august 24th 2024
The heavy door creaked open only a few inches, and Bailey's beardless face peered through.
"Your Grace?"
There she was, slumped halfway down on the oak chair - a chair whose maker had intended it to seat two fairly thin women, but which was currently occupied by one so massive that the sides of her hips were squeezing over the arm rests. The table before her was strewn with silver and porcelain platters covered in animal bones and apple cores, and soup bowls that had been sloppily licked clean. As the servant walked in, one foot accidentally kicked aside an empty wine bottle, which clinked against several others as it rolled across the carpet.
As if all this weren't enough, the Duchess had apparently fallen asleep while gobbling down sausage links, as one end of the chain of meat was wedged between her plump lips as she snored. If only her fawning ministers could see her now... Gods, she was a sight.
So why was Bailey so fucking aroused?
* * * *
The servant had no idea as to the why, but the what was plain enough. Everyone else in the ducal court knew the Duchess' personal steward was a eunuch. On one occasion, a troupe of dancing girls had visited the castle, and the Duke had ordered one of them to try seducing Bailey; despite her writhing and touching, she got no reaction.
In truth, the reason wasn't that Bailey had no interest in women - or in men, for that matter. Finding out had been a long process. The servant had been assigned to the Duchess after the last steward quit in disgust. At the time, all Bailey knew about the Duchess was that she rarely left the castle, and that she couldn't - or wouldn't - bear her husband an heir.
The site of their first meeting had been the Duchess' private dining chamber, where she was busy stuffing herself with expensive pastries. After being left alone with her, Bailey had realized that a long-dormant need was suddenly awake. The spoiled noble realized it, too, and found the idea intensely amusing. At least, until she realized that the eunuch could satisfy her desires other than food, and without giving her drunken boor of a husband a son - even a bastard.
And it turned out that helping the Duchess gorge herself - feeling her bloated orb of a gut, hearing her belch and moan in a desperate attempt to make more room, watching as the pounds piled on week after week - was the one thing that could get Bailey's sterile prick hard. No wonder she insisted the eunuch remain in her employ.
* * * *
The steward walked to the head of the table, taking care not to step on any of the plates that had been dropped on the floor. As expected, the noblewoman had dressed herself only in a loose nightgown - though even after only a month of binging, this one was starting to get snug.
"My Lady?" Bailey gently patted the liege's arm, noticing that even her upper arms jiggled now. After a minute of no response, the exasperated servant grabbed her shoulder and shook her awake.
"Hmm?" The Duchess' eyes slowly opened, then widened as she realized there was already food in her mouth. With some effort, she bit down on the sausage, letting the rest of the links fall back onto the platter, and carefully chewed the meat before swallowing. "Ah, Bailey. What time is it?"
"Clock just struck five, Your Grace." Bailey took out a linen handkerchief, and wiped a smudge of sauce from the Duchess' mouth. "I would suggest preparing for your bath before dinner, since you might be tired afterwards."
"But I've yet to finish lunch! And who is going to clean up this mess?"
"I'll get the empty plates cleared away." The steward started sliding the empty plates into a pile, then sneered. "As though you could clean anything but your plate, anyway."
Her eyes narrowed. "Ladies of noble birth do not clean. That is what men are for."
"If I see any men, I'll be sure to tell them so." Lifting a stack of plates, Bailey walked briskly into the bathing room, and lit the fire that would heat up the bath water. Idly, the steward wondered how much the other servants suspected. They knew that the Duchess was a glutton; even if they had never seen her, they could have guessed as much from how busy the chefs were. But as to the true nature of the relationship between the Lady and her favorite servant... Who could know?
As Bailey returned to the dining room, the Duchess was messily devouring a blueberry pie that had somehow escaped her notice. She gulped it down, hardly bothering to chew, letting the baked fruit filling smear over her lips.
"Your Grace, could you not wait until dinner was served?" The steward poked the Duchess' belly with an accusing fingertip, and she let out a wet belch, never breaking eye contact. "I should say, it will be a miracle if that dress you were measured for, still fits you tomorrow."
The overfed noblewoman licked her lips, savoring the taste of the sweet berries. "A rich man's wife should have an ample figure. It reflects well on the wealth of her husband."
"Then you, my Lady, must have the wealthiest husband in the Kingdom." Bailey grabbed a handful of her lower belly, giving it a shake so that her entire body jiggled.
Finally, the tension between them broken, the Duchess wrapped a chubby hand around the crown of the steward's head, pulling her lover in for a messy kiss. Her mouth tasted faintly of wine and meat, but Bailey didn't care.
The steward pulled away after a long minute, panting. "We'll have to be quick; your bath will be ready soon."
She nodded, and untied her nightgown; the white silk parted at the front, revealing the massive curves of her stomach, striped with stretch marks. Bailey shrugged off the loose velvet tunic that covered a much slimmer body, and the Duchess bit her lip upon seeing the bulge in her lover's tights. Castrated or not, the steward was quite well endowed, and able to satisfy her much more easily than any man. Which was quite convenient, since the heaviness of her body made it difficult to move too much.
Bailey peeled off the tights, and grabbed the Duchess' belly with both hands. Lifting it out of the way seemed to get more and more difficult, but that very fact made the steward all the more eager. She spread her soft thighs, Bailey guided it in, and they both gasped at the sensations - her body so soft and yielding, the steward's prick hard as a stone - and they coupled as vigorously as they could without letting it slip out.
"Ohh, my Lady..." It was a struggle to bear the weight of her doughy belly, and Bailey would later wonder if the Duchess would soon be too fat to have sex without help. "My Lady... How much bigger are you going to get?"
The Duchess moaned in ecstasy, feeling her servant's cock stretching her out from the inside. "I... don't want to stop... Just keep growing and growing... fatter and fatter and - Ahhh!"
The gluttonous teasing finally sent Bailey over the edge, and as she felt the steward's empty seed flowing into her, the Duchess soon followed.
Spent, covered in sweat, the two lovers lay there panting for several minutes. Then a sharp crack brought them out of their reverie, and the Duchess pitched backward as her chair broke beneath her. Bailey landed on top of her, but started to stand upon seeing the Lady lying on the floor surrounded by splintered oak wood.
"Your Grace! I am so sorry, are you all right?"
She nodded.
"I'll go find you another chair, my Lady..."
"Don't." The enormous noblewoman grabbed Bailey's wrist, biting her lip. "That felt amazing... See if you can get me off again."
Concern for the Duchess evaporated as Bailey realized that she had just broken another piece of furniture due to her weight - as though even her surroundings were forced to yield to her gluttonous appetite. Nodding, the servant obeyed, starting to push the Lady's belly out of the way for another round. ■