Anonymous - A Man With A Maid II

“Oh, how nice you are now, and how I had misjudged you, Jack!” she cried ecstatically as she clung her arms around my neck and hugged me. My right hand continued to forage in the sweet region of her cunt, while my left hand at the back of her neck forced her panting, most, warmly red mouth against my lips.

At last I escorted her to the door of my apartment, and it was a far different Marion that I led there than I had let enter. Now she was an arch-conspiratress who was destined to bring into my life new pleasures and delights, and who would not now stand in the way of my happiness with Alice.

Unhappily, the next day a messenger came round with a note from Marion saying that she regretted not being able to keep our tentative assignation, but my heart bounded with joy when I read the postscript which she had added:

“I think if all goes well you may expect a visit from me tomorrow afternoon, and I shall take my maid shopping with me.”

History was about to repeat itself! How well I remembered the exquisite way in which my beloved Alice had taken to the bait of demonstrating that she, too, could couple sweet sadism to love’s alluring ways and brought vivacious Fanny to my Snuggery. In so doing, naturally, as you, my patient readers, no doubt remember, she had offered me an additional inamorata for my private harem, the incomparable Fanny. Not only that, this introduction had resulted in a sweet rapport between Fanny and her young mistress, so I may be said to have diversely contributed to the happiness of others than myself, and thus could not be charged with the epithet of selfish, unprincipled rogue and bachelor rouй .

Via the same messenger, whom I tipped handsomely, I sent back an answering note that I should be quite at Marion’s disposal the following afternoon, and I bade the energetic young man who had conveyed this message to execute a further commission for me by pausing on his way back to Marion at a florist’s and there purchasing a dozen dark red roses with which my card was to be enclosed.

I dined at Simpson’s that evening to replenish my vigor, which I foresaw I should sorely need when not only Marion herself but the intrepid Kay, whom I had not once met, should visit my Snuggery. My dreams that night, as you may well expect, were full of the most titillating and lascivious scenes and images of my fertile dalliance and voluptuous chastisements which I proposed to inflict not only upon Kay but upon her mistress as well.

All my preparations were made and the apartment was in excellent order. I lunched early, ordering a glass of wine to drink a solitary toast to the oncoming pleasures, and then I waited with impatience. The doorbell rang at two o’clock.

I was immaculately dressed, as I had been when I received Marion, and when I opened the door, my eyes widened with admiration. Standing just behind Marion, who wore an entrancingly attractive blue frock and a dainty matching bonnet, was a young woman as tall, perhaps more svelte, with a profusion of coppery-red curls and the most impertinently sulky face one can imagine, with dainty snub nose, insolent and very ripe mouth, high-set cheekbones, and a complexion of pale ivory flecked by tiny rosy dots, the genuine and ardent complexion of a true redhead. Her eyes were gray-green and very closely set together, while her lashes were extremely long and thick, and her eyebrows full and eloquent. I looked forward to testing whether her mercurial nature and secret amorous proclivities were in keeping with her spirited and sensually enticing countenance.

“Well, a pleasant afternoon to you, Jack,” Marion blithely greeted me. “I was out shopping and found myself nearby, so I asked our driver to let us off here so that I can thank you for those beautiful flowers. How thoughtful you were, Jack.”

“It was my pleasure,” I bowed low, “and it was only a humble tribute to your beauty and warmth.”

I saw the red-haired maid prick up her ears at this, and she shot me a covert glance full of mischief and malice, Aha, I thought to myself, I know the cut of your jib well enough already, my fine wench! Yes, this Kay was the sort who would spy on her mistress to gain a hold over her, and I knew she was speculating on what might have passed between us for me to have addressed Marion in so warm a manner and for Marion to reply to me in kind. Well, I should soon disabuse her of this unjustified status-seeking, I told myself, as I invited Marion to enter my domain.

I asked her if she would not take a cup of tea with me and Marion gratefully acquiesced, graciously inviting Kay to share with us, but the pert wench tossed her head and tartly replied, “No thank you, ma’am. I’ll wait till high tea, if you don’t mind.”

Marion’s eyes met mine, and I saw a sort of facial expression on her charming features which told me this was quite typical of the maid. Ah, the wench was overdue for chastisement months ago.

“As you like,” I said airily, “but at least, since I am a mere man, you may be gracious, Kay, to help me prepare the tea exactly the way your mistress wishes it.”

She came forward with a sort of sulky resignation, and I watched her handle my tea things with summary dispatch. I said nothing, but I glanced again at Marion, who smiled and nodded. Yes, I had her approbation in my proposed scheme of things, and judging from the grimace of annoyance she made when Kay placed her cup before her with an annoying clatter of the saucer, I was sure she would give me not only moral support but also physical assistance when it came to the disciplinary measures I meant to take with this coppery-haired young vixen.

I recalled only too well how Alice and I had conspired to bring Fanny along that memorable afternoon, how the two of us had administered a voluptuous chastisement to the dark-haired maid, who is now as thoroughly impassioned as my beloved sweetheart. But Fanny at least had had a redeeming demureness and sweet humility, even with all her persiflage, whereas my impression of red-haired Kay was that she was spoiling for the rod in pickle, to turn a phrase. I did not know how long Marion had had her in service, but it was evident at once that she lacked the proper breeding for being a discreet confidante between a man and a maid of higher social plateau than her own. So I resolved that while providing Marion with her debut as a loving flagellant, I should requite on my own account this saucy baggage’s brash manner, not only toward her mistress during the episode of tea, but also toward myself. I saw that Marion was somewhat ill at ease, obviously not knowing how to proceed in making this debut which would once and for all proclaim her superiority and dominance over her red-haired vixen of a maid, so I deemed it meet to commence the proceedings.

“There is something I should like you to examine, Marion,” I soberly remarked, “because I, being a bachelor, cannot be expected to know much about decor, and I have probably committed several errors in taste and judgment.”

“I should be happy to give what little advice I can, Jack,” Marion flushed as she replied in a low voice, “but you must realize that since Harry and I have been separated, I have had little occasion to think of such relatively inconsequential matters as furnishing and decorating.”

“Surely you are not a recluse yet, my dear,” I jokingly replied with twinkling eyes, “for you are far too young and lovely to sequestrate yourself in. a mausoleum and hide your charms from an appreciative society.”

I saw Kay give her mistress an almost sneering look at this, and I could scarcely contain myself with glee, because it was obvious at once that this impertinent creature dared censure her betters. I blandly urged Marion, therefore, to come with me into what I termed my “photographic salon” so that I might have her valuable opinion. She did so, and, glancing back over her shoulder, casually added, “come along, Kay, please.”