AN: I wanted to try something different. This is my first time writing something like this so feedback would be greatly appreciated

Whitley shut the door to his father's study. He turned and walked away, and when he was far enough from the door, he finally let out the breath he was holding in. His mind raced with questions about that man, but the more he thought the worse he felt. He knew that that man's presence couldn't possibly lead to anything good. His father was cold, and he could be cruel, but that man was evil. Just looking at him made Whitley feel like he was drowning.

He rushed to his room and slammed the door shut. He rummaged under his bed and found the wine he had stolen from his mother's stash. He took a quick drink to calm his nerves, and another, and one more for good measure. After stashing the bottle he flopped onto his bed. For several minutes he laid there staring up at the ceiling, until he heard a knock at his door.

He opened it, and found a woman on the other side.

"Good evening, Moselle," he said.

Moselle was the one of the older maids, and Whitley's personal attendant since he was a child. She tended to his every need, in many ways she was like a mother to him. She practically raised him, and was there for him far more than his actual mother was. But it was clear at a glance that the two had no relation. Her blond hair tied up in a bun and the small curved horns on her head proved that much.

Moselle looked down at Whitley. "I did not see you at supper. Are you not hungry, mon fils?"

mon fils. Moselle was the only person who called him that. To everyone else he was The Young Master or Master Whitley, or some derogatory nickname he pretended not to notice, but to her he was mon fils.

Whitley cleared his throat. "I appreciate your concern, but I wasn't hungry. I was actually about to go to bed."

"Very well," Moselle replied. "You do look as though you need some rest. I will see you in the morning. Do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything."

She enveloped Whitley in a tight embrace. He could feel how soft she was in all the right places. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating. Maybe it was the stress of the past few months, or the alcohol, or just teenage hormones, but his mind raced with all kinds of ideas. She'd do anything he asked, anything. All of the servants would. Whitley had lost count of the number of times he'd seen some disheveled looking maid stumbling out of his father's room, or two or three butlers coming out of his mother's.

Moselle turned to leave. A gradually growing part of Whitley wanted her to stay.

Just ask. She wouldn't say no. She couldn't say no.

He couldn't. He didn't want to take advantage of her.

She's more than twice your age. If anything she'd be taking advantage of you.

She was the only one who was anything close to decent to him. He couldn't risk damaging that.

After everything you've been through you deserve to enjoy yourself a little. You have to deal with all the pressure and responsibility of being heir, why not enjoy some of the perks?

Whitley tried to use reason, to convince himself that he shouldn't do this, but bit by bit, reason died out.

Whitley grabbed at the hem of Moselle's dress. She stopped and saw him looking up into her eyes.

"I... I would like for you to stay with me tonight," Whitley said, his face burning.

Moselle put a hand over her mouth. "Oh my. Are you certain that you would not like one of the other servants, perhaps someone younger?"

Whitley shook his head. "You are the only one that I want."

Moselle's smile was warm, and kind, like a mother's. "Very well. I would be honored to accompany you tonight."

Sinking into his bed, Whitley looked at the woman before him.

Moselle loosened her bun, letting her hair fall to her waist. "So, what would you like to do first?"

Whitley's heart pounded in his chest. He looked at Moselle's soft red lips. "Kiss me."

Moselle smiled and leaned forward, pressing her lips against Whitley's. She ran a hand through his hair as his hands gripped her shoulders. The kiss was slow, passionate, both of them intending to savor it. Her tounge found its way inside his mouth and pressed against his. Shocks ran through Whitley's body. This was a kiss given to a lover. It wasn't like anything he had ever felt before. Moselle pulled back and slowly licked her lips. She could see the pleading in her master's eyes.

"How sweet." she leaned in close enough to feel his hot breath. "I could just eat you up."

With swift, practiced hands she undid the buttons on his shirt. She brushed the tip of her tongue against his chest, making Whitley gasp in pleasure. She slid his pants off, and gazed lovingly at the erect cock staring back at her. She placed her lips around the head, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking the entire length into her mouth.

Hearing her master's gasp only excited her more. Cheeks hollowing with suction, she slowly worked her way up and down , trailing her tongue along the length of his cock.

Whitley's body tensed. He grabbed Moselle's head and forced her down onto his dick, forcing her to take all of his cum. Moselle kept sucking, ensuring that not a single drop escaped from her mouth.

Whitley fell flat onto his back, panting. Moselle swallowed the load and stuck out her tongue.

"You are so cute, mon fils. Is there anything else you would like?"

Her tone was affectionate, almost motherly. It just turned him on more.

What is wrong with me?

"Undress," Whitley said.

Without a word, Moselle undid the ties to her dress and let it fall to the floor. Her lacy white panties were an instant favorite of Whitley's, but he had little time to admire them before they were discarded as well. She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then slowly slid her panties down to her ankles. Stepping out of them, she stepped forward and presented her body with a smile. A small blush crept up her cheeks as she looked at Whitley.

He was transfixed. His eyes slowly traveled all over her body as he took her in. Her cream colored skin, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the small tuft of blond hair above her slit.

She crawled onto the bed and laid down next to Whitley. Whitley rolled her over and climbed on top of her. He kissed her on her lips, then trailed a lined of kisses down her neck. Moselle shivered beneath his touch.

Whitley's eyes found her breasts. His tongue flicked against a hardened nipple. Moselle's moans drove him insane. He latched on to her breast, sucking on the nipple. His fingers sank into her flesh. He massaged her other breast and pinched a nipple between his fingers. Moselle moaned in his ear as she writhed beneath him. Whitley moved on, trailing kisses down her soft stomach as he ran a finger along her slit. He gripped his cock and prepared to enter her, but missed. His face went crimson with embarrassment.

Moselle suppressed a laugh. "You don't have to be so nervous. Just relax."

Gently, she grabbed hold of his erection and guided it into her entrance. Whitley pushed forward until he was engulfed in her wet heat. His thrusts were rough, hard, more concerned with his own pleasure than anything else. His gaze was transfixed on her breasts, and the way they bounced as he fucked her.

"I hope I am to your liking," Moselle said between moans.

"You are. I love you," Whitley gasped.

"Je t'aime aussi."

She kissed him again, a deep, long kiss. Whitley's pace quickened as he approached his climax. His body jerked forward as he came inside Moselle. He pulled out and watched his cum flow out. Breathing heavily and covered in sweat, he fell onto his back.

"Thank you," he said.

"It was a pleasure," Moselle replied. She grasped his still wet penis and took it into her mouth. The softness of her lips and the skilled motions of her tongue had him hard again in seconds.

Moselle climbed on top of him. Whitley could see the naked lust in her eyes as she sank down onto his cock. She fell forward and rocked her hips against his. Whitley's eyes were drawn to her swaying breasts. But his hands found their way to Moselle's ass. He grabbed her soft cheeks and pulled her harder down onto him. Moselle moaned her approval, lifting her hips and slamming them back down. Moselle grabbed Whitley's hands and pinned them behind his head. She ran her tongue along his neck. Her lips were so close he could feel her breath on his hear.

"I know how much you wanted this," she whispered. "I've seen you stare at me, undressing me with your eyes. You're such a naughty boy. You wanted my lips wrapped around your cock, your cock buried in my pussy."

Whitley's cock throbbed. He was close to the edge.

"I'm gonna cum," he groaned.

Moselle gently bit his ear. "Cum for me, my sweet boy."

Whitley jerked his hips upward as his cum shot into her pussy. Her body stiffened and she threw her head back.

"Oh master!" she cried.

Completely spent, she collapsed on top of her master. After taking a moment to gather herself, Moselle climbed off of Whitley and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before settling down next to him.

"Goodnight, mon fils."

Whitley yawned, his eyelids heavy. "Goodnight."

Moselle wrapped her arms around Whitley and fell asleep to his soft snores. For the first time in many years, Whitley slept peacefully.