Robert Desmond - House of Evil

Not long afterward, he had been lucky and fallen into a multimillion dollar real estate bonanza, had made enough money overnight for them to retire for the rest of their lives. They had indulged themselves in lavish comfort and idleness for a few years in San Francisco until they had chosen Quail Lake as a spot where they could build a miniature empire and, as Mr. Blackwell had put it a week ago, "relax without worrying whether or not the blinds ought to be closed."

"Nadalee, darling, is there something wrong?" Dolores asked as she peered across the kitchen at the girl still standing there just inside the door.

"No-no, nothing's wrong," the pretty redhead said with a look of embarrassment on her face. "I was just… just thinking about something."

"By the way," Dolores began, ignoring the girl's reply, "I've got to admit that that's a nice dress you're wearing but it's not exactly your uniform, is it?" The challenging glint of amusement in the blonde's lively eyes made Nadalee feel suddenly foolish and very ashamed of the red scoop-neck dress she had chosen that morning in place of the white uniform that had still been wet from the laundering she had given it the night before.

"Oh, no… I'm sorry," Nadalee apologized in a weak voice, "but my uniform needed washing and it didn't dry out in time to wear today. I hoped you wouldn't mind if I wore this instead… only until tomorrow."

"Even though I've got to admit that on you it's certainly sexy enough," the elegant blonde woman said in a coy whispering voice, her blue eyes dropping to carefully assess the generous expanse of rounded bare flesh swelling up above the low neckline of the red dress, "I guess we'll just have to wait to see if George approves or not."

A puzzled frown on her face, Nadalee watched Dolores suddenly straighten up and march breezily off toward the doorway that opened from the kitchen into the main ground floor corridor. The older woman turned at the last second to flash a quizzical grin back at her and then disappeared.

"By damn, one thing's for sure," John said a moment later in his squeaky voice, "Mrs. Blackwell's got something up her sleeve – something for you."

"What do you mean?" Nadalee worried.

"I mean, honey, that I've seen her act this way quite a few times," the skinny chef answered, "and something funny always happens when she does… But I just can't understand all the rest of it, though."

"All the rest of what?" the girl asked quickly, a feeling of irritating confusion coming over her.

"It's hard to explain," the thin-faced chef of nearly sixty said with a shrug. "Do you know that she came down here to tell me to take the afternoon off… She told me to take one of their new boats and go fishing out there on the lake."

"What's so strange about that?" Nadalee laughed.

"Nothing much, I guess," he admitted, "except that she knows damned well I don't even like to fish. And besides, I'm scared to death of deep water anyway."

Nadalee stood in the center of the huge master bedroom upstairs as she looked around the interior one last time before she left. Satisfied that she had missed nothing, she bent down to gather up the assortment of cleaning materials heaped in a pile at her feet. She froze with both hands halfway to the floor when she heard the unexpected sound coming through the partially open door from the adjoining bedroom to her right.

It was a husky male groan.

Good heavens, who could be in there at this time of day? she wondered. What was going on? Nadalee straightened up bravely and walked slowly toward the door. When she was a mere six or seven steps from her destination, she heard an even louder groan, a woman's this time!

My God, someone is hurt in there, the redhead thought, her first reaction naturally being to rush forward and throw open the door as fast as she possibly could. As she reached forward to grasp the handle on the door, the sound of a low menacing animal growl reached her ears and caused her to freeze again. She stood there for an endless moment, wondering what she could do as she listened for more sounds with every ounce of her concentration, her eyes glued to the floor. Gradually, she was able to make out other noises beyond the door even though her own heart was thumping so loudly that it was difficult at first. She could hear heavy rushed breathing punctuated by occasional grunts and moans of what almost sounded like passion. But that could not be, she reasoned, for everyone was supposed to be downstairs – and anyway, only the Blackwells would be together that way here in the house today. It seemed highly unlikely that her wealthy employers would dare do such a thing during the broad daylight, especially when Dolores Blackwell knew that their servant would be working in the next room at that time of the afternoon. And even if they had been so bold, surely they would have at least closed the door beforehand.

Her whole body tensed automatically as a nearby male groan suddenly erupted to join the other human sounds inside the room. This one came from only a few feet away from where she stood, petrified, her lovely white teeth chattering slightly from the fright and incapacitating confusion she felt. Her heart stopped and she hardly dared to breathe as the closest male groan resounded in her ears again. Finally, curiosity got the best of her and she slowly lifted her eyes from the floor to see if she could catch a glimpse of the source of the sound.

As her eyes adjusted to the brighter light that streamed into her face from the next room, she was able to make out a tall male form standing beyond the partly open door to her right. She blinked several times to clear her vision and sharpen into focus the hulking form which stood in towering profile only slightly over a yard from her own position.

The color in Nadalee's face ebbed suddenly as she sucked in her breath in horror!

She saw that it was Braun, the bald half-wit of thirty. He was standing there in front of her completely naked and holding his enormous rigid penis tightly with both hands. The long hard shaft of male flesh looked almost as thick as a young tree trunk and glistened all along its jutting length. It was incredible! It made Newton's penis seem small by comparison – though she knew that her young husband was extremely well-endowed since she had seen photographs of other naked men with erections in the illustrated marriage manual that she had bought back in Oklahoma without telling Newton. She had studied the text and pictures carefully again just before they had left to come here because she had begun to worry anxiously about the possibility that their sex life was a failure due to some short-coming on her part. Now, despite her crippling shock, she was able to remember the manual's statement that "… the average male sex organ ranges from five to seven inches when in a state of erection." Good Lord, she gasped, Braun was certainly not average! His huge protruding member was at least eight inches long, maybe more, and even his large hands could barely encircle its pulsing heavily-veined girth.

She saw that the bald moron's eyes were glazed as he stroked the long hard penis up and down in lewd rhythmic time to the now wet sucking noises she could hear coming from the bed on the other side of the room. Nadalee could not tell who was making the sounds as she was not standing far enough to one side of the open doorway to have a view of the wall against which the bed was placed. Braun was so close to her that she was afraid to even breathe for fear he might hear her. She stood there shaking from head to foot, her feet cemented to the carpeted floor, watching in horrified fascination as the servant's fingers skinned the thick foreskin of his uncircumcised penis rapidly up and down the full length of it, the huge bulbous head bursting evilly into view, like a giant monster crawling from a secret lair, with each hard downstroke that he made with his hands. She was close enough so that she could see that it was wet on the top from the white, sticky lubricating fluid beginning to ooze forth from it.