666
 
By Videll Dais

Chapter 1 

Arrival Day.
 
Winter 1943
 

 
He watched them de-bus; five coach loads of children aged from four to eighteen 
years, a hundred or so waifs trying to escape the chaos currently seizing most 
of the country. Some laughed, cheered and were noisily energetic, whilst others 
stood quietly sullen, lost and forlorn-looking, hugging closely their few 
possessions, homesick already, and this only their first night away from once 
secure homes and loving parents. For a lot of these children, he knew, those 
homes and parents would not be there to go back to when the bombing stopped, the 
war over. 
But Hitler and the extreme ambitions of the Third Reich, the madness of the 
world at large, were not of his concern. All he was interested in was his own 
domain, his own small kingdom, here amid the splendid isolation of the 
surrounding moors and wooded countryside where he, and he alone, reigned 
supreme.  Of course, the welfare of his new charges, taking care of them for the 
duration of their indeterminate stay at secluded Berkeley House would, after 
himself, be his second priority. When the present world debacle finally ended, 
and if he played his cards right, he could see a place on the judges bench, a 
possible peerage, maybe even a knighthood, as his eventual just reward. 
Daydreaming, he pondered the possibilities: Judge, Lord or Sir Edward Percivil 
Morley. Yes, all the titles had a nice ring. Any one of the honours would no 
doubt open doors of fortuitous opportunity of which, to be sure, he would take 
the fullest advantage. However, that hopefully was for the not too distant 
future. Right now, there was the more pressing need to get these confused, 
milling children fed, watered, and settled into their respective dormitories - a 
task best left to his qualified and more than capable staff of matron and four 
maids. 
"Amy!" Morley called to a pretty redhead busily taking names on a clipboard, 
organising the children into orderly queues. "Please - come here a moment."
In a less than a minute Amy stood before her master, a look of trepidation 
marring her lovely features. "Yes, sir, Mr. Morley?"
Morley glanced at her slight figure, took in the flaming redness of her hair, 
the flawless, pale, sparsely freckled skin. "Amy," he said, his voice slow, 
sonorous. "Make sure to put the boys in the east wing and the girls in the west 
wing. Report to my study when you're done and, please, don't dither."
"Yes, Mr. Morley, sir." Amy gave a slight curtsy and returned to what she had 
been doing.
Morley watched Amy go, the sway of her rounded hips beneath the long skirts. He 
imagined her shapely legs, the stockings and garters she would be wearing, and 
felt a definite stir in his loins. He had a thing for the young girl - just 
sixteen years old - and had been working on her shy, modest demeanour for a 
while now. Her defences were weakening; her complete submission to his fervent 
desires was, he felt, most eminent. It was just a question of time and time was 
one luxury he had plenty of.
Overseeing the arrivals from the front steps of the manor house, he lit a cigar 
and smoked, taking long, slow pulls, rocking on his heels, now and again 
smoothing his dark whiskers as his ice-blue eyes surveyed the female children 
almost all now standing in silent, organised groups. None were what could be 
called ugly. In fact, most were extremely attractive in their individual ways. 
Indeed, Morley thought excitedly, here was a positive surfeit of young, 
impressionable minds and malleable bodies ready to be shaped and bent to his 
will. As he contemplated the hours of diverse pleasure ahead, a surge of hot 
blood warmed his groin. Thank God, he thought, that it was almost time for Amy's 
afternoon lesson. 
Though keen to initiate the new arrivals to his somewhat radical ideas 
immediately, Morley was not entirely without compassion. He would give his 
charges this one night to settle in, familiarise themselves with their new 
surroundings, and become accustomed to the different order of things. Tomorrow, 
their training and disciplining would begin in earnest. He rather looked forward 
to it.
 
 
The study was silent and oppressively gloomy, the grey winter light through the 
single tall window barely afforded enough illumination to pick out the bulky 
shapes of desk and bookcase, the small, round tea table, two straight-back 
chairs and large leather armchair, which was all that furnished the austere 
private room. 
Awaiting Amy's imminent arrival, Morley sat in the leather armchair, a wide, 
shiny, comfortable old thing that had been in the family for years. His mind was 
feverish, his clothing already loosened, his organ - which he had absently been 
fondling - was poking, fat and tumescent with need, through the opening of his 
flies. His heart leapt at the expected light tap on the study door. Calmly 
pulling his grey woollen cardigan down and over his obvious state of arousal, he 
said, "Enter."
Amy stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She stood straight and 
still, not venturing too far forward, her hands clasped nervously in front of 
her. All she could see of Morley was a dark shape across the other side of the 
bulky desk. He was a stern, strict employer and, for reasons she could not quite 
define, he literally terrified her. When he spoke, his voice slapped her like an 
open palm.
"Ah, Amy. Come closer, girl. I want to look at you."
The girl timidly made her way across the room and around the desk, stopping feet 
short of where Morley sat. Her eyes were downcast.
"Your mother came to see me this morning," Morley said, his tone quieter, more 
solicitous. "I can see where you get your prettiness from. I sent for her 
because I wanted to discuss with her your progress here these past two months. 
Since your father was sent to the front she is finding it difficult to manage. 
She tells me she has come to rely on your wages."
"Yes, sir," Amy said, almost whispering. "Times are hard."
"Indeed they are. For everybody." Morley slowly nodded his head. His eyes roamed 
her slight frame, lingering on the firm thrust of her small breasts. "How do you 
like it here with us, Amy? Do you like the work?"
"Y-Yes, sir. I do. Very much, sir."        
"Come here. Closer."
Amy took another couple of shaky steps towards her employer.
Morley sat forward, suddenly reached for her and, slipping both his hands around 
onto her buttocks, pulled her closer still until she was between his spread 
thighs. He left his hands on her bottom and, speaking softly, said, "I told your 
mother how well you are doing, Amy, how much you seem to enjoy your work." 
Morley stared into the girl's face, his eyes bright, piercing. His hands gently 
squeezed each taut cheek of her bottom, moulding and weighing the firm flesh, 
his fingertips digging deep into the crease dividing them. "I told her I'm very 
pleased with your efforts so far," he went on, "that I've grown quite fond of 
you in a fatherly kind of way, was actually considering promoting you, making 
you my own personal maid. This would mean an increase in wages, naturally, Amy, 
more money for both you and your mother. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Amy felt one of his big hands cover her left breast, his fingers gently squeeze 
around the firm mound, thumb and forefinger seeking out and pinching at the tiny 
bud of her nipple. She gasped with shock, fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly 
confused and at odds with her employer's unwarranted, overly familiar 
attentions. She wanted suddenly to cry, made a sort of choking sound, coughed, 
hurriedly cleared her throat and said, "Yes...I...Yes...sir. I think I understand."
Morley believed in breaking down any false modesty as quickly as possible and 
boldly fondled both the girl's breasts delighting in her embarrassment and 
confusion and the feel of the resilient, pliable flesh under her thin blouse and 
petticoat. She wore no bra. "Stand still, Amy," he ordered, brusquely. 
Amy, somewhat stunned, stood absolutely still, made a strange whimpering sound 
as Morley removed his other hand from her bottom, slipped it quickly beneath her 
skirt, hiking the garment up as he slid his palm along the smooth inside of a 
nylon-covered thigh. His creeping fingers touched the bare flesh above her 
stocking top. He felt his cock throb with anticipation as Amy shuddered beneath 
his touch. 
"Would you like to be promoted, earn more money?" Morley asked, his voice husky, 
breath rasping as his fingers probed the loose leg of her knickers. "Your duties 
would be light. I shall look after you, teach you things; improve your 
education."
"Oh-oh," she whimpered, feeling her knickers pulled aside, a fingertip brush 
over the beginnings of her bare cunt lips. Her left nipple tingled as Morley 
pinched at it. "Please...sir. Please don't...do that."
"Stand still, Amy," Morley said, ignoring the girl's frightened pleas, lightly 
tracing a finger over the pronounced curve of her warm mount. There was little 
hair, hardly any. He liked that. "Lean forward, put your hands on my shoulders. 
Open your legs." 
Amy's eyes filled with tears. Her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably. She knew 
it was more than she dare do to disobey. She closed her eyes and a large tear 
rolled down her flushed cheek. She placed her hands on her employer's shoulders 
and, at the firm pressure of his hand on the inside of her thigh, allowed her 
knees to bend slightly, opening her thighs. "Oh, sir..."
"There, now. Good. Just stand still," Morley whispered, taking full advantage of 
the girl's submission, slipping a finger along the puffy, warm crease of her 
exposed cunt. Was he imagining it or was she becoming moist already? He always 
thought the redhead would be of a warm temperament. Gently, he fingered the soft 
folds of flesh, not attempting to part or penetrate the delicate petals. He 
stroked the length of her cunt as far as her bum hole, then back again to the 
front where the distinct nub of her clitoris protruded from the plump lips. He 
tickled the nub very lightly feeling the girl's legs and thighs tremble 
uncontrollably. "That doesn't hurt now does it? Feels nice, Amy, doesn't it? 
Tell me the truth, now. Doesn't it feel nice?"
"P-Please...sir," Amy burbled, tears running down her sweet face. "Please don't."
"Shush now, child," Morley ordered, tickling her clit very lightly with just the 
tip of his finger. He was so excited, so hard he thought his cock would explode 
at any second. "Tell me it feels nice."
Amy sniffed. "It...Oh, sir...yes... Yes, It f-feels...it feels n-nice."
"Well then, why are you crying, girl?"
"I-It's...wrong, sir," Amy muttered, sniffing. "You mustn't...do it."
"Nonsense," Morley said, impatiently. "How can anything that feels so nice be 
wrong, eh?" His fingers traced a teasing line along the girl's moist cunt lips 
to the crinkled roseate of her bum hole, probed a little, and slid slowly back 
again. "There, feel?" He said, tipping her clitoris again, enjoying the 
bawdiness he knew he was inspiring in her innocent mind. "You're getting wet 
down there, which means your cunt likes it. Are you a virgin, child? Have you 
had a cock up you yet? Tell me the truth."
Amy nodded. "N-No, sir...I ain't never done nothing b-bad."
"There's nothing bad about a cock up your cunt, Amy," Morley said, hoarsely. 
"Cock and cunt were meant for each other."     Morley took one of the girl's 
hands, guided it to his exposed cock. He forced her fingers around the fat 
organ, held them there. "See, feel how I want you, Amy. Hold my cock. That's 
right. Move your hand up and down...slowly. Yes, that's it. Keep doing it like 
that. Don't stop." 
Under Morley's harsh tutelage, a confused Amy held his cock and gently rubbed 
the loose skin over the bulbous head of the throbbing organ. Convinced the girl 
was now completely under his control, would do anything he wanted, Morley 
relaxed, gave himself up to the inexpert caress and sighed his pleasure. After a 
few minutes of mutual stimulation, cock almost bursting, he was ready to bring 
today's lesson to a rapid conclusion. "Get on your knees, Amy. Here. At my 
feet."
Amy knelt down and Morley placed his hands either side of the dear girl's face. 
In the gloomy light, looking directly into her timid, crestfallen eyes, he ran 
his fingers around her shell-like ears and through her soft hair. When he spoke, 
his voice was low, soothing. "Now I want you to do something special for me, 
Amy," he said. "It will be our secret. After, you can return to your duties." As 
he spoke, he sat back, loosened his clothing some more to give easier access to 
his hairy testicles and tumescent stalk. 
Amy, her face close, sullen, eyes fixed on her small fingers clasped around the 
huge organ, saw the pre-cum glistening on the fat purple helmet. This was all 
totally new and shocking to her. She didn't know what to do. 
Morley pressed the back of Amy's head, felt her resistance. "Come on now, Amy. 
Take my cock in your sweet mouth. Do it. It won't hurt you." He was getting 
impatient with her stubbornness. As he spoke he put more pressure to the back of 
her head. His cock twitched as her agitated breathing warmed the erect flesh. 
Amy nervously glanced from the cock in her hand to Morley's dark countenance and 
back again. Her tongue flicked nervously across her dry lips. 
"Stop this silliness. Open your mouth, girl," Morley sternly insisted. Though 
impatient, he was enjoying these last minutes of fight where any remaining 
vestiges of innocence and inexperience is forced to give way to the more 
powerful influences of experience and authority. "Think," he gently chided, 
"what would happen if you should lose your position here; how hard it will be 
for you and your mother alone in the cruel world outside. Do this one small 
thing and both your futures are assured. You won't believe how generous, how 
grateful, I can be. Do it now." Morley pulled the resisting girl's face down 
into his lap. The fat head of his cock nudged her tightly compressed lips, 
pre-cum leaving a sticky trail across their ruddy fullness. 
In the silent gloom of the study, resigning herself to the inevitable, 
Amy hesitated for the last time. Then, closing her eyes, she slowly lowered her 
head, opened her mouth, and allowed the insistent meaty cock into the warm, 
moist interior. She closed her lips tentatively over the bulbous tip.
Morley gasped with delight. "That's it, good. Breathe through your nose. Oh, 
good girl, very good. Now...use your tongue. Yes...Oh, yes, like that. Wank me 
slowly and suck at the same time...Good, just suck a little harder. Mmm! That's 
it...Aagh!" 
He pressed a hand to the back of Amy's bobbing head, thrust upwards with his 
hips, forcing his cock deeper into her deliciously hot mouth. Ideally, he 
would've liked to get it into her throat, but it would be too much to make her 
submit to that quite so soon. 
Moaning softly, Morley fucked Amy's mouth with long, slow strokes, helped her 
find the rhythm, his hands firmly holding each side of her dear face to the 
task. Her inexperience was evident, but this merely added to the excitement, the 
sheer pleasure of the moment. In time, she would learn. He would teach her. He 
felt the tingling surge building in his tightening balls, the overwhelming 
sensation bulging his swollen cock. "I am going to cum soon, Amy," he whispered, 
between gasps. "I don't want you to...ah...to stop what you're doing. Keep...sucking, 
slowly...deeply. Oh-huh! Yes...yes. Like that. When you draw my seed...swallow it all 
as you would a...teaspoon...of medicine...Ooh, that feels so good!"
As the first spasm shook him, Morley groaned and forced the girl's face into the 
thick bush of hair surrounding his pulsing cock. 
Amy gurgled and slurped noisily as the hot, salty cum filled her mouth in four 
distinct, powerful spurts. She gulped at the spewing cream like a woman dying of 
thirst, swallowing as much as she could. Morley's hips jerked his cock almost to 
the back of her throat. Amy moaned softly. Some of the cum frothed at the 
corners of her lips, dribbled and dripped in thick gobs into Morley's pubic 
hair.
Morley held Amy's face in place for a long time until his cock softened and 
slipped from her mouth. When his heartbeat had settled nearer the norm and the 
girl had rearranged her dress, he said, "You did well. Return to your duties 
now, Amy. Do not reveal our secret to anyone, not even your mother. Understand?"
Face flushed, eyes to the floor, Amy muttered, "I understand, sir."
"Good girl. Report to me here tomorrow at the same time."
When Amy had left, Morley lit a lamp, poured himself a glass of port and sat 
back down in his favourite chair. All in all, it had been a very enjoyable 
little afternoon's diversion. He had plans and felt sure Amy's lessons would, 
from this point on, rapidly become far more interesting as time progressed. 
For the moment, though his immediate needs had been relieved, Morley was far 
from satisfied. He was eager to explore the possibilities for further adventures 
now residing under his generous roof.  First, he needed to regain some strength 
and fortitude. He decided to doze for a while. He had plenty of time. The night 
had yet to begin and there was many an hour to fill before bedtime.