Chapter 6
Breakfast was a quiet affair; Maureen's aunt spoke very little, and Maureen's mind was filled with the events of the day before.
She looked at William curiously as he served them, remembering the sounds from the library, his furtive exit and her subsequent discovery.
The old man's face was composed, his movements confident and steady: it was hard to believe the things that she'd seen, and surmised, the night before.
"We'll go for a drive this morning," said Sylvia when the meal was over, "the fall is a wonderful time for viewing the scenery in Maine," she paused, then added, "unless there's something else you have to do, my dear?"
She waited, and Maureen looked at her aunt, wondering what, in this lonely place, there could be for her to do.
"No, I've nothing to do, Aunt Sylvia. I'll be glad to go for a drive."
"Be ready to leave in thirty minutes," said Sylvia, sounding like her old severe self.
"Yes, Aunt Sylvia," said Maureen, meekly, and she went up to her room to get dressed.
She chose one of the dresses that Millie Beauchamp had given her. On opening the dress-box, Maureen discovered three pairs of stockings and a garter-belt included and understood this to be a tactful way of telling her that pantyhose was not becoming to Blythe House.
Maureen giggled as she dragged the hose onto her legs. There weren't any panties in the box, and she'd worn hose for so long that she hadn't even brought one pair with her when she left New York. She'd just have to go without.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding up her dress, looking at her legs in the glass. The sheer silk stockings were the best quality-nothing cheap about Millie-and they enhanced the shapeliness of her legs. She stared at the garter-straps as they pressed into the whiteness of her thighs, then gazed at the triangle of pubic hairs on her abdomen. Jennie came into her mind. The little maid had been wearing stockings and a garter-belt. The thought brought back memories of the night before, and a flicker of excitement rippled through her flesh. How soon would they be able to enjoy such delight again? Her fingers hovered over her crotch, then she parted her legs, pressed her hand between them and caressed her vagina as wild thoughts ran through her mind. Please let it be soon! she whispered to herself.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, then let her eyes close, parted her legs more widely and let her knees relax. Her stiff forefinger probed into her wetness. She let the ripples of excitement shiver through her flesh, then jabbed inward again, more deeply this time, and felt the soft, warm walls of her vulva clutching at her frenetic finger. A low hissing sound of anticipation soughed from between her lips as she felt her clitoris twitch.
Maureen's head hung down and her mouth drooped open as she masturbated with determination. Her finger drove inward and outward with the ease of long practice, and each time she pulled outward, she slithered her fingertip over the head of her awakening clitoris.
The thrills ran from the walls of her vulva to inside her belly and flickered downward again onto her clitoral head.
Her knees jerked and her body rocked from front to back in sympathy with her probings. She dragged her eyes open to stare down at herself and saw her finger squeezing out, bringing wet folds of soft tissue with it, then stabbing in again and disappearing beneath the mass of dark, dank pubic hair. She stifled the groan in her throat.
Just thinking of the sexy, sensuous little maid had made her act like this! She closed her eyes again, pressed downwards with her buttocks and felt the cheeks of her bottom opening as she impaled herself on her own appeasing finger.
She could feel the heat, now, spreading inside her flesh. The base of her abdomen, insides of her thighs and inner cheeks of her bottom were getting warmer. Soon the orgasm would shatter throughout her whole body and she'd squeeze and twist the stiff, enlarged head of her clitoris with all her strength.
Soon! The word insinuated itself into her mind.
She forced open her eyes. The drive. Her aunt would be waiting for her. The color left her cheeks. She'd be a nervous, frustrated wreck if she didn't finish.
Maureen staggered to her bedroom door, turned the lock, then dragged herself onto her bed. She'd have to be quick!
There was a hairbrush on her bedside table, an old hairbrush with a long, ivory handle. She reached out, grabbed it and reached down to her vulva again with her other hand. The lips of her pussy were already half-open; she placed a finger at either side of them to spread them wider apart. Her hand trembled as she touched the soft, fragile tissue with the pointed end of the hairbrush's handle, then let her eyes close in ecstasy as she thrust the ivory in. It penetrated deeply, squelching its way through the sucking, clutching tissue, then dragging slowly out.
Maureen bent the handle over onto her belly, so that each delicious movement was transmitted to the tip of her clitoris.
"Uuum!" The soft, wet sound of satisfaction oozed from her lips and she lifted her feet into the air, bending her knees, pulling them inward towards her breasts and letting her thighs spread open widely so the handle could press in more deeply, sexily, deliciously!
Her movements quickened in their efforts to achieve an orgiastic fulfillment.
Her buttocks bounced up and down on the bed; her vaginal lips gripped the handle with excruciating pressure as the thrills heightened.
She touched her clitoris with the tip of a finger again, felt it jerking, writhing as the tiny muscle became inflamed with self-induced passion.
"Now, now, now!" Maureen whispered to herself, her hand becoming a wild, uncontrollable thing as it worked the long handle with ever-increasing speed.
The first tremor shot through her flesh; she rocked herself in an agony of desire, then thrust inward again with renewed strength. Her clitoris bobbed with crazy abandon, so she gripped it between a finger and thumb and pinched it.
The pain mingled with the pleasure, increasing the thrills, making the saliva slide out of her mouth as she twisted herself onto her side in preparation for one shattering climax. She dragged her hands off her body and released the teasing handle and clenched her fists. Her face screwed itself into a mask of vicious sensuality and her vulva worked, opening and closing of its own accord, gradually squeezing the long ivory handle out of her satisfied pussy.
At last, a long sigh spewed from Maureen's lips; she stretched out her body, a satisfied cat, then slithered to her feet.
Her knees were unsteady as she walked back to the mirror, but by the time she had repaired her make-up and adjusted her dress, she was calm and cool-and completely satisfied. She opened her bedroom door, prepared to meet her aunt; she smiled to herself as she thought of the nice, quiet drive ahead.
Sylvia was waiting for her in the hallway.
"Are you going to drive again?"
"No, Blake'll drive us."
"Oh," Maureen raised her eyebrows, "he's better?"
Sylvia gave a grim smile. "He's well enough to drive us." Then she led the way through the front door of the mansion to where Ken Blake was waiting with the Lincoln.
"Good morning, Miss Haley," he said to Sylvia, then to Maureen, "Good morning." He held the car-door open and as Maureen climbed in after her aunt, she noticed his drawn face.
"Are you better now, Mr. Blake?" she asked politely.
He stiffened. "Why-what do you mean?" He sounded nervous, off-balance.
"My aunt told me you weren't well yesterday," said Maureen. "Are you better now?"
His eyes flickered to Sylvia's face: she stared back at him with a set expression on her face.
"Yes," he muttered, "I'm all right." Then he slammed shut the door and got into the driver's seat.
Ken could see Maureen's face in the rear-view mirror as he slumped in the driver's seat. Something about the set of her lips, her mouth, pouting and pursing, reminded him of the view he'd had of her pussy with its curled-open, slickly wet lips in her bedroom just nights before.
He writhed uncomfortably in his seat, then reached down and loosened his clothing at the crotch as he felt his bruised and abused penis stirring. That sweet, wet cunt! He moistened dry lips with the tip of his nervous tongue. She'd been as good as any of the soft, young pussies he'd screwed in New York!
New York! Just thinking of it reminded him of one of the last young pussies he'd enjoyed before leaving the city.
Her name was Lois. She was five feet tall and around sixteen years old. Her eyes were blue, big and round and they flickered erratically below the fringe of tousled blonde hair.
Ken had twisted his head to stare at her as he waited at the counter for his coffee in the drug store on New York's Lower East Side.
How could he help staring? Her heels were too high and the micro-skirt so short that the whiteness of her thighs gleamed above the tops of her sheer, fully-fashioned hose.
Ken took a deep breath. She was luscious!
The little blonde was looking at some jars of cream on top of a display case in the middle of the store; while Ken was watching, she turned, took short, mincing steps to the lunch-counter and perched herself on the seat next to his.
He let his eyes go down, then felt his heart thud. The bare thigh-flesh seemed to glisten as though wet-and there they were, strips of Scotch tape encircling the tops of her stockings: she taped the hose to her flesh.
The attendant clattered a cup of coffee in front of Ken and turned to the blonde.
"Cccoke-," she lisped, letting the words ooze out of her mouth.
Ken watched her lips as she spoke; they were pale pink with a faint green outline at the edges. His eyes went down lower: her braless breasts showed through her transparent blouse; the nipples were the same pale green as the edges of her lips. He glanced up again, saw her eyes blink, her lids the same shade as her nipples. Ken's hand shook as he stirred his coffee. What else did she color pale green or pink? "Gotta light?"
It was a moment before the softly spoken words penetrated Ken's mind. She was holding a cigarette to her lips, blinking her green lidded eyes, smiling at him.
"S-sure-" he muttered.
His lighter trembled in his hand as he held it in front of her face.
"Thanks," she whispered, softly, sexily.
Ken swallowed. This doll was doing things to him. He wriggled about on his seat. Sweet, sensuous, exciting and familiar things! His penis was swelling, writhing between his thighs.
The attendant put down a glass of Coke in front of her and she groped in a tiny purse.
"It's okay," Ken mouthed, thickly, "let me-"
He pushed a dollar bill across the counter.
The attendant glanced at Ken's face, then the blonde's and shrugged, doled out change.
She sipped at her drink without saying anything, not thanking him.
Ken groped in his pocket, found a loose capsule.
The blonde put down her glass, gave Ken a small, tight smile then turned her head to glance out into the street.
In one smooth, practiced movement, Ken dropped the capsule into her glass. It was done so quickly, so easily that she noticed nothing. By the time she sipped her drink again, the small capsule had already dissolved.
Ken drank his coffee, nervously but patiently: it wouldn't take long, he knew. From past experience, he knew.
She finished her drink, gave Ken a smile again, her eyes hazy, lips dreamy, then she slid off her stool, took a step toward the door and staggered.
Ken was quickly beside her, holding her elbow.
"You all right?"
She shook her head. "I-I feel kinda dizzy-" she muttered. Then: "I-I'm all right-" She took another step, staggered again. Ken gripped her arm more firmly.
"I've got a hack," he said softly. "It's just outside. I'll drive you home."
She shook her head. "N-no-I-I haven't much money on me-I'll be all right-" She blinked her eyes frantically.
"Don't worry about that," said Ken, opening the door, leading her through it, "I'm not busy and there's no charge."
She started to mouth a fresh protest, then her legs shivered and she leaned heavily against Ken for support.
"My cab's right here," he said, leading her to it, opening the front door.
Her eyes were already half-closed as he eased her onto the seat, snapped close the door and moved around to the driver's side.
The cab moved forward. "What's your name?" he asked.
She tried to rouse herself. "Lois-an' I live at-at-" She frowned in concentration, then mumbled out her address.
"Okay," said Ken. "You work near here?"
"No-oo-" she slurred, then gave a sleepy giggle. "I-I still go to school-" she yawned, murmured: "I-I'm sixteen-just sixteen-" Then her voice trailed off, and Ken saw that she was losing consciousness.
Sixteen! He slavered the word to himself. Soft, sweet, sexy sixteen! What a young, juicy piece of flesh! He felt at his crotch, caressed the hard head of his eager, jerking cock, then glanced down at Lois's thighs. She'd slumped down in her seat, and the tiny skirt was round her hips. He could see the tightly stretched nylon briefs straining over her pelvis. Would the lips of her pussy be colored pale pink or green, too? he wondered, driving quickly down dark streets toward the deserted lot where he knew he would not be disturbed.
Ken switched off the car lights and locked all the doors after parking at the back of the disused warehouse. He groped in his pocket, dragged out his small flashlight and turned the thin beam on Lois's face. Her eyes were closed, lips parted and her breath came and went in long, even draughts.
He moved his face to hers, kissed her on the lips. She didn't respond, couldn't resist. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, savoring the soft sweetness of the wet, warm opening. Drawing back, he heard his breath come and go in ragged gasps.
He unfastened her transparent blouse and shone his small light onto the small, perfectly formed breasts with their tiny, pointed, green-colored nipples. He switched off the light and gripped the tips of her nipples with both hands, squeezing and twisting them until a low moan oozed from her parted lips. She writhed about, gently, unconsciously but instinctively. He slid his hands lower to touch her silky soft thighs. They felt oily, as though they'd recently been creamed. Just the feel of them excited Ken. He ripped open his pants freeing his hot penis.
Her thin briefs clung to her flesh; so he half-lifted her and eased the elastic waistband down from her hips, over her buttocks and thighs.
Her abdomen was covered with a soft blonde fuzz. He caressed it, lasciviously, hungrily, then slid a finger in between her thighs and up to her slot.
It was wet, warm and tight. He squeezed his finger inside. The walls of her young, nubile vulva seemed to clutch at his intruding finger.
He pulled her body towards him until her head was down on the car seat; then he lifted one of her legs over the back of the seat, opening up her thighs, revealing her small, wet hole. He switched on his flashlight again to stare at the sexual opening. It was small, just a tiny pink slit beneath the blonde pubic hairs, and as he watched, it seemed to ooze open and moistness slid out.
He reached underneath himself, seized his thickening shaft and guided it towards the warm, smooth sexiness of her squirming pussy as small ripples seemed to flow through her flesh.
The opening was too small. Ken grunted with frustration as he tried to squeeze the hard, rounded head of his lurching cock into the girl's vulva.
The vaginal lips curled open, and he could feel the warm wetness seeping out of her pussy. But the hard, rounded head of his penis couldn't force itself in.
He drew back with a groan of anger. This had happened before. He quickly wriggled himself onto the floor of the cab, twisted Lois's limp body until her thighs were straddling his face, then reached forward with his lips and mouth until he was clamped against the slithery opening of the girlish pussy. You soft, suckable cunt! he mouthed to himself as his tongue shot out. He licked and sucked at the vaginal lips, the inner walls of the undulating vulva spreading their moist sheen over the sexual cavern.
Soft moans of pleasure escaped her as he sucked a mouthful of soft tissue between his lips and chewed on it gently, sensually, pleasurably. His tongue slid up to the top of the slit where he found the tiny, stiffening head of her young clitoris. He bit it, softly, tenderly. A moan slurred from Lois's lips.
Ken dragged his body off the floor, twisted the unconscious girl into position again and spread himself on top of her.
Her tight pussy was still too narrow to accommodate his swollen cock, but with a violent lurch he forced the iron-hard head between the slithery lips. A smothered scream came from Lois's lips as the stiff shaft penetrated her slicked opening. Then Ken was inside, biting his own lips with his teeth as ecstasy flowed through his body.
He could feel the soft, sexual tightness of her vaginal walls gripping all parts of his throbbing, excited cock as he drove himself in and out with a squeezing, sensual motion.
His mouth clamped down on hers, and his tongue drove in and out of her mouth in time with his cock's thrusts.
Suddenly, Ken threw his head back and opened his mouth. "Now! Now you wet cunt," he screamed, "squeeze my fucking cock now!" He felt the walls of her vulva pressing against the sides of his shaft. The rounded head lurched against the extreme end of the girl's vaginal canal, and he could feel the slitted lips in the head of his cock opening, then spitting and spurting with shattering climax.
His penis softened, slid downwards from the ravished young pussy and spread a sticky sheen of wetness on Lois's soft, white thighs.
"Soft, suckable, fuckable sixteen!" he mumbled obscenely, staring at the victim of his lust. His lips tightened in a smile: "Lois baby, luscious little Lois, you've got the smallest, smoothest cunt I've screwed in a long, fuckin' time!"
Then he turned her over, stared at the white, softly rounded buttocks, slid an inquisitive finger in between the cleft of her bottom and found the wet, little hole that oozed open as he slipped his finger inside.
"Soft, wet little hole," he mumbled, "you've got a sweet little ass, too, Lois baby." He dragged his finger out and it made a wet, squelching sound as the tight anal lips released it. "I'd like to fuck your ass, too," Ken mumbled, then he regretfully glanced down at his limp penis, "but not now, baby, I can't do it now!"
Ken made a sad sound, then groped in his pocket, found his pack of cigarettes and lit one while he stared at the unconscious girl. After a minute, he opened her purse. He found her keys and the attached tag told him her address. He knew the area well: cheap two-room apartments with a main door that was always unlocked. He hoped she lived by herself.
He picked up her tiny briefs, stuffed them into her purse, then straightened the limp, girlish body. Her head rested on the back of the car seat, the tiny skirt pulled down, giving her a normal appearance.
By the time he arrived at the address, it was less than an hour to dawn.
He stopped the cab and stared warily at the darkened building.
After a couple of minutes, he got out, opened the main door-unlocked as he'd suspected-and scanned the names on the tawdry board in the hallways. Lois Mann. Apartment 4.
He frowned. Why would a young, sixteen-year-old schoolgirl be living by herself, if she was living alone.
He rang the bell above the girl's name and apprehensively waited. There was no answering buzz.
A dark corridor led off the hall; he cautiously moved down it, scanning the doors until he found hers.
He hesitated, then tapped very gently. There was no answer. He tapped again, more loudly this time. Still no answer.
Ken waited a few minutes, then took Lois's key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock and opened the door soundlessly. The apartment seemed empty.
He moved inside very carefully. It was a skimpy two-room flat. The single, unmade bed was unoccupied. Ken gave a sigh of relief and moved out of the flat, closing but not locking the door.
Carefully, he eased Lois up from the front seat of his cab and half-dragged, half-carried her into the building.
He met no one, heard nothing.
With a sigh of relief, he closed the door of the apartment behind them, then carried Lois to her bed and dropped her down onto it.
She lay there like a pile of soft, sexy, girlish flesh.
Ken turned to leave, then hesitated.
One of her legs was on the bed, the other dangled onto the floor. He could see the wet and red sexiness between her thighs. A thin trickle of opaque liquid oozed slowly out. He felt his penis stir again.
Ken moved back beside the bed while opening his pants.
Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted as she slept deeply, innocently.
She'd never know! Ken told himself. All the things he'd done and she'd never know!
That was what made it exciting, satisfying.
He glanced at her thighs again, saw the lips of her pussy still stretched open. The opening looked v bigger than it had been when he first saw it in his cab.
Ken fondled himself, felt his penis writhing within his grasp.
His heart was beating strongly again. He moved up until his penis was inches away from the unconscious girl's face.
His hand slid up and down his shaft; he could feel the slimy wetness on his skin.
Lois moved and he saw a big glob of white wetness slide from inside her vagina and trickle slowly down the inside of her thigh.
He pointed his penis at her face, stroking it with short, violent movements. His cock suddenly erupted, squirting a stream of thick juice onto Lois's face and in her mouth.
Ken sank back onto his heels to watch the liquid trickling down her cheeks, penetrating between the parted, pink-tinted lips with their green edges.
He took a staggering backward step, then fastened his pants with shaky hands.
There was a phone beside the bed. Instinctively, Ken memorized the number, then glanced at Lois again.
Her face looked peaceful in repose, making her appear younger and more vulnerable than ever. He felt an emotion that was stronger than mere desire.
He glanced at the phone again; there was a photo face down, on the telephone table. Idly, Ken turned it over, then stood very still.
It was the picture of a man, completely naked, and his penis, long and thick, was in a state of erection.
Startled, Ken's eyes went back to the girl on the bed. She still breathed gently, evenly, and he could see the tinted nipples through the transparent blouse he'd buttoned up so carefully before returning her to the apartment.
"Oh, Lois," he murmured, almost in reproach, "you sexy little doll!"
Something made him drop his eyes lower. Then he saw it under the bed. It was white and long, made of porous but firm rubber, and was about an inch and a quarter thick.
A tight, white smile stretched the skin on Ken's face. "You didn't need it tonight," he mumbled, "not tonight, Lois baby." Then he backed toward the door and exited without another glance at the dildo on the floor.
"You look much better in that dress," said Sylvia to Maureen as Blake drove them onto the highway. "I'll have to get you a coat to go with it. The one you're wearing is too short."
"You don't have to do that," muttered Maureen.
"But I want to. Is there anything else you need?"
Maureen thought of her lack of panties, then shook her head. "No, Aunt Sylvia, you're doing enough for me." She hadn't meant to make her voice sarcastic, but her aunt gave her a sharp look, then turned her head. "I hope you liked Mrs. Beauchamp. She's quite a good friend of mine." There was a pause. "I hope she didn't do, or say, anything offensive."
Maureen stared at the back of her aunt's head. She was positive that her aunt knew what Millie had done to her in the dressing-room, sure that she knew and even arranged the whole thing for her Lesbian friend's delight. But what could she say?
Maureen's cheeks flushed as she remembered how she had squirmed with pleasure under Millie's skillful manipulations. How could she object when she had allowed, if not encouraged, the woman's advances.
"She-she seems a very generous person," she murmured.
Her aunt turned and smiled at her. "I'm so glad you liked her. Millie has her own ways, and sometimes she's misunderstood."
Maureen wanted to laugh out loud. There was no misunderstanding what Millie had wanted from her!
The fall foliage was on the trees. Maureen looked through the window with a trace of awe. They were close to the coast, and when she rolled down the window, she could hear the distant sound of the surf.
"It's such a lonesome sound," she murmured to her aunt.
"What?"
"The water. I can hear it so clearly, it sounds so lonesome."
Her aunt listened for a moment, then smiled: "You're a romantic girl, Maureen. I keep forgetting that you're more used to the city than the country. I'm so used to being near the coast that I don't even hear the waves. Now, close your window, it's getting cool in here."
They had been driving through the countryside for a short time when Sylvia said, "Turn right at the next crossing, Blake, then stop at Rynden House." She turned to Maureen, "They're selling some antiques, my dear, and I'd like to see them. Perhaps I'll see something worth buying." She hesitated, then: "Are you interested in antiques, Maureen?"
Maureen smiled, shook her head. "I don't know anything about them."
Sylvia made a clicking sound. "Your education's been neglected. However, if you're not interested, Blake can drive you to Baysham Cliffs. You'll get a wonderful view of the water that seems to intrigue you so much."
Blake turned the big car onto a side road, and after a half-mile, stopped outside an old but imposing house.
"I'll be about an hour," said Sylvia as Blake opened the car-door for her, "Mrs. Foster, the owner, is an old friend. We'll probably have coffee together." She looked at Maureen searchingly. "Are you sure you won't come in with me?"
"I'd rather go to the cliffs and see the water I've been hearing all the time."
"Very well." Sylvia turned: "Be back in an hour from now, Blake." Then she marched to the front door of the house, tip-tapping with her cane as Blake and Maureen watched.
Maureen sank back with a sigh of relief. For some reason, she always felt uncomfortable with her aunt.
Blake sneaked a glance at her in the mirror. She was wearing a longer dress, he noticed. That must be her aunt's idea. The old bitch! He wriggled as he drove. His penis was still swollen with blue and red marks on it from where she'd lashed him, and his buttocks were so sore that it was hard for him to sit for too long. Right now he'd like to get out of the car and stretch his legs.
He glanced in the mirror again. Maureen had moved, and her skirt had worked itself up to where he could see the silk-shod legs and the flash of white thigh at the top.
"Got a cigarette, Blake?" A nervous laugh escaped her. "My aunt doesn't approve of women smoking, and I didn't bring a pack with me."
"Sure, Miss Maureen," Blake answered, dragging a pack from his pocket and passing it back over the seat to her.
Maureen slid forward and her skirt worked up higher. Blake noticed and licked his lips, remembering why Sylvia had lashed him like she did. The thing he'd done to this girl! And she didn't know, she'd never know! The thought excited him. It had been a bigger thrill screwing this New York girl's wet pussy than getting into Jennie's.
"Got a light?" asked Maureen, passing the pack back to Blake.
He activated the car lighter and passed it back to her, feeling a tremor run up his arm when her fingers touched his.
There was something about this sweet piece of cunt that did something to him. He felt his abused penis rising, hardening at the thoughts in his mind. The erection caused him pain, reminding him again of the sadistic treatment received at the hands of his mistress. He'd like to get even with that bitch. But more than that, he'd like to get into this sweet, screwable piece of sexy female flesh. When she was unconscious, of course. He wouldn't get any pleasure otherwise.
He turned onto a road that was little more than a trail. The sound of the water got louder.
"Where're we going?" asked Maureen as the car rocked and shook.
"Baysham Cliffs, miss," answered Blake. "They're at the end of this trail. You'll be able to see the waves breaking on the beach and rocks down below."
Maureen sighed. "I'll like that, it's exciting." She glanced at the back of his head. "Don't you like it?"
He thought about what she said before answering. The night of her arrival he'd stood on the balcony outside her bedroom, watching her undress, waiting for the drugged drink to take effect. Then when he'd entered, opened her legs and thrust his penis into her wet, sucking cunt, he'd heard the waves breaking on the shore. They'd seemed to break in tune with each violent thrust of his cock in and out of her cunt.
"Yes, miss," he answered now, "I like the sound of it, too."
Maureen drew deeply on her cigarette and rolled the window down. The sound was louder. "We must be near-" she murmured. "Be there in five minutes," Blake answered.
The trail ended a hundred yards from the crest of the cliffs; Blake opened the door for Maureen.
"I daren't drive any closer, miss. Too dangerous. But you can walk to the edge if you like."
Maureen nodded, felt the stiff wind hitting her face and tasted the saltiness of the sea on her lips, then she was walking toward the water. Blake followed her like a watchdog.
The sea was blue-gray, the waves splattering into whiteness as they broke on the rocky shore. The sound rose to their ears, low, rumbling, strangely ominous.
"It's wonderful," Maureen shouted above the whistle of the wind. Blake nodded. He'd seen this sight before. Now he was more excited at the way the wind whipped at Maureen's dress, causing it to rise and reveal her legs, bare white thighs and above.
"I want to stand on that rock," Maureen shouted. "Look right out to the horizon-" she pointed to a jagged rock at the extreme edge of the cliffs. "Help me up," she told Blake.
He nodded, took her arm, helping her take the first cautious step up the jagged but natural steps. Maureen climbed up the steep incline with Blake below, watching, staring up under her dress, seeing where the white thighs joined at a hairy apex and glimpsing at her pink, wet vulva. His penis hardened again, hurting him. He groaned below his breath. How long before he was healed enough. He jammed his hand in his pocket, trying to push down his painful erection.
"There's a wonderful view from here-" Maureen called down to him.
"Yes, miss," he answered, thinking of the view he had, and trying, with an effort of will, to stem the pain in his penis.
"I'm coming down now," Maureen called, "be ready to help me, it's hard to keep balance."
He moved close to the foot of the rock and waited while Maureen scrambled down. She half-slipped when she was near the bottom, and he reached out to steady her. She lurched forward and her hand accidentally swung against his penis. He drew back with a groan of pain.
Maureen looked at him in surprise. "I-I'm sorry, Blake." He was bent over, holding himself at the crotch. Maureen's face colored when she realized where she'd hit him.
"It's all right, miss-" he gasped, "not your fault." He straightened, his face pale, "D'you wanna go back to the car?"
Maureen nodded and walked with him to the Lincoln.
"We've got time. Let's sit and talk some before we pick up my aunt."
He opened the front door and Maureen climbed in. Blake offered her a cigarette without her asking, lit it for her, then asked, "What made you come to this place, miss?"
Maureen shrugged. "My aunt invited me."
"You like it better here than New York?"
Maureen smoked in silence for a time, then: "Sometimes you want to get away from things you don't want anymore, not for a while anyway."
He nodded, as though she had made everything quite clear.
"How long are you going to stay?"
She shrugged again-. "I don't know." Then to him: "Do you like being here? Do you like working for my aunt?"
His face twisted into a grimace. "Your aunt's a sadistic woman."
Maureen's eyebrows went up. "Sadistic? How?"
Blake lowered his eyes. He spoke in a low tone. "She-she likes to punish people-men-she likes to hurt them."
Maureen was startled. This was a side of her aunt's nature she hadn't known. "You?" she asked softly. He nodded.
"How?" Maureen's voice was curious. "I mean how does she punish you?"
Blake lifted his head and stared into Maureen's face. "With her cane, or a whip."
Maureen gave a gasp. "Oh, no!"
Blake sat in silence. After a moment, Maureen asked: "Just you?"
He shook his head. "Selke too."
"William?" Maureen's voice was incredulous.
"Yeah," Blake sounded bitter, "William, too. But I don't think he's ever been hurt as bad as I was the other night."
Maureen's mind raced back. The day they'd gone to Mrs. Beauchamp's her aunt had driven, saying that Blake was not well.
"Is that why you couldn't drive us?"
"Yeah, that's why. I could scarcely move. I'm still sore."
"She must have a reason. I mean she couldn't just punish you for nothing."
"Maybe she had a reason, or thought she did," he answered evasively. "Maybe it's just because I'm a man."
Maureen looked at him blankly. "Miss Haley doesn't like men."
"Then what does she like?"
"Girls, I think. Women!" Then he switched on the motor. "We'd better get going. It's time to pick up your aunt."
Without speaking, Maureen opened the car door, got out and climbed into the back.
Blake looked at her anxiously. "Miss, you won't repeat this to your aunt?"
Maureen shook her head. "Don't worry, Blake, I won't repeat it. You see, you could be right."
"About?" he asked.
"About my aunt liking girls."
They drove back to Rynden House in silence and picked up Sylvia Haley. She was in a very good mood: she'd found an old clock that she had decided to buy. Maureen did her best to listen with interest. It was difficult to keep her mind on her aunt's words.