The heavy oak door of the study clicked shut, sealing Lord Hastings and Pippa inside the dimly lit room. The scent of old parchment and the lingering aroma of his evening pipe mixed with the faint sweet smell of milk that always clung to the girl’s skin. She stood before him, her hands clasped demurely at her waist, eyes downcast. Her sturdy frame, softened by the extra weight she carried, filled out her simple kirtle in a way that had recently begun to plague his thoughts.

"And how was Master Daniel today, Pippa?" Hastings asked, his voice a low rumble as he leaned back in his chair, watching her closely.

"He ate his porridge, my Lord. And we practiced his letters in the garden," she replied, her voice soft and respectful. "He is a clever boy."

Hastings waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, the boy is fine. But..... that is not what I wish to speak of." He stood up and walked around the large wooden desk, closing the distance between them. He towered over her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across her face. "It is... quiet in this house, Pippa. Since my Lady died. Too quiet."

Pippa looked up, her wide, innocent eyes meeting his. "I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. It must be very hard."

"It is," he said, stepping closer. He could smell her now—soap and the warmth of her skin. "I find myself aching with loneliness. Especially at night. A man has needs, Pippa. Needs that aching solitude cannot satisfy."

"I... I understand, my Lord," she stammered, though her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

"Do you?" He stopped right in front of her. "I want you to help me. I want you to ease this ache."

"I will do whatever I can to serve you, my Lord," she whispered, her heart beating visibly in her throat.

"Good." Hastings sat on the edge of the desk and gestured to the floor. "Kneel."

Pippa hesitated for only a fraction of a second before sinking to her knees. The stone floor was hard, but she didn't mind. The Lord of the manor was commanding her, and she was his servant. She placed her hands on her thighs and looked up at him, waiting.

Hastings wasted no time. He undid the laces of his breeches, his movements rough and urgent. He freed his cock, thick and already hardening, the heavy meat pulsing with his heartbeat. It was a monstrous thing, girthy and veined, rising up from a thatch of dark curls.

"Open your eyes, Pippa," he commanded.

She had squeezed them shut, shyness overcoming her. Slowly, she opened them, her gaze locking onto the rigid shaft jutting out before her face. She gasped softly, her lips parting in surprise.

"It hurts," Hastings groaned, his hand wrapping around the base of his prick. "It aches terribly. Your mouth... if you put your mouth on it, it will relieve me. Will you do that? Will you suck the ache out of me?"

Pippa stared at the bulbous head, the slit already weeping a clear bead of fluid. Her friends in the village had whispered about such things, giggling in the dark, but she had never seen a man like this. He was so handsome, so powerful. And he wanted her. A surge of desire wetted her cunt.

"Yes, my Lord," she breathed. "I want to help."

"Good girl," he rasped. "Take it in your hand first. Get a feel for it."

She reached up, her small hand trembling as she wrapped her fingers around his girth. He was too thick for her to touch her thumb to her middle finger. He was hot and hard like iron, yet the skin was velvety soft. She gave a tentative squeeze, and Hastings let out a guttural moan.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Now put it in your mouth. Suck it like a sweet."

Pippa leaned forward. She stuck out her tongue and gave a hesitant lick across the swollen head. The taste was salty and musky. She opened her jaw as wide as she could and engulfed the tip.

"Fuck yes," Hastings groaned, his head falling back. "That’s it. Take more."

She tried to obey, sliding her lips down the shaft, but he was simply too big. She choked slightly as the head hit the back of her throat, her eyes watering.

"Relax your throat, girl," Hastings ordered, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head. "Breathe through your nose. You can take it."

She whimpered around his mouthful, but she didn't pull away. She wanted to impress him. She wanted to be the one who made him feel good. She began to bob her head, her saliva coating his length, making the friction wet and slick.

Shlurp. Smack. Shlick.

The room filled with the wet, filthy sounds of her sucking. Hastings watched her cheeks bulge outward, stretched to their limit by his thickness. Her eyes were squeezed shut again, tears leaking from the corners, but she worked at him with a devotion that made his blood boil.

"Look at me," he growled, tightening his grip in her hair. "Look at me while you choke on my cock."

She forced her eyes open, looking up at him with watery, submissive eyes. The sight nearly undid him. His late wife had never done this. She had considered it a sin. He had to pay whores in the village for this kind of treatment, and even they complained about his size. But Pippa—innocent, plump, working-class Pippa—was taking him into his own home.

"Use your tongue," he instructed, his voice straining. "Lick the underside. Swirl it around the head."

She did her best to follow his commands, her tongue dancing over the sensitive frenulum. He tasted strong, overwhelmingly male. Every time she pulled back, a thick string of spit connected her lips to his cock, only to break when she swallowed him again.

"You’re a natural," Hastings panted, his hips beginning to thrust gently. "A filthy little slut with a hot mouth. Where did you learn to suck like this?"

She couldn't answer with her mouth full, so she just moaned, the vibration humming against his shaft.

"Gllk. Ughhnn."

"Take it deeper," he demanded, pushing her head down further. He felt her throat constrict around the tip, fighting the intrusion. "Just a little more. You can do it. You’re such a good girl for me."

The praise sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her cunt was dripping, soaking her woolen undergarments. She loved being his good girl. She loved the way his voice cracked when he praised her. She redoubled her efforts, sucking harder, slurping loudly, wanting nothing more than to drain him.

Hastings could feel the pressure building in his balls, drawing up tight against his body. He was getting close. The sight of her chubby face stuffed with his prick was etching itself into his memory.

"Fuck, Pippa. I’m going to give you a reward," he grunted, fucking her face faster now. "I’m going to cum. I’m going to give you my holy juices."

She blinked, confused but obedient, her mouth stretched wide.

"You’ve been so good, so obedient," he continued, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "My seed is holy, Pippa. It creates life. If you drink it, God will be so pleased with you. He will bless you for serving your Lord so well."

She mumbled in agreement around his shaft, eager to receive this blessing. She wanted to be holy. She wanted to be filled.

"Gonna fucking drown you," he roared, his hips jerking wildly. "Take it! Take it all!"

With a loud, guttural groan that echoed off the stone walls, Hastings exploded. His cock throbbed violently, spurting thick ropes of hot cum directly into her mouth.

Pump. Pump. Splurt.

Pippa’s eyes widened as her mouth was flooded. It was hot and salty, coating her tongue and teeth. She swallowed frantically, trying to keep up with the deluge, but some escaped her lips, dripping down her chin and landing on her ample bosom.

"Drink it," he commanded, holding her head steady as he emptied himself. "Every drop. Don't waste a drop."

She gulped it down, the thick fluid sliding down her throat. She felt it settle warm and heavy in her stomach. When he finally released her, she pulled back, gasping for air, a thin strand of cum connecting her lower lip to his still-hard cock.

"Did I do well, my Lord?" she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Better than well," Hastings said, looking down at her with dark, satisfied eyes. He reached down and hauled her to her feet. His hands immediately went to her chest, roughly kneading her heavy tits through the fabric of her dress. "You were magnificent. Such a perfect little whore for me."

Pippa leaned into his touch, her nipples hardening under his palms. "I liked it, my Lord. I liked tasting you."

"I know you did," he smirked, tweaking a nipple hard enough to make her gasp. "And I liked using you."

He stepped back and tucked his softening cock back into his breeches. "Go to the village tomorrow. Buy yourself new dresses. Anything you want. I will pay for it. You deserve a reward for such a service."

"Thank you, my Lord!" she cried out, delighted.

"But tonight," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Tonight, you will come to my bedchamber."

Pippa’s breath caught. "Your bedchamber?"

"Yes. My cock is satisfied, but the ache remains elsewhere. I have an ache between my thighs that needs a different kind of attention," he said, his eyes raking over her body. "I’m going to worship that fat cunt of yours. I’m going to eat it until you scream."

Pippa felt her knees go weak.

"Now go," he dismissed her, turning back to his desk. "Prepare yourself. And don't you dare wear anything to bed but your skin."

Pippa curtsied, her face flushed with excitement and lingering lust, and hurried out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Hastings allowed the mask of the gentle lord to slip away. His face twisted into a predatory grin. Testing her was over. She had passed, exceeding his expectations with her innocence and eagerness to please.

He had been gentle, barely testing the limits of her throat, but tomorrow? Tomorrow he would show her what it really meant to be his nanny. He would break her in properly. He would make her his personal whore, a hole to use whenever the ache struck him. The thought of those soft thighs wrapped around his waist, her cries as he split her open, made his spent cock twitch with renewed interest.

He sat plotting, his mind racing with all the nasty, brutal things he was going to do to her, things that would leave her ruined for any other man. The night had only just begun.