Gloria Day: House of dark pleasure

Still groveling on the floor, George twisted his head and stared at Mildred Wynton.

She was standing in the pantry doorway, face white, eyes glittering.

"Did I interrupt you – or had you finished?" she asked in a coldly sarcastic tone. Her eyes flicked down to George, focused on his limp penis – then she glanced at Mabel, first at her face then at her curled-open, soaking vulva.

"Did you enjoy that, Mabel?" Her voice was like ice.

"Ma'am, I-I…" Mabel's face was scarlet.

"Come to my room tonight, Mabel," Mildred's voice was soft but frightening. "You haven't been spanked for a long time – too long, it would seem." Mildred's tongue flicked out and she touched her lips. "It's time I whipped that soft, fleshy bottom – you're getting spoiled."

"But, Ma'am I…"

"Bring my small riding whip to my bedroom tonight at the usual time," Mildred interrupted. "I'll punish you before you go to bed." Her eyes went onto George's face. "It's too bad you can't do these things on your own time, George. I don't pay you to suck Mabel off whenever she – or you – gets the urge!"

He stared at his mistress in silence.

Mildred's hand dropped onto her belly, and she massaged herself very slowly. "However; since that's what you enjoy doing, George…" she paused, licked her lips again, then: "Come to my room after I've punished Mabel – and you'll get what you deserve."

She turned, took a step into the kitchen then snapped over her shoulder: "And now that you've finished your fucking get on with the work I pay you for!"

They listened to her heels tip-tapping across the floor then looked at each other in eloquent silence.

Mabel spoke at last. "Cold-fish, dirty bitch!" she whispered.

George nodded very slowly. His penis moved of its own accord and he gave it a surprised look then encircled it with his hand, squeezed and felt the shaft coming alive, throbbing within his fingers. "She's a bitch all right," he murmured, then added almost inaudibly: "A hungry, fuckin' bitch!" His cock jerked inside his hand and he tightened the grip of his fingers.

Mildred Wynton was passing down the corridor when Willis exited from the spare room. She drew back in surprise, then her eyes flickered to the next demand she gave a sly smile of understanding.

"You've-you've observed her?" she asked softly.

Willis nodded his head, then grinned like an idiot.

Mildred walked to her bedroom at the far end of the long corridor, and her son followed her like a pet dog.

"You liked her?" she asked Willis, closing the bedroom door behind them.

He grinned again. "Yum-yum!" he mumbled.

Mildred sank onto a chaise lounge in front of her dressing table, took a cigarette from a silver case and snapped a lighter.

"What was she doing?" she asked, blowing smoke from her nostrils.

Willis made movements with his hands as though he was taking off clothes.

Mildred smiled through the smoke. "Undressing?"

"Um," said Willis, saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth, "all off all naked…"

"Really!" Mildred sounded interested. She stared at her son, then her eyes went onto his pants – with the tell-tale white splotches on the front.

"You played with yourself," she said softly, "while you were watching her."

The misshapen young man's face flushed scarlet, then he hung his head, mumbled, "Ya, Mama – ah'm sorry, Mama…"

"It's all right, Willis dear," she said softly, "I understand." She reached towards him, patted his arm affectionately as though he was a very young child.

She smoked in silence for a moment, then stared at Willis and asked, curiously but softly, "What did she do after she'd undressed?"

His face flushed even redder, then he grinned. "The same, Mama."

"The same?"

He nodded vigorously. "Same as me, Mama."

Mildred drew in her breath. "You mean she was-was…" her voice had become tight, "playing with herself, too?"

"Um, um, Mama…" he stretched out a finger, pointed it. "In and out, Mama all naked on her backspin and out!" He made stabbing movements with his finger.

Mildred leaned forward. "Between her legs?" she asked in a whisper.

Willis stood with his legs spread, bent his knees, then made stabbing movements toward his crotch with his finger.

"Um, Mama – up her cunt!" He grinned again. "Up her fuckin' cunt!"

She winced, then: "I wish you didn't use that word, dear, but…" her voice trailed off.

Willis had clutched at his crotch while he was speaking; now he caressed himself lewdly through his clothing. Mildred noticed it.

"I suppose that it was watching her do that – watching this girl diddle herself – that excited you, dear?" she whispered.

He bent himself slightly forward, gripped the bulge in his pants.

"All red…" he blurted, "all red an' wet." He looked into his mother's eyes. "Water came out – thick water."

"She orgasmed," whispered Mildred, wriggling her body as though she was uncomfortable. "She made herself come…"

"Um," said Willis, "me, too…"

Mildred drew on her cigarette until the tip was red. "You'd like to-to play with this girl, wouldn't you, Willis?" Her voice was low, throbbing.

He wriggled with excitement, squirming himself in his clothing like a child that wanted to pass water. "Um-yum-yum, Mama…"

She nodded her head slowly.

"When, Mama?" His voice was jerky with excitement. "When can I fuck, Mama? Fuck her wet cunt, Mama?"

She winced again, half-closed her eyes. "We'll see," she said slowly. "I'm having Basil for dinner tonight."

Willis looked pleased. "Doctor Basil?"

Mildred smiled. "Yes, dear, Doctor Basil Marston."

Willis dragged his hand off his crotch, made a jabbing movement with his fist. "He-he'll stick it…" he mumbled, "the-the needle – stick it in her." He swallowed, half-choked with excitement, "Make her go half-asleep like he did with…"

"We'll see," interrupted Mildred, still smiling and nodding her head, "after dinner, Willis, dear – we'll see!"

Doris took her time about dressing for dinner. "There'll be a guest," Mabel Williams had told her, and added: "Mrs. Wynton eats at eight."

She showered, then relaxed on the bed in her bathrobe, and wondered about the sudden spasm of sexuality that had flooded her body when she was undressing and teased her until she had succumbed to its urging and spread herself on her back on the bed and masturbated to a devastating climax.

Bruce! She murmured to herself. No more Bruce!

She thought about it for a moment, then remembered the bleak countryside that surrounded Romily Manor, and added to herself: No more anybody!

She had got used to the regular sessions of lovemaking that she had enjoyed with Bruce – and she had enjoyed them, enjoyed them more and more as their affair had progressed – and she wondered now, how she would manage without him.

Whatever his other shortcomings, Bruce had been a very satisfying lover.

There was always somebody, she tried to reassure herself, for every hungry girl there was a man – at least one man! But this wasn't populous New York, she had to mentally add. This was a remote part of Maine!

Doris sighed; dragged herself to her feet and started to get dressed for dinner. She should have considered this aspect of leaving New York before. It was a little late to worry about it now!

"Doctor Basil Marston," said Mildred Wynton, introducing Doris at the dinner table, "and this is my son, Willis."

Doris noticed the slightly defensive note in Mrs. Wynton's voice when she introduced her son, and she stared curiously at the odd-looking man-boy.

"How do you do…" Doris stretched out her hand diffidently.

"Hi'ya…" Willis mumbled; his long arm reached forward, and she stared with mingled horror and fascination at the huge hand, its back covered with hair, that seized hers in a strong grip.