Anonymous - A Man With A Maid II

I should say that she was about an inch taller than Alice, though the rather bulky way she was dressed suggested an even greater plumpness than her sister had in fact. This is why the disrobing of a charming woman is such a treat for a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude: until the very last moment he is kept in suspense as to the true beauties of the body he is about to lay bare for his carnal appeasement.

When I saw that the heaving of her bosom had somewhat subsided, I took hold of her waist again with both my hands and caressed it. Marion shuddered and closed her eyes, setting her teeth to keep from uttering a word. It was evident that she wished to give her executioner not one ounce of satisfaction. It was equally evident that she wished to give the impression of death before dishonor, which was rather ludicrous, after all, in a married woman. But it was totally in keeping with her affectations and holier-than-thou personality. Yes, Marion, we are going to strip away that veneer of yours along with your clothes , I told myself.

Again and completely at my leisure, I considered her. She was damnably delicious, now that there was proof of her being somewhat less than an icy, untouchable goddess, a statue posed high above me on a pedestal. Now the gleam of sweat was more evident than before on her forehead, and long, shivering tremors swept along her tractioned arms and shoulders, while her face was flushed and taut with a mounting anxiety that insidiously began to gnaw against all her angry and heroic defiance. She realized that she was well caught and vulnerable, but I do not think she believed, even at this moment, that I would really go so far as I planned to do; undoubtedly the prim propriety of her upbringing and her outlook on marriage-though here, I will confess, I was speculating-made it absolutely inconceivable that a man should take and pinion and strip and feel and then have his way with her.

“If you were not quite so rebellious, my dear Marion,” I now coolly remarked, “the two of us could be far more comfortable than I fear you are at this moment However, Goethe has an admirable proverb which I shall render for you in the English translation. ‘What you can do without, do without.’ I fear, therefore, that I must content myself with the sparse means at my disposal till you show a less unruly nature.”

And with this, rising from my chair, I pressed myself against her till our knees met and my hands moved round to press against her shoulders so her bosom could not evade my eager chest. Thus her face was posed inches from mine, and I could hear the rapid, agonized stress of her breathing as well as see the broadening of her lovely nostril-wings and read also in her dilated eyes the glazed shadows of her rising dread. She jerked convulsively against my hands, but I nonetheless thrilled to feel her fine, firm breasts mashing against my chest, outlining their rondures against the thick cloth which kept their olive-satiny goblets from my entranced gaze and touch. She twisted her face to the left, closing her eyes as another long shiver ran through her. Now I could see the fine beads of sweat all along her forehead and at the sides near those dainty ears, indisputable proof of her terrifying uncertainty, of the loss of her vaunted poise and arrogance… the first true triumph against this embattled, beautiful young virago!

I could savor each triumph in its turn and time, and I was not greedy, though I confess it required the most powerful self-control of which I was capable to keep from altering my schedule of divestiture of Marion’s raiment and the progression to tactual and erotic torments and tauntings which would finally wreak havoc on her delicious, naked, helpless person.

The cords of her round throat surged against the warm olive skin, and I saw the triphammering of the lovely little pulse at the soft hollow which told of her overwrought excitement and increasing anxiety. She had compressed her lips and kept her eyes tightly closed, trying to obliterate me in the manner of the ostrich which thrusts its head into the sand to deny the existence of the oncoming hunter. The time had therefore come to show her that I could not simply be wished away and that my will was stronger than hers, to say nothing of my desire.

So, stealthily releasing her quivering shoulders, I placed my palms at her waist, just at the curve of her rounded hips, which seemed much fuller than they probably were because of the width and fullness of the skirt, and then, without warning, I clapped my palms solidly against the cheeks of her bottom!

“Aahhh! You filthy devil-oh, my God, take your dirty hands away at once, you unspeakable, detestable, horrible beast!” was Marion’s almost hysterical outburst. She lunged from side to side, throwing back her head towards the ceiling, but all she could see was the ceiling and the inexorable pulleys fixed in that firmament, and there was no reprieve in either. I pressed my palms more firmly against her behind, and with a groan, Marion pressed herself more closely against me, meanwhile glancing back and down at herself as if hoping that this was a nightmare and what she was experiencing was only a figment of her feverishly exercised imagination.

To rid her of that absurd notion, I spread my fingers fantail against the plump globes of her bewitching backside, and then I squeezed!

“Ohh! You beast-no, I don’t want you to touch me! You infamous scoundrel, you blackguard-take your hands away from me at once!” she stormed. Her voice trembled and shook with agonized and powerless rage as she trembled and shook with anger. Even as I stared at her contorted face, I could see the deepening of her blushes; and the effect of crimson against that olive skin, was, I must tell you, devastatingly exciting for me. My cock was now impatiently demanding some kind of participation in the fray, for I felt it swell and throb violently, lifting out the folds of my dressing gown until, had Alice’s sister chanced to lower her eyes and peer down between our bodies, she could not have mistaken the nature of my own excitement.

“From the frantic wrigglings my touch seems to produce in you, Marion,” I remarked as I momentarily relaxed the grip of my sinewy fingers, “I am beginning to believe that your nuptials must have been thoroughly intellectual rather than carnal. What? Do you intend to imply to me that your husband did not hold you this way when he took his conjugal rights?”

“Ohhh!” Her gasp was utterly scandalized. She turned her face to the other side now, but her eyelids blinked rapidly and I thought I saw the suspicion of glistening tears in their shadowed depths. Her fingers clawed the air, and once again she wrenched feverishly at her bound wrists.

“Yes,” I continued banteringly, “one would think you a virgin, Marion, from the way you squirm and gasp at the slightest liberty one takes with your delightful person. But surely the marriage must have been consummated in the time of three years.”

“Oh, you-you demon-you horrid, overbearing, boorish swine!” she panted, and she turned on me such a withering look of feverish hatred that I almost quailed.

“As I remarked a little earlier,” I at last countered her insult, “in the olden days physicians used their lancets to bleed a patient whose humor was choleric, lest he have apoplexy or be stricken with an attack of overly tautened nerves. You are overly hot, and I think the reason is the excessive clothing you are wearing. It is true the room is somewhat close. So instead of bloodletting, Marion, I shall put you somewhat more at your ease by removing some of your apparel.”

“Oh God, no! You have no right! I forbid you-this is criminal, horrible, vile. Oh, help! Help, in the name of mercy! Will no one help me from this monster?” she shouted. Again she twisted to and fro and dragged at her ropes.