Anonymous - A Man with a Maid IV

“Well now, Miss Denton, now that you have been properly fucked, do you wish your own revenge on Molly?” I twitted her.

“I do indeed, sir. I can see now that she was a criminal accomplice to you and helped you to overcome my defenses,” Julia Denton gasped, her face again flooding with deep crimson.

“Excellent! You will forget your own momentary hurts by aiding me to tie this little vixen up to those little wrist ropes and then we will straddle her legs well apart so that she may be properly punished,” I directed.

Molly Bashe heard this with consternation and penetrating cry of “Ohh! No! Please, Mr. Jack, didn’t I help you with her?” which of course let the cat completely out of the bag. The two of us seized Molly Bashe, and in a very short time she found herself with her wrists roped well above her head, her drawers taken down and then her stockinged legs drawn exaggeratedly apart, with cords around the ankles making fast to floor rings.

“And now, Miss Denton, if you will take that birch rod which she used on your lovely bottom, and pay her back in kind, I think I can even the score.” Molly Bashe wailed and pleaded with Julia not to hit her with that dreadful rod, but with her eyes sparkling and her bubbies heaving furiously, Julia Denton delectated over the sport. Again and again the thin, supple rod bounded over the creamy nether hemispheres,. drawing piercing wails and shouts and supplications for mercy. Just watching this tableau gave me a new erection, for which this time I should have a great deal more self-control.

Standing up close to the writhing brunette, my hands clamped on her gourd-like titties, I prodded my stiff, weapon against her maiden gateway.

No sooner had my prickhead encountered the soft, twitching petals of her slit, then I discovered that naughty minx was quite moist, indicating that she had had a secret climax while either helping me flog and fuck Miss Julia Denton, or simply while watching my endeavors with her friend. With a single thrust I pressed myself home to the balls, and Molly Bashe let out a sobbing cry. She was in a mood, no doubt about it, to be fulfilled to the very last ounce of my marrow. Then suddenly her face twisted in a rictus of pain just as the swishing birch came home over her naked buttocks, wielded in the avenging hands of beautiful and seductive Julia Denton.

Seeing Molly plunge and twist this way and that, her head turned back over her shoulder to implore mercy from her dearest friend completed my rejuvenation. With a single thrust, I found myself packed into her up to the hairs, and then at short range I began to go in and out, though not retreating more than halfway, while my hands once again found the pert globes of her titties and squeezed and fondled them to my heart’s content.

Julia Denton laid on the rod with a will, and Molly was in strident tears, uttering plaint after plaint to be spared any further beating. But I did not let it end until I had fucked her thoroughly and at last felt myself explode deep inside her womb.

“There, Miss Bashe, I think we are quits to date,” I told her languidly as I drew myself out of her churning quim. Then I went back to Miss Denton and, cupping her titties and staring boldly into her blushing face, I murmured, “Your friend has told me something about you, Miss Denton, and I hope I have not done you any irreparable harm. But what I have learned about you suggests that you would do well to find a reputable young man to woo you regularly, for you are exceptionally passionate. How your fiancй could have deserted you is more than the mind can credit, especially after seeing you so deliciously displayed in my Snuggery.”

I made her go lie down on the couch and repose herself while I stood behind Molly Bashe and smacked her with the flat of my hand until she was squealing and begging for mercy and executing the most salacious gyrations imaginable. I told her in a loud voice that I would continue to punish her until she agreed to kneel down and pay tribute to my manhood. Before very much longer, Molly Bashe tearfully agreed, and then the high spot of the afternoon was enacted for me. For, kneeling between my legs, hands on the backs of my calves, her sweet trembling lips fixed against my stiffening prick, she sucked and licked me until with a cry I felt my last juices ebbing into her soft mouth.

I then courteously retired, leaving the two young women to perform their ablutions and to dress before taking their leave of me. It was an afternoon I shall never forget.

By the unexpected diversion which my patron goddess Venus had so graciously bestowed upon me on an afternoon which would otherwise no doubt have been spent in mournful meditation over my forthcoming renunciation, it began to dawn upon me that I had perhaps enrolled two delectable damsels into what I humorously called my “harem.” By the time Julia Denton and Molly Bashe left my quarters, they were not only reconciled amid many flushes and giggles, but the naughty and venturesome brunette hurried back to give me a farewell kiss and, whilst her satiny white arms clung round my neck, took advantage to whisper into my ear, “Ohhh, Jack, it was just heavenly! It was just what-we both needed, Julia and I. I think, sir, you have made her forget all about being jilted and given her a new interest in life. May we sometime soon come and visit you again?”

Now since technically I was still a bachelor, dear reader, I impulsively and instinctively answered, “By all means, dear Molly, come whenever you can and I in turn shall do my best to come,” a remark which made her giggle more than ever and turn away from me with her lovely cheeks a bewitching scarlet. And indeed, as the two fair charmers opened the door to go out, I saw Molly whisper to her enchanting friend and then observed that the latter was blushing and sending back to me a glance which intimated that she was not quite so irate with me as might have been supposed after the way I had imprisoned, fettered, fondled and finally fucked her.

Now I would not have you believe that entering upon the holy state of matrimony was a prospect which I contemplated without some serious meditation. Just as the leopard cannot change his spots, so could I not overnight and by the simple pronouncing of words and the exchanging of rings before witnesses convert myself to a circumspect and drearily puritanical sobersides. Yet on the other hand it is not within the code of a gentleman to make a flagrant show of being unfaithful to his consort without at least her knowing it and giving her full consent. This creed, to be sure, would be far in advance of our somewhat hypocritical times, for you must not forget that we were living in an era when women simply did not admit to experiencing sexual transports as men did, for to do so would be to proclaim themselves little better than whores. Indeed, in all my charming little coterie, had any one of these delectable young women boldly announced to all and sundry that they ecstatically welcomed the cohesion of man with maid, a righteous society would have branded them as strumpets and urged that they be publicly flogged at the, cart’s tail and made to wear a scarlet letter, much as in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s memorable novel which bears that same title.

Yet at the same time it was a delicious prospect to present to our conformist society, smug and bourgeois as it undoubtedly was, the very model of domestic felicity in the marriage of sweet Alice and myself, while at the same time all of us would understand that within the privacy of our own four walls, we might serve ourselves as we thought best to portions of pleasure and passion without the slightest concern for the long-faced hypocrites who, if the truth be known, would die of envy and jealousy if they could but know what secret joys were ours. I myself have found that those who most cry out with pompous anger against the lubricity and shamelessness of romantic dalliance can generally be found to trace back their outlook to a pure and simple case of sour grapes. Perhaps when a gawky youth, when first our would-be reformer and keeper of public morality experienced an itching in his private parts and did a-wooing go like Froggie of the fable, the pert maiden to whom he pleaded his carnal cause merrily rejected him because he was so cumbersome and inept at bussing and fondling and exchanging witty conversation which would have brought her to the point of opening her warm thigh to receive his further arguments. And thus undoubtedly, in his bitter disappointment, he had come to envy his less dogmatic fellow man who had the visceral fortitude to take what he wished and the devil be damned in consequence, and out of envious spite set himself up as an arbiter of his more imaginative neighbor’s good fortune.