Chapter 3
Her shame did not last the night, and Karen hated to see Vincent leave the next morning.
From the moment he stepped out the front door, she found herself eagerly anticipating his return. Since he had fucked her she felt more alive, more vibrant than ever before. Vincent had plucked the tender fruit her father had carefully nourished for so many years.
She spent the morning roaming through the many rooms in the mansion. A large collection of old Grecian and Roman coins caught her eye, but mostly she noticed the many paintings. The subject matter varied, except for the ones in Vincent's private bedroom. They were portraits of reclining nudes, voluptuous women glorying in their own sexuality. Some of the pictures appeared to be very old, especially the ones that portrayed naked females struggling against some mythical god.
Karen sighed. She was either dumb 0r uncultured, or she didn't have Vincent's taste for art. She didn't feel uplifted, didn't feel as if she were being drawn into the paintings. The muscular, virile-looking male gods did make her body tingle. And the struggling women with the I-want-to-be-ruined expression on their faces made her wish that Vincent would hurry home and fuck her again.
She finally tired of the house and went outside. The grounds were green and well-kept and the enchantment of them drew her deeper into the garden. She spotted a small white cottage near the gate and walked toward it. A man came out of the cottage and she impulsively waved to him.
He nodded silently, giving her the idea that he wasn't really interested in meeting her, then moved toward a tall hedge and began to trim it.
She didn't know why, but the young man intrigued her. Perhaps it was because she had never been around many young men. She moved closer, until she was standing only a few feet behind him.
"Do you work here?" she asked innocently.
"My God," he said slowly, turning around to face her. "What's Vincent got himself this time? Little Bo Peep?" He scowled. "Shit, yes, little girl, I work here."
"You don't have to snap my head off."
His voice softened. "Okay, I'm sorry."
She flushed under his appraising eyes. "I guess I did sound stupid."
"No," he said. "I just can't keep from getting angry every time a new girl shows up at the mansion. As for the stupid part, it all depends. You could be Vincent's niece or something?"
"No, his new secretary."
He smirked. "You fell for that line of shit... uh, pardon me, baloney?"
"It's not a line."
"Then you are stupid," the young man said. "I've seen a dozen like you come and go."
"Maybe they didn't do good work," she said.
"Maybe they didn't." He shook his head in disgust, turned his back to her, and resumed clipping the hedge.
"If you don't want to talk... " she began.
He threw the shears at his feet. "Honey, I've got one firm rule. Had it ever since puberty.
Don't waste time talking to a girl unless there's a future fuck in it. And you--well, Vincent's already got his brand on your pretty little ass!"
Karen blushed. She knew that she should be angry, but she wasn't. She liked the gardener, liked the serious expression on his lean tanned face, liked the strength that showed in the rippling muscles of his bare arms.
He was eyeing her again. His eyes ran up and down her trim figure, undressing her in his mind. She could feel his eyes burning into her tits and it made her nipples grow hot.
"You better be getting back to the house," he said.
"Why? Vincent is gone."
"Torne will come looking for you."
"Who is Torne?"
"He's kind of a foster mother hen who looks after the chicks while the rooster is away," the gardener said.
"Silly." She laughed. "Who is he, really?"
"The butler," the young man said. "You haven't seen him?"
"No."
The young man grinned broadly and Karen liked him even more. He had a pleasant, warm smile beneath his gruff exterior. "Well, brace yourself for a shock, honey. You won't see old Torne often, but hell be there. Creeping around, unseen and unheard. But there all the same, watching your every move. He thinks that Vincent Kingston is the greatest guy on earth."
"I take it you don't have the same opinion of Vincent," Karen said.
"He's just the man who pays me. When the check stops coming, I stop working. I think Torne would hang around for nothing."
"Why?"
The young man shrugged. "I guess Torne has his reasons. He worked as a dockhand at the trucking terminal for years. A forklift gave way, dropped a heavy carton of freight on his foot and crushed it. Vincent gave him the soft job at the mansion in gratitude for long years of faithful service. Or so Torne thinks."
"What do you think?" Karen asked.
"That Vincent wanted a strong-arm black buck around the house and Torne fit the bill."
"The way you talk, you must hate Vincent," Karen said.
The young man's eyes were focused on her bra again, seemingly reaching underneath to caress her titties. Her nipples stiffened. "I don't hate him," he said slowly. "I just hate the things he has that I haven't got."
"The mansion? The paintings?"
"You," he said, almost raping her with his eyes.
She saw the expression of raw cunt-hunger on his face and it made her uncomfortable.
"I... better be going," she stammered.
He chuckled at her sudden uneasiness. "If you need me, just call."
Karen smiled. She had to let him know that she wasn't displeased with him. "And whom will I call?"
"Billy," he said. "Billy Denim."
Karen moved slowly back toward the big house. Billy Denim had made her uncomfortable in more ways than one. Her cunt-mound was itchy. She could feel a small trembling in her belly. And the nipples of her tits remained taut against her bra. The sensations she felt were not at all unlike the ones Vincent had created with his lovemaking. And Billy had not made love to her, except with his eyes. He had wonderful eyes.
"Oh!" she cried out sharply. Just as she had reached for the door, it swung open. A huge, informally clad Negro man was standing before her. "I was just coming to look for you," he said.
"You must be Torne."
"Yes, ma'am."
She smiled. "Were you afraid I'd get lost?"
His expression remained frozen. "The grounds are large, Miss Karen."
"You know my name?" She had to look up into his face. He was over six feet tall, and his skin was a creamy brown instead of the coal blackness she had imagined. He was, in his own way, quite handsome, with sharp high cheekbones and deep-set brown eyes.
"Mr. Kingston told me all about you," he said. "He told me to look after your needs."
She was amazed that she felt quite at ease in the black man's presence. "Are you really my bodyguard, Torne?" she asked impulsively.
A faint, critical smile formed at the edges of his wide mouth. "Denim told you that?"
"Shouldn't he have?"
"He don't like me," Torne said bluntly. "And I don't like him. But let me tell you something, Missy. Denim guards the gate. Me, I just help Mr. Kingston look after the big house.
Denim? He's just an ex-cop who didn't know nothing about no growing thing until he came to work here. Ask him how to prune a rose and he can't tell you without looking at a book.
Ask him how to kick in a man's ribs and hell show you right off."
Torne turned, moved down the hallway with a noticeable limp, and vanished.
When Karen greeted Vincent at the door that evening, he immediately took her into his arms. She felt the heat of his half-hard cock pressing against her cunt-mound as he held her close.
"Let's go to bed," he murmured in her ear. "You were wonderful last night. I've had you on my mind all day. To bed. To bed."
"Before dinner?" She was almost shocked at the immense stiffness of his growing cock- shaft.
"Torne knows that I don't like to eat until late," Vincent said. "The culinary arts cannot compare with the nourishment of love."
"I suppose," she giggled, becoming titillated as he ground his hard cock-shaft against her cunt-mound.
Vincent took her by the hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom. He quickly stripped to the waist. "Take off your clothing," he said. "Do you know that I've never seen you in the nude?"
She blushed. Last night he had fucked her in complete darkness. Neither had seen the body of the other. They had only felt.
"Hurry," he said impatiently.
Karen began to undo her blouse. She wanted him to fuck her again, but a bit of innocence and doubt remained. "Is this all you want me for, Mr. Kingston? My body?"
Vincent did not deny his motives. "Your body got you the job, Karen."
"Yes, but... "
He ignored her as he took off his shoes and pants. "You must have suspected something when you read my ad."
"No, not really." She removed her blouse and fumbled with her bra. She had come this far and there was no turning back, but she hated the thought of exposing her naked tit-flesh to him.
Vincent chuckled with disbelief. "Even the intimate nature of the questionnaire didn't arouse your suspicions?"
She allowed the bra to slip from her breasts. "I was just thinking of the job," she whispered.
Vincent almost drooled. Her dainty titties were virginal but full, the pink nipples delicate and tasty-looking. "Your skirt," he said, leering at her.
Her hands trembled as she peeled her skirt and half-slip away. Her body looked very slender, but the slight immaturity of her girlish figure excited him even more. "Well have to do something about that," Vincent said, pointing at her crotch.
Karen looked down at her belly. Her panties, were almost threadbare. A quarter-size hole just above the crotch-strip allowed a small bunch of dark cunt-hair to protrude through. To her, it appeared almost obscene, and she put her hand over the tiny patch of hair. Vincent laughed. "You'll have clothing tomorrow," he said. "A whole new wardrobe. And panties. A lot of pretty panties. Can't have my employees going half-naked when they're supposed to be dressed."
"I can wait until I draw my first week's pay," Karen said.
"No," Vincent told her. "I'll see to everything. You'll have no need for money while you're here. Ill put your salary in a trust fund, and you can have it in one lump when you're ready to leave."
Karen stared at him. He was down to his jockey-type Shorts and his cock-bulge was enormous. She pulled her panties away from her belly, then hesitated.
"Damnit!" Vincent reached out and tore the fragile, worn panties from her hips. He flung them across the room. "They aren't good enough to be near your precious skin," he growled, then his voice softened. "Nothing but the best for you from now on, my dove."
The sudden and complete nudity shocked Karen. And when Vincent pushed his shorts down his thighs, she was further shocked. His cock-shaft sprang out from his hairy groin like a threatening lance, the swollen cock-head surging red with desire. His balls were large and hairy and bullish.
She took a step backward. "Mr. Kingston... "
"Vincent," he said. "You don't address a man who has fucked you as Mister." He reached for her.
His naked body burned against her. He was stroking her ass-cheeks and pushing her toward the king-size canopied bed. She fell beneath him and his weight bore down upon her slender frame. The long length of his prick could be felt along her upper thigh. She remembered how it had been the night before. Good. Very good. Desire flooded through her pussy and she spread her legs to him. A, tenseness filled her belly, although she wanted him to fuck her. She braced herself for the mighty fuck-thrust that would come from his stiff cock.
"No haste tonight, my love," Vincent whispered, then began to smother her tits with kisses.
In her innocence, Karen was amazed at his technique. He nudged, manipulated, licked and sucked her tits until the nipples were erect, the areolas swollen to smooth pink perfection. They tingled, actually throbbed, rising and falling with her uneven breathing.
"Oh, my titties," she sighed. "My titties feel so good, Vincent!"
His breath was hot as he buried his face between the mounds of her tits.
"Ummmm." Karen sighed in wonderment. Vincent's mouth left her breasts and the nipples shone wet with his saliva. His lips were moving, nibbling, tasting her soft flesh as they moved farther down her body. She closed her eyes, holding the lids tightly together. Her belly trembled violently. He was kissing all over it and digging his tonguetip in her navel.
"Ahhhh!" She didn't know what he was going to do and she didn't care. Anything he did to her had to be good, had to make her feel more like a woman. Vincent Kingston was supreme--something that most girls only dreamed about and never got.
"Uhhhhh!" Karen drew in her breath. Vincent's lips were moving along the edge of her cunt-hair. And then he sucked at each hip. She waited expectantly, wishing he'd put his mouth back on the lower part of her belly, right next to her hot little pussy-mound.
He did.
"Vincent," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.
She almost died. He was sliding his tongue through her pussy-hair, leaving the curls wet and plastered against her cunt-mound. He edged ever closer to the very beginning of her slit. Surely, he wouldn't. She shuddered in anticipation. It was too lovely to think about.
"Oh!" She gave out with a startled squeak as his tongue stiffened and lunged inward.
"Dear God!" The tip of it brushed her clit. It was heaven.
"Sweet... sweet pussy." Vincent was obsessed with the newness of his victim. She was faceless, she was nameless, she was but another lovely young female whom he had not yet fully tasted. His tongue worked expertly, sliding back and forth across her love-flesh until it grew in a hot lump against his taste buds.
Her pussy-fluids began to trickle, like honey from a freshly opened beehive.
He lifted his face momentarily from between her widespread thighs. He admired his handiwork. The fine line of dark hair on either side of her pouting pussy-hps was moisture- laden. The lips of her almost virgin cunt were slightly parted so that the delicate inner pink showed. From this valley of delightful pussy-folds, her small love-flesh rose in all its crimson glory, awaiting his next caress.
Karen's buttocks quivered. Her hands rested on her tits, squeezing them. "Vincent... " she said.
"Yes?" His soft laughter teased her. He knew that she was in sweet agony.
"Do... do it again."
"You delight me, little girl," he said. "Bashful. Modest. Inexperienced. And, oh, so damned lovable." He let his tongue creep across her quivering ass-cheeks, and then he dragged it across each inner thigh, just a fraction of an inch from her pussy-slit.
"Please do it again, Vincent," she whimpered. "I love it." She slowly eased her beautiful little ass from the mattress. The thin line of red between the lips of her pussy widened.
Vincent tongued the hot sliver of congested love-flesh.
Karen gasped as he sucked it between his lips. "Oh, you're sucking my clit. Darling. I love it!"
Karen was awar^ that he had utterly corrupted her in two short nights. She had fled her incest-minded father's clutches only to fall into something more terrible. What made it terrible was the fact that she was loving it, thriving on it, desiring it with all her heart.
Nothing seemed sacred or forbidden to Vincent Kingston. Her mouth, her tits, her pussy- they were all the same to him. Something to love.
"Ah... oh... ah... oh." She was ecstatic. Vincent was driving his tongue deeply into her cunt. It slithered in and out of her dripping hole like a half-hard prick. It was licking her, sucking her, fucking her. "Oh, God!" The cozy warmth inside her belly exploded unexpectedly. "I... came," she said in a surprised voice.
Vincent wasn't listening. His mouth enveloped her twitching pussy-hole, slurping at the sweet come-juice it offered in abundance. This he loved most of all. Nothing was better than to bring a young girl to the glorious summit and then to taste the fruits of his efforts. It made him feel like a hummingbird robbing a beautiful flower that had just opened its petals to the morning sun.
Karen lay exhausted on her back. Her pussy was a wet, tingling thing nestled in soft fur.
Her clit throbbed gently in its heated bed of fluid and flesh. Her eyes were shining as she looked at Vincent, who was still kneeling between her legs.
"You are mad," she whispered.
"Am I?" His mouth was firm, his eyes set hard with passion.
"No," she said. "I am mad for letting you lick my pussy."
He leaned forward, whispering, "Then let us go stark raving mad together, my love. Mad for one another's flesh."
She stared at his cock. It protruded across her cunt-mound, a good eight inches long. His hands rested on either side of her tits as he came forward. His bloated cock-head brushed hotly across her belly and retreated through her cunt-hair. It touched her clit.
"Vincent... I... " She wanted to tell him that she was satisfied, that she didn't care for more sex at the moment, but he was already pushing his huge glans into her cunt-hole. "I.
. . uhhhhhh!"
His cock felt even larger than it had the night before. But there was very little pain this time, and she had to admit that there was something very wonderful about having a big hard cock-shaft deep inside her pussy for a second time.
"Won-der--ful!" She liked the way her pussy-walls gripped his thick stalk as it penetrated deeper and deeper. Especially, she loved it when it had threaded all the way in, every last inch of it and the slick glans rested against her cervix, just waiting to spit out that wonderfully hot prick-juice.
"Exquisite," Vincent breathed, relishing the tightness of her recently virgin cunt-sleeve.
"Ummmm," Karen agreed. She was content with just having Vincent's big cock resting inside her belly. Her reverie was short-lived. "Uh... uhhhhhh!"
Vincent suddenly began a deep and prolonged thrusting that made her tits shake. For minutes he fucked her viciously, without plan and without mercy. Karen clung to him while his huge cock-meat ravaged her tender cunt. She was becoming numb from the force of it.
She wished that he would stop. The hammering in her belly continued endlessly.
"Please," she grunted. "You... it... uh! Uh Uh!"
Her battered ass bounced on the bed as his heavy balls slapped against it. His thick prick- shaft frictioned excitedly against her clit, and she felt the upper third of her pussy-channel ballooning open. She sensed the impending orgasm, and she no longer wanted Vincent to stop. She wanted him to keep fucking her... forever, if necessary.
"Oh, fuck," she whispered softly.
Vincent grinned as her nails dug into his back Her ass began to lift, meeting his thrusts in mid-air "You love it, you little bitch!" he gritted, and continued to fuck her vigorously.
"I love it!" she sobbed. "Yes, I do! I love your fucking!" Her forehead was dotted with perspiration. Her face was immensely pale. "Oh, how I love it!" She shuddered and began to whimper gratefully as she felt his hot come-juice pouring into the deep recesses of her prick-filled cunt.
And then she closed her eyes and came with him. Gloriously.