Chapter 3
She opened her eyes slowly, languidly, a bitter taste in her mouth, her lips dry and thick. Maureen turned to look at the small travelling clock on her bedside table, and the slight movement made her head feel dizzy. What was the matter with her? She blinked her eyes, flicked out her tongue and moistened her lips. Why did she feel so strange? Suddenly, she made a low sound of surprise as the position of the fingers on the clock registered in her mind-eleven o'clock! She never slept as late as this! She tried to jerk herself upright, but the abrupt movement made her head spin and she dropped back onto her bed. After a moment, she tried it again, more slowly this time, then swung her legs to the side of the bed and sat limply on the edge.
A frown creased her brow as she forced herself to remember at what time she had gone to bed the night before. But she couldn't.
She shook her head in wonder, then stopped abruptly as the movement caused the room to spin before her eyes. With an effort, she rose to her feet, swayed, then took a staggering step towards the small washbasin in the corner of her room. Shrugging off her robe, she doused her face with cold water for several minutes, following this with a sponge bath. She paused when reaching between her thighs, experiencing as she was a familiar sensation, like she felt the morning after an exceptionally good night with Mason Loking. But Mason was hundreds of miles away and last night she hadn't-She dropped the sponge, opened her thighs wider and pushed a finger inside her vulva. It felt warm and moist as usual, but not sticky like it did after Mason's big penis had come within her. The walls of her vulva were slightly sensitive, as though they'd been stretched or scraped.
She pulled out her finger with a sigh, letting it linger on the tip of her clitoris, squirming very slightly. Finished, she continued to sponge herself down.
When done, she pulled on her pantyhose, bra and blouse. She reached for her mini-skirt, then paused: it didn't seem appropriate for Blythe House, but she hadn't anything else, so she wrapped the tiny fabric around her waist and carefully made up her face.
Aunt Sylvia greeted her as she reached the foot of the stairs:
"Good morning, my dear. Did you have a good sleep?"
Maureen gave her a slight smile, then murmured: "A long one, Aunt Sylvia. I'm sorry to have slept in so late." A frown crossed her face, then: "I don't understand it, I'm usually up before nine."
"You had a long journey, Maureen, you were tired." The old lady turned towards the dining-room. "Come along, I'll have Mrs. Manton cook you some breakfast," she smiled, "or should I say lunch?"
Maureen followed with a wondering expression on her face. Why was she being so nice, so considerate towards her, when usually she was stern and abrupt?
While Maureen was eating the meal that a strangely subdued William had brought her, Sylvia made light conversation.
"I hope you won't find it too dull down here, Maureen, after your hectic life in New York."
"I'm glad of the change," Maureen answered between mouthfuls of food.
"I thought that perhaps you'd like to come to the village with me this afternoon. I'd like to buy you some clothes that would be more appropriate for here." She smiled, added: "We're still rather old-fashioned in this part of the country."
Maureen smiled back. "I'd like that. Thank you, Aunt Sylvia."
"We'll leave about three," said Sylvia; her expression became suddenly bleak. "I have a certain household matter to attend to before we go-"
Ken Blake felt uneasy as he stood in front of Sylvia Haley.
He had been summoned to her suite while he was eating his lunch, and now, as he met the cold, almost venomous, gaze that pierced him as he stood rigidly before her, a frightening apprehension shivered through his flesh.
"I know all about you, Blake," Sylvia's words cut through the air like daggers. "I had enquiries made in New York, and I know why you were so eager to stay away from there, why you're so willing to work here for the miserable salary I pay you."
The color drained from Ken Blake's face. "If I choose to go to the authorities, I'm quite sure that you'll be sent away for a long time." The chauffeur stood rigidly in front of her. "Do you want to be sent away, Blake?"
"N-no, ma'am."
"Then you must obey me, Blake," Sylvia's voice was icy, "implicitly and completely."
Blake nodded, muttered, "Yes, ma'am. I'll do whatever you say."
Sylvia gave him a bold smile of satisfaction.
"Stay away from my niece!" The words shot out.
Blake flinched. "Why-what-" He wasn't allowed to finish.
"I know what you did, you slimy creature," she took a step forward, then her hand lashed out, slashed across the chauffeur's face, "you drugged her, then dragged her into bed with you!"
An involuntary shiver ran through Blake's body. How could she know? How could anyone know?
"That's what you like, isn't it? Raping unconscious girls? Especially young, attractive girls." Sylvia's voice changed, became almost a whisper. "You like to see their naked bodies, don't you Blake, then crawl onto them, open their soft white thighs and do filthy things to their young, innocent bodies, that's what you like. I know! You force your slimy penis into their unknowing bodies and squirt your filthy juice inside them."
Sylvia's eyes were glittering, as though she was under a deep and exciting emotion.
"You know what would happen to you if I reported this?"
Blake choked, nodded, then blurted out, "Please, Miss Haley, please don't-I-I'll do anything you say if you'll give me another chance-"
"Yes, Blake, you will do anything I say, anything!" Sylvia took a step backward, raked the chauffeur up and down with her eyes. "Anything," she repeated, as though to herself.
Blake stood still with an effort. He was in this cold-blooded woman's power. Completely in her power!
"Take off your clothes, Blake, all of them!" The words hissed out. "B-but-what!"
"Take off all your clothes, Blake," Sylvia's voice was soft but deadly.
Slowly the chauffeur began to unfasten his tunic, shrug out of it, then ease down his uniform pants. He cast an appealing, frightened glance up to his mistress.
"Everything, Blake."
He removed his shoes, shirt and undershirt, then hesitated again.
"The rest." Sylvia's eyes were fastened on the man's body as he disrobed.
He took off his socks and shorts, then shivered, completely naked, in front of this frightening woman.
She stared at his broad shoulders, hairy chest and watched his navel moving as he took palpitating gasps of breath. Her eyes went to his face, and Blake felt a fresh fear as he saw the vicious, sadistic expression that had taken possession of her.
Her eyes went down again to stare at the thick growth of pubic hair and the penis, limp but still long, that hung in front of the dangling balls. She took a step closer and he felt the hot breath spurting from between her lips.
She thrust her hand down without warning, gripping his flaccid organ. "Is this what you use, Blake," she panted, "when you rape unconscious girls, is this what you use?"
The chauffeur didn't answer. He knew he wasn't supposed to answer; all he was to do was stand still and let this venomous woman do whatever she wanted to his body. He felt her fingers tighten cruelly around his penis. He restrained a gasp of pain with an effort.
"You have to be punished, Blake, for what you did to my niece." The grip became tighter, then fingernails pressed into tender sexual flesh.
"Aarh!" An involuntary sound of pain forced itself from Blake's lips.
"Hurt, Blake?" Sylvia's words were soft.
Her hand moved up and down the shaft and he felt his organ enlarging. She moved her other hand to cup his fleshy balls, slowly squeezing them.
Another, higher, moan of pain came from the frightened man's lips.
She squeezed the balls harder, then suddenly relaxed her grip, and moved her other hand up and down his shaft with smooth, caressing movements. He could feel his penis hardening, enlarging. He squeezed the cheeks of his ass together and moved himself slowly backward and forward as excitement took possession of his body.
As suddenly as the sexual movements had begun, they stopped.
Sylvia took a step back to stare down at the erect, extended penis that projected from the man's body.
He waited, fearful yet stimulated, for what would come next.
Sylvia reached down and picked up her cane from the floor.
"You must be punished, Blake. You have to be punished. You know that, don't you?"
A glaze of pure fear shielded the chauffeur's eyes. He could say nothing.
Sylvia moved close again. "Don't be afraid, Blake." Her voice was so soft. She caressed his penis with her free hand, and he felt it enlarging again, getting harder, more excited. And then she removed her hand and took a quick step back as her arm moved in a terrifying arc, the cane hissing through the air to land on the rigid, out-thrust organ.
Blake's agonized scream splattered from his lips and bounced off the walls of the room. He doubled over, then fell in a heap on the floor as his tortured organ jerked, writhed, then discharged its milky contents.
Sylvia stood back, watching his painful writhings with an excited expression in her eyes, the air panting from her lips, her own body jerking as though in orgasm.
She allowed him scant time to recuperate. "Get up, Blake!"
He continued to twist and squirm with intolerable pain.
"Get up!" She repeated the command more loudly.
He twisted his head to stare at her face with pure terror in his eyes. Saliva was dribbling from his lips, and his throat jerked and contracted as he strove to swallow his pain. His head fell back limply, then he twisted himself face-down, rocking his body about in tune with the agony that still shot through his flesh.
Sylvia stood still, watching his well-muscled buttocks moving up and down with his gyrations, before moving forward to position herself directly behind the palpitating body. She leaned down and stared between the quivering cheeks until she located the small, red anal opening, which squirmed open, then closed, as Blake moved up and down.
She took a deep breath, pointed her cane like a spear and lunged forward unerringly. The metal end penetrated the fragile tissue of her victim's anal canal.
"Uurgh-uurgh!"
The bubbling, excruciating sound of pain was lower this time, but no less intense, then suddenly it died away and the chauffeur lay very still.
Sylvia stated at the prone figure for a long minute, watching the blood spurt from the red opening as she slowly withdrew her cane.
"You fool," she muttered to herself, "why did you have to faint, you fool!"
Her voice rose on the last word, then she lifted her cane again. "I hadn't finished with you," she panted, raining a series of vicious blows down onto the unconscious man's buttocks.
Her breasts rose and fell as she panted for breath.
The marks on the chauffeur's flesh were red, turned white, then red again. His buttocks were criss-crossed with an uneven pattern of vengeance. Sylvia watched the slashed flesh changing color with fascination.
Suddenly, a tight smile fringed her thin lips. "I hadn't intended it this way, Blake, but it's poetic justice. You rape unconscious girls, and I discipline you in the same state."
A small sound of amusement emerged from her lips, then she dropped her cane, lifted her skirt and began to caress her clitoris. "But I found it stimulating, quite exciting, Blake. We must do this again sometime. I'm sure you'll give me ample excuse. I'm quite, quite sure." Her voice died away as her hand moved more quickly, letting her finger probe in and out of her vulva as she masturbated with impassioned devotion.
The man on the floor lay still.