Anonymous - A Man with a Maid IV

And with this, panting, she kicked out with her right foot, and if Molly Bashe had not suddenly moved over to one side, she assuredly would have had a very badly bruised shin.

“You wish to kick, do you?” I told the enraged and embattled beauty. “So be it! I have in mind a tableau out of the Folies Bergeres themselves, which will put you in a posture for kicking and yet not let you imperil your tender and lasting friendship for Molly Bashe by actually treating her so abusively.” And with this I turned to Molly and chided: “Put the envelope cutter down on that little tabouret and help me now, for I am going to arrange your impertinent friend in such a way that she will hardly be able to prevent you from obeying me, which you are under duress to do.”

Molly blushed as she saw my eyes on her rapidly swelling titties, and the little minx must surely have observed that the bulge in my trousers presupposed a certain ardent admiration of her own half-naked charms. But she kept her observations to herself, and very wisely, too, for if she had suddenly avowed her lust for my “avenging weapon” the game would have been up and Miss Julia Denton would have seen through the entire farce. So quickly and silently, taking her cue from me as I pointed to this and that, she aided me, swiftly and with a truly praiseworthy efficiency. She knelt down beside the now frantic Miss Julia Denton, suddenly seized the latter’s left ankle, and hoisted that beautiful leg as far up and out as she could hold it in her soft little hands.

“Let me go, Molly! Oh, what are you going to do to me? Stop it! And I thought you were my friend! Oh, Molly Bashe, I will never speak to you again from this moment forth. I renounce my friendship, I detest and loathe you for being a pawn in this wicked scoundrel’s evil game!”

Yes, dear reader, erudite young ladies of the bluestocking variety talked exactly like this, with as didactic and rhetorical a flourish as I have tried my poor best to set down on the pages of my journal. But I also knew that, just like the ornate and rococo ornamentation of our period furniture and the decor of our dwelling places, and exactly like the extravagant overdressing which the women of our generation fancied as being in the mode, once all this cluttering and unessential exterior could be stripped away, then one would begin to hear the most sincere and convincingly realistic expressions of the emotions they would be made to feel.

“Hold her tightly, unless you want to be put in her place,” I instructed Molly Bashe. Meanwhile, Julia Denton, twisting and wriggling herself in the most salacious manner, tried desperately to break her leg free from Molly’s hold, but quite in vain. I now approached with a cord, wound it tightly around that slim ankle, and made a good knot. Then I walked to the wall and turned the little windlass which lowered a trapeze bar I had but recently installed. When it was at the proper height, about that of Miss Julia Denton’s lovely brown-haired head, I stopped it and returned to seize the free end of the rope about her ankle and make it fast about the bar of the trapeze. Then I made a signal to Molly to release the tethered limb, and we both stepped back to contemplate the haughty and fuming young beauty.

She uttered a great cry and closed her eyes, and I could see a furious blush spread over her cheeks and even to her earlobes and to her temples, so great was the outrage to her modesty at the awareness of the posture I had put her in. Her drawers were stretched exaggeratedly by the “kick” positioning of her lovely leg. And since the waistband of her drawers was quite tight, as I had already detected, the cling of the fine pink batiste against the lusciously rounded curves of her bottom made it seem as if her firm flesh were about to burst through the thin stuff.

The gray lisle hose, which disappeared under the legs of these drawers, hardly did her beautiful calves justice. I made a mental note to myself to procure from some very fashionable and perhaps Parisian shop (or perhaps here in London owned by some wise and knowing Parisian female who would have an appreciation of what I was really seeking) to have on hand in my Snuggery various pairs of the finest silk and mesh hose, such as one sees in the music halls of Montmartre. Lisle and cotton are, I fear, for little girls in boarding schools because they are so drab and dowdy. But Miss Julia Denton was decidedly not a little girl. The indecent straddle of her legs accomplished by compelling her left leg to kick out in an extended horizontal plane let me feast my eyes on the tightness of the drawers at her virgin crotch, and now I fancied I could see peeping out from the stretched and almost bursting fabric itself the fine little follicles of pussy-hair, a darker hue than that whose charmingly florid curls fell about the sides of her head and over the top of her forehead in such exquisite profusion.

All this while, apart from her outcries and her raging looks at both of us, Miss Julia Denton twisted and arched and continued to drag on her bound wrists, making those lovely titties of hers jounce and bob in a simply thrilling manner so far as my cock was concerned. But now it was time to pass into the final phase of this little drama and to explore for myself the true reservoir of Miss Julia Denton’s concealed erotic passions.

I thereupon called a temporary halt to the proceedings, urging Molly Bashe to stand in readiness with the envelope cutter in her hand near her friend until I returned to put her to the test of that obedience which she had so fervently promised a little while ago.

I repaired to a little closet room just off the Snuggery, where I rid myself of my cumbersome trousers and braces and, naked as the day I came into this joyously adventurous world, donned a magnificently rich red satin bath gown which I belted loosely around my waist, and stuck my feet into a pair of felt slippers much softer than those I had just been wearing. As I put on my bath gown, I observed with satisfaction the bulging meatus of my cock, straining at the proverbial leash to perform its educational functions in the sweet quims of both Miss Molly Bashe and Miss Julia Denton. I marveled at my self-control thus far at not having taken Miss Bashe off into a little side room and there had a brief flurry of amorous engagement with her, solely to take the edge off my blade and give me more commendable restraint to prolong this sйance until both damsels should cry quits. But I decided against that because, speaking generally, I loved the dalliance and prolongation of the entire prelude to fucking, and the rude and brief encounter between prick and cunt is satisfying to a man only when he is terribly pressed for time or performing stealthily with a great risk of discovery- and I was in neither circumstance.

I now returned, and Julia Denton had evidently been talking in a low, hurried voice to my little accomplice, for when she saw me enter she straightened her head, closed her eyes, and uttered a long and anguished sigh, while her body shook and trembled, posed as she was on only one dainty foot and with her arms dragged high above her head so that the half-nakedness of her lovely virginal body was emphasized in all its delectable and desirable temptation.

“Now I think we may resume, Molly. Take that envelope cutter and start with Miss Denton’s left breast. Apply the smacks slowly, so that she will feel each one for its own good measure of discomfort. We will then see if she is still of a mind to abuse both of us, for I have no doubt that it has hurt you to the quick to hear your dear friend upbraid you so for your good sense in harkening to my strict orders.”

“Please, oh please no, Molly! For God’s sake, no, don’t do it!” Julia Denton squealed in a most unladylike tone, twisting herself off to the right until the pulley squeaked its protest and the trapeze bar swayed as she tried to jerk her uplifted leg free of its pinioning.