Robert Desmond - House of Evil

Braun nudged her rudely with his shoulder, scowling to show his impatience with her as he tilted his head again toward the entranceway to the other room, indicating that she should step through the doorway in front of him.

"No, please! I can't go in with you right now… I've got too much housework to finish," she whispered in protest, hoping to bluff the weak-minded servant and convince him that her duties were more important than his taking her in to confront their employers. "If you force me, I'll just have to tell them how much you've been bothering me lately when I'm working."

The tall gangling nitwit's narrow brow furrowed as his dim mind tried to grapple with what she had said. Little by little, though, the puzzled expression on his face changed and slowly hardened, a glint of ominous malevolence lighting his beady rat-like eyes as she remembered how Mr. Blackwell had taken him aside before lunch for a serious conversation in the downstairs study. The big silver-haired millionaire had carefully explained what he wanted him to do upstairs that afternoon. If he noticed the good-looking young maid peeking through the purposely open doorway, he was supposed to slowly back out of sight, creep out to the hallway and sneak into the next room and grab her from behind. Well, so far he had done everything exactly right and now all he had to do was take her in there to Mr. Blackwell, Braun decided, his blood beginning to boil at the thought of her daring to resist him.

Nadalee knew that her strategy had failed when she saw that Braun was glaring at her in such a hateful way, the sullen anger in his face causing her to fear that he might ball his free hand into a fist and smash it into her face at any moment. She winced with pain as he cruelly tightened his iron-like grip on her arm, bruising her flesh, and then pushed her roughly through the doorway between the two bedrooms.

Braun held her in front of him at arm's length as they walked across the room, the beautiful redhead's heart pounding fiercely in her throat as they approached the bed where George and Dolores lay staring up at the ceiling, still recuperating from their torrid bout of sex. Nadalee throttled the panicky impulse she had to escape by trying to twist away from him and then run back through the master bedroom to the stairway. Actually, she felt almost thankful that the brute's hand was locked so solidly on her arm, for her legs were so wobbly with fright that she needed even that strange form of support to walk at all.

Braun's pulse quickened, his nostrils twitching again, as he watched her full rounded buttocks sway enticingly before him, each cheek making a provocative circling motion under her skirt as she walked. Even though his huge erect cock had fallen to semi-hardness when he had been forced to remember his instructions a few minutes ago, the movements of Nadalee's perfect young ass made the great shaft jerk higher, its colossal length swinging from side to side with every step he took.

"It's damned hard to believe that you'd do a thing like that," George said grimly, an exaggerated expression of disgust on his face as he glowered at the terrified girl standing a few feet away from the bed, "but if Braun says he caught you peeping at us from the doorway, it's got to be the truth."

"How could you, Nadalee, after we've been so good to you and your husband?" Dolores frowned, wagging her head back and forth in mock disgust even as she choked back the burst of laughter rising to her throat. Suppressing herself, she added, "It's a serious matter, you know, and we could send you to jail for what you were doing… while you were supposed to be working!"

"That's true," George agreed. "If it weren't for Braun, maybe we never would've known what kind of girl you really are."

"Yeah, I caught her, didn't I?" the imbecile slobbered, his crushing grip on Nadalee's arm tightening as he grinned proudly at the Blackwells. "She's a bad girl, ain't she? She's bad because she was playin' with herself."

"What do you mean, Braun? What was she doing?" George asked immediately, barely able to conceal the sudden excitement he felt as he considered the remark.

"She was rubbin' herself down there, Mr. Blackwell. She had her hand there under her dress," Braun answered, pointing an accusing finger at the well-defined vee where Nadalee's creamy thighs joined under the tightly clinging skirt of the bright red dress she wore.

"My God, did you hear that, Dolores!" George exclaimed, the tone of his voice one of manufactured indignation. "Our innocent-looking young maid was not only watching us make love, she was masturbating too!"

Nadalee stood silently, stiffening occasionally as her honor was slashed to pieces by the others… But what could she do? How could she possibly defend herself against them? Every torturing accusation was true? she thought blackly, and there was no way to soften the harshness of those truths.

"I caught her lookin' at my prick too, Mr. Blackwell. She was lookin' at it for a long time," Braun suddenly boomed, his announcement causing his employers to gasp. The bald half-wit's ugly misshapen face almost glowed with gleeful pride when he saw George give him a little smile of approval. The servant seldom received anything but verbal abuse from the Blackwells and he had long ago come to expect nothing else from them. But for some reason altogether beyond his comprehension, it seemed to him that they prized everything he said this afternoon.

"Well, Dolores, I suppose that settles the matter," George said with a note of finality, his deep voice uncommonly mellow and tinged with a note of sympathy that the crestfallen young beauty failed to detect was phony.

"I guess there's nothing else we can do," the blonde sighed, her gaze swerving abruptly to take in Nadalee's still-trembling form beside Braun. She saw with a sense of satisfied delight that the curvaceous youth's flawlessly lovely face gave clear evidence of the war of conflicting emotions that raged within her, her tortured expression a strange mixture of anxiety and distressing humiliation. By God, George never fails! Dolores thought with elation. Reviewing what had happened so far, she realized that everything was working perfectly and in accord with her husband's clever plan to bring the sexy-looking little bitch around to their way of thinking… at least as far as sex was concerned.

"Now, as much as I dread it, I guess we'd better call Newton up here and tell him all about your behavior at the doorway, my dear. Naturally, he should know about how you nearly seduced Braun, a poor feeble-minded moron who would probably let you have your way with him," George said sternly, his voice becoming gruffer by the moment. "I think it's only fair that we explain to him how his own wife was caught masturbating herself as she peeped at her employers making love in what they thought was the privacy of one of their own bedrooms."

"It's a crying shame, of course, but it's our responsibility, darling," Dolores consoled softly, pretending to show sympathy for her broad-shouldered giant of a husband because of the distaste he feigned about facing Newton with the report on Nadalee's shocking immorality. "I only hope that our unpleasant news doesn't completely destroy him… He's devoutly religious, you know," she said to George confidingly, "not to mention the fact that he's extremely sensitive when it comes to marriage and decency."

"Yes, I know, because I've had a few discussions with him in the tool shack and heard him talk about how a good wife should behave… And he's always excited about this great dream he has of owning a farm someday," George informed, the former gruffness in his voice suddenly softening to a quiet tone of counterfeit sentimentality. The big man lowered his eyes then to gaze pensively down at the bed in a pretense of brooding regret. His talent as an actor might not work on the stage, he grinned inwardly, but the juicy young redhead standing with Braun seemed to be pretty damned well convinced by the performance he was giving now, sitting naked on the bed.