Anonymous: A man with a maid,vol.IV

Inwardly, I could hardly suppress my delighted amusement at the consummate artistry this pretty brunette was now displaying. Yes, I had completely misjudged her that afternoon in the Snuggery when I had initiated her into the mystic rites of Cythera. The little minx had evidently acquired a gluttonous taste for more of the same, and I was assuredly in the mood to nurture her newly acquired appetites to the very limit of my power!

I was, of course, in no hurry whatsoever. Foremost in my mind was the problem of what pretext to use to condemn Miss Julia Denton to this very same punishment and execution of it, although the delicious Molly had already slyly intimated to me that her companion was secretly yearning to be forced. But I decided to play the tune by ear and to discover what subtle and newly rewarding harmonies would come from it as Molly Bashe reacted to each minute progression of her “punishment.”

But I now addressed myself to Miss Julia Denton, whose flashing eyes, heaving bosom, and delightfully flushed color indicated that she was overwhelmed by my unexpected tactics towards her friend. “The lesson which you are about to see, Miss Denton,” I now expatiated, “is one that every pretentious girl should learn so that she will not make the error of riding roughshod over the males of this world, who are bound by our smugly conventional code to be gentlemen at all times. There are occasions, Miss Denton, when a gentleman is heartily disgusted at having to be such and would far rather revert to the one honest, candid and I may say-instinctive kind of behavior which impels him most sincerely and honestly… by that I mean, by acting like a man of parts and of virility and full mastery over the justly weaker sex.”

“I demand that you release me at once from this abominable chair, and you’d better let Molly go, unless you want dire consequences!” was Julia Denton’s panting reply.

There would be dire consequences indeed-but they would rebound against the irritated Miss Denton herself. For the time being, however, she would just have to wait her turn, for in all fairness I was obliged to commence with her lovely brunette companion Miss Molly Bashe, the scheming architect of this ingenious reunion. And to that end, I meant to proceed at once.

And so I regarded Julia Denton with a mocking little smile as I replied to her last indignant commentary with one of my own, which I trusted would consternate her: “You are in no position to demand anything, Miss Denton. But may I suggest that you watch very closely and see how I am about to proceed to the chastisement of your overbearing friend.”

“Chastisement? Surely you are jesting, sir! You could not dream of offering either of us any harm, unless you are rash enough to wish to be imprisoned for your folly!” gasped the delicious captive in my chair of treachery, horrified.

“I shall take my chances, but I am afraid that Miss Molly will certainly have to take hers first,” was my taunting reply as I now strode toward the enticing brunette whose wrists had been hoisted by the rope and who was now completely at my mercy.

Molly Bashe was wearing a charming green frock whose bodice was quite tight, considering the amplitude of her magnificent young bosom. The skirts were very modestly long, down to her trim ankles, yet I could see that they were sheathed in brown clockwork silk hose, and the thought of where they ended and what treasures they caressed made my prick begin to throb with-renewed zeal, remembering also that it had not had solace in quite some little while. I stood facing the delicious brunette, who played her role surprisingly well, for she tried to fling herself back from the ropes which bound her wrists and tractioned her virtually on tiptoe, crying out, “Ohh, what are you going to do, Mr. Jack? For heaven’s sake, do let me down, these ropes hurt my wrists dreadfully, please, sir!”

“I shall not let you down until you have been properly repaid for your naughtiness toward me, Miss Molly,” I sternly replied. I turned now to a little tabouret to my tight and retrieved a pair of shears which were lying on its top in readiness. Armed with this weapon, I now proceeded to go behind her and to snip the garment’s arms away, taking pains not to touch her finely grained skin during the operation. She shrieked and twisted herself this way and that, while Julia Denton in her imprisoning chair raged at me for performing such an outrageous and dastardly act upon a helpless female.

The masochistic brunette showed herself to be really a consummate actress as she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes very large and wide with feigned terror, her magnificent bosom heaving wildly, and twisting this way and that in a manner that emphasized the mouthwatering curves of her voluptuous young body. At last the dress fell in a tattered pile at her ankles, leaving her in her chemise and stays and two petticoats. Putting down the shears, I squatted down and dragged the petticoats off to both young women’s frantic protestations. Next came the stays, and now Molly Bashe was reduced to her chemise, which was quite long and went down to her knees and thus hid the elegant lace-trimmed, beribboned white batiste drawers which clung about her bottom and tasty plump loins.

“Oh for God’s sake, Mr. Jack,” she cried, “you’re certainly not going to undress me all n-n-naked in front of my friend? In the name of decency, don’t let her see this-I implore you, Mr. Jack!”

Into her voice there was exactly the right inflection of quivering fear and shame, but I told myself that her somewhat elderly fiance Arthur was a decided idiot not to have penetrated the affectatious mask which his betrothed assumed. If he had been more direct with her and treated her the way a doting father might have done a mischievous daughter-which is to say, administered a sound smacking-she would not have come here this afternoon in search of erotic assuagement in view of the expected drouth which would be hers when she became the bride of the India-bound milksop. And I told myself, since I felt charitably inclined (and who would not, with such a harem awaiting my own happiness within the weeks ahead?), that I would see to it that this Arthur of hers should not leave England without first being fully informed as to the really lascivious nature of his bride-to-be. I should hate to think of the excitably nervous and exquisite Molly Bashe having to toss and turn unrequited on her nuptial bed out there in darkest India, where one puts up mosquito netting and takes care not to step into one’s boots without first shaking them out. So primitive a clime deserved a pagan honeymoon, but from what my willing brunette victim had already told me in secret confidence, she would spend a very dreary time in that exotic outpost of the British Empire. Yes, I told, myself, I would pay Arthur a little visit in a day or two and acquaint him as man to man with the proclivities of Lady Betty’s only daughter… but of course without slandering her reputation, for I may be lecherous but am no cad!

Now it is said that if one casts one’s bread upon the waters, it comes back a thousandfold. And so, having already decided on this kindly deed worthy of a good Samaritan-oh, this ineffectual Arthur of hers would one day be intensely grateful to me when he lay between the sheets with this quivering morsel of pulchritude! — I advanced to claim my own reward for my good deed. There would not, you see, be time to wait for this bread to return to me with all that interest, for the luscious loaf itself would be in far-off India and never more within my appreciative clutches.

There was no need to use the shears on the chemise, for the shoulder straps unbuttoned quite simply, and so I stationed myself behind the delicious captive and began to unfasten the right strap.