Breakfast in the servant’s hall next to the kitchen in five minutes.” With that she disappeared leaving me to find my way back to the stairs and d...wn to the basement.When I got to the servant’s hall there were already three other maids there taking breakfast. Nobody seemed to be talking. A dumpy man in a mop cap and floor length dress and apron waved me to the table set a mug of tea down beside me and a bowl of what I took to be porridge. It looked grey and un-appetising. I took a spoonful of. With his right hand, after he had pushed my pants and jockeys to my knees, he had hold of his massive male member an had guided it into my butt crack smearing his pre-cum up, down and over my anus. It felt as if his dick head was enormous and rubbery hard1 My legs and body shook so vicious that it was hard for him to hold me against the wall. He took his feet one at a time and managed to kick my feet back from the wall. This caused my head to be against the wall and my butt poking out slightly. He tended to be closed mouthed when it came to details, involving certain aspects of his life and Betty and those that knew him best didn’t push the issue, feeling it was best to allow him whatever privacy he wanted. Betty felt he had earned it, given all he did to help others…he worked tirelessly, day and night, she often wondered if the man slept at all, if by some random chance, he had a social life, Betty didn’t know anything about it, though she was certain, he could have his pick of most. Or what have you. If you don't volunteer information, they're just going to assume guilt and go through the motions, moving on to the next case.That's why it took under an hour for the jury to deliberate my fate.Guilty of first-degree rape.What was the point, really? Why tell my story to a therapist? To a cell mate? Anybody?Nobody would believe me, and it would just look like I was pussy, anyway. Which is what I was. She made sure she reminded me of that numerous times. It's because it was the.
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