Imagine Benedict Cumberbatch is a servant for your family (this is not a modern-day imagine). You’re not extremely wealthy, but the family name does still carry some clout in high society. Benedict has served in your house since before you were born. He was taken on as a child and had therefore been an ever-present part of your growing up. He had always been there, teasing and calling you “Baby” when you were both younger. The name had stuck, as did his comforting presence. Over the years he had become your best friend and confidant. You both knew that it wasn’t quite proper, but who wanted to make the effort of keeping up all the social engagements required to be proper when just downstairs by the kitchen lived someone who knew you better than you knew yourself? Benedict was the one person you could trust with any secret and you wouldn’t trade that for all the society and status in the world.
Lately though, you had started to notice things about your dear friend. Things like how enrapturing his eyes were when he agreed to act out parts of the books you both loved. How his voice could change effortlessly in order to convince you that he was all of the characters at once. At times you just wanted to close your eyes and let that voice wash over you; a cleansing wave of comfort, taking with it all the concerns of your young life. But his eyes and voice were not the true problem; you had always known Benedict was an engaging young man. The problem was that you had also started to notice how nicely his- and you blush just thinking about it- backside looked in his tightfitting servant’s uniform.
You didn’t think it helped that just the other week, when your mother had all but forced you to actually go out and “be the young societal lady you were born to be,” the other girls were all sniggering behind raised hands and fluttering fans about the attentions they had been getting recently from some of the eligible gentlemen in town. Their gossiping had made you realise that maybe there was more to a man’s company than just talking and reading and laughing. That maybe you wanted more from your life long companion.
But you were sure to keep these newly formed thoughts to yourself. You behaved as always around Benedict, you just happened to catch yourself staring a few more times than was perhaps polite. And when he was called away to attend to some chore around the house, you were content to go through his books yet again, relieved to have some time to let your mind be elsewhere.
While you were browsing his shelf of titles, which you memorised years ago, your eye happened to catch that a few of the books were a bit closer to the edge than the others. That’s odd, you thought. Ben always keeps his books straight. Subconsciously trying to get me to be neater, I guess. You went to push them back into line, but they’re stopped by something. Curiosity piqued, you pulled the offended books off of the shelf. Behind them, perpendicular to the rest, is a book you’d never seen before. Wondering when Benedict got this one and why it was hidden, you reached out and took it in hand. Placing the others back haphazardly, you looked at the cover. It seemed to be nothing special, just another book. You flipped it open to a random page and began to read. ‘He pulled her closer and buried his face in her soft curls.’ Why would anyone want to have a faceful of hair? Then you remembered how touchable Benedict’s ginger tinted locks seemed. Well, maybe some people’s hair. Having forgiven the man in the book’s desire to feel this woman’s hair, you read on. ‘The Lady Charity let out a soft moan as her knees went weak. He tightened his grip on her hips and grinned against her…’Hips? Why is he holding her hips, he just… Oh! Quickly you pushed the book back onto the shelf, face burning with embarrassment when you realised the author was not referring to the same curls you had originally thought of. Hearing Benedict’s soft tread on the stairs near his room you hurriedly made the book shelf look as it had before and grabbed a random volume. You sat in room’s lone chair and opened the book to a page just as he came through the door.
“I thought you didn’t care for that one,” he said.
“I’ve decided to give it another chance,” you stated, trying to think of a good excuse once you saw which book you had grabbed. “Although it still seems hopelessly dull. Perhaps if you would act it out for me?”
Benedict smiled that special smile he saved for when you asked him to perform and held out his palm. You gladly handed over the book and let his voice take you to another place. A place where you could be undisturbed as you thought through what you had just found. A place of peace and tranquillity. A place that felt like home.
Over the next few weeks you requested Benedict to read to you many times, hoping to sort out exactly how you felt about him having a novel of that sort. Eventually you came to the conclusion that maybe you would have to read a bit more in order to fully understand the pull to read such things. But Benedict clearly didn’t want anyone to know about the book, so you would have to be sneaky about it.
You started thinking of reasons to go visit him when you knew he would be called away for some small task or another. It got rather lonely mostly visiting him when he wasn’t there, but the book tried to make up for it. You noticed the first time that a page had been turned in on the corner. It wasn’t like Ben to mistreat a book, so you decided to see what was so special about this particular page.
‘…as if her breasts were on fire. His velvet tongue seemed to soothe the flames and fan them to into a holocaust all at once. Her delicate fingers found their way into his hair, scrambling to get a hold of something solid as she was being turned to liquid at his touch.’
A blush threatened to overtake your cheeks and you glanced warily at the door, sure that you would be caught for reading this. But the door remained closed and you remained alone with this book. So you read on. And every day for a week you came back to absorb the words on the dog-eared pages, always timing your calls perfectly with Benedict’s servant duties. At times you felt bad for taking advantage of his status, the first time you had ever done so, but this book was much more educational than any tittering society girl could ever be.
On the seventh day of your timely visits, you almost got found out. You had all but memorised all the scenes Benedict had marked as important and one in particular held your interest. It was where Charles was doing something to Lady Charity that you couldn’t quite figure out. It started with the first passage you had ever read. The part you had flipped to on that fateful day before you knew what this book held. It mentioned just the use of the man’s tongue, but you were sure that could never be pleasant. Yes, Benedict had a marvellous voice and incredibly soft lips, but why would this scene work so well in Charity’s favour? As you sat, engrossed by the excerpt that was being played out in your mind as you read, you missed the quiet steps that announced Benedict’s return. Only when you heard the creak that meant he was two paces away from the door did your mind snap back to reality. Stifling a gasp, you hid the book beneath your skirt and tried to look innocent. Just as Benedict stepped in and started to smile at seeing you, the bell that signalled his assistance was needed rang. He let out a sigh of reluctance, one only you got to see- the rest of the house thought that their servant was perfect and never tired of their little tasks they set for him, and turned to walk back out the door.
Once he was gone you heaved a sigh of relief. That was too close. The book would have to stay shelved henceforth. You got up and put it back, glad of your ability to learn books by heart. The only way you would now revisit the words was in your mind.
For a while you kept the book unopened in your mind. It seemed as if the scare of being caught had caused you to think that Benedict would be able to tell if you even thought about what Charity and Charles had been doing.
So you went back to visiting your best friend at more sociable times. It was a relief in more than one way to focus on his company and not the book. He was always there for you no matter what happened and he seemed to be just the remedy for the confusing world of- a small blush crept up your throat- sex that you had discovered. But it wasn’t quite like it had been before. Every so often you would catch yourself staring again. But unlike before, when you only wondered if his lips could possibly be as soft as they looked, you were now wondering if they would feel different against different parts of your skin. You no longer could focus on just relaxing as he read aloud because you were now wondering if his tongue would do to you what Charles’s did to Charity. Surely if anyone had a tongue that could do…that…it would be Benedict’s.
And you were sure that you weren’t the only one who was a bit different. Benedict, too, seemed to behave with a slight variation to the norm. You noticed that he watched you with an odd expression while you were reading, which was in itself odd- usually he found his own book to read and you would both read in silence, enjoying the quiet companionship. He would also now wait for you to say that he could enter before going into your bedchamber. Before he would knock and assume he was welcome unless you warned him otherwise immediately.
Yes, something was different.
On the night you finally learned what exactly had changed it was cold. Benedict had put an extra hot stone at your feet, knowing that you hated feeling chilled. You fell asleep with a soft smile on your lips, grateful for such a thoughtful friend.
A few hours later you awoke, shivering, but not from the cold. Your dreams had taken an unexpected turn at some point during your slumber. The last thing you remember dreaming of was a hot mouth pressed against yours. The book had opened itself in your mind, but now you had been the one acting things out. Charles had been doing things with you. Only, Charles’s face had changed from the one you had always pictured. It had become more like Benedict’s, with his sharp cheekbones and soft mouth. You tried to press the images from your mind and fall back asleep, but to no avail. Finally you decided to try something that you hadn’t thought about since reading it in the book. In one marked section, Charles was away and so Charity had decided to take matters into her own hands, quite literally. You weren’t what exactly to do, but you could remember most of what Charity had done.
With timid, shaking fingers you undid the tie on the front of your nightdress. Your hands were slightly cold as they skimmed over your nipples through the fabric, but it didn’t seem to deter them from hardening just as Charity’s had in the story. Encouraged by this reaction you let yourself ease back farther into the pillows, enjoying the new sensations as your mind replayed the pages with you in her place. You slowly worked the skirt of your sleepwear up around your hips. You paused, unsure once more. Unsure if you should do what she had done next. Unsure if you could let yourself feel as free as she had felt. Shyly you let your fingers wander across your thighs as you debated with yourself. Surely there was no reason not to try, you decided. Just relax, you told yourself. Just imagine it’s not you. Slowly your fingers- Charles’s fingers- worked their way back up to the top of your thighs- Charity’s thighs. Your legs spread slightly as you imagined what happened next in the book. With one finger you pressed gently just above your…clitoris, you think they had called it in the book. You moved your touch slightly lower and pressed harder, not sure of what would happen. With a gasp you flung your other hand out, searching for something to grasp on to. The first thing it encountered was the velvet rope that led to a bell in Benedict’s chambers. But you didn’t notice that, all you noticed was the soft texture against your hand as your other fingers explored and experimented.
Down in his bed, Benedict woke with a start upon hearing the bell ring. Hurriedly he threw on a robe and made his way up the stairs. It had been a long time since you had needed him at night, but one never knew when a nightmare would creep up or a stomach bug would make an appearance. He decided knocking would just risk waking someone else, so he quietly opened your door and froze at what he saw. Now, your Benedict is very smart; he knew that you had found his book and he figured out what you were doing all those times alone in his room. But to see you like this was still a shock to him. He took in your prone figure, eyes closed, one hand moving slightly under the bedcovers, the other gripped tightly around the pull cord. He wasn’t sure if he should turn around and resign himself to a sleepless night, but it was all he could do not to laugh or moan out loud. He had decided to leave you to your privacy, but at the moment he started to close the door again you whispered quietly, almost silently, “Ben.”
Again he debated about whether he should pretend that he had seen nothing, but he quickly convinced himself that you were old enough to learn more, and that you deserved a teacher who would cherish you. Softly he crossed the floor to your bed and closed his hand around your exposed one. At once your eyes opened and you were still, ashamed of what he had found you doing. Without saying a word he carefully worked your fingers loose of the velvet cord. He brought them to his mouth- the mouth you had watched for years- and kissed the tips. His lips were softer than you had ever hoped, warm and tender against your frigid fingers. You made a small sound as you let go of the breath you were holding and his eyes snapped to meet yours. Never in your life had you seen eyes as beautiful as Benedict’s. The only light in the room came from the window, the pale moon shining in and making his eyes look like what you were sure the ocean must look like.
He slowly knelt on your bed and pulled the covers back. Not taking his lips from your fingers or his gaze from your face he laid next to you. With a tone you had never heard in his voice he asked, “Would you like me to help?” Wordlessly you nodded, too ensnared by his presence to speak. Benedict pressed a kiss to your palm and disappeared under the blankets.
Once he was fully covered from your view you closed your eyes and just let yourself feel. Just as you always wanted to when he read, only this time he wasn’t using words to form the story. No, his mouth was acting it out in a completely new way. You felt as his plush lips pressed against your belly as work-hardened hands played with your breasts. He made an agonisingly slow path down to your thighs with his lips and then his tongue made its entrance. In hushed words his mouth caressed your mind as his hands caressed your body.
“Your body’s so soft…I can’t wait to turn you on…” Somewhere in the puddle of your thoughts you knew he already had accomplished that. But his enveloping words were far from over.
“You’ve got me like…” But what you’d got him like you’d never know. For at that moment his tongue, his clever tongue, snuck out and laved at the place your fingers had vacated. You let out a soft moan, which earned you a soft shushing from beneath the blankets.
“Shh, Baby…” He continued to let his hands wander, mapping out every curve of your body as he continued his muffled words.
“It’s the way you make me feel, Baby…” You could feel something welling up side of you. You snuck your hands under the covers and let your fingers feel his soft hair, twisting the curls gently around and around as you began to tremble under sensual attack.
“I can feel your body shivers,” his mouth suddenly moved down to press kisses to the insides of your legs, “While I’m kissing on your thighs…” He nipped gently with his teeth and chuckled deeply as you jerked slightly.
Then back up his perfect mouth went as he tried again to tell you what you did to him. “You’ve got me like…”but once again his tongue was suddenly too busy with other things to finish the sentence. You realised then that he was teasing you, just as he always had. A warmth spread deeper into your soul as he kept at his task.
“Anticipation’s so crazy…” He started suckling gently on your tender clitoris until you were squirming and trying desperately not to make any noise.
“I’ll be good to you,” the soft words came with a soft kiss. “Promise.”
Without meaning to your hips started moving towards that beautiful mouth. Somehow you knew it was almost over. Your mind was stuck between wanting what was threatening to happen and never wanting this to end.
“While making love to you,” Ben used his powerful hands to keep your hips tilted up as he returned to sucking once more. “Promise.”
At the word ‘love’ you felt your body spasm and fall into bliss, hands grasping more firmly at his hair, hips twitching in his grip. His promises rang in your mind as he let go and, kissing every inch of you as he could, made his way up from under the blankets.
Once he was lying next to you he pulled your limp form flush against his chest and kissed your hair tenderly.
“Go to sleep,” His fingers rubbed soothing patterns into your side as you allowed your eyes to drift shut, “and when we wake up I’ll do it to you again…” He pulled the blankets securely around the both of you and tucked your head under his chin.
“Promise.” And with that final silken word in your ear, you fell asleep.
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