Chapter 4
Maureen was surprised when her Aunt Sylvia seated herself behind the wheel of the old Lincoln.
"Isn't Mr. Blake driving us to the village, Aunt Sylvia?" she asked, not thinking that her aunt could drive.
Her aunt gave a grim smile. "Mr. Blake isn't feeling very well this afternoon, Maureen. I'll drive. Come on, get in the front beside me."
Sylvia had summoned William, ignoring the startled expression on her butler's face when he'd seen the naked man lying on the floor of her suite, and gave him instructions. "Revive him, William, then dress him, or help him dress. After that, get him to his room without any of the staff seeing you." She'd glanced at her watch: "It's two-thirty. I'm taking my niece to the village at three."
"But who'll drive you, ma'am?"
"I'll drive. And that reminds me. Before you deal with Blake, bring the Lincoln to the front of the house, then get back up here and do as I've said.".
The butler had walked over to the prone figure and stared at the bruised buttocks, the marks which were already changing from red to blue on the fleshy bottom. Blood still trickled from the pursed-open anus.
"Don't waste time, William, go and get out the car." He'd shambled out of the suite with awkward haste to obey his mistress's command, while Sylvia prepared herself for her trip to the village with Maureen. By the time she was ready, William had returned.
"The car's out?"
He nodded.
"Then do as I told you with that," indicating Blake with the pointed end of her cane. Turning she'd hurried downstairs to where her niece was waiting for her.
"I'm afraid you won't have the choice of clothes that you're used to in New York," said Sylvia with a small laugh as she steered the big car onto the highway.
"I never knew you could drive," said Maureen with a trace of surprise in her voice.
Sylvia laughed, and Maureen thought how seldom this severe woman relaxed. It seemed as though she was excited about something, as though anticipating a stimulating experience.
"I've been driving since I was your age," Sylvia answered. "Of course I've never had to, I've always had a chauffeur."
Lucky you, thought Maureen, trying not to feel envious.
Sylvia slowed as they approached a small cluster of houses and buildings. "And this is the village, my dear."
It must have been the smallest town she'd ever seen, thought Maureen, looking around with little interest.
"Now we'll see what Mrs. Beauchamp has that'll suit you."
"Who's Mrs. Beauchamp?" asked Maureen
"She owns the only decent dress shop for miles. I buy all my clothes from her."
She stopped the car outside a small shop, switched off the motor and got out.
Feeling completely out of place, Maureen followed her aunt into the shop.
"Miss Haley! How nice to see you," said the blonde, fortyish woman, who appeared from the back of the shop.
"This is my niece from New York," said Sylvia. "I want to buy her an outfit of clothes, if you have anything suitable."
"Oh, I'm sure that I have. Come." She beckoned to Maureen. "Let me show you a new line of dresses that arrived only this morning."
Back at Blythe House, William had succeeded in arousing, dressing then supporting Blake as he staggered back to his room.
"The vicious old bitch!" the chauffeur said again and again between groans of pain as William ministered to him.
"Just rest in your room," said William, sounding severe. "You must have done something to deserve what you got."
As soon as the chauffeur was safely in his quarters, William glanced at his watch, noted with satisfaction that it was only three-thirty and hurried to a small room on the top floor of the house.
He tapped at the door, then entered without waiting for permission. A young brunette with large brown eyes and well-developed figure glanced up from the book she was reading with a start.
"William!"
"Jennie-" the old man panted, drinking the girl in with his eyes.
She was reclining on the bed, knees propped up, book on her lap, her shapely legs revealed under her brief maid's uniform.
William stood still, staring. He could see where her dark stockings gave way to milky white thigh, and at the crotch, strands of brown hair escaped from the dark, skin-tight briefs.
"We've got time," the butler panted.
She straightened her legs and put her book down with a sigh. "Oh, William," she said as though reproaching him.
"But no time to waste either."
The young girl pursed her lips. "Which way?"
"Same as last time," said old William, his hands trembling with eagerness.
She shook her head. "I've got to be back at work very soon." Then she blinked her big eyes and said very softly: "You can do it to me if you like," she giggled, "I don't mind that at all."
"No!" William sounded angry, "I want it, too." His voice changed. "Remember, I can make you lose your job if you refuse-and-" he groped in his pocket, dragging out a crumpled bill, "I'll give you this if you do it!"
Jennie sighed in resignation, then rose to snatch the bill from the butler's hand. "Oh, all right," she muttered, reaching under her skirt and slipping her fingers in the waistband of her tiny briefs to slide them down and off. "But we've got to be quick."
Eagerly, William moved to the bed, lay on it, then groped at the front of his pants.
Jennie spread her soft body over him, her feet at William's face, and her mouth over the penis which rose from the butler's open pants.
"Remember, William," she said, sounding peevish, "I want to come, too. Last time, you stopped sucking my pussy as soon as you'd shot off in my mouth."
"I'll make you come, Jennie," William promised, lifting the maid's skirt, gloating over the mass of young flesh and dark pubic hair just inches from his eyes.
She opened her legs and he saw the pink slit appear, become wider, wetter, and he reached for it with his lips.
As soon as he touched the tiny clitoris with the tip of his tongue he felt the young body jerk while her lips went down, encircling his penis.
He drove his tongue deep into the young vulva, felt the soft walls contracting, then expanding as he sucked with sexual pleasure. Small wet sounds came from Jennie's lips as she sucked at the butler's penis.
Her small, rounded buttocks began to wriggle with expectant pleasure. William reached up and held them with both hands. He parted the young cheeks and saw the small red hole between appear. Very gently, very slowly, he inserted the tip of a finger. A new sound of delight came from Jennie's lips. She lifted her head and purred: "That's nice-go softly-don't hurt-"
Now it was William's turn to complain: "Keep your lips on my cock-keep suckin'-keep-" he panted, "Keep-" Then he moved his mouth back onto the wet lips that were opening wider and wider as the little girl's excitement mounted. He pressed his mouth forward to suck fresh tissue between his teeth, chewing it very carefully, making the smooth buttocks wriggle and squirm more urgently than ever. She was half-lifting herself now, causing her clitoris to brush against his lips each time he sucked her inward until she squealed, still keeping her lips on his penis. She wriggled about violently, then jerked, again and again, until her whole body relaxed, and even her lips fell off his enlarged organ.
"Suck my cock!" snapped William, angrily. "Just because you've come-you're not gonna stop!"
Obediently, the little maid encircled the aroused organ again, sliding her lips up and down, tickling the underside of the penis. At last William began to move himself: his body rocked about in sympathy with her sucking movements.
"Faster, Jennie-faster-I'm coming-I-I-Aaaaaagh!"
William jerked violently, and the young maid felt the spurts of hot juice squirting into her throat. She gagged and started to drag her mouth away. But William reached down and with unexpected strength pressed on the back of her head until her face was over his penis again, her mouth encircling it.
"Swallow it, Jennie-all of it-" he panted, feeling his orgasm ebbing from its peak. "I've paid you-so swallow, little girl, just swallow!"
"I think this dress would suit you very nicely," said Mrs. Beauchamp to Maureen. She held up a blue dress that was longer than any that Maureen ever remembered wearing.
"Well-" said Maureen, doubtfully.
"I like it," said Sylvia, then to Mrs. Beauchamp: "Is it the right size?"
"I think so," said the shop owner. "What is your size, dear?" she asked Maureen.
Maureen told her, and Mrs. Beauchamp nodded with satisfaction. "Then this'll fit. Come and try it on."
Reluctantly, Maureen followed the woman to a small dressing room at the side of the shop. Mrs. Beauchamp closed the door behind them.
"You have a beautiful figure, dear," she told Maureen after she'd unzipped and slid off her mini-skirt.
"Thank you," said Maureen, feeling embarrassed as she stood in front of the woman in her revealing pantyhose.
She tried on the blue dress, examining herself in the full-length mirror critically. It looked better than she'd expected.
"Well, now," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "I knew I was right. It fits and suits you perfectly. Go out and show it to your aunt."
"I like it," said Sylvia when Maureen had paraded in front of her. "I'll buy it. And I'd also like to get you a skirt and blouse."
They showed her six blouses, and Maureen selected three that she thought she might like.
"We'll see how you look in them," said Mrs. Beauchamp, leading the way to the dressing room again.
When Maureen had shrugged off her blouse, Mrs. Beauchamp made a small sound of distress. "That bra, it's not right." She sighed. "I mean it's not right for these blouses." Then she brightened, "I'll be right back." She left Maureen alone in bra and pantyhose. In a moment the woman was back, holding a very different type of brassiere in her hand.
"With this," she explained, "these blouses will look perfect."
Before Maureen was aware of it, the woman had unfastened her bra at the back, her hands moving over Maureen's naked skin as she slid the bra off.
She seemed to wait a long time before she brought up the new brassiere, and Maureen was very self-conscious about standing near nude in front of another woman.
"Try this one, dear-" Mrs. Beauchamp instructed, somewhat breathlessly.
Dutifully, she put on the new brassiere and stared at herself in the mirror. "I don't like it," she said petulantly.
"Is it too tight?" asked the blonde, and before Maureen could jerk away, the woman slipped her hand inside the bra and cupped Maureen's breast. The woman's fingers moved over the nipple, touching, teasing, arousing it.
"Don't-" she panted, "don't do that!"
"It's all right, my dear," said the blonde in a whisper. She whipped the bra completely off, cupping both of Maureen's breasts, kneading and squeezing them with gentle, experienced hands. Her nipples were tensing, stiffening.
"Oooh," Maureen moaned, feeling weak, unable to assert herself, "Don't do that-you're making me-making me get-get-" She broke off with a moan and closed her eyes.
"I told you," said the blonde in a whisper, "it's all right-I understand!"
Her hands moved over Maureen's nipples, and suddenly, Maureen felt her thighs squeeze tightly together.
The woman sensed the movement, and slowly, carefully and cleverly, removed one of her hands from Maureen's breast and slipped it inside the front of her pantyhose.
Maureen could feel the fingers threading their way through the luxuriant maze of pubic hair. "Relax, my dear," said the blonde, "relax your thighs, open your legs, my dear."
Maureen felt repelled at what was happening, but strangely, she did as the woman told her, relaxing her legs, letting her thighs part.
A clever finger slid lower, found vaginal lips that were wet and opening and tickled them very gently, before finding the rising clitoris.
Maureen jerked at the touch then moaned as a finger was inserted inside her vulva.
"What're you doing to me?" she moaned. But the blonde didn't answer. Her two hands were too busy: one, teasing and arousing an erect and aroused nipple; the other inside Maureen's pantyhose with a finger easing its way in and out of her wet vulva.
Maureen bent her knees, let herself sag against the other woman. "You-you're going to-to-make me-make me-come-"
Her face was flushed, eyes closed, when the blonde kissed her on the mouth. It was so unexpected that Maureen felt as though her heart would stop; then a wet tongue probed at her lips. She opened them, allowed the intruding tongue to dart into her mouth, wriggle its way inside there, like a hungry, eager worm.
Oh, God, what's happening to me? Maureen asked herself.
The sensations, enveloping so many parts of her body, were driving her up the wall as with almost shocked disbelief she realized she was going to orgasm.
She squirmed her body urgently, and as though she understood, the blonde woman moved her finger more rapidly on Maureen's screaming clitoris. She squeezed the iron-hard nipple more fiercely, kissed more passionately. And then Maureen felt the fiery thrills cascading through her flesh, spiralling down to her vulva, her clitoris, making it bob wildly under the teasing, tickling fingertip. She moved her buttocks in time with the thrills. She came.
"Mmmmm," she moaned, her mouth still pressed against the blonde's, "uurgh-uurgh!"
Her whole body twisted and writhed in a frenzy of ecstasy as she orgasmed with devastating intensity, her blonde seductress suddenly releasing her, letting her fall in a moist tangle of sensual flesh to the dressing-room floor.
Aunt Sylvia was sitting in a comfortable chair near the front of the shop with a glass of wine in her hand when Mrs. Beauchamp and a shaky and white-faced Maureen finally emerged.
"You were quite a long time," she said, ignoring Maureen's condition, "so I helped myself to a glass of your excellent wine, Millie," she said to Mrs. Beauchamp. "Would you like a glass of wine, dear?" she said to Maureen.
"Y-yes," Maureen murmured, "I'd like that very much."
"I'll get her one, Sylvia," said Mrs. Beauchamp. And it wasn't until Maureen was sipping the smooth but potent wine that she realized that her aunt and Mrs. Beauchamp seemed to know each other much better than as customer and seller. Maureen felt numbed by the myriad experiences happening to her.
"I'll take the dress and three blouses, Millie," said Sylvia. "How much are they?"
Mrs. Beauchamp gave a girlish laugh. "Oh, Sylvie, you know better than that! I wouldn't dream of letting you pay for them. They're my gift to your most delightful niece."
Maureen heard the words of the two women as if she was a long way away. They talked so intimately, as though they were close, oh, so very close, friends.
"I'd like some more wine, please," she heard herself saying; then, while she was sipping it, she realized that everything had been planned! That her Aunt Sylvia had brought her to this shop, to this woman, in order to allow her to be seduced! She shook her head wildly. The wine, or the violent orgasm, or something had gone to her head.
"Come, Maureen," she heard her aunt's voice saying, "we'd better be going. We've got what we wanted, haven't we?"
The voice seemed to come from a great distance.
"Yes," she said unevenly, "we've all got what we wanted. So we may as well go." She rose to her feet unsteadily and walked toward the door.
But on the ride home in the Lincoln, she kept wondering what her Aunt Sylvia had gotten out of all this.