Chapter 3
Julia was in her third week as chambermaid for the honeymoon lodges when it happened. The choice of her work area had been partly Kurt Reichard's and partly her mother's. Kurt, because he knew the secluded cottages where newlyweds were assigned were vibrantly sexual places in an already sexy resort. Good cultivation for his next assault on Julia.
Vivien Cochran was quick to agree that the honeymoon corner was the place for her daughter to start work, but her reasons were at the opposite pole. In the cottages, there was little danger for the innocent Julia. Horny males were all around, but every one of them was in a sweet daze for his bride. If they even saw Julia, their interest would have to be academic.
Neither Vivien nor Kurt counted on the strange couple in Elm Lodge who had been watching the first-of-the-morning routine of a most unusual chambermaid.
"She's the perfect one to ask," exulted Ron Alexander to his bride, Beverly. He inventoried the torrid blonde in the green uniform who was pushing the housekeeping cart past their porch, then whistled under his breath.
"Perfect for what?" asked Bev from the bed as she watched the stretching phallus give away the man's thoughts.
"Aw ... you know, Bev! It would be fun, and I think she'd love to do it for us. A guy can tell by lookin' at a girl."
Bev shifted to an elbow and stared at Ron, who had pressed back against the drape as Julia passed the window. Her bridegroom had crammed his hyperactive organ straight to the firewall of her cunt less than five minutes before, and already it was crawling to attention again. She was willing to bet it was the torrid build of the chambermaid that had turned him on.
"So tell me, Ron," she taunted. "What can a guy tell?"
"Whether a girl is gettin' any. like that one." He peered at Julia's posterior as she moved along the path outside the cottage, pushing the squeaking cart. Bev dashed to the side of her husband of six days and looked at the retreating figure of the blonde.
"See that fanny-wiggle?" he demanded. "That's your clue. She's getting laid plenty every day. Probably climbs in with any guest she finds in bed."
Bev saw his open-mouthed staring and fought to control the sarcasm she felt. "Come on, dreamer," she cooed, reaching around his hip for the now totally erected stem. "You've watched her three mornings in a row. Recess time is over!"
"Naw ... now wait, Bev!" Ron's voice sharpened. "Go along with me, will you? You know I want some pictures."
She shrugged, sank to a chair by the window, and began picking bobby pins from her hair. A suddenly self-conscious bridegroom strode to the bathroom, grabbed a towel and moved back toward Beverly, knotting the towel as he approached. She watched him as she loosened long lengths of her brunette hair and giggled at his modesty.
"You still stick out a mile!" she teased, swatting at the dark-purplish crown which poked out from under the white folds.
"I'm going to hang the sign," he blurted, moving to the paneled living room and going straight to the front door. He lifted the plastic card from the inside door knob. MAID, PLEASE HAVE THIS
LODGE MADE UP AT ONCE, it read. He opened the door cautiously and slipped the card onto the outside knob.
"She'll be back in fifteen," he chortled as he prowled into the closet for the Polaroid. "You watch; she always does the bird watchers next door, then backtracks."
"I don't have to watch," sniffed Beverly irritatedly. "You've been doing enough for both of us. Did your 'ex' like action pictures?"
"Aw, c'mon, Bev! That's enough. You already said I was a nut, so relax and enjoy it."
Running a comb through her hair, thrice-married Beverly strolled lazily across the living room to the kitchenette. "Coffee, Lover-Boy?" she called. The idea was beginning to appeal to her.
"Hey, there isn't time!" Ron yelped from his position at the bedroom window. "She'll be here in minutes."
"I have to have my coffee if I'm to perform for the public," Bev said as she measured a teaspoonful of the instant.
In Spruce Lodge, next door, Julia was pulling the sheets from the massive bed which was a honeymooner special at The Buccaneer. As she lifted the bottom sheet away from the mattress, she saw the circle at the center. There was no way she had found to fight the compulsion and for a moment she stood stroking the dampness, imagining the action that had taken place directly over that sperm spotting. She had seen the two who lived in Spruce. A tall, thin man and an almost equally tall bride. Not a very attractive pair, but what they did in this bed must be frantically attractive to both of them. The cum stains were there every morning.
Just then she saw the little marking of red at the side of the sheet, and thought, how awful for them! The girl must have begun her monthly. Julia folded the sheets into a bundle, collected the towels from the bathroom and stepped to the porch to throw the linen into her cart basket. She was still pondering the possibility of love during the menstrual phase when she saw the card fluttering on the door knob of Elm Lodge.
"Funny," she mused, "It wasn't there five minutes ago." She wondered which side was out, the DO NOT DISTURB, or the call for maid service. It was a fun game to guess what the door signs would say as she made her way along the path each morning. The two in Elm would want her to stay away, she was sure. They were almost always in bed till noon and doing very little sleeping. Twice in the past four days she had heard the violent bouncing of the bedsprings just as she passed the partially opened window. It was the only cottage she ever passed where sex sounds were unmistakable.
Julia had almost gone back to Kurt Reichard to plead for another part of the resort for her chambermaid duties when she first began working the honeymooner corner. The place was distracting, with its couples strolling and openly caressing. The smell in the rooms was still alive with the passions of the occupants. At least once each day the total impact of the sexuality all around her forced Julia to find an empty bedroom and finger herself to hurried orgasm.
"Unsatisfactory" was the only word for how her self-play made her feel in such an environment. All around her were twosomes going wild with each other's bodies and she was so completely ignored she might just as well be invisible. She would be that way herself when her honeymoon time came, she realized, but it helped very little. The knowledge of how she had excited Reichard and even old Mr. Wilson kept recurring. What a blast it would be to line up every male in the twenty newlywed cottages and see what she could do with them.
A vivid fantasy flared before her eyes and she saw twenty naked males standing in a line in the green that formed the center court of the half-moon-shaped colony of white, frame cottages. An angry group of deserted brides huddled together and screeched at their grooms, who were all transfixed by the chambermaid. Julia was pushing her cleaning cart before her as she moved along in front of the men. A maid's cap of Kelly green was perched at the top of her upswept blonde hair and except for the spiked heels, she was totally nude.
Her imagination ran from one madness to another as she entertained the men. Some days as she made her cleaning rounds she would mentally masturbate each man. Other days she would invite them all to do whatever they wanted to with her ... and always, when the wish dream was over, Julia was ashamed.
"Better go read the sign," she murmured to herself as she pulled the Sprude Lodge door behind her. It really would be stupid to ask Reichard to shift her station, she reasoned as she paused at the turn-off to Elm. He'd just get all upset that what he'd done to her there in his office was giving her a bad backlash, and that wasn't the kind of thought she wanted Kurt Reichard to have-if he ever thought of her after that day.
She stepped into the semi-darkened living room, wondering what had happened to get the usually late risers out this morning. For several minutes she collected ash trays and emptied them into the kitchenette basket, then walked from window to window in the room, pulling open the drapes.
The crumpled pile of pillows in the center of the room puzzled her for a minute. It must have something to do with the sex act, she was certain. But who would be on top and who on the bottom?
"Fun!" she giggled aloud as she scooped the pillows from the floor to return them to the davenport.
"Come and have some coffee," called the soft voice from the bedroom doorway. Horror-stricken, Julia turned to stare at Ronald Alexander.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she burst out as she stumbled to her feet. "The sign ... it said maid service ... I thought ... "
"You thought we wanted maid service-and we do," laughed Ron, stepping into the living room and cinching the bathrobe belt at his waist as he moved to the kitchenette.
"What can I do for you, sir?" Julia asked, suddenly relieved. The man looked altogether domestic in his plaid robe.
"You can come meet my wife, first," he said, stepping from behind the little breakfast bar and catching her arm to steer her toward the bedroom.
Till she was ushered into the darkened room, Julia was too startled to reply. She couldn't imagine what possible reason this man-whose manner announced him older than most bridegrooms-would have for introducing her to his wife.
"Meet Beverly!" Ron proclaimed, flicking the light switch at the door, and peering at the name tag on her uniform.
Soft, rose-tinted light shone across the body of the succulent nude stretched and waiting on the sheets. Beverly was staring at the ceiling, apparently unwilling to look at the new arrival.
"We need your help," Ron said quickly, stepped to block the doorway when he saw her turn to leave.
"I ... I must go," Julia replied in a stunned half-whisper. It was a situation that made absolutely no sense to her. Why would a man parade a maid into the presence of his naked wife?
"I'm afraid you can't go for a few minutes," she heard him saying. "See, we want you to take a few pictures for us that we can't for ourselves."
He grabbed the Polaroid from the dresser top and approached her, and for the first time Julia was aware that his robe was jutting and twitching at his middle. All at once the kind of pictures he wanted penetrated her numbed thoughts.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, pushing past the man in a panicky urge to get away. "It's against the rules for an employee to be in a room with guests like this."
"Hold it, little Miss-Uppity!" called the woman in the bed just as Julia reached the living room. "Isn't it also against the rules for an employee to remove a guest's property?"
Julia froze in mid-stride and spun to march back to the bedroom. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
"Call the manager, Ronald," Beverly ordered. "My purse is missing and there has been no one in this room but this chambermaid."
Ron moved toward the phone and Julia glared angrily. "Go ahead and call him. You know it's a lie."
"I hope he'll know it when we show him my compact that we found in your cleaning wagon," Beverly replied.
Julia looked from husband to wife and then stared down at the floor. "What do you want me to take?" she asked quietly, her emotions suddenly calmed.
Why not? the tiny voice inside her head said. It's nothing. They're married, and that makes it different. Do what they want and get it over with.
Ron hurried to lock the front door when he saw her surrender. Now, still clad in his robe, he stepped behind her and, while Beverly watched, he fingered under Julia's hair for the zipper to her uniform. "First thing we want you to do is to take off your clothes and be as bare as we are. It'll help us get in the mood."
"No!" Julia almost shrieked the protest as she spun away from the prosling fingers. "I..."
"Go call the manager, Ron," snapped Beverly. "She's impossible."
Not until she heard the man ask the switchboard for the manager's office did Julia relent. "Wait!" she begged. "I'll do it!"
There was no escape, she told herself as she shrugged the uniform from her shoulders. Even a hint that she had been suspected as a thief would stain the perfect record she needed to advance her career.
"Everything!" Ron demanded, when, still clad in bra and panties, she turned to the dresser for the camera.
"All right!" She spat the words as she popped the snaps and let the bra tumble to her feet. "Does that help you get in the mood?" She bent to peel her panties, and when she straightened, her unwanted host had removed his bathrobe and was waiting with the camera.
Julia's fingers flew involuntarily to her mouth at the sight of his booming erection. She saw he was so excited at showing himself that his shaft appeared to be leaping from its attachment to his groin. She felt the initial outrage begin to melt inside her, and in its place a terrible curiosity was building. It was all against her will, she rationalized. She had been trapped, so why shouldn't she make the best of the bad situation?
Ron beckoned her to his side and angled the camera to show her how to take the pictures. "Now, come over here," he instructed, handing her the camera and taking her hand to lead her.
"Anything goes, sweetie," whispered the female, impatiently writhing in the middle of the bed. "Anything except my man putting himself in the wrong body while we're doing this."
Julia noticed that the dark-haired woman, whom she guessed to be about her mother's age, hadn't taken her eyes from her, once the uniform came off. Now her arms were extended as she arched against the mattress and to Julia's astonishment, Beverly's hands were reaching toward her.
"Come on!" she urged, "Let's us two get Ronnie ready."
"Oh ... I ... I don't know..." Her protest was broken in the middle by a sudden shove from behind that spilled her face down on the bed. The camera disappeared from her hand as if by magic and she felt a fist clamp across her wrist and drag her arm behind her back.
"You two can wrestle!" shrieked Ron. "That'll get the troops hot and bothered."
His wife needed no encouragement. With a happy squeal, she sprang across Julia's back. It was no-contest. Julia's shock and Beverly's karate knowledge made it a short contest till the brunette hovered victoriously above her, helplessly spread on her back. There was a moment of trembling silence in which only the labored breathing of the girls and the sound of a clicking shutter could be heard. Julia stared wide-eyed into the face that looked down into hers and wondered what could possibly happen to her after this.
Ever so slowly the exquisitely supple figure of her conqueror was lowered and Julia felt the shock of breasts brushing her breasts. The victor's hardened nipples teased her flesh. Then, cooing softly as she moved, Beverly rotated her shoulders and hips to brush closer and closer till her boobs were molded snugly against Julia's.
"Yeah!" breathed the obviously delighted male.
There was another snap of the camera shutter.
A storm raged inside her. They were using her for everything they wanted. But the thing this female was doing-why couldn't she fight it? Very deliberately, Beverly lowered herself, writhing in rhythmic torture of Julia's body till their torsos were cemented in restless glue, breasts and hips and love mounds grinding eagerly.
"Puh ... please!" gasped Julia as she felt the terrifying tug to let herself go in a totally new exploration. "Duh ... don't!"
"Let yourself go, sweet child," whispered the voice in her ear. "I won't hurt you."
An entranced husband watched as Bev shifted her body, and, inch by fraction of an inch, began kissing a path toward Julia's animated breasts. It was the most compelling tenderness she ever had known, and in spite of the way they had tricked her, she was almost glad now that it had come to this.
"You give yourself away," cooed Beverly as she hovered above a taut and pointing nipple. "You want it, and you can't help yourself!"
"Nooo!" Julia moaned as sucking lips closed around her agonized nipple. Her head was swimming again the way it did when she first felt Kurt Reichard. As though she sensed too great a passion in her prisoner, Bev moved briefly to the other breast, nibbled and tongued it a moment, then began to trace with her lips toward Julia's navel.
There was an almost inhuman boldness to the next exploration. Fingers slipped quickly along the line from Julia's hip to her groin and brazenly slid across the mound to prowl along the slit.
"Get this, Ronnie dearest," hissed Bev as she twisted in a contorting turn that brought her lips to the exposed blonde triangle. As the woman's mouth pressed hungrily to her quim crack, Julia's tumbling, frightened thoughts flew to the last time she had known lips at her most secret place. The vivid memory of Kurt Reichard's desperate need stabbed at her as she looked down the front of her body and saw dark, shimmering hair burrowing deep between her thighs.
Briefly a fevered face appeared above the rise of her mound.
"Ummm! She's all honey and butter," murmured the seductress. "Eat your heart out, Ronnie Baby!"
It was the mocking manner of the woman that shattered the near-hypnotic trance which had gripped Julia's whole being. For minutes she had felt herself drawn irresistibly to the love of another female. Now it had to be stopped-had to be, or it might never stop. With an unexpected wildness, Julia twisted and wrenched her legs free of the clasping arms. Before Bev could grab again, Julia was on her knees and rolling in a frenzied somersault that took her over the side of the bed.
Almost before the other two could move, she was on her feet and advancing on the astonished male. "Give me that camera and tell me when you're ready!" she stormed, grabbing for the Polaroid and staying out of range of Beverly.
Moments later she was caught up in an enchanted new spell. There before her on the bed, she was watching a man invest a woman with his cock. She was obviously entranced with the action, and as though to bedevil his audience, he nudged tiny, teasing thrusts against Beverly's quim lips.
"Take me, bastard!" hissed the frustrated female, urging her buttocks to force him to plunge.
Ron drove his cock to the hilt and then, with a sadistic smile playing at his lips, he withdrew himself almost completely. Julia watched the sopping, glistening shaft come fully into view and when the great, gleaming cap popped from its love prison, she couldn't suppress an audible gasp.
"Pictures!" hissed the man.
For half-an-hour the play went on, and the more possessed the tangled bundle of coital crazed exhibitionists became, the more Julia felt herself losing control. It was far more than her wildest dreams had dared hope. Wrong and animalistic and everything else it might be to think it, she found herself wishing the bludgeon prick that was stuffing another female might suddenly whip from Beverly's body and charge into hers.
"Ahhh ... oh, baby, I gotta.. '. ! " Ron straightened and stiff-arming his palms on either side of his bride, he humped the opening barrage of his orgasm into the convulsing cunt.
"Looky there! Looky there!" he screamed suddenly at Julia, ejecting abruptly and arching far back to give her a full view of his spurting cock.
"Feel a man, kid!" he rasped, lunging for her hand, which covered the astonished ovaling of her lips. Before she could snatch her fingers away, he had dragged them toward his discharging penis to force her to clasp him.
"Frig it, sweetheart!" he shrilled at Julia, pumping himself with the other hand.
"No, no!" Julia was nearly overwhelmed by the magnetism of the first ejaculation she had ever seen. Even as she screamed the protest, the sight of the spraying cannonade of a man's cum made her want to dive at the exploding tower of beauty. Just as she tore her fingers from his grip, the hand holding the Polaroid tightened on the camera. In the midst of a roaring crescendo in her head, she heard the incongruous sound of a shutter clicking.
"Picture!" yelped the man, folding across his bride's body and snuggling quickly.
"She took our picture," he murmured, suddenly chastened at the exclamation of disgust from Beverly. Then he was silent and molded tightly to her body, grinding to refresh his softened organ. For the moment, Julia was ignored, and knowing it might be her last chance to escape-knowing, too, that if either of them should call her to stop she would never find the will power to leave-she dashed for her clothing and ran from the room, clutching shoes and uniform and still holding the camera. The two on the bed made no sign they had heard her run to the living room as she hurried into her clothing and, stuffing her maid's cap into her pocket, started for the front door.
The picture! she suddenly remembered. She darted to the breakfast bar and ripped the square from the camera and peeled the dark cover. For a tingling second she gaped at the sight she had caught in the lens. An obviously possessed brunette was arched from the sheet, breasts soaring, body straining in orgasm. Boldly mounted on the woman, gripping a spraying hard-on, was the grinning husband, showing everything he had to the photographer. And there was more. Her own hand was barely an inch away from that dark-acorn cock crown when the picture was taken. She had just pulled away from Ron's hold, but only her hand was visible and the fingers seemed to be reaching to cover the fountain of semen.
"Hey!" came a yelp from the bedroom.
Julia raced to the front door, clutching the picture and hoping she hadn't broken the camera when she slammed it to the counter top in her rush for safety.
It was late that night and she lay in her bedroom, fingering gently along the tender crease of her cunt. She held the picture to the light from her table lamp and again studied the drama she had captured. Both the male and the female disturbed her terribly as she looked at their action. She remembered those lips at her breasts and she felt the kisses moving gently down her front as that woman had tortured her body, coming at last to the place she was fondling now.
She recalled the strange, frantic feeling of helplessness and the surge of wanting she felt when the female had burrowed urgently between her legs. Why hadn't she let her go all the way? What was the harm, since she had been forced into the action?
And that man! What a sight to watch him piston his proud rail back and forth! What horrible, egotistic selfishness he had to rip that love muscle from his wife's body and wave it in front of the camera! The camera? For you, dear Julia, that's who he flagged it for. You ran just in time, little dumbbell!
What had happened with one strange couple could happen with another and another, she knew. Anyone could lure her to the cottage with that sign on the door and then she would be forced to do whatever her captors wanted. That was the frightening part. She flung the picture to the floor and burrowed her face under her pillow.
She shuddered at the way she had almost given in to the Lesbian advances ... how she had hoped for the man to leap from his wife and plow his hungry cock into her body. Hers! There was no telling how far she would let herself go, if she should ever be trapped again in one of those bedrooms. That was the clue-she should get away from the rooms into something public and protected.
Sleep came finally in the wee hours of morning, but not before she had formulated a plan of action. She would visit Sherman Wilson the next day, wherever she could find him, and ask for a transfer to a new phase in the training. Perhaps, since he had assigned her to the chambermaid role, he would decide that a month was long enough a time to be at the bottom of the totem pole.