When her Aunt Sylvia asked Maureen up to her seacoast home in Maine for a vacation, she was happy to go. But Blythe House was full of perverted desires. And no less perverted were the collection of people who lived there, from the man-hating Sylvia to William, the butler, whose aberration took him alone to secret corners of the mansion night after night.
PRELUDE
Maureen Haley paused when halfway down the long upstairs corridor in her Aunt Sylvia's rambling old Maine house. A strange squelching sound came from inside the library.
She eased up to the big oaken door and pressed her ear against it. The sound was wet and sucking, like a rubber boot being pulled out of spongy, clutching mud. A puzzled frown creased Maureen's brow.
She quietly tried the doorknob: it was locked, but the handle clicked when turned. The sound within suddenly ceased with a groan.
At once apprehensive, Maureen hurried to her bedroom at the end of the corridor. Closing the door behind her, she then opened it a crack and peered into the passageway.
After less than a minute, the library door opened and William Selke, her aunt's butler, came out.
The old man glanced up and down the corridor, his hand trembling as he pulled the door shut behind him. His legs shook and his face whitened as he hurried to descend the stairs.
Maureen waited until he was shambling through the downstairs hall before opening her door and stepping into the corridor to creep back to the library.
The door was unlocked, and when she closed it behind her, she saw the big, old-fashioned key in the lock. She turned it, and then scanned the large room on entering it.
There was an eerieness to the library. A half-dozen old oil-paintings hung on the wall at the end of the room. Maureen glanced around her, noticing the dusty books in their scattered cases and the dilapidated, out-of-date furniture ... and the statues.
At first glance, they looked like waxworks from some old museum, but on closer examination it was possible to see that the simulated flesh on the figures was soft, smooth rubber. They were so realistic that Maureen had reached out and touched the arm of one of them when her aunt had first shown them to her.
"Don't touch," the old lady had snapped, rapping her cane on the hardwood floor to emphasize her words. "Never touch the replicas!"
There were four of them. One was the image of a stiff, stern-looking man in Edwardian clothes whom Aunt Sylvia had told Maureen was her great-grandfather. Another was a replica of Shakespeare. "Your grandmother was a great reader," said Aunt Sylvia, "a great admirer of the Bard."
The third statue was of Henry VIII, imposing in his regal robes. The fourth statue, the one that interested Maureen the most, was of Anne Boleyn.
The figure was so realistic that Maureen half-expected it to talk.
"She's very beautiful," Aunt Sylvia had said, "the hair on her head is real and her limbs and body are created of plasticated foam and rubber. She's perfect in every detail. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was overlooked."
"Who-who had it made?" Maureen had faltered, overawed by the pseudo-realism that surrounded her.
"Your grandfather," Aunt Sylvia had told her. "He had an interest in Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn that was almost an obsession." Her aunt had stared at the figure of the lovely young woman with a strained expression. "He would spend hours locked in this room, talking to them and playing with them."
"Playing with them?" Maureen's voice had been shocked. "How?"
But her aunt had never answered the question, instead abruptly changing the conversation to the oils.
Now Maureen stood in front of the statues and wondered.
Her eyes flickered to Henry VIII. "Did my grandfather play with you, Henry," she murmured out loud, then laughed at her foolishness. "Or you?" Her eyes went back to Anne Boleyn and the smile faded from her face.
She was so real!
She moved closer, then timidly reached out, touched the satin bodice on Anne Boleyn's body. The material was soft and smooth, and Maureen's finger seemed to sink into the simulated flesh. She drew her hand back with a gasp. It was like touching a real person!
Maureen's eyes went down the figure. The skirt flowed out and under the low hem and small, daintily shod feet were visible. Boldly, Maureen bent down to touch the leather shoes. They were black and shone brightly and there was the scent of newly applied polish.
Polishing the statue's shoes was one of the duties of the strange old man.
She lowered her head and sniffed. The smell was unmistakable: Anne Boleyn's shoes had just been polished. Maureen stifled a giggle, then frowned. The strange sound!
Absently, she lifted the satin skirt and stared at the perfectly formed, silk-shod legs. What other ministrations did William perform for the statues?
She lifted the skirt higher, saw the garters that seemed to cut deeply into the synthetic flesh as they held up the hose. Maureen touched the naked foam-rubber thigh-flesh. It was smooth and soft and slightly moist.
It was a moment before she realized the bizarre fact. Moist!
The blood drained out of Maureen's face. What had old William been doing to the replica of Anne Boleyn?
Her hands trembled as she lifted the skirt to the statue's waist; then she swayed back, feeling slightly faint at the sight that met her eyes. The body of Anne Boleyn was indeed perfect in every detail as her aunt had said. The figure was leaning slightly backward, silk-shod knees flexed, foamy-white thighs parted and above the apex of simulated flesh, a furry triangle of lustrous pubic hairs glistened.
Oh God, Maureen thought, what else was real?
She slid her hand between the pliant thighs, glided her fingers higher and higher until they were pressed under the statue's crotch. Maureen closed her eyes, probed upward with a finger. It was wet, warm and sticky inside the opening she found. The air panted from Maureen's lips.
The foam-rubber mouth of the simulated vulva seemed to be open in a pout; the slick, smooth lips felt as though they were sucking at Maureen's finger, drawing it deeper into the sexual maw. She dragged her finger out slowly, moving it up to the top of the lips, and, as expected, a stiff, tiny rubber projection stood out like a sexual spire, an imitation clitoris.
Complete. It was complete in every detail.
Maureen felt the insides of the thighs: they were stickily damp.
William!
She let the hem of the dress drop back into place, stood back and took a deep breath. She knew now what the sucking sound she'd heard was. Old William screwing Anne Boleyn.
CHAPTER ONE
The phone call from Aunt Sylvia had surprised but pleased Maureen. She had reached an impasse in her relations with her boss of the last six months, Mason Loking, and her aunt's suggestion was in the nature of a reprieve.
"So I'll be all alone this winter," Aunt Sylvia had said, "and I'd like to have you with me, Maureen."
Maureen had thought of the bleak old mansion on the coast of Maine, and the cold winters and snow and ice and loneliness. Then she'd thought of Mason Loking and the things he was beginning to expect her to do, and had answered: "It sounds very nice, but whatever happened to Millie?"
Millie, a tall, gaunt Irishwoman, had been her aunt's companion for as long as Maureen could remember.
"Huh! Her!" Aunt Sylvia sounded bitter. "I must have paid her too well all these years. She decided to retire and spend the rest of her life in Ireland. She went back there last week."
"But my job," Maureen had murmured half-heartedly, "I'll have to leave my job, and I have to earn a living."
"Nonsense, I'll pay you a salary, not as much as you get in New York of course, but adequate compensation."
Maureen wanted to smile at her aunt's old-fashioned way of speaking. She had been isolated in Maine for so long that she seemed to be living in the past.
"It'll only be for the winter, then you can do as you please," she went on. "I've already phoned your mother and she agrees."
Maureen stiffened. The old lady took a lot for granted.
"I'll need time to decide," she stalled.
The old lady made an impatient sound. "I'll give you until tomorrow. I'll pay you," she added with a sly note in her voice, "exactly half what you're getting now."
"How d'you know what I'm getting now?" Maureen was startled.
Aunt Sylvia laughed. "I don't, but you'll tell me. You were always a very truthful little girl, Maureen. Call me tomorrow evening at this time." Then she hung up without saying goodbye.
Maureen had stared at the phone, two red spots of anger on her cheeks, then she'd hung up and laughed. Aunt Sylvia had always been very determined.
It hadn't taken her long to decide; after what she'd been doing during the last few months, a quiet, restful winter in Maine had its attractions.
Mason Loking was becoming just too, too much!
"How about a show tonight?" he'd asked her just the week before. "Dinner at Maxie's then the theater?"
Maureen had stared at her boss. Mason was forty-five and good-looking in a rugged kind of way. Not really too old for her, she was always telling herself, though she was just twenty-one. And single, she always added, while he was married, so very, very married.
"All right," she'd said.
It was almost a weekly thing. She'd stay behind after the rest of the staff left; then she'd go through Mason's office and into the little changing-room at the back, where she'd strip off her skirt and panties, then spread herself out on the convenient divan and wait until Mason was ready.
She always got excited while she waited. Mason was no good for her, she'd tell herself time and again. But it made no difference. The thought of his hairy torso, thick thighs and the massive penis always made her vulva get wet. She would press her hands over her belly protectively, trying to stem the shivers of delight and anticipation that rippled through her body at the thought of the long organ squeezing into her. But her clitoris would bob and she'd try to hold it down with the tip of her finger.
"All wet an' ready, I see-" Mason would needle when he came into the room. "Hot little pussy's all worked up."
"You bastard," she'd mutter, feeling her face flushing, "making' me do this."
"You don't hafta," he'd tell her, taking off his jacket and sliding down his pants, "you don't hafta do any little thing."
"Cheap, too," Maureen would sneer, "I got a boss who won't take me out to dinner unless he screws me first."
"You love it," he'd say, stripping off his underpants, "you just love it, lap it up like a cat."
"Only because I hafta," she would murmur as he climbed on top of her, then she'd close her eyes, feeling the thick column penetrating her, driving in deeper and deeper, then growing, swelling inside her body until the warmth and the glow of it spread through her belly.
His fingers would slide underneath her, and she'd feel his nails pressing into the tender flesh on her naked buttocks, and he'd groan, lurching his body more urgently.
The hot spurts would come soon after that with Maureen writhing and twisting herself in a frenzy of sexual excitement as the shaft, thickened by desire, pressed erratically against the tip of her tensed clitoris. "Ohh-ohh," she'd moan, "don't stop-just don't stop-" And her urgent voice would spiral up as she orgasmed.
"An' you pretend you don't like it," he'd smile into her face as his satiated body lay limply on hers.
"Bastard," she'd mutter, "big, hairy bastard." But sometimes she smiled in saying it.
But she hadn't smiled last week.
Mason had put his thick penis through its usual routine, then they'd dressed, routinely too, eaten a good dinner then seen an excellent show.
"I got a late client," Mason had said, elaborately casual, as they sipped their after-theater drinks.
"At this time?" Maureen had been startled.
"Uh-huh. He couldn't make it any earlier." Mason had glanced at his watch. "D'you wanna come to the office? I may want you to take a few notes at the meeting."
"It's so late." She'd been really angry. "The least you can do is take me home first. Haven't I done enough for one night?"
;He grinned at her, then leaned close in the crowded lounge and whispered: "You can never do enough for me, baby."
She had flushed but felt perversely pleased. "Oh, okay," she'd agreed, feeling the liquor's warmth.
"If we go now," he'd said persuasively, "we'll have time to-" He'd looked at her suggestively.
Maureen had stared into her drink. "Just what d'you think I am?"
He leaned his head very close. "I think you're a tempting, screwable little doll."
He had taken her to the office, of course.
"We got half an hour," he'd said, looking at his watch, "why don't you go an' take off that cute little skirt, lie down an' in a minute I'll come in an'-"
"Oh, Mason," she'd protested, "not now!"
He pulled her close to him, letting her smell and be aware of his maleness. "Yeah, baby. Now." Then he'd kissed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth and feeling under her skirt, his hand touching her pussy, teasing it.
So she'd gone into the small changing room, feeling alive and excited, and stripped off her clothes, hoping Mason would come in quickly. She was ready, sexed-up, hot and wet between her thighs.
She lay on the divan, feeling between her thighs, resisting the temptation to tickle her clitoris which was standing stiffly erect, as if begging for attention, and wishing Mason would hurry.
There was someone at the door, but it wasn't Mason.
"What!" She half-rose, "who're you?" She gasped when the big, broad-shouldered young man came into the changing room.
"I'm Mike Maclean," he said, grinning down at her and reaching to the front of his pants, "Mason told me you were in here, ready to go."
His hand moved away from his body, and Maureen stared in horror and frightened fascination at the longest, thickest penis she'd ever seen.
She made an effort to cover herself with her hands. "What d'you think you're-" she panted.
"You," he said, moving to the divan, straddling it and her. "I'm gonna fuck you. Mason said I could!"
"Get off me," she screamed, "you're crazy an' Mason's crazy-"
But the gross organ was prying at her vaginal lips, and it was too late now for Maureen to squeeze her legs together. "It's hard to get it in," he said casually, explaining. "It's always hard-but when it's in-you'll like it-I know you'll like it."
"You're crazy-" she panted, "get off me-you-you're rap in' me!"
He lurched his body forward and the massive head of his penis moved partly into Maureen's vulva. "Don't be silly," he said a little breathlessly, "Mason said it was all right-" He drove in, and a fierce thrill, half-pain, half-pleasure, throbbed through Maureen's belly. "He-he told me you were a-a vixen-that you'd resist-" He moved his legs in between hers, forcing her to open her thighs wider. "Open up-lemme in-I wanna-wanna-" the breath parited from his mouth and splattered on Maureen's face, "fuck-" he finished, "I wanna fuck you!" Then he drove inward again, stiffly and strongly this time, penetrating the soft, fragile tissue, forcing the walls of Maureen's vulva to pry open and allow his huge shaft to thrust in, squeeze out, and thrust in again and again.
When he orgasmed, the spurts of hot fluid squirted into her with such force that Maureen felt as though her body was being lifted.
"Ohh, ohh-you're burning me-an' tearing me-" she moaned, wriggling her bottom into the divan, not knowing whether she was trying to free herself or whether she was compelled by the sexual urges that his actions had evoked.
The head of his penis swelled hugely, and Maureen squealed, stretched out her legs then let them dangle on either side of the divan as the last dregs of his lust expended themselves within her.
Her clitoris bobbed as he pulled his softening shaft from within her, then he slithered off her and lay in a limp heap on the thickly-carpeted floor beside the divan.
"I've been raped!" Maureen moaned, tears running down her cheeks.
"No you haven't," said the big young man, dragging himself to his feet and adjusting his clothing. "You've been fucked, just well-fucked!" Then he grinned at her again and walked out of the room.
Maureen lay still for a long time, not knowing whether to cry, laugh or run into the office and stab Mason or Mike Maclean or both of them with a paperknife.
But she didn't do anything other than to lay still, flat on her back with her legs parted as the thick warm juice of a young man's lust dribbled from her vulva.
Mason came into the room a few minutes later.
"Well," he said, staring at her, moving towards her, "well-"
"You bastard," she mouthed viciously, "you dirty bastard!"
"Now," he said, trying to sound soothing, "now, that's no way to talk." He stroked her leg, and she jerked it away from him.
"How could you?" Her voice was shrill. "How could you send a guy in to rape me when-" tears trickled down her cheeks, "I-I was expectin' you-waitin' for you-" the sobs jerked out of her body.
"Now," he said again, "now, baby-don't get upset. It was only business."
The word stopped Maureen's tears. "Business!" she said, incredulously, "What d'you mean it was business?"
Mason looked away from her, stroking her thigh absently. "It was a deal, baby. You gotta understand, I hadda clinch a deal."
"A deal?" Maureen repeated. "Fuckin' me-clinchin' a deal?"
Mason sighed, as though she was acting very dumb. "Mike saw you in the office while he was waitin' the other day." He sighed again, "You were sittin' in that cute little way that you have, with your legs parted, showin' all you've got, and you weren't wearin' any panties. You know, baby," he said as though it was important, "you don't always wear panties."
Maureen stared at him as at a snake.
"So Mike said 'Okay, Mason. Make it so that I fuck that cute little pussy an' it's a deal.' "
Maureen blinked. Slowly, the gist of it sank in. "You-you mean-" she stammered, "all this was arranged?"
"Well now," said Mason, "you know that business is-"
"When did you arrange this?" Her voice was ice-like.
Mason shrugged, tried to caress Maureen's leg again, but she pulled it from his hand.
"When he was in the office," he muttered, "yesterday afternoon."
"You filthy slob!" she said with venom. "You screwed me, took me to a dinner, then a theater and all so that you could get me in here to let that big animal screw that pole of his into-"
"Now, now, baby, don't take it that way," he soothed.
Mason pulled her head onto his shoulder, stroking her hair very gently.
"How am I supposed to take it?" she whispered.
"Business," he said softly, "it's just business. You're my girl, my right hand, you do everything to help me. I need you, baby."
The words registered dully in Maureen's mind.
"Will I," she asked with deadly calmness, "have to do this all the time?"
He kissed the lobe of her ear, murmured. "Not all the time, baby, just sometimes." . It hadn't been hard for Maureen to decide to go to her Aunt Sylvia's for the winter.
CHAPTER TWO
The seaboard mansion where Maureen's Aunt Sylvia had lived all her life was named Blythe House, and it was six lonely miles from the nearest rail depot.
Maureen glanced anxiously around as she alighted from the once-a-day train to see if there was anyone to meet her.
A young, short but well-built man in a dark green chauffeur's uniform moved towards her.
"Miss Haley?" he asked. "Miss Maureen Haley?" He glanced at her trim, well-shaped young body with a hint of more than approval in his eyes.
"Yes," said Maureen.
"I'm Miss Haley's chauffeur," he said, showing white teeth in a smile, "Miss Sylvia Haley, your aunt," he added, unnecessarily.
"You're new," said Maureen, "I was here during the summer. You weren't here then."
He picked up Maureen's two suitcases and led the way to the old Lincoln that had been Aunt Sylvia's car for as far back as Maureen could remember.
"I've been working for your aunt for two months," he said, opening the rear door of the car for Maureen.
"What's your name?" she asked, watching him stack her suitcases on the front seat beside him.
"Blake," he said, easing the big car forward, "Ken Blake."
Maureen nodded, wondering vaguely why a young, presentable man would want to bury himself in this remote region.
"I used to drive a cab in the city," he said conversationally, answering Maureen's mental question, "and when I was here on vacation last summer I heard that this job was available. So I took it."
Maureen nodded, glancing through the window as the car glided through the countryside. It was late October, and already the scenery was assuming its wintry mask.
"What made you decide?" she asked, idly. "I mean-" she added, "it's very quiet here-after New York-"
Ken Blake looked into his rear-view mirror. It was tilted so that he had a good view of his passenger in the back seat. Maureen's skirt was casually high and the sleek thigh-flesh within her pantyhose seemed pressed tightly together in a strangely suggestive position. He flicked his tongue over his lips: the winter could be more interesting than he'd expected!
"What made you?" he asked softly.
Maureen stared at the back of his head. "What?" she asked.
"What made you decide to leave New York and come to Blythe House for the winter?"
Maureen frowned at him. "I had reasons," she said shortly.
He grinned at her in the mirror. "So did I."
Maureen sighed. She supposed the servants all knew about her coming. Kitchen gossip, she thought with a wry smile; they had nothing much else to do but talk in this bleak place.
"What happened to old George?" she asked, thinking of the old local man who had driven the Lincoln for her aunt. "He wouldn't ask personal questions," she couldn't resist adding.
His eyes flicked to hers, then he murmured, "Sorry, it's just that I don't get a chance to talk to someone from the city very often."
"That's all right," she smiled.
"Old George died," said Ken Blake, "that's why the job was vacant."
"I'm sorry," Maureen replied, "he was a nice old man."
"So I heard," said the chauffeur quietly.
The old order changeth, Maureen thought to herself. Millie gone and old George dead.
"What about the others?" she asked, half to herself.
Ken Blake raised his eyebrows, questioningly. "The other servants."
"Oh," he seemed to consider. "There's William Selke, the butler-" Maureen nodded. William was a permanent fixture at Blythe House.
"And Mrs. Manton, the cook," went on the chauffeur, then he grinned widely, adding, "and Jennie, mustn't forget Jennie Banning, your aunt's maid."
"That little girl," murmured Maureen.
Ken Blake's grin became wider. "She's not so little, Miss Haley. She seems to be getting bigger every day." His grin changed into a smile, becoming reminiscent.
Maureen felt unaccountably irritated. Men! she thought, all the same. He was probably abusing the young girl who had been her aunt's personal maid for the last three years.
"She's only a child," she said, more to herself than to the chauffeur.
"Eighteen," said Blake, "she had a birthday last week." He met Maureen's eye in the mirror. "Believe me, Miss Haley, she's a child no more!" The expression on his face, as well as his words, seemed somehow obscene.
Maureen flushed, jerking her eyes away from his. She wriggled, thinking of Mason Loking and the office, then Mike Maclean.
"We're almost there." Blake's words broke into her thoughts.
Maureen jerked her eyes sideways, then rolled down the window, listening to the familiar, hauntingly desolate sound of waves breaking on the shore.
"It never changes," she whispered.
"What?"
"The sea," she explained, "it's always the same-always there-"
Blake glanced at her face in the mirror and saw her set expression. He turned his eyes back to the rough road. "Yes, some things never change." Then he wheeled the car into a driveway, slowed. "Blythe House, Miss Haley." He stopped in front of the imposingly old entrance. "Your aunt will be glad to see you."
Then he was opening the car door for her, taking out her bags and seeing her into the high hallway to be greeted by the stern old lady with a cane who was her Aunt Sylvia.
Maureen had never really known how old her aunt was. Guessing her age was like trying to estimate the age of a tree that had always looked the same for as long as she could remember. Somewhere between fifty and sixty-five she supposed. How could she say?
"You must be hungry, child," said the old lady, "and tired. You look pale and undernourished. It was high time you left the city."
Maureen stared at her aunt. She was a couple of inches taller than her, with a spare, almost gaunt, figure. Her face was austere and bleak like the late fall scenery outside: she fitted into her environment perfectly, Maureen thought. Right in character, as Mason Loking would have said.
"I-I feel fine," said Maureen, "how are you?"
"Same as always," said the lady of Blythe House, leading the way into the large living-room with its open hearth.
She carried a slim cane and walked with a very slight limp. The metal tip of her cane made a sharp tapping sound on the hardwood floor whenever she moved.
"Welcome back, Miss Maureen," said a deep, quavering voice.
Maureen turned, smiled at the old man.
"William," she said with pleasure, "it's good to see you."
He smiled back at her nervously, then Aunt Sylvia's arm moved. "William!" The slim cane whistled through the air and the old man jerked back with a surprising nimbleness. "Your pants are open at the front," snapped the old lady.
Maureen's eyes went down, and she flushed with embarrassment. The old butler's fly was unfastened, and there was a glimpse of white flesh and hairs inside. William's hand went down, and he fastened his pants with trembling fingers. "I-I'm sorry, ma'am-" he stammered.
"I've warned you, William-" Sylvia's voice was deadly calm.
"Y-yes, ma'am-" the old man turned, started to shamble from the room, then half-turned to give Maureen a slight smile. "It-it's good to see you back, Miss Maureen." Then he hurried to the door.
Aunt Sylvia glared after him. "Senile old fool," she muttered, "he's getting weak-minded in his old age." She set her lips grimly. "A taste of my cane might do him good!"
Maureen gave her aunt a shocked glance, then giggled. "Aunt Sylvia, the days of slavery are over!"
"If my servants act like fools, I'll treat them like fools," said the old lady with a trace of venom.
The smile faded from Maureen's face. There was something too ominous in her aunt's tone of voice.
Maureen went to her room early.
She and her aunt had eaten a light dinner, served with ceremony by a subdued William, and then the old lady had retired.
Maureen wandered to the window; there was a small balcony outside and she opened the glass door, stepped out and listened to the dull sound of waves in the distance before she went back inside out of the cold.
She felt restless; it was only nine-thirty and she was used to late hours.
When she heard the tap at her door, she expected it would be Jennie, the maid, but it was Blake.
"Would you like a drink, Miss Haley?" the young man asked.
Maureen stared at him in surprise. "Do you work in the house, too? Where's William?"
He gave her a strange smile. "In the library, I suppose-"
"The library?" Maureen's eyebrows went up. "What's he doing in there?"
Blake shrugged. "Who knows?" He hesitated, then: "He has some kind of duties to perform. Would you like a drink?"
Maureen nodded. She felt like a drink very much.
"Yes. Bring me a bourbon, a tall bourbon with ice.
He left, and Maureen wandered about her room, then switched on her portable radio. The pop music sounded incongruous in the austere surroundings. She was glad when the sound at the door told her that Blake was back.
"I'll leave you to drink it in peace," he said smiling, "if you want another, or anything, just ring." Then he was gone.
Maureen stared at the closed door with mixed feelings. She had a vague feeling that she'd have liked him to stay, talk awhile, relieve some of the loneliness that already seemed to envelop her. She stripped off her skirt, thought fleetingly of Mason and the regular sexual sessions in the changing room behind his office, then she dragged off her pantyhose with jerky, vicious movements.
Outside Maureen's bedroom, Ken Blake shivered in the cold as he watched. He was crouched on the small balcony, out of Maureen's sight, yet in a perfect position to view her actions. He licked his lips when he saw the soft thatch of pubic hairs on her abdomen when she dragged off her hose, and he felt his penis move when she sat on the bed to remove the rest of her clothes, exposing pink vaginal lips as she lifted a leg.
Juicy morsel, he drooled to himself; and soon, when she'd had her drugged bourbon, she'd pass out. He had plans for her, plans he'd made from the first moment he saw her at the train.
Maureen looked at her nude body in the full-length mirror, then picked up her drink and sipped it. Her breasts looked bigger than usual and the nipples seemed stiff. She passed her hand across them thoughtfully then glanced at her watch. If she was in New York, this would be about the time that Mason would ... she angrily whirled around and drained her glass, picked up her robe and wrapped it around her young figure.
She felt a moment of dizziness, so she sat on the edge of the bed, then let herself drop onto her back. The ceiling seemed to be whirling in front of her eyes, whirling about faster until....
Ken Blake opened the balcony door very quietly and stepped into the bedroom. He closed the door quickly, shutting out the cold air and shivered, then he moved toward the bed.
Maureen was lying on her back and her robe had fallen open. He could see the soft, brown tangle of hairs on the swell of her body; he reached down, caressing them very gently. She didn't move.
Her thighs felt as soft and smooth as they had looked, and Ken moved his hand between them with sensuous pleasure then gently parted her legs. He stooped and stared up into her slot, seeing the wet pinkness and spongy folds of flesh. He inserted his finger, felt inside the unconscious girl's vulva. The warm wetness made his penis rear.
His hands trembled as he ripped open his pants and let his penis thrust out. He took a deep breath, then dragged the limp body higher onto the bed and spread himself on top of it.
Maureen breathed deeply through her nose, and her breasts rose and fell, slowly, steadily.
Ken inserted his penis in her vulva. The walls were limp, flaccid, and his shaft slid in easily. He began to work himself in, slowly at first, then faster.
Why did he get more pleasure from screwing an unconscious girl than a conscious one? He had asked himself that time and again. It was this strange preference which had got him into trouble in New York and then made him glad to take a job in this remote place when things had got too hot for him in the city.
He drove his penis in and out with slow, sensuous pleasure.
Maureen's mouth had opened slightly, so he pressed his face down, kissed her unresponsive lips. The inside of her mouth was soft, warm and sweetly wet. His penis enlarged.
He placed his hands on her breasts, caressing the still stiff nipples, furthering his pleasure.
Her vaginal walls felt tighter against his swollen penis, and the breath rasped from his throat as his movements quickened. Soon, he knew, he would climax, spurting his hot stuff into this unknowing little pussy, filling her with his thick, hot come, and she'd never know what had hit her.
The thought that she'd never know made his penis jerk.
He pushed her legs apart more widely, drove in deeper. Maureen made a mumbling sound in her sleep.
Now, he breathed to himself, I'm going to come now. Frantically, he writhed his body on top of the unconscious girl, screwing his shaft to the top of her sexual sac and feeling the soft walls of her vagina clutching at his excited column as he dragged it out, thrust it in.
"You soft cunt," he said aloud as his orgasm began. His whole body jerked as he squirted hotly and violently inside the dormant vulva. "I'm fucking you, Maureen, I'm screwing your pussy, Miss Haley-" He laughed, wildly and loudly as the spurts of fluid shot into the girl's body. "You'll never know it, but I've fucked you!" Then he collapsed on top of Maureen as shaking sobs of satiation and a strange kind of remorse throbbed within his body.
Outside Maureen's bedroom in the corridor, William Selke stooped over. There was no key in the unlocked door and the large keyhole gave him an excellent view of the action in the room.
His pants were open at the front, and his hand was wrapped around the projecting organ. He caressed himself, gently and lewdly, as he watched the two inside.
When Ken stretched Maureen's thighs widely apart and lurched his body upward in a final spasm, William's hand moved quickly, large droplets of saliva trickling from the corners of the old man's mouth, his breath spurting loudly from his lips.
He watched when Ken finally lifted himself off the girl's sleeping body, and he feasted his eyes on the exposed inner thighs with the red, open lips between. He felt a fresh excitement as he saw the thick white fluid seeping from inside the ravished vulva.
Ken took a small towel, wiped Maureen's vulva and the insides of her thighs; then he lifted her supine body, placed her lengthways on the bed and moved back to the balcony door. After a last, long, lingering look at the victim of his lust, he exited.
William waited until Ken had time to leave the balcony before opening Maureen's bedroom door and entering.
She was lying as Ken had left her, still deep in her drugged sleep, her mouth open as she drew in slow drags of air. But William wasn't looking at her mouth; his eyes focused on the legs, the thighs and the wet open vulva.
After a moment, he went to the foot of the bed, leaned over it, then crawled upward until his mouth was over Maureen's belly. He reached down with both hands, parted her soft, white and limp thighs, then moved his head down.
His mouth slithered over her flesh, mushing through the brown hairs and downward until his lips were over her vaginal lips. He pressed his mouth over the wet opening and sucked. A trace of salty fluid was drawn onto his tongue; the old man savored it with sensuous delight.
He placed his hands under Maureen's buttocks, raised her body until her pelvis arced upward and her vulva was squashed against his lips. His tongue moved, jerkily and urgently, as he sucked with sexual devotion.
He continued his sensual task until every trace of the thick juice was sucked from within the sleeping girl, then he straightened himself, stood up and stared down at Maureen with flecks of whiteness at the edges of his mouth. His pants were still open at the front and his penis projected like a white sliver of lust; he touched it delicately then pushed it back inside his pants and fastened them.
Gently, as though she were a precious and fragile toy, William lifted Maureen's body up on the bed. He closed her open thighs, pulled a sheet over her sleeping body, then shambled across the room and opened the bedroom door.
"So!" The sound rasped from Sylvia Haley's lips as the old lady waited in the corridor outside Maureen's bedroom door.
William Selke turned, surprised at her presence.
"Ma'am-" he quavered, touching his dry lips with his tongue, "Ma'am-I-I-"
"What have you been doing?" she hissed.
"I-I-" he stammered.
"Where is my niece? Is she in there?"
The old man nodded.
Sylvia's face looked shocked; her eyes fastened on the flecks of whiteness round the old man's mouth. "And-and she allowed you to-" her voice trailed off into a whisper.
"No!" The old man's voice was frantic, "She's asleep-she-she didn't know!"
Sylvia eyes widened. "Asleep?"
William dropped his eyes. "She-she was drugged-there was something in her drink-she's unconscious."
Sylvia's eyes blazed. "You drugged my niece so you could perform your abominable perversions on her helpless body?"
"No, no, ma'am-it wasn't I-" William's voice quavered. "It-it was Blake-he-he drugged the bourbon that he brought her so that-that-" he half-choked, "so that he could rape the poor girl-"
Sylvia's face was white. "And you wouldn't touch her, of course, you lecherous old fool." Her tone was sneering, vicious. "You're so holy, so good-"
"I did it to help her!" he blurted.
"Help her! Did what to help her?"
He lowered his eyes. "I-I sucked the stuff-Blake's horrible stuff out of the poor little girl's pussy-" he looked up frantically. "If-if I hadn't done that-she'd have known when she awakened-she'd have been all wet-all sticky-so I sucked it out of her. She's clean, ma'am, all nice and clean!"
Sylvia Haley's eyes pierced into the old man's face like knives. "You abominable, filthy old man," she spewed. "Go to my bedroom and wait forme!"
William's legs started to tremble. "But ma'am-it was Blake-not me-who drugged Miss Maureen-"
"I'll deal with Blake later! Now, go to my room!" She tapped on the floor of the corridor with the tip of her cane, and the sound of the metal tip on the hardwood seemed to add to the old man's fear.
"But, ma'am-" he pleaded.
Sylvia lashed out with her cane; the blow caught William off guard, slashing against his thigh. "Go!" she hissed.
As though his legs were scarcely strong enough to support him, William tottered down the corridor towards Sylvia's suite.
The stern-looking woman stared after him contemptuously, then she opened the door to Maureen's bedroom and entered.
She looked down at the sleeping girl, and a strangely tender expression flickered across her face. "Poor child," she whispered, "what have I got you into?" She drew down the top of the sheet, looked at the naked body, then put her fingertip between the sleeping girl's thighs. Her expression changed, became tensed and tight as she felt the wet vulva. She moved her fingertip upward, found the dormant clitoris and gently stroked it.
"So sweet," she whispered, "how could anyone resist it?" Then, stepping back, she lifted her cane and touched the tip of it against Maureen's vulva.
The girl slept on, stirring only slightly as the gaunt-faced woman inserted the end of the cane in her vagina and pressed it slowly upward.
Sylvia's face became drawn and white as the cane thrust in deeper; she leaned forward, lowered her arm so that the cane was between Maureen's parted thighs as she pushed it in deeper.
Suddenly, Maureen gave a low moan as the metal tip reached the top of her vulva. Her legs became rigid, knees tensed and her toes curled upward.
The breath came raggedly from Sylvia's lips, then she slowly withdrew her cane. The tip was wet and glistened with the vaginal fluid that clung to it.
She stared at it, as though seeing it for the first time. She suddenly dropped the cane onto the floor and pressed her hands over her eyes. "Oh, God, you poor child! Even I am not immune to your sexuality!" Strangled sobs burst from her lips. But slowly she regained her composure, covering the sleeping girl and moved slowly from the room.
A shivering William waited for her in her suite.
"Ma'am," he pleaded as soon as she entered the room, "please, ma'am, don't-"
"Stop your snivelling," snapped Sylvia, moving through the small sitting-room towards her bedroom at the rear.
"You deserve to be punished," she said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the alcove that hid her bed. "And I'm going to punish you," she called from out of William's sight. "And afterwards-" she paused, and William held his breath waiting for her next words, "I'll let you do what you crave!"
The air panted from William's mouth as he heard her last words. "Oh, ma'am-" he breathed.
Sylvia reappeared in the archway from the alcove, and William's eyes flickered wildly, then glistened as he stared at his mistress.
She had taken off her severe dress and drab stockings; now, all she was wearing was a wide leather belt around her still-slim waist and thigh-high, black leather boots. A verdant thatch of dark pubic hair covered most of her abdomen, and her breasts, remarkably erect for a woman of her age, swung freely, nudely forward.
"Prepare yourself," she said, her voice soft.
William's eyes swivelled to the cane in Sylvia's right hand and the vicious-looking, multi-thonged whip in the other.
"Not-not too hard, ma'am-" he whispered.
"Prepare yourself!" Sylvia's voice rose high.
The old man's hands shook as he unfastened his belt, then dragged down his pants. His fingers slid inside his underpants and he slid those down, too. Tremblingly, he turned and bent over the back of an overstuffed chair.
Sylvia's eyes gleamed as she surveyed the exposed buttocks of her butler. She moved forward, and, positioning herself behind him, she lifted her cane, pointed the tip at the red anal opening between the white buttocks and shoved her arm forward.
A groan oozed from William's lips as the metal tip penetrated the lips of his anus. "Not deep, ma'am, please not deep!" His voice was high and tremulous.
"Keep still!"
Her face had again tightened up, and she stood with her legs apart, eyes glued on the thin wooden rod as she thrust it into the soft, red tissue.
"Argh-argh!" The groan quavered from the butler's lips.
"If you move, it'll hurt-" hissed Sylvia, licking at the edges of her lips, letting her eyes veer inward as she watched the cane moving slowly, surely into the anal canal.
The old man stilled himself as he became impaled upon the torturing sliver of wood. Suddenly, Sylvia took a deep breath, moved her arm forward cruelly, urgently, and the cane thrust in deep.
William's whole body straightened, then writhed on the wicked stick. A scream spiralled from his mouth as he twisted himself in agony.
Sylvia wrenched out the cane, spurts of blood coming with it, and then she doubled over, her body rocking forward and backward in an orgasmic fit.
The old mar. had collapsed on the floor in a mass of quivering flesh. "Oh, ma'am," he wailed, "oh, ma'am!"
Sylvia took a deep breath and straightened herself. Her thighs were sopping wet with the fluid from her vulva. She spoke with controlled calm.
"Now I'm going to punish you for what you did to my niece."
"No, please no, you've done enough, ma'am-"
"Bend over the chair, William," said Sylvia gently, "you have to be whipped. You know you have to be whipped!" She dropped the cane and took the vicious-looking whip in her right hand.
William dragged himself to his feet; his limbs shook more than ever. "And after, ma'am-" he quavered, sounding older now, "after, you'll let me-"
"Yes, William," Sylvia smiled at him, a cruel, sensual smile. "Afterwards, I'll let you do what you crave."
Slowly, shiveringly, William bent over the back of the chair again. A bright trickle of blood oozed from his anus and ran down the inside of his legs.
Sylvia raised the whip, licked her lips, then brought the thongs down onto the quivering, waiting flesh.
William screamed; his body shook and he drew in his buttocks.
"Position yourself!" she hissed, watching his writhing movements.
Sobbing gently to himself, William bent his abused body over the back of the chair again.
Six vicious lashes followed, each one followed by a scream. By the time she had finished, there were livid lines criss-crossing his white, fleshy buttocks.
"Listen to me, William," said Sylvia while the old man was still lying in his prostrated position. "Leave my niece alone. Don't you get enough from Jennie? And-and-" she paused, took a deep breath, "your beloved Anne Boleyn?"
Slowly, the old man got to his feet. He turned and faced his mistress. "I-I'm sorry, ma'am-" he muttered hoarsely, twisting himself with pain.
Sylvia gave him a thin smile. "And now," she said graciously, "you may do what you crave," and she walked into her bedroom, stretched herself out on her back, then reached between her naked thighs and spread open the thick, wet lips of her vulva.
"Suck, William, suck!" she commanded, and the old man went down onto his knees, burying his head between the thighs of his mistress, searching for, finally finding, the moist, musky opening of her vulva, and sucking it, using his lips and his tongue to probe inward and suck out the stiff hard tip of Sylvia's clitoris.
CHAPTER THREE
She opened her eyes slowly, languidly, a bitter taste in her mouth, her lips dry and thick. Maureen turned to look at the small travelling clock on her bedside table, and the slight movement made her head feel dizzy. What was the matter with her? She blinked her eyes, flicked out her tongue and moistened her lips. Why did she feel so strange? Suddenly, she made a low sound of surprise as the position of the fingers on the clock registered in her mind-eleven o'clock! She never slept as late as this! She tried to jerk herself upright, but the abrupt movement made her head spin and she dropped back onto her bed. After a moment, she tried it again, more slowly this time, then swung her legs to the side of the bed and sat limply on the edge.
A frown creased her brow as she forced herself to remember at what time she had gone to bed the night before. But she couldn't.
She shook her head in wonder, then stopped abruptly as the movement caused the room to spin before her eyes. With an effort, she rose to her feet, swayed, then took a staggering step towards the small washbasin in the corner of her room. Shrugging off her robe, she doused her face with cold water for several minutes, following this with a sponge bath. She paused when reaching between her thighs, experiencing as she was a familiar sensation, like she felt the morning after an exceptionally good night with Mason Loking. But Mason was hundreds of miles away and last night she hadn't-She dropped the sponge, opened her thighs wider and pushed a finger inside her vulva. It felt warm and moist as usual, but not sticky like it did after Mason's big penis had come within her. The walls of her vulva were slightly sensitive, as though they'd been stretched or scraped.
She pulled out her finger with a sigh, letting it linger on the tip of her clitoris, squirming very slightly. Finished, she continued to sponge herself down.
When done, she pulled on her pantyhose, bra and blouse. She reached for her mini-skirt, then paused: it didn't seem appropriate for Blythe House, but she hadn't anything else, so she wrapped the tiny fabric around her waist and carefully made up her face.
Aunt Sylvia greeted her as she reached the foot of the stairs:
"Good morning, my dear. Did you have a good sleep?"
Maureen gave her a slight smile, then murmured: "A long one, Aunt Sylvia. I'm sorry to have slept in so late." A frown crossed her face, then: "I don't understand it, I'm usually up before nine."
"You had a long journey, Maureen, you were tired." The old lady turned towards the dining-room. "Come along, I'll have Mrs. Manton cook you some breakfast," she smiled, "or should I say lunch?"
Maureen followed with a wondering expression on her face. Why was she being so nice, so considerate towards her, when usually she was stern and abrupt?
While Maureen was eating the meal that a strangely subdued William had brought her, Sylvia made light conversation.
"I hope you won't find it too dull down here, Maureen, after your hectic life in New York."
"I'm glad of the change," Maureen answered between mouthfuls of food.
"I thought that perhaps you'd like to come to the village with me this afternoon. I'd like to buy you some clothes that would be more appropriate for here." She smiled, added: "We're still rather old-fashioned in this part of the country."
Maureen smiled back. "I'd like that. Thank you, Aunt Sylvia."
"We'll leave about three," said Sylvia; her expression became suddenly bleak. "I have a certain household matter to attend to before we go-"
Ken Blake felt uneasy as he stood in front of Sylvia Haley.
He had been summoned to her suite while he was eating his lunch, and now, as he met the cold, almost venomous, gaze that pierced him as he stood rigidly before her, a frightening apprehension shivered through his flesh.
"I know all about you, Blake," Sylvia's words cut through the air like daggers. "I had enquiries made in New York, and I know why you were so eager to stay away from there, why you're so willing to work here for the miserable salary I pay you."
The color drained from Ken Blake's face. "If I choose to go to the authorities, I'm quite sure that you'll be sent away for a long time." The chauffeur stood rigidly in front of her. "Do you want to be sent away, Blake?"
"N-no, ma'am."
"Then you must obey me, Blake," Sylvia's voice was icy, "implicitly and completely."
Blake nodded, muttered, "Yes, ma'am. I'll do whatever you say."
Sylvia gave him a bold smile of satisfaction.
"Stay away from my niece!" The words shot out.
Blake flinched. "Why-what-" He wasn't allowed to finish.
"I know what you did, you slimy creature," she took a step forward, then her hand lashed out, slashed across the chauffeur's face, "you drugged her, then dragged her into bed with you!"
An involuntary shiver ran through Blake's body. How could she know? How could anyone know?
"That's what you like, isn't it? Raping unconscious girls? Especially young, attractive girls." Sylvia's voice changed, became almost a whisper. "You like to see their naked bodies, don't you Blake, then crawl onto them, open their soft white thighs and do filthy things to their young, innocent bodies, that's what you like. I know! You force your slimy penis into their unknowing bodies and squirt your filthy juice inside them."
Sylvia's eyes were glittering, as though she was under a deep and exciting emotion.
"You know what would happen to you if I reported this?"
Blake choked, nodded, then blurted out, "Please, Miss Haley, please don't-I-I'll do anything you say if you'll give me another chance-"
"Yes, Blake, you will do anything I say, anything!" Sylvia took a step backward, raked the chauffeur up and down with her eyes. "Anything," she repeated, as though to herself.
Blake stood still with an effort. He was in this cold-blooded woman's power. Completely in her power!
"Take off your clothes, Blake, all of them!" The words hissed out. "B-but-what!"
"Take off all your clothes, Blake," Sylvia's voice was soft but deadly.
Slowly the chauffeur began to unfasten his tunic, shrug out of it, then ease down his uniform pants. He cast an appealing, frightened glance up to his mistress.
"Everything, Blake."
He removed his shoes, shirt and undershirt, then hesitated again.
"The rest." Sylvia's eyes were fastened on the man's body as he disrobed.
He took off his socks and shorts, then shivered, completely naked, in front of this frightening woman.
She stared at his broad shoulders, hairy chest and watched his navel moving as he took palpitating gasps of breath. Her eyes went to his face, and Blake felt a fresh fear as he saw the vicious, sadistic expression that had taken possession of her.
Her eyes went down again to stare at the thick growth of pubic hair and the penis, limp but still long, that hung in front of the dangling balls. She took a step closer and he felt the hot breath spurting from between her lips.
She thrust her hand down without warning, gripping his flaccid organ. "Is this what you use, Blake," she panted, "when you rape unconscious girls, is this what you use?"
The chauffeur didn't answer. He knew he wasn't supposed to answer; all he was to do was stand still and let this venomous woman do whatever she wanted to his body. He felt her fingers tighten cruelly around his penis. He restrained a gasp of pain with an effort.
"You have to be punished, Blake, for what you did to my niece." The grip became tighter, then fingernails pressed into tender sexual flesh.
"Aarh!" An involuntary sound of pain forced itself from Blake's lips.
"Hurt, Blake?" Sylvia's words were soft.
Her hand moved up and down the shaft and he felt his organ enlarging. She moved her other hand to cup his fleshy balls, slowly squeezing them.
Another, higher, moan of pain came from the frightened man's lips.
She squeezed the balls harder, then suddenly relaxed her grip, and moved her other hand up and down his shaft with smooth, caressing movements. He could feel his penis hardening, enlarging. He squeezed the cheeks of his ass together and moved himself slowly backward and forward as excitement took possession of his body.
As suddenly as the sexual movements had begun, they stopped.
Sylvia took a step back to stare down at the erect, extended penis that projected from the man's body.
He waited, fearful yet stimulated, for what would come next.
Sylvia reached down and picked up her cane from the floor.
"You must be punished, Blake. You have to be punished. You know that, don't you?"
A glaze of pure fear shielded the chauffeur's eyes. He could say nothing.
Sylvia moved close again. "Don't be afraid, Blake." Her voice was so soft. She caressed his penis with her free hand, and he felt it enlarging again, getting harder, more excited. And then she removed her hand and took a quick step back as her arm moved in a terrifying arc, the cane hissing through the air to land on the rigid, out-thrust organ.
Blake's agonized scream splattered from his lips and bounced off the walls of the room. He doubled over, then fell in a heap on the floor as his tortured organ jerked, writhed, then discharged its milky contents.
Sylvia stood back, watching his painful writhings with an excited expression in her eyes, the air panting from her lips, her own body jerking as though in orgasm.
She allowed him scant time to recuperate. "Get up, Blake!"
He continued to twist and squirm with intolerable pain.
"Get up!" She repeated the command more loudly.
He twisted his head to stare at her face with pure terror in his eyes. Saliva was dribbling from his lips, and his throat jerked and contracted as he strove to swallow his pain. His head fell back limply, then he twisted himself face-down, rocking his body about in tune with the agony that still shot through his flesh.
Sylvia stood still, watching his well-muscled buttocks moving up and down with his gyrations, before moving forward to position herself directly behind the palpitating body. She leaned down and stared between the quivering cheeks until she located the small, red anal opening, which squirmed open, then closed, as Blake moved up and down.
She took a deep breath, pointed her cane like a spear and lunged forward unerringly. The metal end penetrated the fragile tissue of her victim's anal canal.
"Uurgh-uurgh!"
The bubbling, excruciating sound of pain was lower this time, but no less intense, then suddenly it died away and the chauffeur lay very still.
Sylvia stated at the prone figure for a long minute, watching the blood spurt from the red opening as she slowly withdrew her cane.
"You fool," she muttered to herself, "why did you have to faint, you fool!"
Her voice rose on the last word, then she lifted her cane again. "I hadn't finished with you," she panted, raining a series of vicious blows down onto the unconscious man's buttocks.
Her breasts rose and fell as she panted for breath.
The marks on the chauffeur's flesh were red, turned white, then red again. His buttocks were criss-crossed with an uneven pattern of vengeance. Sylvia watched the slashed flesh changing color with fascination.
Suddenly, a tight smile fringed her thin lips. "I hadn't intended it this way, Blake, but it's poetic justice. You rape unconscious girls, and I discipline you in the same state."
A small sound of amusement emerged from her lips, then she dropped her cane, lifted her skirt and began to caress her clitoris. "But I found it stimulating, quite exciting, Blake. We must do this again sometime. I'm sure you'll give me ample excuse. I'm quite, quite sure." Her voice died away as her hand moved more quickly, letting her finger probe in and out of her vulva as she masturbated with impassioned devotion.
The man on the floor lay still.
CHAPTER FOUR
Maureen was surprised when her Aunt Sylvia seated herself behind the wheel of the old Lincoln.
"Isn't Mr. Blake driving us to the village, Aunt Sylvia?" she asked, not thinking that her aunt could drive.
Her aunt gave a grim smile. "Mr. Blake isn't feeling very well this afternoon, Maureen. I'll drive. Come on, get in the front beside me."
Sylvia had summoned William, ignoring the startled expression on her butler's face when he'd seen the naked man lying on the floor of her suite, and gave him instructions. "Revive him, William, then dress him, or help him dress. After that, get him to his room without any of the staff seeing you." She'd glanced at her watch: "It's two-thirty. I'm taking my niece to the village at three."
"But who'll drive you, ma'am?"
"I'll drive. And that reminds me. Before you deal with Blake, bring the Lincoln to the front of the house, then get back up here and do as I've said.".
The butler had walked over to the prone figure and stared at the bruised buttocks, the marks which were already changing from red to blue on the fleshy bottom. Blood still trickled from the pursed-open anus.
"Don't waste time, William, go and get out the car." He'd shambled out of the suite with awkward haste to obey his mistress's command, while Sylvia prepared herself for her trip to the village with Maureen. By the time she was ready, William had returned.
"The car's out?"
He nodded.
"Then do as I told you with that," indicating Blake with the pointed end of her cane. Turning she'd hurried downstairs to where her niece was waiting for her.
"I'm afraid you won't have the choice of clothes that you're used to in New York," said Sylvia with a small laugh as she steered the big car onto the highway.
"I never knew you could drive," said Maureen with a trace of surprise in her voice.
Sylvia laughed, and Maureen thought how seldom this severe woman relaxed. It seemed as though she was excited about something, as though anticipating a stimulating experience.
"I've been driving since I was your age," Sylvia answered. "Of course I've never had to, I've always had a chauffeur."
Lucky you, thought Maureen, trying not to feel envious.
Sylvia slowed as they approached a small cluster of houses and buildings. "And this is the village, my dear."
It must have been the smallest town she'd ever seen, thought Maureen, looking around with little interest.
"Now we'll see what Mrs. Beauchamp has that'll suit you."
"Who's Mrs. Beauchamp?" asked Maureen
"She owns the only decent dress shop for miles. I buy all my clothes from her."
She stopped the car outside a small shop, switched off the motor and got out.
Feeling completely out of place, Maureen followed her aunt into the shop.
"Miss Haley! How nice to see you," said the blonde, fortyish woman, who appeared from the back of the shop.
"This is my niece from New York," said Sylvia. "I want to buy her an outfit of clothes, if you have anything suitable."
"Oh, I'm sure that I have. Come." She beckoned to Maureen. "Let me show you a new line of dresses that arrived only this morning."
Back at Blythe House, William had succeeded in arousing, dressing then supporting Blake as he staggered back to his room.
"The vicious old bitch!" the chauffeur said again and again between groans of pain as William ministered to him.
"Just rest in your room," said William, sounding severe. "You must have done something to deserve what you got."
As soon as the chauffeur was safely in his quarters, William glanced at his watch, noted with satisfaction that it was only three-thirty and hurried to a small room on the top floor of the house.
He tapped at the door, then entered without waiting for permission. A young brunette with large brown eyes and well-developed figure glanced up from the book she was reading with a start.
"William!"
"Jennie-" the old man panted, drinking the girl in with his eyes.
She was reclining on the bed, knees propped up, book on her lap, her shapely legs revealed under her brief maid's uniform.
William stood still, staring. He could see where her dark stockings gave way to milky white thigh, and at the crotch, strands of brown hair escaped from the dark, skin-tight briefs.
"We've got time," the butler panted.
She straightened her legs and put her book down with a sigh. "Oh, William," she said as though reproaching him.
"But no time to waste either."
The young girl pursed her lips. "Which way?"
"Same as last time," said old William, his hands trembling with eagerness.
She shook her head. "I've got to be back at work very soon." Then she blinked her big eyes and said very softly: "You can do it to me if you like," she giggled, "I don't mind that at all."
"No!" William sounded angry, "I want it, too." His voice changed. "Remember, I can make you lose your job if you refuse-and-" he groped in his pocket, dragging out a crumpled bill, "I'll give you this if you do it!"
Jennie sighed in resignation, then rose to snatch the bill from the butler's hand. "Oh, all right," she muttered, reaching under her skirt and slipping her fingers in the waistband of her tiny briefs to slide them down and off. "But we've got to be quick."
Eagerly, William moved to the bed, lay on it, then groped at the front of his pants.
Jennie spread her soft body over him, her feet at William's face, and her mouth over the penis which rose from the butler's open pants.
"Remember, William," she said, sounding peevish, "I want to come, too. Last time, you stopped sucking my pussy as soon as you'd shot off in my mouth."
"I'll make you come, Jennie," William promised, lifting the maid's skirt, gloating over the mass of young flesh and dark pubic hair just inches from his eyes.
She opened her legs and he saw the pink slit appear, become wider, wetter, and he reached for it with his lips.
As soon as he touched the tiny clitoris with the tip of his tongue he felt the young body jerk while her lips went down, encircling his penis.
He drove his tongue deep into the young vulva, felt the soft walls contracting, then expanding as he sucked with sexual pleasure. Small wet sounds came from Jennie's lips as she sucked at the butler's penis.
Her small, rounded buttocks began to wriggle with expectant pleasure. William reached up and held them with both hands. He parted the young cheeks and saw the small red hole between appear. Very gently, very slowly, he inserted the tip of a finger. A new sound of delight came from Jennie's lips. She lifted her head and purred: "That's nice-go softly-don't hurt-"
Now it was William's turn to complain: "Keep your lips on my cock-keep suckin'-keep-" he panted, "Keep-" Then he moved his mouth back onto the wet lips that were opening wider and wider as the little girl's excitement mounted. He pressed his mouth forward to suck fresh tissue between his teeth, chewing it very carefully, making the smooth buttocks wriggle and squirm more urgently than ever. She was half-lifting herself now, causing her clitoris to brush against his lips each time he sucked her inward until she squealed, still keeping her lips on his penis. She wriggled about violently, then jerked, again and again, until her whole body relaxed, and even her lips fell off his enlarged organ.
"Suck my cock!" snapped William, angrily. "Just because you've come-you're not gonna stop!"
Obediently, the little maid encircled the aroused organ again, sliding her lips up and down, tickling the underside of the penis. At last William began to move himself: his body rocked about in sympathy with her sucking movements.
"Faster, Jennie-faster-I'm coming-I-I-Aaaaaagh!"
William jerked violently, and the young maid felt the spurts of hot juice squirting into her throat. She gagged and started to drag her mouth away. But William reached down and with unexpected strength pressed on the back of her head until her face was over his penis again, her mouth encircling it.
"Swallow it, Jennie-all of it-" he panted, feeling his orgasm ebbing from its peak. "I've paid you-so swallow, little girl, just swallow!"
"I think this dress would suit you very nicely," said Mrs. Beauchamp to Maureen. She held up a blue dress that was longer than any that Maureen ever remembered wearing.
"Well-" said Maureen, doubtfully.
"I like it," said Sylvia, then to Mrs. Beauchamp: "Is it the right size?"
"I think so," said the shop owner. "What is your size, dear?" she asked Maureen.
Maureen told her, and Mrs. Beauchamp nodded with satisfaction. "Then this'll fit. Come and try it on."
Reluctantly, Maureen followed the woman to a small dressing room at the side of the shop. Mrs. Beauchamp closed the door behind them.
"You have a beautiful figure, dear," she told Maureen after she'd unzipped and slid off her mini-skirt.
"Thank you," said Maureen, feeling embarrassed as she stood in front of the woman in her revealing pantyhose.
She tried on the blue dress, examining herself in the full-length mirror critically. It looked better than she'd expected.
"Well, now," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "I knew I was right. It fits and suits you perfectly. Go out and show it to your aunt."
"I like it," said Sylvia when Maureen had paraded in front of her. "I'll buy it. And I'd also like to get you a skirt and blouse."
They showed her six blouses, and Maureen selected three that she thought she might like.
"We'll see how you look in them," said Mrs. Beauchamp, leading the way to the dressing room again.
When Maureen had shrugged off her blouse, Mrs. Beauchamp made a small sound of distress. "That bra, it's not right." She sighed. "I mean it's not right for these blouses." Then she brightened, "I'll be right back." She left Maureen alone in bra and pantyhose. In a moment the woman was back, holding a very different type of brassiere in her hand.
"With this," she explained, "these blouses will look perfect."
Before Maureen was aware of it, the woman had unfastened her bra at the back, her hands moving over Maureen's naked skin as she slid the bra off.
She seemed to wait a long time before she brought up the new brassiere, and Maureen was very self-conscious about standing near nude in front of another woman.
"Try this one, dear-" Mrs. Beauchamp instructed, somewhat breathlessly.
Dutifully, she put on the new brassiere and stared at herself in the mirror. "I don't like it," she said petulantly.
"Is it too tight?" asked the blonde, and before Maureen could jerk away, the woman slipped her hand inside the bra and cupped Maureen's breast. The woman's fingers moved over the nipple, touching, teasing, arousing it.
"Don't-" she panted, "don't do that!"
"It's all right, my dear," said the blonde in a whisper. She whipped the bra completely off, cupping both of Maureen's breasts, kneading and squeezing them with gentle, experienced hands. Her nipples were tensing, stiffening.
"Oooh," Maureen moaned, feeling weak, unable to assert herself, "Don't do that-you're making me-making me get-get-" She broke off with a moan and closed her eyes.
"I told you," said the blonde in a whisper, "it's all right-I understand!"
Her hands moved over Maureen's nipples, and suddenly, Maureen felt her thighs squeeze tightly together.
The woman sensed the movement, and slowly, carefully and cleverly, removed one of her hands from Maureen's breast and slipped it inside the front of her pantyhose.
Maureen could feel the fingers threading their way through the luxuriant maze of pubic hair. "Relax, my dear," said the blonde, "relax your thighs, open your legs, my dear."
Maureen felt repelled at what was happening, but strangely, she did as the woman told her, relaxing her legs, letting her thighs part.
A clever finger slid lower, found vaginal lips that were wet and opening and tickled them very gently, before finding the rising clitoris.
Maureen jerked at the touch then moaned as a finger was inserted inside her vulva.
"What're you doing to me?" she moaned. But the blonde didn't answer. Her two hands were too busy: one, teasing and arousing an erect and aroused nipple; the other inside Maureen's pantyhose with a finger easing its way in and out of her wet vulva.
Maureen bent her knees, let herself sag against the other woman. "You-you're going to-to-make me-make me-come-"
Her face was flushed, eyes closed, when the blonde kissed her on the mouth. It was so unexpected that Maureen felt as though her heart would stop; then a wet tongue probed at her lips. She opened them, allowed the intruding tongue to dart into her mouth, wriggle its way inside there, like a hungry, eager worm.
Oh, God, what's happening to me? Maureen asked herself.
The sensations, enveloping so many parts of her body, were driving her up the wall as with almost shocked disbelief she realized she was going to orgasm.
She squirmed her body urgently, and as though she understood, the blonde woman moved her finger more rapidly on Maureen's screaming clitoris. She squeezed the iron-hard nipple more fiercely, kissed more passionately. And then Maureen felt the fiery thrills cascading through her flesh, spiralling down to her vulva, her clitoris, making it bob wildly under the teasing, tickling fingertip. She moved her buttocks in time with the thrills. She came.
"Mmmmm," she moaned, her mouth still pressed against the blonde's, "uurgh-uurgh!"
Her whole body twisted and writhed in a frenzy of ecstasy as she orgasmed with devastating intensity, her blonde seductress suddenly releasing her, letting her fall in a moist tangle of sensual flesh to the dressing-room floor.
Aunt Sylvia was sitting in a comfortable chair near the front of the shop with a glass of wine in her hand when Mrs. Beauchamp and a shaky and white-faced Maureen finally emerged.
"You were quite a long time," she said, ignoring Maureen's condition, "so I helped myself to a glass of your excellent wine, Millie," she said to Mrs. Beauchamp. "Would you like a glass of wine, dear?" she said to Maureen.
"Y-yes," Maureen murmured, "I'd like that very much."
"I'll get her one, Sylvia," said Mrs. Beauchamp. And it wasn't until Maureen was sipping the smooth but potent wine that she realized that her aunt and Mrs. Beauchamp seemed to know each other much better than as customer and seller. Maureen felt numbed by the myriad experiences happening to her.
"I'll take the dress and three blouses, Millie," said Sylvia. "How much are they?"
Mrs. Beauchamp gave a girlish laugh. "Oh, Sylvie, you know better than that! I wouldn't dream of letting you pay for them. They're my gift to your most delightful niece."
Maureen heard the words of the two women as if she was a long way away. They talked so intimately, as though they were close, oh, so very close, friends.
"I'd like some more wine, please," she heard herself saying; then, while she was sipping it, she realized that everything had been planned! That her Aunt Sylvia had brought her to this shop, to this woman, in order to allow her to be seduced! She shook her head wildly. The wine, or the violent orgasm, or something had gone to her head.
"Come, Maureen," she heard her aunt's voice saying, "we'd better be going. We've got what we wanted, haven't we?"
The voice seemed to come from a great distance.
"Yes," she said unevenly, "we've all got what we wanted. So we may as well go." She rose to her feet unsteadily and walked toward the door.
But on the ride home in the Lincoln, she kept wondering what her Aunt Sylvia had gotten out of all this.
CHAPTER FIVE
"I'm Jennie," said the small, but well-developed girl standing in the doorway of Maureen's bedroom. "If there's anything I can do for you, just ring." She pointed to a bell-push at the side of the bed that Maureen hadn't noticed before.
"That bell's for the kitchen," she said, indicating the one by the door that Ken Blake had shown Maureen, "but the other one rings in my room."
She stared at Maureen out of big eyes. "Miss Maureen, you're pretty!"
Maureen smiled. It was the evening after her visit to Mrs. Beauchamp-an unforgettable visit-and Maureen had been sitting in her room, brooding over the events of the day when the gentle tap at her door had preceded Jennie's appearance.
"Thank you, Jennie," she said, thinking that this was the first person she'd met who seemed normal since she came to Blythe House. "I think you're very pretty, too."
The young girl blushed and blinked her big eyes in embarrassment.
"How old are you, Jennie?"
"I'm eighteen, Miss Maureen."
"You don't have to call me Miss Maureen. Maureen is okay. I'm not much older than you."
"You're from New York, aren't you Miss-I mean Maureen?"
"Yes."
"It must be a wonderful place."
Maureen thought about it. "It can be," she answered, drily. "It can be damned awful, too."
The dark-haired maid backed from the room. "I'll go now, Maureen, and if you need me, just ring, anytime, day or night." She gave a little laugh, "I'm like always on call."
"I'll remember that," said Maureen, smiling. "Bye."
Maureen tried to get interested in a book that she'd brought with her from New York, then she tried on the new clothes that Mrs. Beauchamp, dear Millie, had given her. The sight of them reminded her of the sensual session in the dressing room at the shop, and she felt ashamed of the small thrill that ran through her as she thought of the culmination, the devastating orgasm that had rocked through her body. She'd never known that women could be like that, never dreamed that it was possible to have such a sensual experience with another woman. And then she thought of Jennie.
Maureen felt ashamed all over again at the awful thought in her mind. Such a cute figure, small but firm breasts and well-shaped legs with just a trace of baby-fat on her thighs which were so visible below the hem of her so-brief maid's uniform. Her mouth was attractive, too. Full lips that seemed to be wet all the time. She licked them whenever she spoke. A man would like pressing his mouth against lips like that. Or a woman.
Maureen jerked to her feet, pacing up and down her bedroom, a trickle of moistness running down the insides of her thighs.
She stopped in the middle of her bedroom, scrabbled under her skirt until she found the top of her pantyhose and thrust her hand inside and down. Her vulva was all wet, sopping wet, the tip of her clitoris hard.
She jerked across to the bell-push by her bed, pressing it again then again. When she sank down on the edge of her bed she found her knees were trembling.
It was only a few minutes but seemed like an age before there was a gentle tap at her door, then it opened and Jennie stood shyly on the threshold.
"You-you rang for me, Maureen?"
Her eyes looked bigger than before, thought Maureen, and her lips wetter.
"Yes, I-I-" she began hesitantly, then, "Jennie-I just wanted someone to talk to. I didn't really want anything," and she dragged her eyes away from the tiny strip of whiteness under the hem of Jennie's skirt where the baby-fatted thighs began.
The little maid smiled. "That's all right, Maureen. I'd like to sit and talk. May I sit down?"
Maureen patted the bed beside her. "Of course, sit right here."
Jennie sat down, glancing shyly at Maureen's legs. "You wear pantyhose, don't you? I'm not allowed to wear that here."
"No?" said Maureen, feigning surprise. "Then what do you wear?"
"Just ordinary stockings," said the maid, "see?" She lifted her skirt higher, baring creamy-white thighs which were as baby-fatted as Maureen had thought they would be. "Just old-fashioned stockings," she added.
Maureen stretched out her hand and stroked the soft, silky skin. "So smooth," she whispered, "so soft, like whipped cream."
Jennie giggled. "That's what William says-" then she broke off and put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that."
"You can say anything you like to me," said Maureen softly. "You mean William, the butler?"
"Yes," Jennie answered with her eyes downcast.
"What does William do?" she asked.
A deep flush suffused Jennie's face. "Things," she said, her eyes still downcast.
"What kind of things?" Maureen's voice was quiet, coaxing.
Jennie looked at Maureen, searchingly. "Can I really talk to you, Maureen, without you repeating what I've said."
"I promise."
"Oh, I've wanted to talk to someone about things for so long, but there isn't anyone here to talk to. I mean, there isn't anyone my age-there isn't any girl that-"
"There is now," Maureen cut in, "tell me."
"Well, he-he likes to suck me."
Maureen pressed her thighs together tightly. "Where?" she asked hoarsely.
"Right here," said Jennie, dragging her skirt up high and pressing her fingers over her crotch, "on my pussy."
A tremor ran up the inside of one of Maureen's thighs. "And do you like it?"
Jennie nodded her head. "I-I guess I do. Maybe it's bad, but I do."
"It's not bad," whispered Maureen. She slid her hand up higher until it was touching Jennie's, where she held it so tightly over her crotch. "I'll bet you've got a cute little pussy."
"William thinks so," said Jennie.
Very gently, Maureen pushed the girl backward until she was lying on her back on the bed. "Let me see how cute it is," she whispered. Her fingers trembled as she reached up to the waistband of the tiny briefs, and Jennie offered no resistance when Maureen slid the flimsy silk down.
Her shoes slipped off her feet, falling to the floor. Maureen slid the briefs off the maid's legs. When she looked up from her task and saw the thick pubic growth, she caught her breath.
"William's right," she murmured, taking a foot in either hand to stretch them apart. She watched the slim slit at the apex open into a wet, red rosebud. "You're lovely, Jennie," she whispered.
Irresistibly, her hand slid up to the creamy whiteness with the red cherry in between. She paused at the pink vaginal lips. "May I touch it?"
"If-if you want to-" gasped Jennie, opening her legs wider.
She jerked when Maureen touched the soft inner tissue of her vulva, then moaned when she reached the clitoris.
"I like it, Maureen, I like what you're doing. Maybe it's bad, but I like it!" The words panted from Jennie's lips.
Maureen's lips felt dry, so she moistened them with the tip of her tongue. "Would you-" she faltered, "would you like me to kiss you there-on your pussy? Would you, Jennie?"
"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes, Maureen!"
Maureen licked her way up the soft inner thigh, wondering at the excitement that flickered through her own body as she savored the feel of the smooth skin on her tongue. When her lips encountered a softer, wetter piece of flesh and she realized she was touching the outer fringe of Jennie's vulva, Maureen felt a thick fluid seep from between her legs, and she squirmed as Jennie moaned with pleasure.
"So good, Maureen," groaned Jennie, "sssso good!"
She thrust her tongue into the warm wetness, feeling the pliant vaginal walls churning against her lips, as the little maid squirmed with beginning ecstasy. Her tongue slid up higher, found a tensile spire that jerked when she touched it, so she encircled it with her lips, sucked it in, let it squirm out, then entrapped it again. Jennie began to lift and lower her buttocks with slow sensuous movements while Maureen gripped the clitoris between her teeth, tickling the stiff tip lightly with her tongue. Jennie's moans became higher, more intense.
"Bite me, Maureen-not hard-but bite!" Her teeth closed more tightly, gripped the squirming stem of the aroused clitoris, and her tongue flickered frantically on the hard tip. Low squeals slithered from Jennie's lips, and she writhed her small bottom more urgently.
"Now," she squealed, "now, Maureen, make me come now!"
The sound went higher and higher, and Maureen bit more deeply, sucked and tickled until her tongue ached as Jennie began to orgasm. She started with small jerks, her clitoris becoming a bobbing, writhing snake. It swelled, tensed and squirmed as though being tortured. Finally, the warm vaginal fluid flowed down, engulfing Maureen's mouth, and Jennie jerked herself over, twisting her body face-down on the bed. Maureen watched the twin mounds of her rounded bottom rise and fall as the girl writhed to her climax. Slowly, the movements subsided, and Jennie turned her head to look at Maureen over her shoulder. Her face was flushed, eyes bright. "Wonderful, Maureen, the best!" she whispered, then reached a hand down to Maureen, and accepting the invitation, Maureen scrambled up the bed until her face was beside Jennie's. She pushed out her lips to the maid's mouth, and they kissed each other, deeply, with tender yet sensual pleasure.
"Now, I'll do it to you," Jennie whispered breathlessly when they separated.
"No," said Maureen, "we'll do it to each other. Turn upside down and put your face between my legs. I'll do the same to you!"
With frantic eagerness, Jennie twisted herself on the bed, while Maureen ripped off her skirt and dragged down her pantyhose with trembling fingers.
Jennie was lying on her back, her head near the foot of the bed and Maureen rolled herself on top of the girl, parted her legs, straddling Jennie's face, then letting her own mouth go down onto the wet, creamy still-quivering vulva.
Jennie looked up at Maureen's thighs, white and smooth, stretched on either side of her face. And right in front of her eyes, she could see the wet pinkness of an open vagina.
"Your-your pussy's cute, too, Maureen," she whispered before opening her mouth and pulling on the soft buttocks until Maureen's vulva was positioned over her lips. Her tongue slid out to caress and tickle the shivering tissue until it opened wider and the tiny spire of an awakening clitoris became visible. She reached up higher with her lips and tongue until she could touch the slender thread of sexuality. As soon as she touched the clitoral tip with her tongue, Maureen's whole body jerked.
"Mmmmmm, Jenneeee, mmmmm!"
Each time Jennie's tongue slid over her clitoris, Maureen's buttocks lifted, then squashed down again, pressing her vulva back onto the little maid's mouth. The two girls made wet, moaning sounds of pleasure as they satisfied each other with eager, determined devotion.
Outside Maureen's bedroom door, saliva dribbled from William's mouth as he crouched at the keyhole. Because of the position of Maureen's bed, he was staring straight into Maureen's spasming vulva. His hand groped at his crotch as his excitement became unbearable. Suddenly, unable to endure it, he straightened up, cast furtive glances up and down the corridor and hurried to the library door.
"Oooh, Jenneee-Jenneee!" Maureen's voice rose higher and higher, "I-I'm coming-"
She felt the maid's soft lips closing around her clitoris, squeezing it, exciting it and satisfying it. This was different. This was the sweetest ... the very best....
William locked the library door behind him, then half-ran to the life-like effigy of beautiful Anne Boleyn. He was unfastening his pants as he moved to the replica, and by the time he stepped onto the low dais at Anne Boleyn's feet, his penis was projecting like a horn of lust.
His fingers trembled as he raised the model's skirt, groping between soft, foam-rubber thighs until he found the synthetic vaginal lips. They opened under his fingers, then squeezed shut again. Pressing his body against the pliant figure, he withdrew his fingers from the foam-padded vulva and seized his penis. He thrust it forward and up, groaning with the effort to force his swollen organ into the accommodating lips of Anne Boleyn.
A deep sigh of satisfaction soughed from his lips when this was done. His knees trembled and shook as he lifted and lowered himself, driving his shaft in and out of the unmoving effigy. The soft, foamy vulva seemed to clutch his penis. It was already moist from the cream that William had spread on it that morning when performing his daily duties in the library. He kept it always ready for the sexual delight it could give him.
He pushed his hands under the model's skirt where perfectly-formed buttocks rested with a delicious cleft splitting them. His fingers sank into the foaminess, clutched tightly, holding the figure hard against him as he drove in and out with jerky, urgent movements.
"Oooh," he groaned under his breath, "you lovely, fucking doll-oooooh, Anne-you've a creamy, fuckable cunt!"
His movement became more frenzied as he felt his climax approaching.
"I-I'd better go back to my room, Maureen," Jennie whispered. "Sometimes your aunt rings for me at night."
"I hate to let you go," murmured Maureen.
The two girls were lying in each other's arms, their lips just inches apart. They had orgasmed and orgasmed, and now they were recuperating, just kissing and resting.
"I don't want to go," said Jennie. "I'd like to stay with you all night."
"There'll be other nights," Maureen reassured her.
"Oh, yes-"
"So many more-"
"You'll kiss me-and I'll suck your pussy-"
"And I'll suck yours, and lick it-"
"Your clit'll jump-"
"You're getting me aroused again, an' I can feel your pussy movin' under my fingers-"
"Don't stop doin' what you're doin'-"
"What?"
"You're-You're-diddling me!"
"Like it?"
"Just love it-"
"Let's do it once more before-"
"Oh, yes-an' dig in deep-"
"Deeper an' deeper-"
"As deep as my tongue'll go-"
Soft female flesh slithered over soft female flesh as the two bodies twisted and writhed themselves into position.
"Now-" breathed Maureen, her mouth poised over Jennie's opening vulva.
"Oh, yesss-"
Her mouth went down as she felt Jennie's lips reaching up to her vulva and clitoris, and the ecstasy began again.
Thick globs of white juice dripped from the vulva of Anne Boleyn. William Selke squatted at the effigy's feet, watching it. He had fastened the statue's skirt in such a way that the foamy vulva was bared. Now he stared at the hair-fringed aperture as the juice of his own lust slid from it.
"Don't worry, my love," he whispered, "I'll suck you dry in a minute." He breathed deeply through his nose. "Just let me rest, my lovely one, I'll lick your sweet cunt dry."
He let his eyes drop down. "I'll polish your shoes for you, too, my love." He gave an obscene snigger. "You deserve some service for what you do for me. I keep some polish in here especially for you, my lovely Anne, yes, just for you." Saliva dribbled from his mouth. "What more can an old man do? You service me an' I service you. What more can an old man do?" And he gave a childish laugh.
Jennie had just returned to her room when Maureen noticed that the maid had left her silk briefs behind. She smiled: she'd take them to Jennie. She dragged a robe over her naked body, telling herself that this wasn't just an excuse to see the little maid again, then started down the corridor.
She was halfway down when she heard the strange, squelching sounds coming from behind the library-door....
CHAPTER SIX
Breakfast was a quiet affair; Maureen's aunt spoke very little, and Maureen's mind was filled with the events of the day before.
She looked at William curiously as he served them, remembering the sounds from the library, his furtive exit and her subsequent discovery.
The old man's face was composed, his movements confident and steady: it was hard to believe the things that she'd seen, and surmised, the night before.
"We'll go for a drive this morning," said Sylvia when the meal was over, "the fall is a wonderful time for viewing the scenery in Maine," she paused, then added, "unless there's something else you have to do, my dear?"
She waited, and Maureen looked at her aunt, wondering what, in this lonely place, there could be for her to do.
"No, I've nothing to do, Aunt Sylvia. I'll be glad to go for a drive."
"Be ready to leave in thirty minutes," said Sylvia, sounding like her old severe self.
"Yes, Aunt Sylvia," said Maureen, meekly, and she went up to her room to get dressed.
She chose one of the dresses that Millie Beauchamp had given her. On opening the dress-box, Maureen discovered three pairs of stockings and a garter-belt included and understood this to be a tactful way of telling her that pantyhose was not becoming to Blythe House.
Maureen giggled as she dragged the hose onto her legs. There weren't any panties in the box, and she'd worn hose for so long that she hadn't even brought one pair with her when she left New York. She'd just have to go without.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding up her dress, looking at her legs in the glass. The sheer silk stockings were the best quality-nothing cheap about Millie-and they enhanced the shapeliness of her legs. She stared at the garter-straps as they pressed into the whiteness of her thighs, then gazed at the triangle of pubic hairs on her abdomen. Jennie came into her mind. The little maid had been wearing stockings and a garter-belt. The thought brought back memories of the night before, and a flicker of excitement rippled through her flesh. How soon would they be able to enjoy such delight again? Her fingers hovered over her crotch, then she parted her legs, pressed her hand between them and caressed her vagina as wild thoughts ran through her mind. Please let it be soon! she whispered to herself.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, then let her eyes close, parted her legs more widely and let her knees relax. Her stiff forefinger probed into her wetness. She let the ripples of excitement shiver through her flesh, then jabbed inward again, more deeply this time, and felt the soft, warm walls of her vulva clutching at her frenetic finger. A low hissing sound of anticipation soughed from between her lips as she felt her clitoris twitch.
Maureen's head hung down and her mouth drooped open as she masturbated with determination. Her finger drove inward and outward with the ease of long practice, and each time she pulled outward, she slithered her fingertip over the head of her awakening clitoris.
The thrills ran from the walls of her vulva to inside her belly and flickered downward again onto her clitoral head.
Her knees jerked and her body rocked from front to back in sympathy with her probings. She dragged her eyes open to stare down at herself and saw her finger squeezing out, bringing wet folds of soft tissue with it, then stabbing in again and disappearing beneath the mass of dark, dank pubic hair. She stifled the groan in her throat.
Just thinking of the sexy, sensuous little maid had made her act like this! She closed her eyes again, pressed downwards with her buttocks and felt the cheeks of her bottom opening as she impaled herself on her own appeasing finger.
She could feel the heat, now, spreading inside her flesh. The base of her abdomen, insides of her thighs and inner cheeks of her bottom were getting warmer. Soon the orgasm would shatter throughout her whole body and she'd squeeze and twist the stiff, enlarged head of her clitoris with all her strength.
Soon! The word insinuated itself into her mind.
She forced open her eyes. The drive. Her aunt would be waiting for her. The color left her cheeks. She'd be a nervous, frustrated wreck if she didn't finish.
Maureen staggered to her bedroom door, turned the lock, then dragged herself onto her bed. She'd have to be quick!
There was a hairbrush on her bedside table, an old hairbrush with a long, ivory handle. She reached out, grabbed it and reached down to her vulva again with her other hand. The lips of her pussy were already half-open; she placed a finger at either side of them to spread them wider apart. Her hand trembled as she touched the soft, fragile tissue with the pointed end of the hairbrush's handle, then let her eyes close in ecstasy as she thrust the ivory in. It penetrated deeply, squelching its way through the sucking, clutching tissue, then dragging slowly out.
Maureen bent the handle over onto her belly, so that each delicious movement was transmitted to the tip of her clitoris.
"Uuum!" The soft, wet sound of satisfaction oozed from her lips and she lifted her feet into the air, bending her knees, pulling them inward towards her breasts and letting her thighs spread open widely so the handle could press in more deeply, sexily, deliciously!
Her movements quickened in their efforts to achieve an orgiastic fulfillment.
Her buttocks bounced up and down on the bed; her vaginal lips gripped the handle with excruciating pressure as the thrills heightened.
She touched her clitoris with the tip of a finger again, felt it jerking, writhing as the tiny muscle became inflamed with self-induced passion.
"Now, now, now!" Maureen whispered to herself, her hand becoming a wild, uncontrollable thing as it worked the long handle with ever-increasing speed.
The first tremor shot through her flesh; she rocked herself in an agony of desire, then thrust inward again with renewed strength. Her clitoris bobbed with crazy abandon, so she gripped it between a finger and thumb and pinched it.
The pain mingled with the pleasure, increasing the thrills, making the saliva slide out of her mouth as she twisted herself onto her side in preparation for one shattering climax. She dragged her hands off her body and released the teasing handle and clenched her fists. Her face screwed itself into a mask of vicious sensuality and her vulva worked, opening and closing of its own accord, gradually squeezing the long ivory handle out of her satisfied pussy.
At last, a long sigh spewed from Maureen's lips; she stretched out her body, a satisfied cat, then slithered to her feet.
Her knees were unsteady as she walked back to the mirror, but by the time she had repaired her make-up and adjusted her dress, she was calm and cool-and completely satisfied. She opened her bedroom door, prepared to meet her aunt; she smiled to herself as she thought of the nice, quiet drive ahead.
Sylvia was waiting for her in the hallway.
"Are you going to drive again?"
"No, Blake'll drive us."
"Oh," Maureen raised her eyebrows, "he's better?"
Sylvia gave a grim smile. "He's well enough to drive us." Then she led the way through the front door of the mansion to where Ken Blake was waiting with the Lincoln.
"Good morning, Miss Haley," he said to Sylvia, then to Maureen, "Good morning." He held the car-door open and as Maureen climbed in after her aunt, she noticed his drawn face.
"Are you better now, Mr. Blake?" she asked politely.
He stiffened. "Why-what do you mean?" He sounded nervous, off-balance.
"My aunt told me you weren't well yesterday," said Maureen. "Are you better now?"
His eyes flickered to Sylvia's face: she stared back at him with a set expression on her face.
"Yes," he muttered, "I'm all right." Then he slammed shut the door and got into the driver's seat.
Ken could see Maureen's face in the rear-view mirror as he slumped in the driver's seat. Something about the set of her lips, her mouth, pouting and pursing, reminded him of the view he'd had of her pussy with its curled-open, slickly wet lips in her bedroom just nights before.
He writhed uncomfortably in his seat, then reached down and loosened his clothing at the crotch as he felt his bruised and abused penis stirring. That sweet, wet cunt! He moistened dry lips with the tip of his nervous tongue. She'd been as good as any of the soft, young pussies he'd screwed in New York!
New York! Just thinking of it reminded him of one of the last young pussies he'd enjoyed before leaving the city.
Her name was Lois. She was five feet tall and around sixteen years old. Her eyes were blue, big and round and they flickered erratically below the fringe of tousled blonde hair.
Ken had twisted his head to stare at her as he waited at the counter for his coffee in the drug store on New York's Lower East Side.
How could he help staring? Her heels were too high and the micro-skirt so short that the whiteness of her thighs gleamed above the tops of her sheer, fully-fashioned hose.
Ken took a deep breath. She was luscious!
The little blonde was looking at some jars of cream on top of a display case in the middle of the store; while Ken was watching, she turned, took short, mincing steps to the lunch-counter and perched herself on the seat next to his.
He let his eyes go down, then felt his heart thud. The bare thigh-flesh seemed to glisten as though wet-and there they were, strips of Scotch tape encircling the tops of her stockings: she taped the hose to her flesh.
The attendant clattered a cup of coffee in front of Ken and turned to the blonde.
"Cccoke-," she lisped, letting the words ooze out of her mouth.
Ken watched her lips as she spoke; they were pale pink with a faint green outline at the edges. His eyes went down lower: her braless breasts showed through her transparent blouse; the nipples were the same pale green as the edges of her lips. He glanced up again, saw her eyes blink, her lids the same shade as her nipples. Ken's hand shook as he stirred his coffee. What else did she color pale green or pink? "Gotta light?"
It was a moment before the softly spoken words penetrated Ken's mind. She was holding a cigarette to her lips, blinking her green lidded eyes, smiling at him.
"S-sure-" he muttered.
His lighter trembled in his hand as he held it in front of her face.
"Thanks," she whispered, softly, sexily.
Ken swallowed. This doll was doing things to him. He wriggled about on his seat. Sweet, sensuous, exciting and familiar things! His penis was swelling, writhing between his thighs.
The attendant put down a glass of Coke in front of her and she groped in a tiny purse.
"It's okay," Ken mouthed, thickly, "let me-"
He pushed a dollar bill across the counter.
The attendant glanced at Ken's face, then the blonde's and shrugged, doled out change.
She sipped at her drink without saying anything, not thanking him.
Ken groped in his pocket, found a loose capsule.
The blonde put down her glass, gave Ken a small, tight smile then turned her head to glance out into the street.
In one smooth, practiced movement, Ken dropped the capsule into her glass. It was done so quickly, so easily that she noticed nothing. By the time she sipped her drink again, the small capsule had already dissolved.
Ken drank his coffee, nervously but patiently: it wouldn't take long, he knew. From past experience, he knew.
She finished her drink, gave Ken a smile again, her eyes hazy, lips dreamy, then she slid off her stool, took a step toward the door and staggered.
Ken was quickly beside her, holding her elbow.
"You all right?"
She shook her head. "I-I feel kinda dizzy-" she muttered. Then: "I-I'm all right-" She took another step, staggered again. Ken gripped her arm more firmly.
"I've got a hack," he said softly. "It's just outside. I'll drive you home."
She shook her head. "N-no-I-I haven't much money on me-I'll be all right-" She blinked her eyes frantically.
"Don't worry about that," said Ken, opening the door, leading her through it, "I'm not busy and there's no charge."
She started to mouth a fresh protest, then her legs shivered and she leaned heavily against Ken for support.
"My cab's right here," he said, leading her to it, opening the front door.
Her eyes were already half-closed as he eased her onto the seat, snapped close the door and moved around to the driver's side.
The cab moved forward. "What's your name?" he asked.
She tried to rouse herself. "Lois-an' I live at-at-" She frowned in concentration, then mumbled out her address.
"Okay," said Ken. "You work near here?"
"No-oo-" she slurred, then gave a sleepy giggle. "I-I still go to school-" she yawned, murmured: "I-I'm sixteen-just sixteen-" Then her voice trailed off, and Ken saw that she was losing consciousness.
Sixteen! He slavered the word to himself. Soft, sweet, sexy sixteen! What a young, juicy piece of flesh! He felt at his crotch, caressed the hard head of his eager, jerking cock, then glanced down at Lois's thighs. She'd slumped down in her seat, and the tiny skirt was round her hips. He could see the tightly stretched nylon briefs straining over her pelvis. Would the lips of her pussy be colored pale pink or green, too? he wondered, driving quickly down dark streets toward the deserted lot where he knew he would not be disturbed.
Ken switched off the car lights and locked all the doors after parking at the back of the disused warehouse. He groped in his pocket, dragged out his small flashlight and turned the thin beam on Lois's face. Her eyes were closed, lips parted and her breath came and went in long, even draughts.
He moved his face to hers, kissed her on the lips. She didn't respond, couldn't resist. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, savoring the soft sweetness of the wet, warm opening. Drawing back, he heard his breath come and go in ragged gasps.
He unfastened her transparent blouse and shone his small light onto the small, perfectly formed breasts with their tiny, pointed, green-colored nipples. He switched off the light and gripped the tips of her nipples with both hands, squeezing and twisting them until a low moan oozed from her parted lips. She writhed about, gently, unconsciously but instinctively. He slid his hands lower to touch her silky soft thighs. They felt oily, as though they'd recently been creamed. Just the feel of them excited Ken. He ripped open his pants freeing his hot penis.
Her thin briefs clung to her flesh; so he half-lifted her and eased the elastic waistband down from her hips, over her buttocks and thighs.
Her abdomen was covered with a soft blonde fuzz. He caressed it, lasciviously, hungrily, then slid a finger in between her thighs and up to her slot.
It was wet, warm and tight. He squeezed his finger inside. The walls of her young, nubile vulva seemed to clutch at his intruding finger.
He pulled her body towards him until her head was down on the car seat; then he lifted one of her legs over the back of the seat, opening up her thighs, revealing her small, wet hole. He switched on his flashlight again to stare at the sexual opening. It was small, just a tiny pink slit beneath the blonde pubic hairs, and as he watched, it seemed to ooze open and moistness slid out.
THE END of Ken's penis had turned into a hot, throbbing knob of desire; he dragged down his pants and positioned his body over the unconscious girl. He could feel the fresh, sweet breath spurting from her mouth and hitting his face as he leaned over her.
He reached underneath himself, seized his thickening shaft and guided it towards the warm, smooth sexiness of her squirming pussy as small ripples seemed to flow through her flesh.
The opening was too small. Ken grunted with frustration as he tried to squeeze the hard, rounded head of his lurching cock into the girl's vulva.
The vaginal lips curled open, and he could feel the warm wetness seeping out of her pussy. But the hard, rounded head of his penis couldn't force itself in.
He drew back with a groan of anger. This had happened before. He quickly wriggled himself onto the floor of the cab, twisted Lois's limp body until her thighs were straddling his face, then reached forward with his lips and mouth until he was clamped against the slithery opening of the girlish pussy. You soft, suckable cunt! he mouthed to himself as his tongue shot out. He licked and sucked at the vaginal lips, the inner walls of the undulating vulva spreading their moist sheen over the sexual cavern.
Soft moans of pleasure escaped her as he sucked a mouthful of soft tissue between his lips and chewed on it gently, sensually, pleasurably. His tongue slid up to the top of the slit where he found the tiny, stiffening head of her young clitoris. He bit it, softly, tenderly. A moan slurred from Lois's lips.
Ken dragged his body off the floor, twisted the unconscious girl into position again and spread himself on top of her.
Her tight pussy was still too narrow to accommodate his swollen cock, but with a violent lurch he forced the iron-hard head between the slithery lips. A smothered scream came from Lois's lips as the stiff shaft penetrated her slicked opening. Then Ken was inside, biting his own lips with his teeth as ecstasy flowed through his body.
He could feel the soft, sexual tightness of her vaginal walls gripping all parts of his throbbing, excited cock as he drove himself in and out with a squeezing, sensual motion.
His mouth clamped down on hers, and his tongue drove in and out of her mouth in time with his cock's thrusts.
Suddenly, Ken threw his head back and opened his mouth. "Now! Now you wet cunt," he screamed, "squeeze my fucking cock now!" He felt the walls of her vulva pressing against the sides of his shaft. The rounded head lurched against the extreme end of the girl's vaginal canal, and he could feel the slitted lips in the head of his cock opening, then spitting and spurting with shattering climax.
His penis softened, slid downwards from the ravished young pussy and spread a sticky sheen of wetness on Lois's soft, white thighs.
"Soft, suckable, fuckable sixteen!" he mumbled obscenely, staring at the victim of his lust. His lips tightened in a smile: "Lois baby, luscious little Lois, you've got the smallest, smoothest cunt I've screwed in a long, fuckin' time!"
Then he turned her over, stared at the white, softly rounded buttocks, slid an inquisitive finger in between the cleft of her bottom and found the wet, little hole that oozed open as he slipped his finger inside.
"Soft, wet little hole," he mumbled, "you've got a sweet little ass, too, Lois baby." He dragged his finger out and it made a wet, squelching sound as the tight anal lips released it. "I'd like to fuck your ass, too," Ken mumbled, then he regretfully glanced down at his limp penis, "but not now, baby, I can't do it now!"
Ken made a sad sound, then groped in his pocket, found his pack of cigarettes and lit one while he stared at the unconscious girl. After a minute, he opened her purse. He found her keys and the attached tag told him her address. He knew the area well: cheap two-room apartments with a main door that was always unlocked. He hoped she lived by herself.
He picked up her tiny briefs, stuffed them into her purse, then straightened the limp, girlish body. Her head rested on the back of the car seat, the tiny skirt pulled down, giving her a normal appearance.
By the time he arrived at the address, it was less than an hour to dawn.
He stopped the cab and stared warily at the darkened building.
After a couple of minutes, he got out, opened the main door-unlocked as he'd suspected-and scanned the names on the tawdry board in the hallways. Lois Mann. Apartment 4.
He frowned. Why would a young, sixteen-year-old schoolgirl be living by herself, if she was living alone.
He rang the bell above the girl's name and apprehensively waited. There was no answering buzz.
A dark corridor led off the hall; he cautiously moved down it, scanning the doors until he found hers.
He hesitated, then tapped very gently. There was no answer. He tapped again, more loudly this time. Still no answer.
Ken waited a few minutes, then took Lois's key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock and opened the door soundlessly. The apartment seemed empty.
He moved inside very carefully. It was a skimpy two-room flat. The single, unmade bed was unoccupied. Ken gave a sigh of relief and moved out of the flat, closing but not locking the door.
Carefully, he eased Lois up from the front seat of his cab and half-dragged, half-carried her into the building.
He met no one, heard nothing.
With a sigh of relief, he closed the door of the apartment behind them, then carried Lois to her bed and dropped her down onto it.
She lay there like a pile of soft, sexy, girlish flesh.
Ken turned to leave, then hesitated.
One of her legs was on the bed, the other dangled onto the floor. He could see the wet and red sexiness between her thighs. A thin trickle of opaque liquid oozed slowly out. He felt his penis stir again.
Ken moved back beside the bed while opening his pants.
Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted as she slept deeply, innocently.
She'd never know! Ken told himself. All the things he'd done and she'd never know!
That was what made it exciting, satisfying.
He glanced at her thighs again, saw the lips of her pussy still stretched open. The opening looked v bigger than it had been when he first saw it in his cab.
Ken fondled himself, felt his penis writhing within his grasp.
His heart was beating strongly again. He moved up until his penis was inches away from the unconscious girl's face.
His hand slid up and down his shaft; he could feel the slimy wetness on his skin.
Lois moved and he saw a big glob of white wetness slide from inside her vagina and trickle slowly down the inside of her thigh.
He pointed his penis at her face, stroking it with short, violent movements. His cock suddenly erupted, squirting a stream of thick juice onto Lois's face and in her mouth.
Ken sank back onto his heels to watch the liquid trickling down her cheeks, penetrating between the parted, pink-tinted lips with their green edges.
He took a staggering backward step, then fastened his pants with shaky hands.
There was a phone beside the bed. Instinctively, Ken memorized the number, then glanced at Lois again.
Her face looked peaceful in repose, making her appear younger and more vulnerable than ever. He felt an emotion that was stronger than mere desire.
He glanced at the phone again; there was a photo face down, on the telephone table. Idly, Ken turned it over, then stood very still.
It was the picture of a man, completely naked, and his penis, long and thick, was in a state of erection.
Startled, Ken's eyes went back to the girl on the bed. She still breathed gently, evenly, and he could see the tinted nipples through the transparent blouse he'd buttoned up so carefully before returning her to the apartment.
"Oh, Lois," he murmured, almost in reproach, "you sexy little doll!"
Something made him drop his eyes lower. Then he saw it under the bed. It was white and long, made of porous but firm rubber, and was about an inch and a quarter thick.
A tight, white smile stretched the skin on Ken's face. "You didn't need it tonight," he mumbled, "not tonight, Lois baby." Then he backed toward the door and exited without another glance at the dildo on the floor.
"You look much better in that dress," said Sylvia to Maureen as Blake drove them onto the highway. "I'll have to get you a coat to go with it. The one you're wearing is too short."
"You don't have to do that," muttered Maureen.
"But I want to. Is there anything else you need?"
Maureen thought of her lack of panties, then shook her head. "No, Aunt Sylvia, you're doing enough for me." She hadn't meant to make her voice sarcastic, but her aunt gave her a sharp look, then turned her head. "I hope you liked Mrs. Beauchamp. She's quite a good friend of mine." There was a pause. "I hope she didn't do, or say, anything offensive."
Maureen stared at the back of her aunt's head. She was positive that her aunt knew what Millie had done to her in the dressing-room, sure that she knew and even arranged the whole thing for her Lesbian friend's delight. But what could she say?
Maureen's cheeks flushed as she remembered how she had squirmed with pleasure under Millie's skillful manipulations. How could she object when she had allowed, if not encouraged, the woman's advances.
"She-she seems a very generous person," she murmured.
Her aunt turned and smiled at her. "I'm so glad you liked her. Millie has her own ways, and sometimes she's misunderstood."
Maureen wanted to laugh out loud. There was no misunderstanding what Millie had wanted from her!
The fall foliage was on the trees. Maureen looked through the window with a trace of awe. They were close to the coast, and when she rolled down the window, she could hear the distant sound of the surf.
"It's such a lonesome sound," she murmured to her aunt.
"What?"
"The water. I can hear it so clearly, it sounds so lonesome."
Her aunt listened for a moment, then smiled: "You're a romantic girl, Maureen. I keep forgetting that you're more used to the city than the country. I'm so used to being near the coast that I don't even hear the waves. Now, close your window, it's getting cool in here."
They had been driving through the countryside for a short time when Sylvia said, "Turn right at the next crossing, Blake, then stop at Rynden House." She turned to Maureen, "They're selling some antiques, my dear, and I'd like to see them. Perhaps I'll see something worth buying." She hesitated, then: "Are you interested in antiques, Maureen?"
Maureen smiled, shook her head. "I don't know anything about them."
Sylvia made a clicking sound. "Your education's been neglected. However, if you're not interested, Blake can drive you to Baysham Cliffs. You'll get a wonderful view of the water that seems to intrigue you so much."
Blake turned the big car onto a side road, and after a half-mile, stopped outside an old but imposing house.
"I'll be about an hour," said Sylvia as Blake opened the car-door for her, "Mrs. Foster, the owner, is an old friend. We'll probably have coffee together." She looked at Maureen searchingly. "Are you sure you won't come in with me?"
"I'd rather go to the cliffs and see the water I've been hearing all the time."
"Very well." Sylvia turned: "Be back in an hour from now, Blake." Then she marched to the front door of the house, tip-tapping with her cane as Blake and Maureen watched.
Maureen sank back with a sigh of relief. For some reason, she always felt uncomfortable with her aunt.
Blake sneaked a glance at her in the mirror. She was wearing a longer dress, he noticed. That must be her aunt's idea. The old bitch! He wriggled as he drove. His penis was still swollen with blue and red marks on it from where she'd lashed him, and his buttocks were so sore that it was hard for him to sit for too long. Right now he'd like to get out of the car and stretch his legs.
He glanced in the mirror again. Maureen had moved, and her skirt had worked itself up to where he could see the silk-shod legs and the flash of white thigh at the top.
"Got a cigarette, Blake?" A nervous laugh escaped her. "My aunt doesn't approve of women smoking, and I didn't bring a pack with me."
"Sure, Miss Maureen," Blake answered, dragging a pack from his pocket and passing it back over the seat to her.
Maureen slid forward and her skirt worked up higher. Blake noticed and licked his lips, remembering why Sylvia had lashed him like she did. The thing he'd done to this girl! And she didn't know, she'd never know! The thought excited him. It had been a bigger thrill screwing this New York girl's wet pussy than getting into Jennie's.
"Got a light?" asked Maureen, passing the pack back to Blake.
He activated the car lighter and passed it back to her, feeling a tremor run up his arm when her fingers touched his.
There was something about this sweet piece of cunt that did something to him. He felt his abused penis rising, hardening at the thoughts in his mind. The erection caused him pain, reminding him again of the sadistic treatment received at the hands of his mistress. He'd like to get even with that bitch. But more than that, he'd like to get into this sweet, screwable piece of sexy female flesh. When she was unconscious, of course. He wouldn't get any pleasure otherwise.
He turned onto a road that was little more than a trail. The sound of the water got louder.
"Where're we going?" asked Maureen as the car rocked and shook.
"Baysham Cliffs, miss," answered Blake. "They're at the end of this trail. You'll be able to see the waves breaking on the beach and rocks down below."
Maureen sighed. "I'll like that, it's exciting." She glanced at the back of his head. "Don't you like it?"
He thought about what she said before answering. The night of her arrival he'd stood on the balcony outside her bedroom, watching her undress, waiting for the drugged drink to take effect. Then when he'd entered, opened her legs and thrust his penis into her wet, sucking cunt, he'd heard the waves breaking on the shore. They'd seemed to break in tune with each violent thrust of his cock in and out of her cunt.
"Yes, miss," he answered now, "I like the sound of it, too."
Maureen drew deeply on her cigarette and rolled the window down. The sound was louder. "We must be near-" she murmured. "Be there in five minutes," Blake answered.
The trail ended a hundred yards from the crest of the cliffs; Blake opened the door for Maureen.
"I daren't drive any closer, miss. Too dangerous. But you can walk to the edge if you like."
Maureen nodded, felt the stiff wind hitting her face and tasted the saltiness of the sea on her lips, then she was walking toward the water. Blake followed her like a watchdog.
The sea was blue-gray, the waves splattering into whiteness as they broke on the rocky shore. The sound rose to their ears, low, rumbling, strangely ominous.
"It's wonderful," Maureen shouted above the whistle of the wind. Blake nodded. He'd seen this sight before. Now he was more excited at the way the wind whipped at Maureen's dress, causing it to rise and reveal her legs, bare white thighs and above.
"I want to stand on that rock," Maureen shouted. "Look right out to the horizon-" she pointed to a jagged rock at the extreme edge of the cliffs. "Help me up," she told Blake.
He nodded, took her arm, helping her take the first cautious step up the jagged but natural steps. Maureen climbed up the steep incline with Blake below, watching, staring up under her dress, seeing where the white thighs joined at a hairy apex and glimpsing at her pink, wet vulva. His penis hardened again, hurting him. He groaned below his breath. How long before he was healed enough. He jammed his hand in his pocket, trying to push down his painful erection.
"There's a wonderful view from here-" Maureen called down to him.
"Yes, miss," he answered, thinking of the view he had, and trying, with an effort of will, to stem the pain in his penis.
"I'm coming down now," Maureen called, "be ready to help me, it's hard to keep balance."
He moved close to the foot of the rock and waited while Maureen scrambled down. She half-slipped when she was near the bottom, and he reached out to steady her. She lurched forward and her hand accidentally swung against his penis. He drew back with a groan of pain.
Maureen looked at him in surprise. "I-I'm sorry, Blake." He was bent over, holding himself at the crotch. Maureen's face colored when she realized where she'd hit him.
"It's all right, miss-" he gasped, "not your fault." He straightened, his face pale, "D'you wanna go back to the car?"
Maureen nodded and walked with him to the Lincoln.
"We've got time. Let's sit and talk some before we pick up my aunt."
He opened the front door and Maureen climbed in. Blake offered her a cigarette without her asking, lit it for her, then asked, "What made you come to this place, miss?"
Maureen shrugged. "My aunt invited me."
"You like it better here than New York?"
Maureen smoked in silence for a time, then: "Sometimes you want to get away from things you don't want anymore, not for a while anyway."
He nodded, as though she had made everything quite clear.
"How long are you going to stay?"
She shrugged again-. "I don't know." Then to him: "Do you like being here? Do you like working for my aunt?"
His face twisted into a grimace. "Your aunt's a sadistic woman."
Maureen's eyebrows went up. "Sadistic? How?"
Blake lowered his eyes. He spoke in a low tone. "She-she likes to punish people-men-she likes to hurt them."
Maureen was startled. This was a side of her aunt's nature she hadn't known. "You?" she asked softly. He nodded.
"How?" Maureen's voice was curious. "I mean how does she punish you?"
Blake lifted his head and stared into Maureen's face. "With her cane, or a whip."
Maureen gave a gasp. "Oh, no!"
Blake sat in silence. After a moment, Maureen asked: "Just you?"
He shook his head. "Selke too."
"William?" Maureen's voice was incredulous.
"Yeah," Blake sounded bitter, "William, too. But I don't think he's ever been hurt as bad as I was the other night."
Maureen's mind raced back. The day they'd gone to Mrs. Beauchamp's her aunt had driven, saying that Blake was not well.
"Is that why you couldn't drive us?"
"Yeah, that's why. I could scarcely move. I'm still sore."
"She must have a reason. I mean she couldn't just punish you for nothing."
"Maybe she had a reason, or thought she did," he answered evasively. "Maybe it's just because I'm a man."
Maureen looked at him blankly. "Miss Haley doesn't like men."
"Then what does she like?"
"Girls, I think. Women!" Then he switched on the motor. "We'd better get going. It's time to pick up your aunt."
Without speaking, Maureen opened the car door, got out and climbed into the back.
Blake looked at her anxiously. "Miss, you won't repeat this to your aunt?"
Maureen shook her head. "Don't worry, Blake, I won't repeat it. You see, you could be right."
"About?" he asked.
"About my aunt liking girls."
They drove back to Rynden House in silence and picked up Sylvia Haley. She was in a very good mood: she'd found an old clock that she had decided to buy. Maureen did her best to listen with interest. It was difficult to keep her mind on her aunt's words.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was late afternoon when Maureen and her aunt returned home.
Sylvia had been in a very expansive mood, ordering Blake to stop at a nearby country town, then taking Maureen to the best restaurant in the place and ordering an elaborate lunch.
"I want to make your stay with me as pleasant as possible, dear," she told Maureen. "You must miss city life."
She had ordered wine for both of them and kept up a stream of chatter while Maureen sipped at her glass. Once, she had left Maureen for a few minutes to make a phone call. When she returned she seemed to be in a better mood than ever.
The wine, good food and stimulating change in her aunt's personality increased Maureen's warmth toward Sylvia. As Blake drove them to Blythe House, she found herself talking more freely and listening with greater interest to her aunt's conversation.
She gradually felt that she'd misjudged her aunt, that Blake was lying, that Millie's sexual attitudes were unknown to Aunt Sylvia. Maybe.
Arriving home, Maureen went immediately to her bedroom. Opening her door, she stood stock-still in shock. All the furniture was covered with white sheets, and a part of the ceiling had been painted.
"Oh dear, I forgot all about that," said Sylvia when Maureen stammered out a request for an explanation. "We'd arranged to have your room redecorated a long time ago. It completely slipped my mind."
"But where will I sleep?" asked Maureen.
Her aunt had put her arm around Maureen's shoulders and smiled at her: "Don't worry about that, dear. I'll take care of everything. Now, come let's have a little sip of wine before supper."
They had more than a sip, and by the time William announced dinner, Maureen was feeling light-headed.
They had wine with the meal, too, and afterwards William served liqueur with their coffee.
Maureen couldn't remember when she'd had so much to drink in one day. Nor did she remember when her aunt had ever been so charming.
"I want you to know, dear," said Sylvia, her voice mellow with wine, "how much I appreciate having you here. It's a very great pleasure for me."
"I-I like it here. It's a-a change from New York."
"But you like it?"
Maureen took a deep breath. "Yes, I like it." Somewhere in the background, there was the sound of music, soft and restful. Maureen hadn't noticed it before.
"I've had Jennie take your clothes and things into my room," said Sylvia, her voice blending with the music. "You can sleep with me while your room is being decorated."
She nodded, not fully understanding her aunt's words. She'd only been in her aunt's suite once a long time ago. She'd forgotten how big it was, how many beds were there.
"I have a very big double-bed, Maureen dear, there'll be plenty of room for both of us."
Maureen's mind, though hazy with wine, was startled to awareness.
"Of course, you don't mind that, do you dear?" Sylvia's voice was solicitous. "I mean sharing my bed?" She gave a light laugh.
Maureen felt her face flushing and mumbled quickly, "No, of course I don't mind. Why should I?" She picked up her liqueur and drank it quickly.
Miss Haley doesn't like men. Blake's words as they sat in the car near the cliff.
"More, please?" she asked, holding up her glass, keeping her voice steady with an effort.
"Of course, my dear. William." The old man appeared like magic. "Give Miss Maureen another drink."
The room seemed to revolve after downing it. "I-I feel kind of tired," Maureen muttered. "I-I think I'd better go to bed."
"I understand perfectly, Maureen dear," said Sylvia. "You've had a long and tiring day." She turned, "William, get Jennie. I want her to show Miss Maureen to my room."
The old man nodded, left the room and returned a moment later with the maid in tow.
Jennie helped a swaying Maureen to her feet, moving her up the wide stairway and taking her to Sylvia's suite.
"I've brought all your clothes in here, Maureen," the girl whispered as she opened the bedroom door. "I'll help you undress and put you to bed."
"Don't treat me like a child," muttered Maureen, peevishly. "I'm all right. Just had a little too-too much wine-is all-"
Jennie looked at Maureen with anxious eyes. "Oh Maureen," she whispered, "I hope you'll be all right!"
"Why shouldn't I be all right?"
Jennie shook her head, took out Maureen's baby-doll nightie, then started to undress her.
"I can do this myself," Maureen muttered, but she was glad to sit on the edge of the bed, letting Jennie take off her shoes, then unfasten her stockings and roll them off her legs.
"I oughta let you do this all the time," she said, her voice thick with wine. "You do it so well."
Jennie raised Maureen's dress, sliding down the zip at the side. When she saw that Maureen was naked underneath, she gave a small gasp.
"No panties!"
Maureen giggled again. "No. An' my pussy's all wet. Wanna suck it?"
The maid's face turned pale. "Sssssh!" She held her finger to her lips, then placed her mouth close to Maureen's ear, whispering, "Don't ever talk like that in here!"
Maureen looked irritated. "Why not?"
"Please, Maureen," Jennie whispered urgently, "if your aunt heard, she'd-"
"She'd what?" Maureen sounded sullen.
"Just let me undress you an' put you to bed," pleaded Jennie.
She managed to get Maureen's dress off, unfastened her bra, then slipped the flimsy nightie over her head.
"Now, get in bed," she said, turning down the covers.
She helped Maureen as she slithered between the sheets on the big, double-bed, then whispered, "Now go to sleep, Maureen, please!"
"I-I'll go to sleep when I wanna-" Maureen muttered stubbornly. But a few moments after her head touched the pillow, her eyelids closed and she began breathing heavily through her nose.
Jennie stared at the sleeping girl with anxious eyes, then put out the light and tip-toed from the room.
Sylvia opened the door to her suite very quietly and crossed the room to switch on the low bed-light. She stared at Maureen, sound asleep, her hair tousled, for a long moment. Then she gently pulled the sheet off the sleeping girl.
Maureen's nightie had worked its way up above her waist while she slept. Sylvia drew in her breath when she saw the thatch of pubic hair on the base of Maureen's belly. She slowly stretched out her hand, touched the soft hairs, stoked them, then murmured to herself: "You delicious child. How could anyone resist you?"
Very gently, she parted Maureen's legs. Standing at the foot of the bed, she watched the slit at the apex as it opened to reveal pink lips which pouted back at her.
The breath hissed from Sylvia's throat. She straightened, then began to remove her own clothes, casting a glance every so often at the naked, sleeping girl. Once, when Maureen stirred in her sleep, twisting one leg over the other and hiding the wet vaginal lips, Sylvia paused with her undressing, reached down and gently parted Maureen's legs again so she could feast her eyes on the open vulva.
When she was completely undressed, Sylvia stood very still for a long time, taking deep breaths, keeping her eyes on the sleeping girl, staring at the wet vagina. Then her hand crept to her own crotch, groped there until it found her clitoris and she gently masturbated herself as she stared at her sleeping niece.
As soon as the first spasm of an orgasm began to ripple through her body, Sylvia dragged her hand away from her clitoris with an effort, moved round the side of the bed and climbed into it beside Maureen.
Maureen stirred restlessly in her sleep, twisting herself onto her face, then breathing heavily again.
Sylvia raised herself on an elbow. She looked at the curve of Maureen's buttocks, then reached towards the naked flesh and drew her finger gently up the cleft of the girlish bottom.
"You're quite, quite delightful, Maureen dear," Sylvia whispered to herself. She probed between the white mounds and found the small wet hole of Maureen's anus. She pressed her finger in gently.
The cavity was warm and soft.
A spasm of excitement flowed through Sylvia's body. She pressed her free hand over her crotch as though holding something inside herself.
Maureen moved again, mumbled in her sleep, then turned herself onto her back, trapping Sylvia's hand beneath her soft buttocks.
Very slowly, Sylvia withdrew her hand. She reached down and again parted Maureen's legs. Carefully, she pressed her hand between Maureen's thighs, moving her fingers higher and higher until she felt the warmth and moistness of the young vulva. She inserted a finger very cautiously, moving it in and out.
Maureen made a small sound and opened her legs wider.
Sylvia smiled. "So you like that, my little niece, do you?" She moved her finger more quickly, slithering it in more deeply each time.
Small bubbles of sound trickled out of Maureen's lips.
Small ripples ran across Maureen's belly as Sylvia moved her hand higher, found the clitoris unerringly and began to stroke it with light, caressing movements. Maureen began to undulate her hips slowly as her breathing deepened.
Suddenly, Maureen squeezed her thighs tightly together, and Sylvia saw a spasm tighten the muscles on her face. She continued to massage the girl's clitoris.
Maureen's nightie had worked itself up around her neck, and her soft, firm breasts were exposed to Sylvia's hungry eyes. She bent her head, took a nipple between her lips and sucked it very gently.
Maureen purred with pleasure.
Sylvia raised herself from the bed. She stood for a moment, watching Maureen as she writhed about gently, uneasily. The older woman moved to a dresser, opened a drawer and took out a rubber dildo.
It was shaped exactly like a man's erect penis: eight inches long, tapering from the two inches at the base to an inch and a half at the tip, with straps attached to it. Sylvia proceeded to strap the dildo onto her body. There was a small curved projection on the base of the dildo which Sylvia fitted into her own vulva. Then she moved to the bed-light and switched it off.
Maureen stirred restlessly in her sleep.
Sylvia tightened the straps which held the dildo in place. They cut into the flesh of her buttocks. Then she groped down in the darkness, found Maureen's thighs and parted them even wider. Carefully, she climbed onto the bed, kneeling in between Maureen's legs.
The girl slept on.
Sylvia lowered her body onto that of her niece. Maureen gave a small groan but didn't awaken. Her small, firm breasts were pressed against her aunt's larger mounds.
Sylvia groped under her own body, found the shaft of the dildo and guided it until the tip was touching Maureen's vaginal lips. She inserted the end very slowly.
Maureen's legs parted slightly, her knees bending up.
Suddenly, Sylvia lurched her body toward the dildo squeezing into Maureen's vulva, and the air panted from Sylvia's lips. A squeal started in Maureen's throat, but was smothered by Sylvia's mouth. Her lips pressed down on Maureen's, her tongue probing between her niece's teeth. The dildo drove in, stretching wide the young girl's vulva.
Maureen awakened.
"It's all right, Maureen, it's all right," Sylvia said in a whisper.
"What-what-" she panted.
"You'll like what I'm doing, Maureen darling, you'll like it." Sylvia spoke softly, persuasively.
The dildo drove in, deeper this time, then pulled out with a wet, squelching sound. Thrills rippled through Maureen's belly with every thrust. She could hear her aunt's heavy breathing.
"Don't-" she mumbled, "don't-" Then she stopped talking as the thrills came closer together. Each time the big cock drove into her, it touched the tip of her clitoris, pulling it down, tickling it, arousing it. She luxuriated in the sensations.
"Relax-" purred her aunt, "just relax-"
"Mmmmm-" A low sound of pleasure came from Maureen's lips; this was too, too much.
"Does it hurt you?"
"Ooooh, nooo-but-"
The dildo pierced to its greatest length, and Maureen let out a gasp. No one had ever gone so deep inside her before. The thrills throbbed through her belly and up to her breasts.
"My-my nipples-" she panted, "someone squeeze my nipples!"
Strong fingers searched for and found the tips of her firm breasts, gripping and squeezing the nipples with fierce intensity.
A low moan came from Maureen's throat.
"I-I don't know if I'm dreaming-" she mumbled, "but I'm gonna-" Her whole body jerked as the dildo slid in deep. "I'm gonna come-gonna come-" The words went off into a meaningless babble of sensual sound as Maureen's body became a writhing, squirming mass of flesh.
Sylvia quickened her movements; the dildo drove in faster, penetrated more deeply. She increased the strength of her grip on her niece's nipples, feeling Maureen strain her body backwards into the bed to increase the tension.
Maureen's babble became more sensual, wetter and uneven. Her belly drew in and pushed out as orgasmic spasms screamed through her body.
The sweat was pouring off Sylvia's flesh onto Maureen's. The older woman was breathing jerkily through her nose. At the moment of Maureen's orgasm, when she felt the young girl's body vibrating madly beneath her, Sylvia orgasmed, too, coming to her climax with sobs of excitement blended with relief.
"Auntie-I-I came-" Maureen faltered.
"Yes, darling," said Sylvia, "I came, too." Then she rolled herself off Maureen's body, reached for the light and switched it on.
Maureen was lying in a satiated state of exhaustion. Her thighs were still parted, vaginal lips still curled open from the huge dildo, as fluid trickled from the stretched-open vulva.
Her eyes rolled sideways and Maureen saw her aunt. She looked down and saw the attachment still sticking straight up as Sylvia lay on her back.
Maureen's eyes dilated. "You-you did it with that!" she panted.
Sylvia smiled a tired, satisfied smile. "Yes, darling. I did it with that, and," she leaned close to Maureen, kissed the startled girl on the lips, then finished, "you loved every minute."
A blend of horror and wonder spread itself across Maureen's face. "I-I didn't know-" she gasped, "I thought I was dreaming, I didn't know!"
"You came, darling," whispered Sylvia.
"But I-I thought-" stammered Maureen, "thought it was a cock-a man's cock-I didn't know-"
The expression on Sylvia's face changed. "A man! A man's horrible cock!"
"I-I didn't know-" Maureen mumbled.
"You know now," hissed Sylvia, "and you liked it. Oh, but you loved it, didn't you?"
Maureen stared at her aunt. Her silence infuriated the older woman; she reached over the side of the bed and her hand came up with the familiar cane.
"You'd better like it," she muttered, then, with surprising strength, she twisted Maureen onto her face and brought the cane down hard onto soft, yielding flesh. Maureen squealed as the cane cut into her bottom. Sylvia then raised herself into a sitting position and inserted the cane's tip into Maureen's anus.
Maureen froze. The hard metal tip was pressing against the delicate inner tissue inside her bottom.
"You'd better like it," hissed Sylvia, "because if you don't, I'm going to push this rod all the way up your sweet little bottom!" She inserted the tip a little more.
"I liked it! I liked it, auntie-I did-" Maureen panted out the words frantically, breathlessly, half-paralyzed with fear.
Sylvia triumphantly withdrew the cane. She was sorry, though, to be deprived of the pleasure of driving it deeply into a young girl's anus and hearing the high squeals of pain that would spew from her frightened lips.
"I knew you liked it, darling," she said softly.
Sobs of relief and fear bubbled from Maureen's lips.
Sylvia leaned over her niece and pressed her lips on Maureen's mouth. "Don't be afraid," she said when she finally lifted her head. "It's all right, darling, there's nothing to be afraid of."
"Oh, auntie," sobbed Maureen, "you scared me.
Sylvia smiled, reached behind her and unfastened the straps which held the dildo in place.
"Just do as I say, darling, and there's nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all." She removed the dildo, dropped it on the floor beside the bed, then lay on her back, stretching open her legs.
"You came, didn't you dear?"
"Oh, yes, I came so much."
Sylvia reached over to touch Maureen's still wet vulva. The young girl flinched. Sylvia smiled. "I came, too, dear, but not as much as I'd like. So you're going to suck me, suck my cunt until I come completely."
Maureen stared at her aunt out of frightened eyes.
"It'll please me if you do that, dear. And I want you to please me, because if you don't-" She reached for her cane again, pointing it playfully at Maureen's bottom.
Maureen scrambled down the bed, crouched between her aunt's legs and reached up with her lips until she found the wet, salty lips of Sylvia's open vulva.
"Press your tongue in deep, then suck on my clit, dear."
She slithered in her mouth higher, found the long, stiff spire of Sylvia's clitoris; she closed her lips around it, finding it finger-thick and hard. She bobbed her head, sliding her lips up and down the length of the sexual stem.
"That's very good, darling-oooh, so good!" Sylvia's voice was husky, deeper than it had been a moment before. The breath panted from her throat, and she rocked her hips gently in tune with the sensuous sucking movement of her niece's lips. Sweat poured from Maureen's forehead, blending with the thick juice that oozed from Sylvia's open vulva.
"Push your fingers inside my cunt now, but don't stop sucking." Maureen inserted two fingers in the huge vulva, then three.
"More'n that," slurred Sylvia.
Maureen, frantic, made her fingers and thumb into a cone and inserted them all.
Sylvia gave a sigh of satisfaction. "That's nice, you're a sweet girl, Maureen, very sweet."
Her hand drove in and out of the greasy, wet maw, her mouth clamped on the stiff clitoris while her lips slid up and down and her tongue tickled the tip.
"Like that," sighed Sylvia, "just like that, keep on that way, don't stop."
Maureen's jaw was aching; her hand felt stiff and strained. But she continued her task until her aunt told her it was time to stop.
By then, dawn was breaking, and after Sylvia had had her final orgasmic convulsion, Maureen was so tired that she fell asleep between the legs of her aunt ... her mistress ... her enslaver!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maureen wakened slowly; her head was resting on something soft and moist which seemed to move against her cheek. She blinked her eyes, forgetting for a brief moment where she was. Then memory returned, and with it fear.
She was lying, curled up like a kitten, between the broad thighs of her aunt. She moved her head, and inches away from her mouth was the red maw of the older woman's vulva. Maureen stared at it: it seemed to move with every breath that Sylvia took.
A revulsion that turned to anger ran through Maureen's body. The things this woman had made her do! She slid her nude body off the end of the bed, then stood still, breathing deeply, angrily, as she stared down at the naked body of her aunt.
Maureen clenched her fists: she was tired of being used, and abused, by men as well as women.
Her eyes went to the side of the bed, and she saw the huge dildo that Sylvia had driven into her pussy with such vicious pleasure. Then she saw the cane. Maureen picked it up, then stood, fingering the pliable wooden shaft as she stared at her aunt on the bed.
It was time she started using people, instead of letting them use her! If she hadn't been so drunk and helpless, she'd never have allowed her aunt to force her to do the things she had done.
Maureen took a deep breath: if she was going to assert herself, what better place to start than here in her aunt's suite?
Gently, she closed her aunt's legs, then moved around to the side of the bed and slowly turned the older woman over onto her face. Sylvia mumbled in her sleep but didn't awaken.
Maureen stared at the rounded mounds of Sylvia's buttocks.
Dirty, old bitch! she mouthed to herself. How'd you like to have someone do something to you for a change?
She moved to the foot of the bed again, carefully aiming the metal tip of the cane at the cleft in Sylvia's buttocks. She couldn't see the exact spot she wanted, so she reached forward and parted her aunt's legs until the small red hole appeared. She placed the tip of the cane on the lips of the wet orifice.
Before plunging it in, Maureen took a deep breath, feeling a new rush of excitement ripple through her body, then she lunged forward, thrusting the cane up Sylvia's anal canal. It went in easily, smoothly, and it wasn't until more then eight inches of the cane had disappeared in the woman's body that the first spurts of blood appeared.
Sylvia awakened with a scream of agony. Her tortured body writhed about, wriggling higher up the bed, trying to escape the agonizing shaft inside her.
Maureen felt the wetness trickle down the insides of her thighs. She'd never known such a sensual thrill! She moved the came forward, pressing it in deeper as her aunt squirmed up higher on the bed. The screams of pain rose higher. Then Sylvia twisted her neck, turned her head and stared at Maureen over her shoulder. Her face was white with pain, mouth open to emit a piercing squeal of agony.
"M-Maureen-" she panted, "what're you doing? Stop, Maureen, please stop!" Her words bubbled off into a series of screams, as Maureen twisted and turned the cane, bringing fresh spurts of bright blood from the abused tissue inside the tortured anus.
Sylvia tried to squirm away from the burning shaft, but Maureen followed her movements with vicious persistence.
"Don't you like it, auntie dear?" mouthed Maureen, feeling saliva trickling from the corners of her mouth as she spoke. "This is what you were going to do to me, isn't it?"
"Stop, Maureen-I-I wouldn't do this to you-you're my niece-please stop!" Her voice went higher. "You're killing me, please stop!"
With an abrupt, tearing movement, Maureen dragged the cane out of her aunt's body. A steady flow of blood oozed out when the cane was removed.
"I don't want to kill you, auntie dear," said Maureen with vicious sweetness. "How'd you like this?" She raised the cane and brought it down onto the bleeding bottom with all her strength.
Sylvia's body was pressed into the bed with the force of the blow. As it bounced out again, Maureen lashed down once more.
Two livid lines criss-crossed Sylvia's buttocks: her screams changed into groans of pain. With an effort, she twisted her head again and looked at Maureen. "Why?" she asked through pain-racked lips, "why, Maureen?"
Maureen breathed deeply, angrily, viciously. "Because I'm sick an' tired of bein' used by you an' people like you." She panted for breath, then: "I'm younger than you, auntie dear, an' I'm stronger. And I'm not going to let you forget that from now on." She broke off, lashed down with the cane again, and a fresh line appeared on the older woman's bottom.
Sylvia groaned and tried to wriggle off the bed. Maureen lashed her on the shoulder with the cane. "Stay where you are, auntie, I like you just where you are!"
Sylvia froze. There was a new note in Maureen's voice that sent icy shivers all over her body.
"I'm your niece, aren't I, auntie?" asked Maureen in a softly vicious voice.
"Yes," groaned the older woman, "of course you are-"
"Then treat me like your niece-" Maureen screamed, "not like a toy that's here just to satisfy your perverse desires."
Sylvia closed her eyes, writhing her pain-racked body about very gently. "I-I have strange wants, my child-" she whispered.
Maureen stared at her aunt. "Then maybe I have, too-" she said quietly. "I didn't realize how much pleasure there was in this." The cane again came down onto the already marked and abused buttocks of her aunt.
"This is how you get your kicks-" Maureen whispered, "hurtin' people. Like Blake. What did you do to Blake?"
"He had to be punished," whispered Sylvia.
"How?"
"I-I whipped him."
"But why'd he let you?"
The trace of a cold smile crossed Sylvia's pale face. "He didn't have any choice. He's wanted in New York for some trouble. If I decided to talk, he'd be sent away for a long, long time. He has to do whatever I tell him. He has no choice."
Maureen nodded her head very slowly. It made sense. She'd wondered why Blake was content to stay in this remote spot. If what her aunt said was true, it explained his reasons.
"And William," she asked now, "why does William tolerate your punishments."
Her aunt's voice was weak. "He's been here a long time and he has his quirks, too."
Maureen raised her eyebrows, then remembered the sounds from the library, her investigation and what she'd found.
"William wouldn't leave Blythe House. Where would he go? At his age there just isn't-" she broke off, shook her head. "I tolerate his quirks, so he tolerates mine."
Maureen took a deep breath. "And Jennie." Her voice was tight, strained. "Have you ever done anything to Jennie?"
Sylvia shook her head. "No, Maureen, not yet."
"Then don't!" Maureen startled herself by the intensity of her words. "If ever she has to be punished, I'll punish her."
Sylvia stared at Maureen, then a faint smile fringed her lips. "Just as you say, Maureen dear, from now on you'll help me discipline the staff, won't you?"
Maureen loooked at her aunt through cold eyes. "From now on you'll treat me differently. I'll wear what I want, when I want, an' do what I want whenever I want."
Two red spots appeared in Sylvia's pale cheeks. "This is my house, Maureen; you're only my guest here."
"That's right. You asked me to come, said you'd pay me! But you didn't tell me exactly what you wanted me for, did you, auntie dear?" Maureen leaned forward until her mouth was inches away from her aunt's face. "You didn't tell me that!"
Sylvia flinched under the intensity of Maureen's words. She watched Maureen pick up the cane which had dropped from her hand, saw her stroke the shaft slowly, thoughtfully.
Maureen spoke softly, "I could do whatever I wanted to you, auntie. There's no one to stop me." Her breasts heaved as she spoke. "The servants wouldn't pay any attention to screams coming from your suite. They must be used to that."
"No, Maureen, no!" Sylvia's voice was frantic.
"And I'm too strong for you, auntie dear, much too strong. You couldn't stop me from doin' any little thing I wanted. Don't ever forget it."
"Oh, Maureen, I won't ever forget," Sylvia answered eagerly.
Maureen threw the cane onto the dresser, then bent down, picked up the flesh-colored dildo and examined it closely.
"I didn't really mind it," she said slowly, then threw the dildo onto the dresser beside the cane.
"You can get up now," said Maureen, as though granting a favor, "it must be late." She walked to where Jennie had placed her watch the night before and looked at the dial. "Ten o'clock," she said, "I'll tell William to have Mrs. Menton prepare some breakfast. I'm hungry," she laughed suddenly, glancing at the cane, then at her aunt's buttocks. "Exercise makes me hungry." She laughed some more. "Get dressed, Sylvia-you don't mind if I call you Sylvia, do you?" The older woman shook her head weakly. "Then get dressed and we'll go down an' eat together!"
Maureen opened a closet and took out one of her aunt's robes. It was a blend of satin and silk. "You don't mind if I wear this, do you, Sylvia?"
Maureen wrapped the expensive robe around her, then glanced around her for the bell-push. Sylvia pointed weakly: "The bell's at the side of the door."
Maureen smiled her thanks and pressed it. But it was Jennie who answered the call, not William.
As soon as the maid saw Maureen, her eyes widened and she began to ask: "Are you all right, Maur-" She broke off as her eyes went past Maureen to the naked woman on the bed. Her expression changed: "What was it you wanted, Miss Maureen?"
"Tell William to have breakfast ready for Sylvia and I in thirty minutes, Jennie."
"Yes, Miss Maureen." The girl spoke with her eyes downcast, then hurried away.
Sylvia spoke from the bed. "Don't do it too, too much, Maureen." And there was a trace of her old sarcasm in the tone of her voice.
"Don't worry about me, Sylvia," said Maureen coldly. "Just worry about yourself." Then she went into Sylvia's private bathroom, slammed the door and turned on the shower.
Sylvia propped herself on an elbow and stared at the closed door for a long time.
CHAPTER NINE
"I'd like to go to Boston," said Maureen as she and her aunt finished their late breakfast.
Sylvia looked up. She was still gray and shaken from the punishment received from Maureen. But she was more in control of herself now.
"Whatever for, Maureen?"
"Clothes," said Maureen briefly, "I need some clothes."
"But I got you some clothes just the other day."
"Those don't suit me. I want you to buy me something fashionable."
Sylvia flushed. "It's quite a long drive to Boston."
"We can take the train. Blake can drive us to the station, then meet us when we return."
Sylvia swallowed. "Very well dear." She glanced at her watch. "There's a train leaving at noon."
Maureen pushed back her chair. "We'll get it." Then she swept out of the room and up to her aunt's suite without another word.
Jennie was in the corridor. "Maureen, are you all right? Did anything happen last night?"
Maureen laughed. "To me?" She laughed again. "Yes, something sure happened to me last night." She opened the door to the suite, then turned to add: "And something happened to my dear aunt this morning."
Jennie stared at her, then followed her into the suite. "You-you mean you did something to your aunt?" Her voice was incredulous.
Maureen picked up the cane and swished it through the air. "With this, Jennie dear." The maid shrank back. There was shock all over her face. "Maureen, how could you? Why, you're nearly as bad as her!"
Maureen laughed again, the pulled the girl close to her and kissed her. "I'm worse," she whispered when she finally drew her mouth away, "much worse!"
Jennie giggled, breathlessly. "Oh no you're not. I didn't mean that." She moved to Maureen again and held up her face to be kissed. Maureen smiled, pressing her lips against the maid's, letting her tongue dart inside Jennie's mouth. Then she drew back.
"Later, Jennie dear, sometime later. I've got to catch a train. We're going to Boston to buy some clothes."
Jennie frowned at Maureen. "Maureen, you're different today. I mean, you don't seem like you did the other night when we were-"
"Don't worry about it, Jennie." Maureen's voice was brisk. "It's just that I'm finding out things that I should have known long ago." Her voice softened. "We'll be together again, and soon."
The maid's face brightened.
"Now help me get ready for the train."
Eagerly Jennie reached forward and started to unfasten the satin and silk robe.
A low sound of surprised pleasure hissed from her lips when she saw Maureen's nude flesh under the robe.
Maureen smiled in return, then glanced at her reflection in the huge wardrobe mirror. Her body looked riper, more developed than it had seemed the day before. "Jennie, is my figure all right?"
A smile fringed Jennie's lips. "You're beautiful, like a woman is." Her voice quavered down. "You make me want to kiss you."
A smile crossed Maureen's face. "Then kiss me," she said simply, pursing her lips.
Jennie breathed deeply, moving close to Maureen. She lifted herself on tip-toe and pressed her mouth against Maureen's.
"Oh, Maureen," she sighed when she drew back, "kissin' you does somethin' to me!"
Maureen hugged her affectionately, then patted her rounded bottom. "It does somethin' to me, too, Jennie doll. An' I'd like to do somethin' to you," she giggled, sounding more like the old Maureen. "But we haven't got time, so help me get ready.
"Oh, yes." The maid scurried to the large dressing-table in the bedroom and returned with a large bottle in her hand. "I'll spread this all over you, Maureen."
"What is it?"
"It's from Paris." Jennie made her eyes round. "So very, very expensive. It's for the skin, a freshener. Makes you smell nice an' sweet, too."
Maureen looked at the label, making a low sound. "It oughta be good. This stuff costs a small fortune to buy!"
Jennie poured some lotion onto her hand and spread the scented solution on Maureen's warm flesh.
"Uuum," murmured Maureen, "that feels good. All over me, Jennie."
"Oh, yes. Over every little part!"
She spread the rich lotion on Maureen's shoulders and back, then reached under her armpits and gently creamed her sides. Her fingers returned to the glistening skin, sliding forward as she reached for Maureen's full, rounded breasts to put a sheen of fragrant moisturizer on the tender flesh.
"Don't forget my tits," Maureen whispered. "My nipples feel so hot, can't you cool them?"
Jennie choked back her excitement and took a nipple in each hand and squeezed.
"Like that?" she asked.
"Uuum," drooled Maureen, "only more so."
Jennie squeezed again, harder this time, and Maureen half-closed her eyes, swaying back on her heels. "You must do this to me every day," she murmured.
"Yes," breathed Jennie, "an' I'll cream you down here, too." Her hands moved to Maureen's buttocks and she massaged them, gently but deeply, smearing the cream on the soft flesh, then firmly kneading it in.
"That's good, too," whispered Maureen.
Jennie dropped onto her knees behind Maureen. She squeezed and kneaded the rosy cheeks of the young bottom with both hands. Suddenly, she reached forward with her lips and kissed Maureen on the cleft of her bottom. "I'd do anything for you, Maureen," she whispered, "anything!"
Maureen half-turned her head and glanced over her shoulder at the dark head of the maid crouched behind her.
"I really believe you would."
"Oh, I would." Jennie's voice was breathless with devotion.
"Uuum," Maureen groaned again. "Move round in front of me, Jennie. Put some cream on my legs an' thighs an'-"
Almost losing her balance in her eagerness, Jennie scrambled around her mistress on her knees, then poured an ample amount of lotion onto her hand and smeared it on the front of Maureen's thighs.
The sudden coolness of the fresh lotion made Maureen gasp; then she spread her legs apart, moving her feet and making her thighs open wide.
"Stay down there, Jennie," she muttered, "but reach up with your lips and suck my pussy!"
Jennie squirmed underneath the open thighs. She rolled her eyes upward until she was looking into the red, wet and open maw of Maureen's vulva.
"Yes," she whispered, opening her mouth and letting her tongue snake out.
Maureen bent her knees, letting her buttocks, thighs and crotch drop lower. She could feel Jennie's lips flattening against the soft lips of her pussy. She squirmed about, pressing the wet tissue more firmly on the maid's mouth.
"Suck, Jennie, suck!" she hissed, urgently.
Each time the girl drew in breath, Maureen heard the sexy, squelching sound. She could feel moistness trickling down the insides of her thighs, her vaginal fluid flowing warmly over her skin.
She wriggled her buttocks, bending her knees more, pressing down more firmly. Jennie gagged as the pussy spread open on her mouth. She sucked frantically, tonguing and licking with every energy.
"Uuum, Jennie, you're making me-" Maureen drew in a panting breath, "makin' me-" She moved her pelvis about with jerky, urgent motions. "My clit-" she moaned, "grip my clit with your lips an' bite it-"
Her mouth was saturated with the thick, warm fluid flowing from Maureen's vagina. But Jennie searched for the tensile tip, found it and gripped it with her teeth.
Maureen gave a moan of ecstasy.
Jennie titillated the clitoris with her tongue, holding the thin stem between her teeth.
"Oh, like that, like that!" moaned Maureen, twisting her newly aroused flesh. "I'm gonna-gonna come, Jennie!"
She shrieked out the last words then her body dropped downward, forcing Jennie to fall onto her back, her mouth still glued to Maureen's twitching, jerking and orgasming pussy.
The voice from the doorway was low, filled with malice.
"Am I disturbing you?"
Maureen dragged open her yes, saw the blurred outline of her Aunt Sylvia standing by the open door.
There was a choked sound from Jennie's buried mouth.
"It's all right, Jennie," said Maureen soothingly, "just go on suckin'." She coldly met her aunt's eyes. "Get out, Sylvia!"
The older woman seemed to tremble with rage; then her face turned a dirty white and she wheeled around and moved out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
A new muffled sound came from Jennie.
"Just go on suckin'," said Maureen, "there's nothing to worry about." She reached under herself and stroked the maid's face. "I'll tell you when to stop." Her eyes glazed over as the excitement of another come seeped through her flesh.
Sylvia sat opposite Maureen as the train took them to Boston, thinking of the metamorphosis. From a quiet, submissive girl, Maureen had changed into a confident, aggressive woman. And it was her doing. If she hadn't been so hasty, so demanding, this change might never have happened!
She wriggled about on the padded seat. She was still sore on her buttocks and inside her anus.
Maureen noticed the movement. She leaned forward to speak in a whisper. "Sore, Sylvia dear?" her face was laughing.
Sylvia flushed, said nothing.
"Want the same again tonight?" asked Maureen, softly.
"No!"
Maureen leaned back in her seat, a smirk on her face. "Then you'll buy me the clothes I want?"
"Of course. But it's not just because-" She didn't finish the sentence, but instead looked out the window. She could hear Maureen's soft laugh.
Boston was much quieter than New York, Maureen decided, as they took a taxi from the station to the shopping district. But she liked what she saw. It was a big improvement over the small towns near Blythe House. She ought to be able to find something here that she liked.
Sylvia stopped the taxi outside one of the biggest department stores in Boston.
"You should find the kind of clothes you want in here," she said to Maureen, keeping the sarcasm out of her voice with an effort.
Maureen scanned the information board inside the main entrance, then led the way to the elevators.
"We'll go to the tenth floor," she told her aunt, "there's a boutique there."
Sylvia only nodded.
They entered the shop together.
The clothes were the kind she wanted, Maureen decided, and the price tags were higher than she'd ever paid in New York. But that didn't matter here. She had Sylvia to take care of the money part.
"How d'you like it?" Maureen asked.
She was wearing the shortest mini-skirt that Sylvia had ever seen. It was scarcely long enough to reach the tops of the long, sheer, fully fashioned hose that Maureen was wearing. Every time she moved, there was a flash of white thigh at the top.
She was a tempting young morsel, Sylvia thought. "It's very nice, Maureen. It shows off your legs to good advantage."
Maureen smiled at her aunt.
"You're not wearing pantyhose, I see," went on Sylvia.
Maureen laughed. "Yes, I like these. I like to feel a cool breeze on my thighs." She lifted the hem of the tiny skirt, baring the briefest bridge of thigh-flesh between the tops of her stockings and the shear nylon briefs that she was wearing.
Sylvia caught her breath. She could see the dark thatch of pubic hair through the thin material. It brought back memories, such recent memories, and new desire.
They were in a small dressing-room at the back of the boutique. Maureen had called her aunt in to show her the skirt she'd selected.
Sylvia's eyes went up. The blouse was transparent, too. The pink tips of Maureen's breasts were clearly visible.
"That blouse," she said, "you'll have to get a coat to wear over it."
Maureen unbuttoned the blouse very slowly, keeping her eyes on her aunt's face all the time. When it was completely unbuttoned, she reached inside, took one of her breasts between a finger and thumb, squeezed it, and pointed it at her aunt.
"You mean because you can see my breasts-my nipples." She squeezed her breast harder, making the nipple protrude and stiffen.
Sylvia passed her tongue over dry lips, then took a step forward. Her eyes were glued on the tensing, enticing nipple.
"Don't stay mad at me, Maureen," she whispered. Her hand reached up, touched the tensed nipple very gently. "Don't stay mad," she repeated, caressing her niece's breast with a trembling hand.
Maureen stood very still, breasts thrust forward, legs apart. "Why should I be mad at you, Sylvia? You're buying me all these nice clothes."
Sylvia's free hand had dropped down; now it crept under the tiny skirt and stroked soft thigh-flesh. She was squeezing Maureen's nipple now as she said, "I'll buy you the clothes you want, dear," her voice was uneven, tremulous, "just be nice with me, just don't be mad."
"I'll need a new coat," said Maureen, watching her aunt's face.
"All right, I'll buy you one-"
"A shortie coat," said Maureen, "just long enough to reach the hem of this skirt."
"Whatever kind you like," whispered Sylvia, squeezing a soft breast and stroking smooth thigh-flesh, "I'll buy it for you."
Maureen was silent for a long minute, then she said, "I think we're going to get along all right, Sylvia." Her eyes were still on her aunt's face and she saw the naked desire there, "I think we'll get along real well!"
After dropping Maureen and Sylvia off at the station, Ken Blake drove back to Blythe House, slid out of the driver's seat, then loosened his pants at the crotch. His penis had recovered now: in fact he found it had hardened, thinking of Maureen and the tempting view he had glimpsed under her wind-blown skirt.
He'd like to get his cock into that sexy pussy again! Sylvia's cane on his penis seemed to have made it more vulnerable, more easily aroused. He'd never felt more lustful than he did at this minute.
He stamped into the house, keeping his hand in his pocket to hold his erection down. And she was in Boston with her aunt. He climbed the stairs to his room, feeling edgy, worked up, sexed-up and excited.
He was about to open the door to his room when a thought struck him. Maureen was out of his reach, but there was someone else. Jennie. Curvy little Jennie was available. He glanced at his watch: she was probably in her room, taking a nap now that her mistress was away.
Ken went to his bedroom, stripped off his tunic and put on a light shirt. He went to the cupboard in the corner and took out a bottle of gin, Jennie's weakness.
Carefully he poured equal amounts into two glasses, added a small amount of tonic water, then opened a drawer, took out a small phial of capsules and dropped one into a glass. It dissolved instantly; Ken smiled in anticipation.
He groped at his crotch again, tried to ease his swollen penis to one side to curb his erection, then he opened his door and moved quickly toward Jennie's room.
She was relaxing on her bed when she heard the light tap at her door. "Who is it?"
"Ken. I've got a gin for you."
She rolled off the bed, unlocked her bedroom door to let him in with the two glasses.
"They're out, aren't they?" she said, meaning Sylvia and Maureen.
"Yes," he answered, putting one glass on the table beside Jennie's bed and keeping the other glass in his hand. "They've gone to Boston."
"I know," said Jennie, picking up her glass. "Maureen told me."
She sipped at her drink. "How'd you know I wanted a drink?" She smiled at him over the rim of her glass.
He smiled back. "You always want a gin!"
She drained her glass then waved toward the door. "Thanks, Ken, thanks a lot. But you'd better go now."
"Why?"
She giggled. "Gin always makes me drowsy, an' I don't want to pass out in front of you."
"Why not?" He smiled at her.
She flushed. "You might take advantage of me."
"Okay," he said agreeably, "I'll go."
She went with him to the door and smiled at him before closing it. "You're nice, Ken. Thanks a lot." Then she shut the door and locked it.
Ken stood outside staring at the end of the key that protruded from the door after she locked it.
He smiled. It would take more than that to keep him away from her.
He went back to his room and sat on the edge of his bed and smoked a cigarette, trying to ignore the demands of his swelling penis. As soon as his cigarette was finished, he took a pair of pliers from his dresser and left with them in his pocket.
Outside Jennie's room, he paused for a moment, listened. Only a gentle, rhythmic breathing came from within. He smiled, then grasped the protruding end of the key with his pliers and turned. The lock clicked open easily; Ken turned the doorknob and entered. Jennie had passed out on the bed, her skirt awry, revealing silk-shod legs, white thighs and her hand pressed over her pelvis.
Ken turned and locked the door behind him.
Jennie stirred in her sleep; Ken walked over to her, felt the smoothness of her thighs, then gently removed her hand from her pelvis and lifted her body so that he could ease down the brief, black panties she wore.
He stared at her body again, then dragged up her skirt so that he could see the whiteness of her belly and the ripples that crossed it each time she breathed. His eyes went lower, and he gazed at her pubic hair, then reached to the front of his pants and unfastened them, freeing his penis.
He stroked her soft, dark foliage very gently, then moved his hand between her thighs. He squeezed his fingers upward until he felt the moistness of young vaginal lips. He took his hand away for a moment, gently parted her legs, then sat on the edge of the bed, lowered his head and stared up into Jennie's tight vulva. It was red and wet and slightly open and he poked a finger inside. The vaginal walls were soft and warm and seemed to hug his finger as he moved it in sensuous circles.
His penis jerked. He climbed onto the bed, knelt between her outstretched legs, his cock a huge, swollen mass of lust.
He lowered himself very slowly, very carefully between her legs. He could feel the soft smoothness of her thighs touching his swollen shaft. He reached under himself to guide himself into her slot. Jennie didn't awaken.
THE END of his penis was wet, slippery with the lubrication of lust. He felt Jennie's moistness mingle with his. He moved his body upward, restraining himself, letting his penis ease slowly and sensually into the young girl's vulva.
Ken closed his eyes at the delicious sensation. These were the moments he lived for! He pushed upward and higher until the small girl's body jerked. He knew he'd reached the end of her cavern; he began to glide his shaft in and out with smooth, ecstatic movements. Her vaginal walls, so wetly warm, hugged his swollen organ, increasing the pleasure, making his delight almost unbearable. He opened the top of her blouse, slid a hand inside her small bra and caressed a tiny nipple, squeezed it very gently.
His movements inside her became more frenzied. He screwed his cock in to the limit. No matter what he did, she'd sleep on. The thought brought on a premature orgasm. He'd wanted to prolong his delightful exercise for as long as possible. But his thoughts, as well as the soft, wet pussy that gripped his cock so tightly, made his penis lurch, expand, then contract and he felt the hot juice spurt from its slitted tip. He orgasmed, groaned and orgasmed again.
Finished, his body went limp; he lay like a log on top of Jennie. At last, he roused himself and rolled his body off her in a tired, heavy movement.
His legs felt shaky when he stood beside the bed. He picked up the small black panties from where he'd dropped them on the floor, then raised each small foot in turn, and put the panties on Jennie's legs. He half-lifted her body, groaning with the effort, and dragged the panties up. Jennie's vulva was still open, and a trickle of white fluid dribbled out. Ken sighed and took out his handkerchief. He wiped some of his lust-juice away, then probed inside the open vagina with his handkerchief, trying to soak up more fluid. Done, he dragged the panties over Jennie's small hips. He reached up to push a small breast back into its bra and buttoned up the blouse.
He sighed again, glanced down at his cock's limpness and refastened his pants.
After a last, lingering look at the sleeping girl on the bed, Ken left the room. Outside, he used his pliers to relock the door and moved sluggishly away.
He glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time before Sylvia and Maureen returned, time enough for a short rest. He went to his room and to bed.
They leaned back in their seats as the taxi carried them to the station. Maureen was huddled in a corner, deep in her own thoughts: Sylvia slid across the seat until her hips were touching those of her niece.
"You look nice in these clothes, Maureen," she said in a whisper, "but the way men look at you.
It's horrible!"
Maureen lifted her head and glanced at her aunt's set expression. She spoke very softly, keeping her voice low so that the driver couldn't hear. "They look at me as though they'd like to screw me, don't they, Sylvia?" There was a glitter in the girl's eye.
"Yes," panted Sylvia, "it's horrible-"
"They'd like to push their cocks into my wet pussy, wouldn't they, Sylvia? They'd like to fuck me!"
"Don't talk that way!" hissed Sylvia. "It's awful. That's why I wanted you to wear sensible clothes."
Maureen looked at her aunt. "Maybe I like them to look at me that way. Maybe I like them to think that I'm an attractive girl, a sexy girl, a very fuckable girl."
"Stop it!" Sylvia raised her voice, then all the spirit seemed to seep out of her. "I-I thought you-you liked it with another girl-a woman," she whispered.
Maureen nodded her head slowly. "I do, but," she paused, "I like it with men, too." She looked up. "Haven't you ever wanted a man?"
"No!" Sylvia snapped out the word. "Not in the way you mean." She lowered her eyes. "If I'd ever found a man like my father, then maybe I'd feel differently. But there just isn't anyone like him or my grandfather, either." She abruptly quit, as though she'd said more than intended. "We're there," she said, pointing out the window at the station. "We've plenty of time to get our train."
"How long is it since your father died, Sylvia?"
She voiced the thought out loud.
"A long time. I was very, very young."
"And your grandfather?"
"He outlived my father. He brought me up." Sylvia's eyes seemed vacant. "He was a wonderful man," and her voice sounded dreamy. She suddenly pulled herself together. "We're there, Maureen. Pick up your parcels and let's go." And she learned over the back of the seat and paid off the driver.
CHAPTER TEN
Sylvia was very quiet during the evening meal. Maureen was also deep in her own thoughts.
Over coffee, Maureen murmured, "About my room, tell William to remove the sheets off the furniture and have Jennie get my things back in there."
Sylvia paled. "You don't want me?" When Maureen calmly shook her head, Sylvia folded the napkin and placed it on the table. Raising her taut body from the chair, she said quietly, "Very well, I'll tell William to move your clothes. I'm going to the library. There are things I have to do. You can stay in my room until yours is ready." She breathed jerkily, as though out of breath. "I don't want to be disturbed," she murmured, "I've had a very trying day as you know." She flashed a look of anger at her niece, then left.
Maureen stared after her with a puzzled expression on her face. The library! There always seemed to be someone secreting themselves in the library. She though of William and the replica of Anne Boleyn. And now, her aunt.
After a few minutes, Maureen got up and walked slowly down the corridor to the library. She quietly tried the doorknob, but it was locked from the inside.
Maureen let her breath out very slowly, then went downstairs. She found Jennie and told her to move her things from her aunt's suite back to her own room.
The maid gave a smile. "Oh, yes, Maureen. I'm so glad you're going back."
Maureen smiled back, faintly. "So am I," she murmured.
Later, when Jennie was replacing Maureen's clothes in her closet and admiring the mini-skirt and accessories, Maureen asked: "Does my aunt spend a lot of time in the library? I mean, by herself, with the door locked?"
Jennie glanced up, then dropped her eyes. "I guess so." She quickly went on with her work.
"What does she do in there?"
Jennie kept her back to Maureen as she answered: "How would I know that, Maureen?"
"I know what William does when he's in there alone at night."
Jennie jerked around. "You do?"
Maureen nodded.
Jennie's face turned crimson; she moved quickly toward Maureen, speaking between clenched teeth. "That statue, that Anne Boleyn!"
Maureen was startled by the little maid's reaction.
"He-he screws it," she muttered viciously.
"But what does my aunt do?" Maureen whispered.
Jennie kept her eyes on the floor as she answered: "There are other statues in there besides the one of Anne Boleyn." Then she hurried to the door. "I've got to go, Maureen. I'll be back later." And the door slammed shut behind her.
Maureen stared after her, thinking of her talk with Sylvia, of Sylvia's grandfather and of his likeness in the library. If they could put a synthetic pussy on Anne Boleyn, what could they do to the other replicas, the male ones?
Maureen opened her door very slowly and crept down the corridor to the library. The door was slightly ajar, and when she entered, she found the room empty.
She walked up to the statue of her Aunt Sylvia's grandfather. He was an imposing man, dressed in a double-breasted frock coat. It was closed, held that way by three buttons. After a moment's hesitation, Maureen unbuttoned the coat, then stifled a sudden gasp. The pants were open at the front. Projecting from the fly was a flesh-colored, imitation penis!
Maureen reached forward with a trembling hand to touch it. It was warm and moist.
Maureen turned to run to the library door and lock it.
She returned to the likeness and stared at the imitation penis. It was about eight inches long and two inches thick. At her touch it moved. She twisted it in her fingers several minutes, feeling it bounce back into position each time she relinquished her grip. It seemed to be made of hard rubber, pliable, bendable, but still reasonably stiff.
Maureen stepped onto the statue's dais, moved herself close to the replica. The penis was level with her crotch.
Maureen pushed her body forward and felt the rubber projection press through her dress, causing a small friction between her thighs. She stepped off the dais, slid off her panties, then lifted up her skirt at the front. When she stepped on the dais again, the rubber cock pushed against her pelvis. She raised herself up on tip-toe, then seized the artificial penis and eased the end of it between her thighs. In letting herself down, the rubber shaft slid smoothly into her vulva. Maureen gave a small moan of pleasure and began to move herself up and down. The synthetic penis slid in and out of her vagina with each movement. There was a small lump near the base of the shaft which pressed against her clitoris each time she let the penis penetrate to its greatest extent. Maureen's excitement mounted with each thrust. She worked herself more violently, the raw thrills throbbing through her sweating flesh. This was different, so beautifully different. Maureen's knees began to tremble from her exertions. And then she felt the first orgasmic sensations course through her body.
She made a stifled sound of pleasure, rocking her bottom back and forward. The rubber shaft penetrated deeper with every move. Then the orgasm shot through her flesh. She moaned, stifling squeals of delight with an effort, then fell back limply, dropping onto her haunches. She slowly spread herself on her back at the foot of the sexual replica, a smile playing about her damp lips.
After what seemed like an age, Maureen dragged herself to her feet. Listlessly, she picked up her nylon panties, and walked shakily to the library door. She unlocked it jerkily and stepped into the corridor.
There was the sound of indrawn breath, then Jennie's small voice gasped, "You, too, Maureen!"
She looked up to meet the accusing stare of the maid, seeing her eyes fastened on the telltale nylon panties which dangled loosely from her hand.
"You've been doin' it, too!" Jennie's voice was a blend of shock and outrage; she brushed past Maureen, hurried to the replica of Sylvia's grandfather, then muttered, viciously, "You forgot to close his coat after you'd done it!"
Maureen waited in the corridor, feeling drained of emotion after the devastating orgasm she had just experienced, shocked also that she should be discovered in her diversion.
Jennie jerked her way out of the library and closed the door behind her. "I fastened the coat," she hissed.
Maureen moved slowly to her room, and Jennie followed.
"Why did you?"
"Shut the door," snapped Maureen. Jennie slammed it shut. "Why don't you mind your own business?"
"Why with a statue?"
Maureen felt her anger mounting. "Just who do you think you are to tell me what I can or can't do?"
"Screwin' with a statue," said Jennie, contemptuously. "Stop it!"
"You're worse than your aunt. You were right when you told me that. It's her statue, not yours.
You didn't hafta fuck it!"
Maureen lashed out with her hand, slapping the girl across the face.
"You're asking for a spanking," she hissed.
The weight of the blow made Jennie sprawl forward onto the bed. She turned her head now, held her hand at her face, and looked at Maureen with shock and anger.
"You don't have to be mad at me just because you're ashamed of yourself."
Maureen trembled with rage. "I'm not ashamed of myself!" Then she turned and snatched her thin leather belt off the dresser.
"No, Maureen, no!" Frantically, Jennie tried to wriggle off the bed away from Maureen, but she was too late.
Maureen reached down, put her hand on Jennie's neck and twisted her onto her face. "I'm stronger than you, Jennie, don't fight me-" she panted.
The little maid struggled weakly as Maureen dragged down her briefs. When her small, rounded bottom was bared, she pleaded, "Please, Maureen, no!"
Maureen smiled grimly, lifted up the belt and brought it down onto the soft, waiting buttocks. Jennie screamed as the thin leather cut into her bottom. Maureen was shocked at the pleasure she felt. The thrill ran up her arm and down to her navel. She lashed the maid's bottom again. The thrill ran through Maureen's body more strongly.
Six times the thin leather belt cut into tender flesh, leaving its mark on the young girl's sensitive bottom. Finally, Maureen dropped the strap. "Now, you can get up!"
Jennie turned her head slowly to look at Maureen's face. "You enjoyed spankin' me, Maureen. You enjoyed it!" Her voice was hurt and outraged.
But Maureen was staring at Jennie's buttocks. Just looking at the livid welts she'd made gave her a thrill.
"You're worse than your aunt."
Maureen smiled at her, a thin, cruel smile. "I already told you that. Now d'you believe me?"
Jennie nodded. She slowly got to her feet and picked up her panties. She struggled into them, dragging them up tightly at her crotch while Maureen watched.
"Maybe you'll mind your own business in the future."
Jennie gave her a frightened glance. "Can-can I go now?"
"After you've kissed me goodnight," said Maureen.
Reluctantly, Jennie walked up to Maureen and raised her pursed lips.
Maureen kissed her deeply, sensually. When she felt the girl respond, she reached under Jennie's skirt and gave her tender, abused bottom a vicious pinch. She could feel the scream bubbling to Jennie's lips, but she kept her mouth pressed down hard, holding the back of the maid's head with her free hand and pinching with the other.
When she finally let go, tears were running from Jennie's eyes.
"Goodnight, Jennie," said Maureen.
But all Jennie could do was sob and run from the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maureen walked up and down her room, restlessly. The satisfaction that she'd obtained from her session in the library had waned. Still aroused and wet, she wanted-no, needed a man.
Suddenly, she remembered Ken Blake. What was the hold that her aunt had on this young man? What had happened to him in New York that made him willing to work here in this out-of-the-way spot for nickels?
Maureen made a decision; she hurried out of her room to Sylvia's suite.
"Who is it?" called Sylvia when Maureen tapped at the door.
"Maureen-" she answered.
There was a moment's hesitation, then Sylvia's voice called, "Come in."
Maureen entered, then stopped in surprise. Her aunt was wearing thigh-high leather boots that reached to her crotch; around her waist was a wide leather belt. And nothing else! Her large breasts hung down loosely, obscenely. She was holding her cane in one hand.
"What did you want?" she asked coldly.
Maureen didn't answer. She was staring at the luxuriant mass of pubic hair on her aunt's abdomen.
"I was expecting William," Sylvia explained. "He's been remiss in his duties and needs disciplining."
"Do you always dress like that when you discipline people?" Maureen asked.
"Yes. But what did you want?"
Maureen drew in her breath. "I was wondering about Ken Blake."
Sylvia's eyebrows went up. "Wondering what?"
"You said you knew something about him," said Maureen quickly, "something that made him willing to stay here, do whatever you told him. What is it? What did he do in New York?"
Sylvia stared at her niece in silence for a moment, then said, to the point, "Rape. He likes raping girls, unconscious girls." A grim smile crossed her face. "They've got to be unconscious or he doesn't get any thrill out of it."
Maureen's mouth sagged open.
"He drugs them," continued Sylvia, calmly, "usually brings them a doped drink. Then when they've passed out, he rapes them. They never know. That's what gives him his thrill!"
Maureen made a low sound, remembering the night she'd arrived at Blythe House and Blake at her bedroom door with a glass of bourbon.
"Did he do that to me?" she asked in a very small voice.
"Yes, he did. That's why I punished him."
"Is it-is it big?" Maureen quietly asked. "What?"
"Is-is his cock big?" whispered Maureen.
Sylvia tightened her lips. "I suppose so-" she said, icily.
There was a tap at the door.
"Come in, William," called her aunt.
The butler entered, cast a startled glance at Maureen, then turned to Sylvia. "You-you wanted me, ma'am?" He showed no surprise at seeing Sylvia's bizarre attire, Maureen noticed. He must be used to it.
"Yes," said Sylvia, "and you know what for."
He nodded his head.
"You'd better go now, Maureen," said Sylvia.
Maureen cast another curious glance at the old man, then left the suite.
She hurried back to her room, still hungry with desire. She pressed the bell-push beside the door and waited.
After a few moments, Blake tapped at the door, then entered.
"You wanted something, miss?" he asked, drinking her in with his eyes.
Maureen sat on her bed. Her knees were propped up, exposing silk white thigh-flesh and pink, pantiless vaginal lips.
"Yes," she said, watching his eyes veer down to stare at her exposed vulva. "I'd like a drink, a bourbon."
Blake's eyes jerked up to her face. He looked suddenly very pleased. "I'll fix it right away."
He hurried from her room, and Maureen lit a cigarette, dragged smoke into her lungs and felt flickers of excitement ripple through her body.
It didn't take Blake long. "I hope this is the way you like it," he said, placing the drink on the bedside table.
"I imagine it is," said Maureen coolly.
He still stood there, waiting to see her drink it.
"You can go now, Blake," said Maureen. "I'll ring if I want another drink. And thank you."
When he'd gone, Maureen smiled, got up, took the drink to the wash-basin and poured the drink down the drain. She replaced the empty glass on her table, then moved to the bell-push, touched it briefly, then hurried back to her bed. She snuffed out her cigarette and lay on her back, breathing deeply through her nose.
After a minute, there was a tap at her door.
Maureen didn't answer.
The door opened and Blake entered. Maureen watched him through shielded eyes.
Blake's eyes flickered to the empty glass on the table. "Already," he murmured to himself.
He reached down to stroke Maureen's silk-shod legs. She felt tiny thrills flickering up to her crotch. She lay very still.
Blake lifted her skirt, baring her pubic area. Maureen heard him draw in his breath. "You sweet, high-class cunt!" he muttered.
His hand went down, toying with her vulva, feeling the wetness, probing his finger inside.
"Am I gonna fuck you!" he muttered, unfastening his pants at the front.
Her long eyelashes shielded her eyes; Maureen stared at the penis that came into view. She stifled a sudden gasp of expectancy. Like her aunt had said, it was big!
He reached down, took a foot in either hand and opened her legs. She could feel the moistness that squirreled between her vaginal lips.
Blake climbed over the end of the bed, moving himself up until his body was pressed on Maureen's. She was conscious of his weight, the smell of his breath, the urgency of his desire, of her own desire.
He moved his knees, parting her thighs wider, the tip of his cock touching her open vaginal lips. It was only with an effort that she kept herself relaxed, supine.
Blake pushed his shaft into her vulva, the pulsing life in it throbbing along the walls of her vagina.
Maureen felt the end of his cock touching the back of her sexual slot, an exciting, soothing, sensation. She let her legs relax completely, falling open more widely as he thrust in and out with even, rhythmic movements.
He opened her blouse at the top, thrust his hand inside and found her braless breasts; he caressed the nipples while his cock worked inside her pussy. The feel of his fingers, so different from those of her aunt, thrilled Maureen. Her whole body felt aroused, on fire, as her nipples stiffened under his manipulations. Her vagina contracted and expanded with a natural sympathetic movement.
"You'll never know," Blake gloated, as he became more excited. "I'm fucking your classy pussy, Maureen, an' you'll never know!
His cock had become stiffer, bigger as his orgasm neared.
She lifted her pelvis very carefully, very gradually, so that her clitoris was pressed against the huge mass of muscle squeezed into her. She could feel her own climax nearing, too.
Fuck, she whispered to herself, fuck me deep, fuck me hard! Make me come!
Blake's breath became more labored, his movements more tremulous, more thrilling.
Suddenly, his whole body shivered on top of her; she felt the head of his penis expand inside her vulva as her clitoris bobbed frantically. The juice spurted out, so hot that she felt as though she was being scalded. But she didn't care. Her clit had gone wild, and the walls of her vagina were undulating out of control.
Maureen clenched her teeth tightly together to restrain the cries of joy that bubbled up from her throat as her orgasm broke.
"You made me come, Maureen," Blake panted, "you an' your high-class pussy." He laughed obscenely. "You're a good fuck, Miss Maureen, the best, the tops. An' you'll never know."
He dragged himself off Maureen's body, and she felt the warm fluid seeping from her curled-open vulva.
She lay very still, waiting. He took his handkerchief and wiped some of the juice from off her vaginal lips. She felt him probe inside with the end of his handkerchief, trying to sop up some of the fluid that still seeped out. Just the touch of his fingers against the sensitive tissue made her want to jerk herself off. But she restrained the urge.
At last he was finished; he pulled down her skirt, fastened her blouse, then buttoned the side of her skirt. He stared down at her for a long time with an expression of satisfaction on his face.
At last, he moved to the door. Before he opened it, he turned, stared at Maureen's face and murmured, "How sweet you are, Miss Maureen, how sweet!" Then he was gone.
Maureen's eyelids felt heavy, her body satiated.
In a few minutes, she fell into a deep, refreshing sleep.
She awakened some hours later. Stretching, she reached for her watch on the bedside table and glanced at its luminous dial.
Four o'clock. It was late, so very late. But a languid smile came to her lips as she remembered Ken.
Her thighs pressed together tightly, the moistness sliding out between them, while a new sudden and crazy desire raced through her mind.
For a long time, Maureen lay very still. Finally, she slid off the bed and slipped on a light robe.
Soundlessly, she padded to her door, opened it, tip-toed into the corridor, then moved in the direction of Aunt Sylvia's room.
The door to her suite was unlocked. She could hear the sound of heavy breathing coming from the room. Maureen smiled grimly, remembering how deeply, how soundly, her aunt slept.
Noiselessly, she moved to the dresser at the side of the bed, opened the top drawer and groped inside.
It was still there.
She took out the dildo, closed the drawer as silently as she'd opened it, then padded out.
Back in her own room, Maureen looked at the object in her hand. It was as long and thick as she remembered it. She stroked its smoothness with a sense of fascination and horror. Then, sliding off her clothes, she strapped the huge dildo onto her naked body.
She got back into bed, pulled the sheets up to her chin, then reached out and rang for Jennie.
She looked sleepy and frightened when she opened Maureen's door.
"You-you wanted me, Maureen?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Jennie, come here."
Slowly, Jennie took a step towards Maureen's bed.
"You-you're not going to-to spank me?" she asked timidly.
Maureen smiled. "No, Jennie, dear, I wanted you to sleep with me."
A slow smile spread over the maid's face. "Really?"
"Yes, Jennie," whispered Maureen, "come to bed!"
"Oh, Maureen-" the little girl ran across the bedroom, pulled down a sheet and climbed into the bed.
Maureen was careful to hide the dildo from Jennie's view.
"You've done so much for me, Jennie. Let me do something for you."
"Oh, Maureen-" Jennie embraced Maureen, then slid her hands lower. Maureen seized the tiny hands, holding them away from her body.
"Don't touch me," she whispered, "just lie still and let me do sweet things to you, Jennie dear."
"Whatever you say," murmured Jennie, wriggling herself about with happy anticipation.
"Just turn off the light, then lie very still," instructed Maureen.
Jennie giggled, breathlessly, as she did what she was told.
Maureen slid her hand up the maid's nightie. As she'd suspected, Jennie was naked underneath. Her hand moved through the small wet pubic forest, finding wet lips that opened under her fingertips.
Jennie jerked her body. "Oh, Maureen!" she murmured, shivering with anticipation.
She caressed the tiny clitoris, gently but sensually. A low moaning sound came from Jennie's lips.
Maureen's finger slid lower, found wet vaginal tissue and probed into it. Jennie whispered, "Nice, so nice!"
Her finger slid in, then out, squirreling around in the warm wetness; then Maureen added another finger and slithered the two of them in and out of Jennie's excited vulva.
Maureen added another finger. "Just fucked," she said. "D'you like it?"
Jennie was breathing more deeply now. The three fingers filled her hot little cunt. "I-I guess so-" she mumbled. "S-sure I-I like it!"
"I wanna lie on top of you," hissed Maureen. "D'you wanna let me do that?"
"You know I let you do whatever you want!"
Maureen sighed as she squirmed herself on top of the maid. "Yes, I guess you do," she whispered, "I guess you always do!"
She eased Jennie's thighs wide open with her knees. Still diddling her pussy with the three stiff fingers, she reached for the strapped-on dildo with her free hand.
Maureen took a deep breath, steered the rounded end of the dildo to the open lips, then removed her three fingers from Jennie's squirming cunt. She touched the opening with the end of the dildo.
Jennie made a sound of surprise. "What're you doin'?"
Maureen didn't answer. The maid wasn't frightened yet, just surprised.
The vaginal lips were curled wide open and Maureen gripped the end of the dildo tightly, tried to guide it inside.
The small, wet opening didn't seem big enough to accommodate it.
Jennie's body moved upward as Maureen drove the dildo in.
"Whatcha doin'?" Her voice was frightened now.
Maureen took a deep breath, then lurched herself upward, forcing the end of the dildo into Jennie's stretched cunt. The girl screamed with the pain and tried to wriggle away.
"Lie still!" hissed Maureen, struggling to keep the huge rubber shaft in the girl's pussy.
Frozen with horror, she lay still while Maureen drove inward to the limit, and the stiff dildo thrust through soft tissue, reaching to the top of Jennie's sexual slot.
She screamed again, but Maureen ignored the sound and continued to drive in and out.
Jennie made a bubbling noise with her lips.
Maureen could feel the vaginal walls sucking at the dildo as she forced it in and dragged it out. The sensation thrilled her. Even Jennie's squeals increased her excitement.
But now her screaming had stopped; instead, she undulated her hips as the shaft slid in and out with slow, sensuous movements.
Maureen could hear each panted breath that spurted from Jennie's lips.
"You see," she whispered, "you like it, I told you, you'd like it!"
Jennie wriggled her bottom, opening the cheeks, letting the shaft drive in more easily, more pleasurably.
"It-it's like-like bein' raped!" Jennie murmured.
Maureen let the dildo move around inside Jennie's pussy. She got a sense of satisfaction out of being able to control it.
"But it's nice," said Jennie, "so nice!"
"I knew you'd like it," said Maureen.
The girl jerked her pelvis upward to meet the thrusting rubber cock. "M-Maureen-" she stammered, "I-I'm gonna-gonna come!"
The thrill ran through Maureen's flesh as she heard the words. "You sweet doll," she whispered, kissing her on the lips, "you sweet, screwable doll!" And she drove in with renewed vigor until Jennie writhed, squealed and throbbed as the monstrous dildo caused a vast orgasm to rock through her shivering flesh.
"I-I came-" sobbed Jennie.
"I did it!" sighed Maureen, letting her head fall beside Jennie's on the pillow. "I really did!"
Jennie felt the huge rubber object sliding out of her strained, stretched-open pussy, a once-tiny hole that would never be small again.
"Yes, Maureen," she whispered, "you fucked me all right, you really fucked me up, but good!"Then she let the salty tears wet the pillow beside her head. Maureen didn't hear her as she'd dropped into a deep, restful sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maureen was sitting at the dining-room table with Sylvia, finishing breakfast when William came in with the telegram.
"It's for you, Miss Maureen," he murmured, placing it beside her plate.
Somewhat surprised, she tore it open quickly: it was from Mason Loking in New York. She frowned. The message was brief and to the point.
Maureen, please come back immediately. You will be paid for the time you have been away and you are promoted too with salary increase. We need you. Everyone needs you. I need you. Come back now.
Mason Loking
Maureen smiled as she read it. "It's from my old boss," she told her aunt, "he wants me to go back right away."
"Are you going?"
Maureen was thoughtful, then she nodded. "Yes, I think so." She met her aunt's eyes, "but I'll come back if I'm welcome."
Sylvia smiled. "You'll be welcome," she whispered. "I can't think of anyone more fitted for Blythe House!" There was an enigmatic expression in her eyes.
Maureen flushed, then murmured: "I-I'll take that as a compliment."
"That's the way I meant it."
Jennie helped Maureen pack. "I-I hope you'll come back, Maureen."
"Oh but I will," said Maureen, looking at herself in the mirror. Everything she wore was new. And she was new, felt new. There was a change in her, both in looks and attitude. She would no longer let others use her. That part of her life was over. From now on, she called the shots. With men and women. She knew how to handle herself. It would never be the same as before. Maureen was different now. And was Mason Loking in for a surprise.
"You're all packed, Maureen." said Jennie. "Shall I tell Blake to get the car?"
"In a minute, Jennie." Maureen spoke very softly. "You're so very sweet." She pulled the maid to her and kissed her on the lips, probing into her mouth with her tongue. She felt Jennie respond, getting hotter, worked-up.
"You'll be back?" asked Jennie, passionately, when Maureen had released her.
"I promise."
She had said her goodbyes; now, she walked out of the front door where Blake was waiting with the Lincoln.
She climbed in and settled herself comfortably as Blake drove toward the station.
"When are you coming back?"
She looked at the back of his head, knowing his thoughts.
"I don't know."
"But you are coming back?"
Maureen smiled. "Oh, yes."
He sighed with relief. "It's been a pleasure having you here."
"Thank you. Oh, by the way, did you enjoy it the other night?"
His eyes met hers in the rear-view mirror.
"Enjoy what, Miss Maureen?" His voice was uneven.
"You know what I mean-"
He shook his head.
"I was quite conscious when you screwed me." Blake's face twitched. "No!" It was a strangled sound.
"I knew everything you did," Maureen breathed. "Did you like fucking my high-class cunt? Was it better than Jennie? Better than low-class cunts?"
"Maureen-I-I-"
"Don't worry, Blake. I know all about you, but I won't mention it to anyone. As long as you do what I say and what my aunt says."
He gasped for breath. They were almost at the station.
"I-I understand!"
He unloaded Maureen's luggage, carried it to the platform, and then stood still, waiting.
"Thank you, Blake." Maureen hesitated, then: "I enjoyed it with you." She looked at his face. "I'd never have let you do it if I hadn't!"
Then the train was in front of her and she was getting in, Blake following with her bags, placing j them on the rack.
"Goodbye. And have a good trip and come back soon." Then he turned quickly and hurried down the aisle.
Maureen moved to the window, saw him j half-running across the platform, then she sat down in her seat as the train began to move.
She pushed Blythe House and its occupants out J of her mind. She thought about New York and I Mason Loking. Smiling, with pleasurable j anticipation. He'd never know what hit him.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep with a smile on her young, innocent face.
