BHM To Serve (BHM, FFA, WG, Historical)

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Active Member
Jan 14, 2019
Part 10

Despite my excitement, the lull of Simon’s soft breathing paired with the warmth emitting from his frame, I fell asleep quickly. It was as if sleeping on a cloud. I could feel the passage of time, though it was melted into a hazy bliss. When I finally stirred, I noticed Simon’s arm was still draped around me as I pulled my head up from his chest to look at him. He was already awake, his amber eyes catching mine.

“Were you watching me sleep?” I wondered aloud, touching the corners of my mouth to make sure I hadn’t embarrassed myself by drooling. He laughed, and again, his form shook and wobbled along. I let myself relax and pushed my hands back onto his stomach, where the doughy flesh welcomed me.

“I may have glanced. But really, you’re very beautiful, I can’t be blamed for wanting to look upon you. Especially because you’re cute when you sleep,” he replied with a smile that melted his eyes to liquid chocolate. “Let me get that for you.” He began reaching with one pudgy hand to wipe the corner of my mouth, to my horror. Maybe I had drooled and just missed some? He chuckled again. “I’m just joking around, Rose. And even if you had drooled, couldn’t we just have excused that as a side effect of your irrevocable attraction for me?” He raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Oh is that funny? I wasn’t the one watching you sleep,” I countered. I could already feel the heat on my cheeks. Why did he always have to make me blush? Sure, obviously I was lusting after him. It wasn’t as if he was in denial of his own attraction of me.

“But you would have. If you would’ve woken up first,” he accused. I squinted at him momentarily, considering.

“Well, I didn’t,” I replied non-definitively. He didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t say anything further. Instead, he pulled his hand up to my face again, this time entwining it into my raven hair. Once he had a hold, my face was ushered to his. When our lips met, I was reminded of Simon’s comment earlier about trying out my suggestion of fooling around after our nap. I began breathing deeply, pulling myself closer to him. My body felt as though it was steaming with desire.

“Eager, are we?” Simon tantalized as I took a moment to breathe properly.

“If you knew how tightly I was wound right now, you’d understand the eagerness,” I said lightly as my lips brushed his once more. He seemed to take a shaky breath after my words hit him.

“Well, let’s see if I can unravel you,” he whispered huskily. He was staring right into my eyes, which were merely inches away. Suddenly, I found myself on my back. Simon was on his side, leaning over me, but not entirely on top of me. I presumed it was because it would be difficult for him to hold his bulk with just his arms and knees.

I was already soaked for him, but when he began caressing my body, I felt small waves shake through my being. His hands caressed my humble breasts, pulling at the nipples until they were thoroughly tender. His lips alternated between kissing mine, and placing wet kisses along my neck and jawline. I was breathing so heavy, I feared momentarily I was going to lose consciousness.

“Have you ever been touched?”

The question surprised me. Isn’t it obvious?

“No,” I answered.

Simon nodded. “I’ll go slow. Let me know how this feels.”

His warm hands entered underneath my skirt and made their way between my legs. His chocolate eyes never left mine as his hand made contact with me. The moment he began a light massage, I began panting. I heard Simon exhale.

“Feels good?” he asked.

I didn’t want to speak out of fear that my voice would betray me and I’d sound like a nervous wreck. I nodded enthusiastically instead. He smiled at my gesture. When his finger slid inside me, I sort of began missing the stimulation from before, but as a second finger followed suit, I began to understand why people did this sort of thing.

“Oh,” I moaned as my head leaned back into the feather pillow.

“You want me to go faster?” Simon asked. I could hardly contain my frantic nodding. I heard his breathy laugh as he exhaled again. This pace was heating me up to new temperatures. I was no longer boiling, now I’d caught fire. I couldn’t help but emit small noises as his hand worked its magic. Once he’d seemed to believe I was happy with his new fast pace, he continued his earlier exploration of my breasts with his other hand.

“More,” I mumbled as my eyes rolled back into my head. He obliged, speeding the pace and pulling himself down spread my legs further. When I felt the fat of his stomach rub against mine, I basically lost it. My back arched as my hands grasped for a piece of blanket or sheet to hold onto. I was so close to losing myself completely. I looked up and saw his firey gaze again. I reached up to fondle his hefty flesh. I kneeded him, unashamed and desperately. He was so big, so squishy. In a matter of moments, I was coming apart. His hand left me as the final wave of his love rolled through my body. I was exhausted. Was that normal?

“How do you feel, Rosie?” Simon asked as he moved to lay next to me.

“I-,” I stumbled my words, to his amusement, before finally articulating, “Why did we wait so long to do that?”


Well-Known Member
Jan 10, 2020
United States
I literally made an account just to reply to your story. This story you have written is so beautifully sensual, erotic, and heartfelt all at the same time. I look forward to reading more!


like the pancake
Dec 7, 2019
This story is amazing! I love all manner of stories where someone falls for their servant/subordinate. And you write the characters beautifully.


Active Member
Jan 14, 2019
Part 11

As I walked to the kitchen to fetch Simon his snack, I couldn’t help but grin. I was falling in love with him, I realized. It wasn’t as frightening as I’d once imagined it would be. Once I entered the kitchen, I felt my glow fade.
“Prince Simon requests his afternoon snack,” I announced. I was met with gazes that reflected annoyance, but they began preparing his cart.
It was odd to be waiting around in a room full of people I hardly worked with. Normally, I’d have become friends with a lot of these people, but since I spent nearly all my waking hours with Simon, I hardly knew them. And they certainly didn’t know me; not that I was complaining, but it did make interactions such as these a bit awkward.

“I would’ve tried cozying up to him too if I knew I could be upgraded to petty serving tasks,” a woman whispered, not incredibly quietly. The man next to her laughed before hushing her and glancing in my direction.
“It’s not worth it. You may as well be working with the livestock with how much of a cow that one is,” another servant chimed in. The kitchen erupted in laughter.

I could feel my cheeks getting red in anger, but I didn’t dare meet their eyes or say anything. Is that what people thought? That I charmed my way to working for Simon? That I tolerated his gluttonous lifestyle only for the perks of having his favor? It was infuriating, especially on top of what the only women had said to me earlier.

“Ayo, Girl!” a man called across the room. I turned to face the area where the voice had come from. “How often do the dress robes Prince Simon wears have to be replaced? We have a little bet going, I say twice a week! He says three!” The man speaking broke out into hysterical laughter, as if this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Is that how you speak of your future king?” I asked venomously. I watched as the man’s face fell.
“Oh right, I forgot being the Prince’s whore would force you to have a shred of loyalty,” he replied with humor creeping back into his voice. I looked around at the surrounding kitchen staff, only to be met by a few sympathetic gazes and mostly smug grins.
“Prince Simon is of royal blood and should be respected! And I shalln’t be disrespected for petty manly reasons,” I snapped. I could hear surprised gasps in response to my outbursts, but I didn’t look away from the man’s face to locate their owners.

The man then boldly walked my way. He had an arrogant saunter to his strut, which annoyed me on top of everything else. At this point, I was basically fuming; my hands balled at my sides so tightly that my knuckles were undoubtedly white.
“I will not be spoken to that way by a woman,” he said slowly. He had walked right up to me, looking down at me from a few paces away. “Apologize,” he demanded.
“What?” I scoffed. His eyes darkened.
“I’m your superior, in sex and in administration,” he muttered. It was true, he was a cook, a well respected position, while I was basically hand-maid, chosen mostly for companionship and not skill. Still, I was going to hold my ground.
“You may be my ‘superior’,” I said the word with narrowed eyes, “but I will not apologize for defending our royal Highness.” I took a defiant step forward, tilting my chin up at him. “And you are most definitely not my superior in honor.”
I turned to walk away from him, but my arm was tugged back.
“Don’t walk away from me, wench!”
When his hand connected to my face, I stumbled, momentarily shocked from the unexpected sting. My hands flew to my check, which was ringing from the harsh slap. The staff in the kitchen grumbled with whispers. I tried to speak, but no words would come out. I was entirely shocked.
The worst part is, it was within his right to hit me.

“What’s all this?” The Stewardess’ voice carried loudly in the room. “Get to work, the lot of you!” she demanded.

I’d never been so happy to see her in my life.
Once the crowd of servants dispersed, she led me out into the corridor.
“Are you alright, child?” she asked. Her normally cold tone was significantly softer. I assumed it was because she was a woman; she’d probably dealt with men like that cook a lot to reach her title.
“Yeah, I think so.” I pulled my hand away, allowing her to inspect my cheek. I could already feel it swelling the area beneath my eye.
“It’ll bruise,” she concluded. “But you’ll be alright, dear.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. She walked in the opposite direction with an incredibly erect posture and a face so unreadable, you’d think it was made of stone.

When I wheeled the cart through the thick wooden doors of Simon’s chambers, he was standing next to his wardrobe, trying to tug his pants up, but obviously struggling. I nearly laughed despite the pain in my heart at the confrontation I’d just had.
“Rose! My Lord, I was getting worried, I was going to get dressed to come find you and make sure nothing happened… What happened to your face?” he inquired desperately, abandoning his clothes at his feet and lumbering over to me. He pulled my face into his hands, inspecting my left cheek.
“I, well,” I stumbled, unsure if I wanted to even tell him what’d happened. After a moment, I decided I may as well be honest. “I got into an argument with a cook,” I explained. Simon’s eyes narrowed.
“They hit you?” he clarified with dangerous slowness.
I nodded.
“What’s their name?” he asked quietly. I could tell Simon was fuming inside.
“I don’t even know, it was sort of my fault. I spoke out of turn,” I mumbled.
“What’d you say? Tell me exactly.” He led me to the edge of the bed, where we sat with his hand enclosing mine.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t really want to tell him that his staff was making fun of him; I knew that would hurt his feelings. But it was the truth.
“Well, they were sort of poking fun. At you,” I looked up at him to gauge his reaction. His face remained blank, but his eyes were golden with intensity. “And I told him, the cook, well… I told him that he shouldn’t speak of his monarchy that way.” I took a shaky breath. “He called me ‘the Prince’s whore’,” I muttered.
“He did what?!” Simon burst. There it was, that anger I was sensing.
“He thinks that because you favor me, I don’t have to work as hard,” I said. That part was actually a little true, I reflected. “And that because I’m a woman, I shouldn’t be disrespecting him by talking back. I mean, he wanted me to apologize to him for defending you! I wouldn’t do it. So that’s when I basically told him that he had no honor.” I laughed weakly while retelling the last bit.
“So he struck you?” Simon inferred slowly, holding my hand more tightly.
“Yeah. Luckily the Stewardess came in and I was able to escape the confrontation.” Simon nodded and remained silent for a moment.
“Do you remember what he looked like?” he asked eventually.
“Let’s go down there and you can identify him to me,” Simon said abruptly, standing up.
“What? Why?” I wondered.
“I’ll have him beheaded.” Simon must’ve heard my shocked yelp, because he added, “He’s clearly disloyal to the crown. Traitors must be snuffed out and punished.”
I was surprised by his callousness. I supposed this was what a normal prince would probably be like all the time.
“Can’t you just fire him?” I suggested. “What he did to me was lawful, I mean… He might have kids.” I don’t know why, but I really didn’t want to be responsible this man’s death. Simon sat back down and took my face into his hands again. His thumb brushed over the tender skin.
“I’ll talk to my father about it.”
I smiled. There was something a little romantic about a man who would kill for you, but perhaps it’s even more romantic when he is able to refrain from doing so for you.


Active Member
Jan 14, 2019
Part 12

After the cook was relieved of his post, the other servants kept their distance from me. I’m pretty sure they were scared to upset me, believing that I somehow had an influence on Prince Simon’s decisions. Maybe I did, I didn’t know. Either way, I preferred this to being disrespected.

The winter months were beginning, and I relished sitting by the oversized fireplace in Simon’s room. Simon was getting fitted for new clothes again, and the tailor Lucien was making comfortable small talk. I noticed Simon was becoming comfortable with allowing people to see our ‘friendship’. Lucien had actually greeted me by name this time, which was a first. I wasn’t even aware that he knew my name. It made me feel more like an individual, although I wondered if it would start rumors. So far, I hadn’t heard anything, so I didn’t worry about it much.

“I think I’ve gotten all that I need,” Lucein stated, packing up his little bag with all of his tape measures. “Your Highness,” he bowed respectfully towards Simon before turning to me. “Rose.” He nodded his head at me, and unsure of what to do, I smiled in response. “Oh, and Prince Simon, that extra item you requested should be arriving momentarily.”

Simon’s face grew pink at Lucien’s comment, and the sound of the heavy doors closing after the slim man allowed me to ask about it.
“What extra item?” I asked.
“You’re quite nosy,” Simon said playfully.
“I think I’ve heard that before, yes.” I laughed and walked over to where he stood in front of the mirror.
Simon pulled me into his arms for a hug, enveloping me in his softness. I looked past his arm into the huge mirror at the two of us embracing. He looked like a giant compared to me. His head was practically a foot above mine. My black hair stood out against the pale flesh of his arm where my head rested. I could still see the purple-ish bruise under my eye, but it was fading into green at the edges. I actually looked kind of pretty, despite the bruising. The happiness radiating off of me from being in Simon’s arms improved my dreary looks.
“We make a good pair,” Simon’s voice rumbled; his neck was close to my head. I caught his glance in the mirror, knowing that he was thinking the same thing I was. Still, I was surprised that he would refer to us as a pair. Before I had a chance to inquire about his statement, a gaurd knocked gently on the door before opening it.
“This was just delivered for you, Your Highness,” the guard said, holding out his arms, which held a small luggage box.
“Thank you. Rose?” Simon said. I walked over to retrieve the mysterious item. When the door shut, I asked,
“What is it?”
“Sit down,” Simon prompted as he himself lowered his body onto the bed. I pulled myself into the middle of the bed to be as close to him as possible. “Open it. It’s for you,” Simon said with a nervous gleam.
“What? For me?” I questioned. He laughed.
“Yes, for you.”
With a shrug, I began to unlatch the leather straps before opening it. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. I pulled the garments out one by one to appreciate them separately. Simon had had Lucien (there was no doubt in my mind that these were his handiwork) make me a new skirt, blouse, corset, cloak, and even shoes!
“Simon…” I mumbled, unable to even explain how much this meant to me.
“I noticed that you’re always staying by the fire to keep warm, and your clothes now are worn down, not made to last, so I thought-,” he rambled adorably until I interrupted him.
“This was so thoughtful, thank you so much,” I said earnestly. I almost felt my eyes growing wet, but I held my happy tears back. I stood up enthusiastically, untying my corset as fast as I could behind my back.
“What are you doing?” Simon asked.
“I’m putting them on! Right this second. Do you want to help?” I practically squealed. Simon laughed richly and then stood to assist me.
Once we’d gotten the outfit on, I hopped over to his mirror to admire it. I looked… Well, the skirt was still brown, like my old one since bright colors are reserved for high ranking individuals, but this skirt fit differently. It had an elegance to the way it hung, and this shade of brown was more yellow-toned, which complimented my skin much more. The corset made me look curvy, something entirely new to me. I always looked half-starved, but the consistent meals I was allowed at court had helped me put on more weight, and this corset accentuated every inch of it. The blouse was much warmer and felt considerably higher in quality. The cloak was a deep bluish-green, with an emerald jewel at the neck clasp. The shoes were comfortable and much warmer as well.
“I look…” I began.
“Beautiful,” Simon finished.

Later that evening, after Simon had engulfed his usual enormous dinner, he sat back on his bed with a candle at his beside with a book in his hand. The candlelight gave him a little halo and made his brown eyes sparkle with flickers of gold. I kept going back and forth from prancing around the room, watching my new clothes twirl with me, and admiring Simon’s beauty. After a few minutes of his, Simon spoke up.
“You could join me over here,” he said without looking up from the pages.
I didn’t need to be told twice.
“Okay,” I said with a coy sort of meekness. I climbed into place next to him, gravitating toward him. Once, I’d nuzzled my way under his arm, I wrapped my slender arm around his globular waist. Impatiently, I pulled his face down to mine to kiss him. He smiled as we pulled away.
“I meant you could join me in reading. I’ve all sorts of books,” he said sweetly. I frowned.
“I don’t know how to read,” I said quietly. It was times like these, where I was reminded how different our circumstances were from one another that stung.
“Oh.” He seemed taken aback. I guess high born women are allowed to read and write, but most women aren’t, and almost no one, man or woman in the working class could read. “I could read to you, aloud. If you want,” he offered softly.
“I’d like that,” I replied.
A few weeks ago, something like that would’ve embarrassed me, but I was already extremely comfortable with Simon. He was so understanding, it would be a waste of energy to be embarrassed.
“Alright, this is a new book, well, a play really,” he said, pulling the book off of his bedside table and placing the one he’d been reading in its place. “It’s called Romeo and Juliet. This man, William Shakespeare, he’s from England, and he writes really great tragedies, like the Greeks did.”
“It’s a tragedy?” I questioned with some degree of distrust. I didn’t want to read something sad.
“Well, it’s also a comedy,” he added. “I haven’t read it yet, but my advisor said it’s a hit. Queen Elizabeth herself enjoys Shakespeare’s work. It must be good then, right?” I nodded. “Alright, then. Here we go.

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”

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