Anonymous - A Man With A Maid II

I had at last proved that Marion was not nearly so frigid as she would have wanted me to believe, and at the same tune I had also been roused to the most ferocious desire, as the aching pangs in my swollen prick insistently informed me. I went to the wall and touched the button, lowering the ropes that tractioned Marion’s beautiful arms above her head, and she slumped, moaning softly in the aftermath of her furious climax. Squatting, I untied the knots around her slim ankles and then quickly unsnapped the swivel-hooks of the pulleys and deftly lifted her up in my arms, my right arm under her stockinged calves, my left arm around her bare shoulders, and strode to the padded couch. I stared hungrily down at her panting bubbies and the stickied muff between her long, quivering thighs, signs of the fulfillment which my feathering and gamahuching had brought her. And now I was in the driver’s seat, so to speak, for I had not brutally raped her, nor could she claim such indignity. No, aloof and imperious Marion had to admit her own female weakness in this just-concluded bout of nervous excitement. For if she had been frigid, she would never have achieved the shuddering spend to which I had compelled her. And thus her attitude toward me was bound to have significant alteration, which could only be in my own favor.

As I carried her towards the couch, she slowly opened her eyes and stared at me, then her face turned a vivid scarlet, and she immediately closed her eyes again, with a faint “Ohh!

“I have freed you, as you entreated, my lovely sister-in-law to be,” I told her, “and now I shall take you at your word, that you will no longer resist my desires. Does your whipping still hurt you?”

“A-a little-Ohh, what must you think of me-I’m so ashamed to be like this, I can’t bear to look at you, sir,” she faltered, turning her face away from me and closing her eyes. I have no doubt that the spectacle of seeing herself carried naked in only her stockings and shoes, in the arms of a totally naked man who had first fucked her and then gamahuched her, was a really shattering blow to her cool poise and her affectatious haughtiness. And I was most curious, as you may well imagine, to know to what ends her new psychologically induced awareness of me would lead her.

I laid her down gently on the couch, telling her that I would bring her a glass of wine, but as I rose to leave her, Marion stammered, “Mayn’t I go to the W.C. a moment, please?”

To hear that once vibrantly timbered voice take on so plaintive and child-like a tone to ask such a question almost made me laugh, but I maintained a straight face and told her that of course she might have a few moments to freshen herself, adding with just a hint of malicious irony, so as to show her that I was still lord and master in the Snuggery, “When you return, Marion, leave off your shoes. You have no idea how charming you are in just those stockings and rosettes.”

At this she uttered another gasp, glancing down at herself as if for the first time, and the vivid color in her cheeks was evidence that she had lost completely the bold and insolent assurance she had brought with her at the outset of her visit to my apartment. As for myself, I settled myself in a chair near the couch and watched her walk to the bidet, observing how the magnificent spacious cheeks of her olive-sheened behind undulated and shifted with her rather hesitant tread.

For a moment I sat in rapt contemplation of the rosy future I had just assured myself. Yes, why not enter upon the sea of holy matrimony with delicious Alice, I asked myself. Certainly she was as tasty a morsel in bed as could be found, and in our era, when the hypocritical double standard of the male forbade the female to evince the slightest interest in sexual matters or to show-an even more heinous sin-the least ardor in conjugal relations, I surely could find no more amiable wife than sweet Alice, who was already my passionate, willing and submissive lover.

And now that I had this hold on her beautiful sister, I felt that I could summon Marion to my bed when I wished, to entertain her with my favors, and make my wife-to-be, Alice, as enthusiastic and conspiratorial an aide in subjugating Marion to my bed-urges as could be wished for. No, marriage would not ordain the slightest cessation of my activities; on the contrary, because of the mйnage I would have from the outset, it would be practically as uninhibited a life as could be lived in a Moorish harem.

These delightful thoughts occupied me until Marion emerged, her head bowed and not daring to look at me and-Oh, naive creature that a woman is, no matter what her age!-with one hand clasped shieldingly over the thatch of her cunt. She moved towards me, then stopped, obviously hesitant and suddenly shy, because now she was not acting under duress or the coercion of the bonds and fetters.

“Rest a bit, my dear,” I told her gently, “while I bring you a glass of wine. I am in need of one myself.”

“Mayn’t I-I put on a robe or something over me, sir?” she hesitantly murmured, still not daring to look up at me. “To be like this before you is-is so shameful… I-I feel like a fallen woman.”

“But I prefer you this way, Marion, exactly because you are a woman now, and perhaps for the first time in your life,” was my answer as I rose to fill the wine glasses and again, very surreptitiously, drop in another tiny dose of cantharides into hers. For now was definitely not the time for her to retrench from the passionate plateau to which I had so ingeniously brought her. She must not be allowed to go back to her once vaunted and arid realm of imperviousness. I came back to the couch on which she had seated herself, her thighs tightly clenched and with her hand still pressed tightly over her mossy groove. I handed her the glass and then clinked mine against it as I said cheerfully, “To our better understanding of each other, Marion, and to an ending of hostilities.”

I took a hearty sip of my wine, watching her intently all the while. Finally, with a certain sigh which appeared to be that of resignation, she lifted her glass to her quivering lips and sipped daintily at it.

“Come now, I mean it,” I urged. “We were enemies once, so let us be friends now, for it unthinkable that after what has occurred between us, you should still wish to be at my throat. Confess it now, Marion, did you not deserve your punishment?”

She shivered, and those beautiful bubbies of hers swiftly rose and fell, while the telltale crimson once more deeply colored her cheeks, as she at last whispered, “Is-is this the way you h-had my sister?”

“I will forget you have asked such an audacious question, my dear,” I chuckled “I am not the kind of man who boasts over his conquests or scabrously dwells on the details. It could only be offensive to another woman. Do you then forget Alice, for she is away from the city and you are here beside me. It is to you I pay my admiration for your beauty. Are we friends now?”

“You-you must give me a little time to gather my senses about me,” she petitioned in a low, sweet voice, while she continued to blush and avert her eyes from me. “It-it is like a terrible dream that I cannot believe I have dreamed… to find myself like this, so shamelessly unclothed, beside you whom I so detested.”

“And do you still?” I pursued as I moved closer to her. “Finish your wine before you answer.”

She did so, and I took the glass from her and set it down on the little tabouret near the couch, along with my own empty glass, and put my arm around her waist. She shivered violently and tried to move a little away from me.

“Do you still?” I repeated.

“I-I don’t know what to think, either of myself or of you, sir,” was her faltered answer.