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Aziraphale tugged up on the neckline of her uniform and tightened the lacing at the top. She wondered whether she should have manifested smaller breasts. The ridiculous servant’s garment barely covered her nipples, and her wayward breasts were continually trying to escape their trappings.
Aziraphale had changed genders at the behest of Gabriel. He’d been called Upstairs to receive a new assignment; to investigate the rumored debauchery of an important and influential member of the nobility.
“We want you to masquerade as one of the servants to see what Duke Asquith is getting up to at these parties he throws. If he’s as depraved as our sources have told us, we need to make sure he’s removed from his current influential position.”
“Depraved?”
“He has a reputation for, let’s say, dallying with his female servants. Not that such things are uncommon among the high society set, but this is a—delicate situation. That’s all you need to know, Aziraphale."
“Well, er, couldn’t I go as a male servant?” ventured Aziraphale nervously. He’d always presented himself as a man, after all.
Gabriel heaved the dramatic sigh of a long-suffering supervisor.
“No, Aziraphale, you can’t. Duke Asquith only hires new female staff. The only male servants are his long-time butler, the stable hands and the footman. That should tell you how the duke’s mind works.
“Ah, I could be a stable hand—”
“Do you want to sleep in a barn, constantly step in horse shit and eat kitchen scraps? Or would you rather stay in the house, be clean and warm, and eat real food?” Gabriel knew how to appeal to Aziraphale’s sensibilities when necessary.
At first, Aziraphale chose a modest maid uniform, the sort that he had observed actual maids wearing in upper class homes. It seemed that Duke Asquith insisted his young female staff wear something more provocative, however.
He showed the outfit and his new feminine appearance to Gabriel. The archangel smiled in genuine approval at Aziraphale for perhaps the first time in his memory. “Nice work, Aziraphale,” he said, arching his eyebrow. “Carry on.”
So now here she was, dressed in this unseemly ensemble—a low, ruffled neckline on her light blue dress, an apron tied about her waist, and her hem rather higher than she liked. Her white stockinged ankles and lower calves could even be seen.
The Duke was preparing for a party that evening. Aziraphale knew she had to be on the alert. She and the other servants were stationed downstairs, eating a simple meal of stew for their dinner, while the high society guests mingled upstairs. She decided to sneak off and see what Duke Asquith might be getting up to. She tried to remain hidden behind a large potted plant.
Mrs. Baxter, the housekeeper, spotted her finally.
“What are you doing here, girl?” she scolded. “You’re not to be seen here. The guests are arriving! Get to work on your dusting.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, her voice more feminine now. She gave a quick bow to the housekeeper, and made to scurry off. She’d have to resume reconnaissance later.
Just then, seemingly out of nowhere, Duke Asquith himself appeared at their side. Something about his sneering face and haughty mannerisms repulsed her.
“Mrs. Baxter,” he said. “Please introduce me to the newest member of the household.”
“Well,” snapped the housekeeper, looking at Aziraphale. “Say your name, girl.”
She curtsied. “Zira. Zira Fell, sir.”
“Zira! You address the master as Your Grace.”
Aziraphale blushed. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
The Duke took in her buxom form and grinned. “Oh tut, it’s nothing, child. Charming, most charming.”
The duke caught sight of someone in the crowd just then.
“Ah, Lord Crowley!” he called out.
Lord Crowley? Aziraphale reeled. No. No surely not. It couldn’t possibly be--
But sure enough, a tall slim gentleman with red hair was standing with his back to them. He turned round when he heard his name called. He wore tinted spectacles.
Crowley strode over, and when he saw Aziraphale his surprised expression nearly betrayed them both. Despite her very different, very alluring new form, he recognized the angel immediately. Fortunately, he recovered quickly, realizing that Aziraphale, like himself, must there on assignment. He arched an eyebrow at the angel and smirked.
“Good evening, Asquith. And who do we have here?” He looked pointedly at Aziraphale.
“Well, speak up, girl. Answer his Lordship,” prompted Mrs. Baxter.
“Zira Fell, Your Grace.”
“Zira. Most fetching. An unusual name. But,” he added, widening his smirk, “you should really address me as ‘My Lord.’”
Aziraphale blushed.
“My apologies, My Lord.” interjected Mrs. Baxter. “She’s still learning, I’m afraid.”
“Perhaps Zira will attend to us later this evening,” Duke Asquith smirked. “Eh, Lord Crowley?” The Duke put his finger under Aziraphale’s chin and lifted it up so that she would meet his gaze—more of a leer, really. “Won’t you, my dear?”
“Of-of course, Your Grace,” she stammered, inwardly recoiling.
Crowley’s eyes glinted dangerously for just a moment, then he forced a smile onto his face. He had a job to do, after all. He was there to ruin a duke.
“Mrs. Baxter,” the duke said. “I would be pleased if you would assign our new girl to be my personal chamber maid.”
“Yes, your grace,” the woman answered. But an expression flickered across her face. Pity? Disgust? And then it passed. Aziraphale might have even imagined it.
“Go along, Zira,” said the housekeeper. “Go freshen up His Grace’s chambers.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied.
Mrs. Baxter hurried off to attend to some other crisis and Duke Asquith made for a group of young ladies standing by the punch bowl.
Crowley lingered behind for just a moment, catching Aziraphale’s elbow. He kept his voice low. “Satan’s Balls, angel,” he hissed. “What do you think you’re doing here, dressed like that?” His eyes dropped down to Aziraphale’s round, firm breasts barely held captive by the laces of her garment.
“You’re staring at my—er, my bosom.” She flushed.
“Of course I’m staring,” he sputtered. “They’re—you’re…” he gestured at her, waving his hand up and down. “Well, look at you.”
“I am here on an important assignment, if you must know,” she said stiffly. “Apparently the duke has been up to some very wicked things, taking advantage of his servants. Gabriel wanted me to personally investigate.”
Crowley clenched his fists. Gabriel. Of course he would send the angel here—it was like sending a lamb out amongst the wolves.
And she was so very fetching like this. Aziraphale had softened her face along with her body. Her blue eyes and light, rosy complexion remained, but her jawline was more delicate, her cheeks full and rosy, and the cherubic little mouth was a bit fuller.
That mouth…. he would very much like to explore it…
But he really should focus.
“Now listen, angel. I’m on assignment too. Our missions might not be at odds, come to think of it. I’m meant to get rid of the duke so that his foul younger brother can inherit the Asquith estate instead. Never mind why. But you be careful. Gabriel should never have sent you here looking like—well, this. He gestured at her bosom again.
“My dear Crowley,” she huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
“It’s the duke’s handling I’m worried about.”
“Lord Crowley, are you coming?” This time it was the matronly Mrs. Lockridge calling to him. She’d taken a clear attraction to Crowley from the start of the evening, to his consternation. She beckoned to him, her wrists as heavily laden with strands of jewels as her neck. Crowley wondered how she walked under the weight of all the baubles. He sighed. Duty called.
“Just, watch yourself,” he said, plastering on a smile and joining the rest of the glittering crowd.
Aziraphale hurried off upstairs before Mrs. Baxter could scold her. The woman was partial to walloping her unruly staff with a trivet.
For one ridiculous moment Aziraphale reached for her feather duster, meaning to start to work. Then she remembered herself. What could she do that would be useful in her mission? She’d go through the room to collect evidence that she could take back with her. A diary perhaps? She rifled through drawer after drawer, and found what she was looking for soon enough. She stood there, flipping through the pages of the duke’s diary, and found one shocking passage after another detailing his exploits. Especially his dalliances with the female servants. It was simply horrid. She was so absorbed that she didn’t hear footsteps until they passed through the door behind her and into the room.
She startled. Oh dear. Duke Asquith? How was she going to fend him off? She couldn’t very well reveal her angelic strength. She was here undercover. And here she was with his diary in her hands.
But instead, she whirled around to find Crowley standing there.
“Crowley? What in Heaven’s name?”
He’d clearly given her a start. He’d come to check up on her, to make sure the duke hadn’t slipped upstairs to sully her.
He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself. She was all softness and curves in her little blue maid’s uniform. He removed his sunglasses to get a better look, placing them and his hat on a small table.
He stood there and raked his eyes up and down the angel. The beautiful round breasts, the curvy hips he’d love to grab onto… Oh, Satan.
He felt himself growing hard, and despite his innocent intentions when he’d stepped into the room, he quickly felt his Lust rising to the surface. It wasn’t as if the angel hadn’t sneaked a few glances at him before, after all. He removed his jacket, so that he now wore only his shirt and breeches.
There was a predatory look in his eyes. Oh dear, thought Aziraphale, her eyes widening.
She made to the door, meaning to scurry out, but something in Crowley’s demon brain took over. He closed the door before she could reach it. Then he turned the lock.
“No need to rush out, angel,” he said. “It’s just me.” He grinned, wolfishly.
“Now Crowley—”
“Oh, but it’s Lord Crowley, remember, Zira?”
He was standing awfully close to her. She really ought to leave right now. She may be smaller in this form, but she was still an angel, just as powerful as the demon.
She should shove him back and run out the door, run back downstairs to the servants’ quarters. Yes, that’s what she would do.
Except her feet wouldn’t move. The demon’s yellow eyes bored into hers and she felt like a small animal hypnotized by a predator.
Her heart was rabbiting in her chest. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and her bosom was heaving. He had somehow maneuvered her against the wall next to the door. His arms stretched out on either side of her, so that she was well trapped between Crowley and the wall. He was so close she could smell his cologne, mixing in with his own heady scent, spicy with just a hint of sulfur underneath. She felt his hot breath on her neck as he leaned into her and murmured into her ear.
“Do you know how enticing you are like this?”
She shivered, sighing as her breath quickened. Despite herself, she felt—she wasn’t sure quite what—but something was responding between her legs. A pleasant tingling sensation. She squirmed.
Crowley devoured her with his gaze.
Her firm round breasts strained at the lacing of her bodice, begging to be released. Slowly he untied the pink ribbon at the top of the lacing and pulled the ties apart. He tugged at the fabric and pulled it firmly down until her lovely white breasts were freed, the top of her garment now hanging loosely off her shoulders. Her nipples were hard, a lovely dark pink against her flushed white skin. She was breathing heavily with anticipation as Crowley’s gaze flicked back and forth from those magnificent tits to her full pouting lips. He couldn’t decide where to begin ravishing her.
He solved the problem by tugging her blonde hair back firmly with his left hand, tilting her face toward him for a kiss. His right hand, meanwhile, found her left breast and began toying with it, cupping and squeezing it lightly. He pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue demanding entrance past her sweet lips. She dimly realized she was returning his kiss, melting into it as she tentatively moved her arms around his waist. The whole time, he kept caressing her breast, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her hard nipple.
Her breath caught at the stimulation, and it aroused Crowley even more. He pressed into her enough so that she could feel his hard cock straining under his breeches and against her
His other hand wandered downward and began lifting her skirt. He reached under it to find what he was searching for, the soft downy mound between her legs.* He slipped a finger into her and was pleased to find she was already wet. He cupped her there, with just enough pressure to send little jolts of pleasure up and down her body. Her knees buckled for a moment as she gasped, and for a moment she felt the room seem to tilt around them. Dear Lord, was she actually swooning like a maiden under the demon’s touch?
She began making the loveliest little mewling sounds under him as Crowley kissed and fondled her, and he thought he might come in his breeches right then and there. Every part of her was round and soft, and she was so responsive…
Suddenly he stepped back and grabbed her round the waist. She thought he was going to help steady her, perhaps even stop this madness, but instead he pushed her down onto her knees. Quickly he unfastened the flap of his breeches to free his erect and aching member. He reached down and stroked Aziraphale’s blond curls, then grabbed her hair to guide her mouth towards his cock.
She looked up at him, mildly shocked yet aroused.
“Well,” he said. “Get to it, my girl.”
He was amused to find she obviously knew what to do. She sat back on her heels to take one hand and slick his cock with his own pre-cum, while her other hand cupped and massaged his balls. She kissed the tip of his cock first, then licked the underside of his shaft before taking the whole length in her warm mouth. She sucked him fervently as she continued playing with his balls, and Crowley couldn’t help moaning as he watched her, those pretty lips taking him in, her breasts jiggling enticingly as she bobbed her head back and forth—
"Good girl," he breathed, and the praise seemed to spur her on even harder.
But he didn’t want to come in her mouth.
He growled and suddenly released her. She widened her blue eyes at him, disappointment in her face.
“Why did you—” she breathed, panting and flushed.
“On the bed,” he ordered sharply.
She hesitated for just a moment, suddenly unsure despite her own arousal.
“Now,” he hissed. “Do as you’re told, girl.” He took her by the elbow, gently despite his tone, and helped her up.
She frowned then, pouting fetchingly with her lower lip pushed out. He was addressing her as if he really was a fancy gentleman and she a servant.
“Really, Crowley,” she said. “I’m not some—"
“You’ll call me Lord Crowley, or My Lord,” he answered, and he had run out of patience. He wrapped one arm around her waist and another under her legs, and carried her bridal style to the bed. He laid her down and lost no time in getting rid of his breeches, then climbing up to straddle her. He wore only his shirt.
She was laid out so deliciously, her round heavy breasts on display, her skirt bunched up scandalously around her thighs. Her stockings were held up with pretty little ribbons. He lifted her skirts roughly to reveal her pubic mound, which was covered with a down of light hair. She kept her legs modestly together.
“None of that, now,” he chastised. “Spread your legs, my pet.”
"Yes, My Lord." She obeyed, but blushed furiously at being so exposed.
He positioned himself between her legs, but reached his hand up to stroke her cheek.
“Is this your first time like—like this?” he asked. “As a woman, I mean.”
She nodded.
“It’s all right, angel,” he said. “I’m going to make sure you’re ready.”
He planted kisses on her neck, nibbling it and then biting just enough to make a mark. She was startled at the pain, but it soon turned to pleasure as he continued to suck on the area he’d bitten. She knew it would leave a mark, but she didn’t mind. She wanted it.
Then he moved downward to her breasts. He took one in each hand and massaged them, played with them until she closed her eyes and moaned softly, losing herself in pleasure. He took one sensitive nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cried out and clenched at the bed covers.
Finally, he reached down between her legs and fingered her again, satisfied at how wet she’d become. He silently envisioned her maidenhead stretched so she wouldn’t feel the pain of deflowering. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed her legs up and apart and then sank into her, going slowly until he was fully inside her tight, wet hole. She moaned, and he began slowly thrusting in and out. She was so wonderfully tight.
His speed quickly increased as he allowed himself to thrust in and out of her with abandon, and from the noises the angel made, she was clearly enjoying it. She threw her head back, displaying the pretty bite marks he had made on her neck.
She reached down with one hand and played with her clit as he thrusted. Finally, she cried out again as her orgasm overcame her in waves. He felt her muscles contracting tightly around his member. That sensation, along with her wanton display and her loud moans, sent him over the edge. He came hard, thrusting deeply as he spilled into her at last. He stayed inside her for a few moments, then bent down to kiss her as he pulled out.
He climbed off her and lay beside her, nearly dizzy after the powerful orgasm.
Aziraphale was so spent she lay there with her eyes closed and her skirt still hiked up, until finally she felt Crowley’s hand reach over and smooth her skirt back down to cover her. He embraced her and gave her a long, gentle kiss.
“Angel,” he murmured, “that was incredible. Did you enjoy it?”
She sighed, reveling in the floating sensation as she lay there. “Ridiculous demon, what do you suppose?”
They laughed a little together, enjoying the moment until they heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs.
They leapt up off the bed, Crowley hurriedly pulling his breeches back on as Aziraphale tried valiantly to lace her top back up after pulling it back over her bosom.
Duke Asquith burst into the room. His face clouded with anger upon seeing Lord Crowley and his very disheveled chamber maid. Zira’s blond curls were mussed, her dress hanging off her shoulder. The duke’s eyes flickered over to the rumpled bed.
“Lord Crowley! What the devil are you doing with my maid?” he demanded. “This is outrageous. This little chit was mine to despoil!”
And then the duke noticed Crowley’s eyes for the first time. He stumbled back in shock. “What—what the blazes?” he cried out.
It took all of Crowley’s restraint not to physically attack the duke. His fangs threatened to manifest as an instinctive reaction to his anger and possessiveness.
The bastard had meant to ravish his angel. His.
“Get out,” he growled, serpentine eyes ablaze.
The duke fled, and Crowley flicked his wrist at the retreating figure. As he ran out the door, Aziraphale thought she caught the glimmer of some shiny object that appeared suddenly in the duke’s pocket.
In a few moment’s time, loud cries of “thief!” and “scandal!” could be heard coming from the crowd downstairs. It sounded like quite the ruckus going on.
Aziraphale looked quizzically at Crowley, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“It appears Duke Asquith has stolen Lady Lockridge’s prized sapphire necklace. The scandal will undoubtedly ruin him,” explained the demon.
They finished putting their clothing to rights as they prepared to take their leave and report back to their respective superiors.
“You know, Crowley, I’m a little confused,” Aziraphale confessed with a small smile. “I’m not sure if you saved my virtue or ruined it?”
“Both,” said Crowley with great satisfaction. “I think this was a job well done, if I say so myself. I ruined a duke and a chamber maid all in one evening.” He grinned rakishly and put on his hat to leave.
“Well,” admitted Aziraphale. “I suppose the problem is solved for both our sides. Which means I can return to my standard male form.” She raised her hand, about to snap her fingers.
“Wait, angel,” said Crowley, raising his own hand to stop her.
“Leave it till after I go. I want to remember you like this for a little while.”
Aziraphale blushed and pouted. “Foul fiend.”
“Would you have it any other way, angel?” he smirked.
And with that, Lord Crowley tipped his hat to the angel and made his leave.
This lovely image is by Gingerhaole! She's just what I had in mind when I thought of buxom maid Aziraphale. You can see the full image here (in non-Regency lingerie): https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531924/chapters/53344411
Check out Gingerhaole's work on Tumblr: https://gingerhaole.tumblr.com/