I suppose," Cicily said, "that in such a fantasy, there is no reason why
it should. What other positions do you imagine me in, Hopkins?"

      "I imagine you hanging by your wrists, Madam," Hopkins said. "Hanging
from the ceiling. With your feet right off the floor, you see. Hanging free.
With your body stretched taut. With your arms straining. With your legs
kicking. With your body pulled tight. With your -- with your --"

      "My breasts, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "Your breasts," Hopkins said. "Pulled high. Tight. Pointing. And I would
--"

      "What, Hopkins," Cicily said. "What would you do if you had me that way?"

      "I would whip you, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Ah," Cicily said. "Would you. Hopkins. Indeed."

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Hard, Hopkins?"

      "Very hard, Madam."

      "All over, Hopkins?"

      "Yes, Madam."

      "Until I was screaming, I suppose."

      "Far beyond that, Madam."

      "Yes," Cicily said. "I know. You would want to hear me screaming, of
course. And hear me pleading with you for mercy. Begging you to stop. And
perhaps promising you unimaginable things, if only you would stop. Is that what
you want, Hopkins? To have me that way, screaming for you, crying out with
pain, begging for your mercy, promising to do things for you -- anything you
want, Hopkins -- anything at all -- if only you will stop hurting me. Is that
it, Hopkins?"

      "Yes, Madam. Plus, of course, the sight of you, twisting under the whip.
Twisting and squirming and writhing and flailing as I whip you. Watching your
agony. Savoring it. You see, Madam."

      "Yes," Cicily said. "I do see. And if you did all that, Hopkins- -if you
had me in your power, and you had me strip naked for you, and you bound me on
your bed and had your way with me, took my body, and then hung me up by my
wrists and whipped me, until I was screaming and begging in agony, and then
took me again -- would you still be my servant -- afterwards?"

      "Yes, Madam. But it would be different, Madam."

      "Of course. Because you would have your memories, would you not, Hopkins?
Of my body. Of my pain. Of my screams."

      "More than that, Madam. I would know, you see. And I would know that you
know, Madam. That you know and carry in your mind also, the fact that I, a
servant, I, Hopkins, had been privy to your body. Had possessed your body. Had
had you helpless, bound, twisting, had whipped that body, subjugated it. Had
known your agony. Your degradation. Your humiliation. And I would see it in
your eyes, Madam. Whenever you gave me an order, or made an imperious remark,
or simply passed by in your haughty way -- that knowledge, that memory, would
be in your eyes. In your soul, Madam. And I would know. And you would know that
I know. And I would know that you know that I know. Madam."

      "You would make me crawl, would you not, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "I would, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "My husband," Cicily said, "would never be able to do that."

      "I am not your husband, Madam," Hopkins said. "Nor would I be."

      "But you would be my master," Cicily said.

      "Most assuredly, Madam," Hopkins said.

      Cicily said nothing for a long moment. Then, slowly, she rose from her
chair. Cicily looked at Hopkins, who looked back at her. Then Cicily's glance
swept the room. And slowly, gracefully, she was moving, moving to the arched
doorway that led to the dining room. A high horizontal bar ran across the top
of the archway. Facing Hopkins, Cicily slowly reached up, grasping that bar
with both hands, arms spread wide. With her feet spread slightly apart, the
position pulled Cicily's body tight, thrusting her breasts against her
straining blouse, outlining her legs through her skirt. Cicily's eyes were on
Hopkins', and his on hers.

      "It is a good body, isn't it, Hopkins," Cicily said.

      Hopkins allowed his eyes to fall and rise again, taking that body in
thoroughly. "It is indeed, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "It attracts you," Cicily said. "It arouses you. Doesn't it, Hopkins?"

      "It does, Madam."

      "Particularly," Cicily said, "the thought of hurting it. Is that right,
Hopkins?"

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said. "Particularly that."

      "Hopkins," Cicily said. "There is a riding whip hanging by the door."

      "I know," Hopkins said.

      "Is it that kind of whip that you would use on me, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "It would do, Madam," Hopkins said.

      Cicily took a long breath, raising her breasts, tautening her body
through her clothes.

      "Get it, Hopkins," Cicily said.

      Hopkins did so. Holding the riding whip, he came to stand within reach of
Cicily, as she stood, body taut, hands holding on to the bar. Now Cicily
turned, facing away from him, but again placing her hands at each end of that
bar, planting her legs apart, holding her head high.

      "Use it, Hopkins," Cicily said.

      "Shall I, Madam?" Hopkins said.

      "Do as I say, Hopkins," Cicily said.

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "And Hopkins."

      "Yes, Madam?"

      "Do not hold back. Do you understand?"

      "As you wish, Madam," Hopkins said.

      Hopkins raised the whip. Cicily stiffened. Hopkins struck. Very hard. The
riding whip slashed across Cicily's taut back, making a long rip in her blouse,
cracking against her skin, causing her body to lurch forward. But Cicily did
not let go of the bar. Her body stayed as it was, tightly stretched, though the
knuckles of her hands were white as they clutched at the bar.

      For a long moment there was silence. Then Cicily said, "Oh, dear god. Oh
my dear sweet god. I didn't think -- oh Jesus. Oh. I never thought it could --
oh Jesus."

      Silence again. Cicily stood, panting, holding on to the bar. Hopkins
stood, holding the whip. And finally Cicly said, "Hopkins."

      "Yes, Madam?"

      "Do it again."

      "As you wish, Madam," Hopkins said.

      And he did it again. A bit lower. Cicily's blouse split again, and
Cicily's body thrust itself lurchingly forward, and a sharp hissing sound came
from Cicily's mouth, followed by an unworldly, animal-like cry.

      But Cicily still did not let go of the bar. And after a long moment,
Cicily said, "Christ help me. I think I -- I can't -- how could it -- oh god
that hurts oh Jesus it hurts Christ in heaven how can I- -Hopkins --"

      "Shall I do it again, Madam?"

      "You -- oh -- oh dear god -- do you -- are you -- enjoying this,
Hopkins?"

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "All right," Cicily said. "Go ahead."

      "Would you care to turn around, Madam?" Hopkins said.

      Cicily caught her breath.

      "I don't -- I don't think I could stand it," Cicily said.

      "Madam," Hopkins said. "Turn around. Now."

      "Oh, god," Cicily said softly. "Oh god have mercy." And Cicily turned to
face Hopkins again. And again, as Hopkins watched, raised her arms to grasp the
horizontal bar. And waited. Her breasts rising and falling rapidly against her
straining blouse. Her taut body trembling. Her eyes closing as Hopkins raised
the whip.

      But unmoving.

      Until Hopkins swung that whistling whip sharply down across Cicily's
thrusting breasts, slashing it viciously across the rounded flesh, across the
nipples, ripping through the blouse, grunting loudly with the effort of it.

      Now Cicily screamed. Just once, and very loud. And then Cicily's hands
slipped from the bar, and she crumpled, moaning, to the floor.

      Lying at Hopkins' feet, body quivering, writhing in pain, Cicily spoke.
"Please don't do it any more. Don't hit me any more. I can't. Please. Not any
more. I'll do what you want. Please."

      Hopkins stood looking down at her. Cicily clutched at his feet. "Please,"
Cicily said. "I can't do it. Just don't do it again. Please don't do that
again. I -- tell me what you want me to do."

      "Stand up, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "All right," Cicily said. "All right. I -- will you help me?"

      "No," Hopkins said.

      Cicily got to her knees. Then slowly, painfully, to her feet. Hopkins did
not help her.

      "Don't hit me again," Cicily said. "I'll --"

      "What will you do, Madam?" Hopkins said.

      Cicily said nothing.

      Hopkins waited. Still holding the whip.

      Cicily said, "Would -- would you like to see me naked, Hopkins?"

      "Of course, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "If -- if I -- if I take my clothes off for you -- will you -- you won't
hit me again, will you, Hopkins?"

      "I will make no bargains, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Oh god," Cicily said. "All right. All right, Hopkins. I'll do it. I'm
going to do it, Hopkins. I'm going to take off my clothes for you. Just for
you, Hopkins. Watch me. Watch me, Hopkins."

      Cicily was panting. Slowly her hands went to the front of her blouse.
Looking straight at Hopkins, she began to unbutton it. Button by button the
blouse was undone. At the final button Cicily stopped. "I -- I'm not wearing a
brassiere," Cicily said, her voice low.

      "I am aware of that, Madam," Hopkins said.

      Cicily took a breath, opened the last button, and took the blouse off. It
hung from her hand for a moment, then fell to the floor. Cicily stood very
still. Hopkins was gazing at her breasts, his face expressionless.

      "Do you like them, Hopkins?" Cicily said at last.

      "I do, Madam," Hopkins said. "They are, in point of fact, still more
attractive than I had thought they would be. They look fuller, and rounder,
than when you are fully clothed. And most arousingly firm, Madam, if I may say
so. And the mark of the whip across them only adds to that attractiveness."

      As Hopkins spoke, Cicily's nipples grew hard and stiff, a fact which
Hopkins could not but notice.

      "Shall I go on, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "If you please, Madam," Hopkins said.

      Cicily now took off her skirt.

      "I must say that I have always admired your legs, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "I know that," Cicily said. "I have seen you looking at them. Well, now
you can see all of them, Hopkins. You can look your fill, can you not?"

      "Kindly remove the pants, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Shall I?" Cicily said. "Well, after all, perhaps not. Something should
be left to the imagination, don't you think, Hopkins?"

      Hopkins raised the whip.

      "All right," Cicily said. "I will."

      But she stood still.

      "No," Cicily said. "Make me. Make me do it."

      Swiftly and suddenly, Hopkins slashed the whip down across Cicily's
thighs. Cicily cried out. Hopkins brought the whip up again.

      "No," Cicily said. "I will."

      But Hopkins slashed again across her thighs. And Cicily, moaning, took
off her panties.

      "Don't hit me any more, Hopkins," Cicily said.

      Hopkins was just looking at her as she stood there.

      "Am I as you imagined, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "You are exquisite, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "And will you -- are you going to -- bind me, Hopkins? In the way you
spoke of?" And Cicily raised her arms high above her head, stretching her body,
standing on tiptoe, with her wrists crossed, as though trussed that way by a
rope.

      "I think not right now, Madam," Hopkins said. "I would like you now to do
something you promised to do earlier."

      "Oh?" Cicily said. "What was that, Hopkins?"

      "You said that you would crawl for me, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "Oh," Cicily said. "Did I?"

      "You did, Madam," Hopkins said.

      "And you wish me to crawl for you? Now?"

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said. "Now."

      "Will you whip me if I do not?" Cicily said.

      "Is that what you wish, Madam?" Hopkins said.

      Cicily said nothing for a long time. Then, slowly, Cicily sank to the
floor. First on her knees, then onto all fours.

      "This way, Hopkins?" Cicily said in a whisper.

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      And Cicily began to crawl. Slowly, submissively, with her naked haunches
rippling, her breasts swaying slightly, her dark hair hanging, Cicily crawled
across the kitchen floor. Reaching the far wall, she turned and crawled back.

      "Is that what you wanted, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "Please do not stop, Madam," Hopkins said.

      So Cicily crawled around the room. Around and around. Now, as Hopkins
watched Cicily crawling, he began to take off his clothes. Soon he was naked.
His penis was stiff and long. Cicily was panting, but did not stop crawling.

      Hopkins lay down on the floor, on his back. Still holding the whip.
Without being told, Cicliy now crawled toward him. Hopkins lay with his legs
pointing toward Cicily. Cicicly crawled to him.

      "Will you make me give myself to you, Hopkins?" Cicily said.

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said.

      And Cicily crawled over Hopkins as he lay, crawling above him, over his
feet, his legs, upward. But as Cicily's head was just above his crotch, Hopkins
said, "Stop, Madam."

      Cicily stopped. Crouching that way, halfway up his body, Cicily now
looked at him, in surprise at first, and then with a gradual realization.
Cicily's eyes widened in shock. For a moment she said nothing. Then she
swallowed.

      "With -- with my mouth?" Cicily said, half-whispering.

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said. "With your mouth."

      "Oh, dear god," Cicily said. "I will. Hopkins. I will. You'll remember
this, won't you, Hopkins? When I give you orders in future. You'll see it in my
eyes, won't you? See my mouth upon you. Doing your bidding. Taking you."

      "Yes, Madam," Hopkins said. "I will see it."

      "And so will I," Cicily said. "I'm going to do it, Hopkins. Whip me. I
want you to. I want you to whip me hard while I do it to you."

      And Cicily took Hopkins into her mouth, and Hopkins whipped Cicily's
back, very hard, and Cicily screamed and still did it, and it went on until
Cicily's husband came in...
 
