3 comments/ 108243 views/ 2 favorites Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 01 By: christinamonroe Mary and Jack left Rothsmere estate with mixed feelings: the Baron had been generous to both of them, Mary especially, and the money he had provided would ensure their future no matter what they wanted to do. Both of them felt that the ending had been too abrupt: he had thrown them adrift too quickly, too suddenly, without warning. What had happened to him? Mary, who had felt a connection to the Baron, was bereft: she was sure that she had meant something to Phillip but he had seemed to cast her aside. Despite their misgivings though, both looked forward to a new future, their comfort ensured. They settled in a small town several miles from the Manor House and the estate. Marsden was a rural village, the railway still hadn't arrived there and Mary and Jack soon settled in a cottage at the edge of the village. Mary had not known she was pregnant when she left the Hall, and in her innocence, despite her experiences, she did not know what the cessation of her monthly courses indicated. It was only after consultation with one of her older neighbours that she realised what this meant. Was the child she bore the child of Jack, or the Baron? She knew, from her basic arithmetic, that it probably wasn't Thomas's offspring, but was the child Jack's, or Phillip's? She didn't know, and couldn't decide. As far as Jack was concerned, Mary was his, and so was the baby: they hadn't married, but for appearances sake, Mary used one of the Baron's sovereigns to buy a wedding ring. The elderly neighbour had chuckled to Mary that now she had done her duty and fallen pregnant, she could throw Jack out of the bed for a while. Mary, however, felt more alive than ever: she blossomed during the pregnancy, and Jack realized that she had never looked so beautiful. Her breasts swelled, her nipples darkened and as the pregnancy progressed, they became exquisitely sensitive, so much so that she could barely touch them for fear of pleasure overwhelming her. Betsy, the plump, quiet maid who had been Mary's best friend in the House came to join them several weeks later. She was full of tales from the House: the Master had been in a peculiar mood, withdrawing from the family and his wife had contacted his old friend Thomas to help him regain his spirits. At the sound of his name, Mary felt her legs tremble with desire; that night that she had spent with Thomas and her master was emblazoned in her memory. She had been satisfied with Jack for the last few weeks, but the pregnancy had changed her: she was increasingly more sensual, and realised that she had enjoyed being watched, she relished the thought of another watching her been taken, the look of lust on their face as another's cock had plundered her welcoming sex. Betsy had missed Mary: she felt that she had only been half-alive until Mary had introduced her to the sensations of her body. She knew that Mary would always prefer Jack, but hoped that they would allow her to share sometimes in their pleasure. Late one evening, when Mary's pregnancy was far advanced, the three of them had settled in front of the fire. Mary was restless, and knew what would calm her down. Jack knew her mood, and what she wanted, and without a word held out his hand to her. Betsy helped Mary disrobe: as he watched he saw Betsy softly kiss Mary's burgeoning breasts, taking the full nipples in her mouth. Her touches were delicate, fairy light, but he saw goose bumps rise on Mary's arms and knew how excited she was. Lying on the bed, Jack moved in behind Mary; her belly was so big now that he could only approach from behind. She lay on her side, and he softly stroked her back, caressing the sensitive undersides of her arms, her neck and reaching round to cup her breasts. Betsy was still lightly toying with Mary's nipples, and both of them could hear her breathing quicken with desire. Jack was erect already; the sight of his heavily pregnant and aroused woman being caressed by Betsy always excited him. He wanted to take her, and Mary could feel his heavy cock rubbing against her buttocks, sliding into place in the deep cleft there. But Mary needed more than this; she wanted something raw, and Jack watched as she reached round and began to play with her secret entrance, fingering herself, pushing in against the tight muscular ring. His cock hardened, almost painful now, watching her like this. He lifted her thigh, pulling back slightly, and the lips of her sex parted. Both Betsy and Jack could smell Mary's arousal, a sharp briny scent that they both longed to taste. Jack's fingers joined Mary's, slipping over her lips, plunging slowly into the velvet-lined entrance of her sex while Betsy watched, entranced. She could feel her own juices begin to flow and sensed the warmth building deep in her belly. She moved closer, her eyes firmly fixed on Jack's fingers now pressing against Mary's rosebud. They were moistened with her juices, and slipped in against the pressure. Slowly he eased his finger in further, and he felt her muscles gripping him. He wanted to plunge his cock in and knew that Mary wanted this. He withdrew from her, and then positioned his cock at the entrance, pushing in slowly. Mary groaned, his bulbous head stretching her painfully, but soon she had relaxed enough that he was able to rock against her. She could feel his cock pulsate deep in her bowels and she pushed back against him, determined to have him pound into her. Betsy was fascinated, her eyes never leaving them, watching Jack's cock pumping into Mary, buried to the hilt. Jack held Mary's leg high, and the whole of Mary's sex was exposed to Betsy. The young maid couldn't help it; she had to taste her lover. Lowering her face, Betsy began to lick at Mary's pleasure bud, flicking lightly with her tongue while Jack continue to drive into her. Mary was overwhelmed; the sensation of her two lovers both working to give her pleasure was too much. She was caressing her own breasts, encircling her nipples and came violently, grinding her sex onto Betsy's face. Jack could feel her muscles spasm, milking his cock, and he released his seed deep into her. Betsy sat back, her face smeared and glistening with Mary's juices, astounded at the force of Mary's orgasm. As Jack pulled out from her, his cock was still semi-hard, and Mary shivered in the last few tremors of her orgasm. Mary felt contentment settle over her, and safe in the arms of her lovers, she was soon fast asleep. Phillip, meanwhile, was having trouble with sleeping. His dreams were troubled with thoughts of Mary, and he often woke trembling, his cock erect and straining for release. On bad nights, he had found that he had become aroused in his sleep, and awoken to find his bedclothes sticky with his seed, something that hadn't happened for many years. He avoided his daughter Victoria, her face and figure so like Mary's that he found himself wondering what she would taste of, and of how tight her sex would be around his cock. He couldn't, wouldn't, compound his sin like that, and so found excuses to dismiss her from his company. The Baroness was concerned; she was no longer fond of her husband and had not shared a bed with him for many years, but there was to be a grand Ball for their only daughter Victoria. How could the Baroness face society with a husband as withdrawn as hers had become? She had found out that her husband's old friend had been a houseguest, and by all accounts, this had been a successful visit. She had resolved to contact Thomas, hoping that manly companionship would help draw Phillip from his low mood. Thomas was due to arrive any day: his ship was bound for London, and he would make his way post-haste to the Manor. Dismissing her husband's problems from her mind, she got on with planning the Ball. To be continued... Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 02 Thomas had indeed arrived post-haste. Out on the high seas, the ship tossing in the storms of the sea, he had dreamed of the days he had spent at the Manor House with Phillip and his maid. A man of experience, who had satisfied many a man and woman in his time, he nevertheless had not felt that degree of fulfilment for many a year. On his arrival Phillip and his wife, the Baroness, greeted him. Thomas quickly dismissed her from his mind: a cold madam, uninterested in her body, who had no doubt denied Phillip access to her unwelcoming sex for years. Thomas was much more interested in the young maid that Phillip had been tupping on his last visit and wondered when they would be meeting her again. The men were soon safely ensconced in the Billiard Room, large glasses of whiskey at hand and a roaring fire in the grate. Phillip was uneasy about this visit; on the one hand, Thomas would provide a ready outlet for the sexual frustration that had been building within him, and on the other, he brought back unwanted memories of Mary, of offering her to this man, and watching while she was taken. He remembered the night that they had all spent together, both of them inside her together, pounding mercilessly at her, pumping their seed into her and filling her. He remembered being taken for the first time by a man, by Thomas, feeling Thomas's cock move inside him, an overwhelming sensation of fullness, and the relief provided by Mary as she sucked Phillip's cock dry of his come while Thomas drove ever deeper inside him. His cock hardened involuntarily as he relived the memories, the sensations as fresh as though it had happened only yesterday. It was Phillip's shot, and Thomas noted the hesitation in his game. He used the interruption to ask about the young maid, but at that moment, Victoria, who had been sent by her mother to introduce herself, interrupted the two men. Curtseying deeply to their guest, the distinguished sea captain, she was very surprised to receive a familiar slap on the rump. Thomas, belatedly, realised that the girl was wearing fine silks and pearls, as opposed to the sturdy woollen dress of a servant. At the same time, Phillip, suddenly startled, knew that Thomas had mistaken his trueborn daughter for Mary, and rushed forward to introduce them. Victoria, once again quickly dismissed by her father, fled back to her room, her cheeks flaming. She was 18 years old, and had been presented to the Queen during the past season in London, but no man had touched her in such an impertinent manner before. She had attended Balls and Dances at the finest London houses, but any flirtations had not got beyond a surreptitious pressing of her fingers, or a lingering kiss on her hand. How dared he? That huge, muscled vagabond with his loud voice and whisky-breath, how dare he touch her like that? She sprinkled lavender water onto a fine lace handkerchief and inhaled deeply, trying to relax and catch her breath. She would have to face him again at dinner but doubted that she could; who knew what he would try then? Back in the Billiard room, the men had consumed more whiskey, and Thomas was pressing Phillip to explain about Mary. The story came out about the woman Phillip thought may have been Mary's mother: a beautiful maid who had left the House suddenly 20 years ago. Phillip had been young at the time, recently down from Cambridge, and he had believed himself to be in love with her for a short while, at least until the next beauty came along. He hadn't known of her pregnancy, or of the child she bore alone. Looking back over the time they had spent, Thomas could understand how Phillip felt; Mary had an incredible capacity for sensuality, willing to explore, willing to experiment, and wanting to please her Master. Thinking back about her, remembering her slim body, her full breasts and her welcoming, wet sex, Thomas felt himself harden. He remembered what she had done, what they had all done, the ways in which they had found a release, and he wanted to bury himself in her again. He wanted to taste her, the warm scent of her sex seeming to fill the room, her eager pleading voice begging them to take her filling their ears. The atmosphere thickened, the two men both remembering Mary, and their desires began to rise. Thomas made the first move: reaching for Philip, he began to caress the bulge in his breeches, feeling for the sturdy cock that was contained within. Phillip groaned: he wanted to feel Mary's mouth on him, sucking and licking, tasting him, taking him deep into her slender throat. Thomas unfastened Phillips breeches and knelt in front of his friend. Phillip closed his eyes, and his tumescent cock stood proudly, the head distended and rigid, waiting to be taken. Thomas's mouth closed around it, and Philip groaned, imagining Mary's soft lips on him, her gentle hands cupping his balls, massaging him, her slender fingers sliding inside him to massage him there. Phillip held Thomas's head to him, slowly thrusting his cock into the sea-captains mouth, enjoying the sensation of the other man's tongue against his cock, and feeling the pressure of his throat. His balls were heavy, desperate for relief and, almost as though Thomas was reading his mind, his hands came up to cup them, feeling their weight and caressing them. Phillip could feel his crisis approaching quickly: it had been so long since Mary, and he had taken no other woman since. He spasmed, his entire body jerking, and he erupted, streams of thick seed pumping into Thomas's mouth. Thomas held his hips, making sure that he captured every drop, sucking and licking at his friends cock until the man had no more to give. Exhausted, Phillip slumped over the billiard table while Thomas got to his feet. His own cock wanted attention, but he realised that his friend had been in greater need. Thomas's mind was awhirl: he always enjoyed his time with Phillip, but he wanted the soft welcoming warmth of a woman. Without Mary there, what was he to do? His mind turned to Victoria; she was of the same blood-surely the passion that ran in her family ran truly in her? He would have to try and find out. Several miles away, the woman who occupied both their thoughts had given birth. Her son had been born on Midsummer's day, a beautiful boy who had captivated all their hearts. He entranced Betsy, and the baby quickly supplanted Mary in her heart: she poured all the affection and love she had felt for his mother into the newborn babe. Mary had quickly regained her figure after the birth; her youthful slim stature had matured into a curvaceous woman, her breasts fuller, and her hips more womanly. Jack revelled in her sensuality: he worshipped her; and tried to fulfill her needs and desires, but somehow this wasn't enough for Mary. She thought back to the times she had experienced in the House, and realised that she missed the discipline, she wanted to follow orders, she wanted to be punished for misdemeanours, and corrected when she erred. She wanted most of all to contact her Master: she knew that he had wanted her, that he had needed her in his life, and was confused as to why he had sent her away. Jack, despite his lack of schooling, knew that Mary was unhappy, and resolved to cheer her up. He planned a trip to London for her: they could afford it due to their Master's beneficence. Betsy was quite content to stay home and look after their baby: they could go and enjoy themselves and so he began to plan their trip. To be continued... Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 03 Victoria steeled herself for dinner. She had readied herself carefully, her lady's maid dressing her hair, carefully piling up golden ringlets so that they fell artfully around her face, framing her delicate features beautifully. Her dress was of finest silk, pale rose pink in colour, chosen to highlight her creamy complexion. The bodice wasn't as low-cut as she would have liked; the fashion in London had been for necklines that skimmed the crest of the bosom, showing a hint of cleavage with the promise of earthly delights contained therein, but the Baroness had declared that these were an abomination. Victoria's dress was more modest, but she pulled the neckline down as far as she was able, enough to just suggest the swell of her bosom. She fastened large ruby earrings to her ears, and her maid lowered a ruby pendant around her neck, the jewel falling to nestle between her breasts. She wasn't allowed cosmetics: her mother forbade them as sinful, but she bit her lips and rubbed her cheeks until they glowed pinkly. Pouting in the mirror, she decided that she was beautiful, and, spinning on her heel, she made her way to dinner. She was a little confused as to why her preparations had been so careful and prolonged. It certainly wasn't for that awful man that her father insisted was a gentleman. No gentleman would have abused a lady so, and she looked forward to telling him that if the occasion arose. The family had gathered in the informal sitting room before dinner. Both men were drinking whiskey, and Victoria realised that her father looked more contented than she had seen him since her arrival home. Thomas was looking into the fire, his face distant, but he stood up gallantly on her arrival and bowed low, nodding his head in appreciation of her beauty. She curtsied prettily, and sat beside her mother on the sofa. The Baroness was dressed in her usual dove-grey satin, the high neck of her gown ruffled with stiff lace, her only adornment a pair of plain gold earrings. They made their way to the dining room, Thomas escorting the Baroness, Phillip, his daughter. He was acutely aware of her, of her slim thigh brushing his as they walked, and the scent of her youthful body, and made a deliberate attempt to dismiss these thoughts from his mind. To Phillip's dismay, Thomas had obviously been having similar thoughts. He was unfailing in his attention towards the young woman, directing comments to her throughout dinner, asking her opinion in matters of importance. She was delighted to be flattered in this way, and her light laughter rang out again and again through the room. The Baroness, surprisingly, did not mind the obvious flirtation going on. As far as she was concerned, an older man would suit her daughter: the Baron and she had been married when very young and his attentions had swiftly wandered. Embittered, she had tried to protect her daughter from the attentions of the young men clustering around her when they had sojourned in London for fear that she would be treated in the same way. After dinner, the ladies left the gentlemen to their port and cigars, and retired to the sitting room. Phillip dismissed the servants, and they settled again in the Billiard room. Thomas had plans for Victoria, but decided that these were best kept to himself: he knew that she was a virgin, as tightly guarded as the crown jewels, and that he must behave himself initially if he was to get anywhere. Still, he enjoyed a challenge, and the taking of a maidenhead was the best challenge he knew of. The next day, he invited Victoria for a turn on the terrace, offering his arm to escort her to admire the flowers of the formal gardens. Relentlessly he pursued her, his entire bearing that of a gentleman until she had changed her opinion of him and looked forward to his company. Phillip was powerless: his wife had welcomed the attachment, but he could not oppose the courtship because to do so would have run the risk of exposing his dalliance with Thomas. To make matters worse, Phillip and Thomas were still entangled. Both were increasingly frustrated sexually: Thomas as a result of Victoria's maidenly behaviour, Phillip because he had no other outlet. As the days passed, their behaviour became reckless: they took to riding frequently, their hands tearing at each other britches almost before they had dismounted. There was a spot in the wood a short ride from the house where they had frequently stopped. It was a clearing in the wood, surrounded by oak trees, the summer undergrowth dense. There was a fallen oak there, the perfect height for one of them to stretch over, and for the other to claim him. Phillip felt particularly at home there, and the sensation that Mary was nearby was very strong. He realised after the first time that he and Thomas had fucked there that this was were he had covertly watched Mary and Jack. The image of Jack pushing his cock into Mary's dark entrance blazed across his eyes, and he had begged Thomas to fuck him. The two men didn't even take the time to undress, but simply unfastened their britches, their cocks already hardening in anticipation. Thomas knelt behind his friend who was leaning over the oak log like a sacrificial offering. He laid his hands on the taut muscular buttocks, massaging deeply with his strong fingers, and exposed Phillips cleft. The dark, shadowed ring lay there, nestled deeply, a prize to be taken. Thomas reached forward, and touched, just with the tip of a finger. Slowly he began to press, and his finger slipped inside, feeling the muscles clench around it, sucking it into the warmth within. With his other hand, he reached between Phillips legs for his cock, warm and strong. Slowly at first, he started to massage the walls of Phillip's entrance, feeling the tight muscle relax slowly. His finger was buried in him up to the second knuckle, and he tried to get in deeper and deeper. He heard Phillip breathe in sharply, and felt the man's cock harden further under his skilful fingers, stiff and taut. Suddenly, Thomas had an urge to press his mouth to Phillip's tight ring, wanting to lick and probe. He leant forward, and placed his mouth over him, inhaling the musky scent and putting his tongue to work immediately, teasing him by gently licking and probing his anus. Thomas's other hand was slowly sliding up and down the hard shaft of Phillip's cock, pulling gently on his foreskin and Thomas could feel him begin to ooze. He knew then that Phillip wanted this, and started to work his tongue in deeper. His tongue slid up and down the musty cleft, licking at the under surface of Phillips scrotum, stimulating the sensitive skin there. Thomas's own cock was firm and rigid, the hard iron needing release, and he withdrew his fingers and tongue. Forcing the muscular cheeks apart, his hands sticky with Phillip's pre-come, he placed the tip of his cock against him, feeling the pressure and the resistance as he slowly pushed. Phillip was closed up tight at first, but Thomas persevered, and soon Phillip's ring slowly dilated. Thomas could feel Phillip shudder underneath him, and knew that he wanted this: he wanted to be taken like this, to be fucked like a woman until Thomas pumped his hot oily seed inside him. He felt Phillip give way; his resistance broken down, and relished the sensation of his cock tightly gripped in the other man. Phillip had shifted position slightly, and he was stroking his own cock vigorously as Thomas fucked deeply into him. The men rocked together, lost together in the rhythms of their fucking. Thomas was riding Phillip strongly now, pumping deeply into him, and Phillip's mind was full of images of Mary, of watching her being taken like this, remembering her glazed look of lust as she had watched the two men together for the first time. He imagined that it was her hand on his cock, caressing his balls, rubbing her soft fingers over the tip. He imagined that he was pushing his cock into her mouth, her throat accepting his offering, taking him deeply, wanting more of him and begging him to do as he wanted with her. Overwhelmed by these images, he erupted, his seed bursting from him, splattering the old oak with a film of white juice. His muscles spasmed, and gripped Thomas's cock tightly, milking him. Within a few more thrusts, Thomas had also released his load, grinding his pelvis against Phillip. Thomas groaned: his mind had been full of images of Victoria; her pert white buttocks raised for him, her warm sex his for the taking. He had to have her: it would be interesting to see if the family's strong sexual desires ran truly in her. Sated, both men hurriedly redressed. Their horses had been tethered at the edge of the clearing, and they remounted, riding slowly back to the House. Victoria had been doing embroidery in the sunroom, her needle flashing as she worked on her pattern of tea roses. She looked up as the men came into the room, and Thomas noted the smile lighting her eyes, and the unconscious licking of her lips. She wanted him, whether she knew it or not, and he was going to take her. To be continued... Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 04 Chapter 4: Seduction of a virgin It was the night of the grand Ball: the Baroness had claimed this as a triumph, all of the local nobility had arrived, the drive to the House was full of carriages, and the cream of society was currently enjoying the very best food and wine that could be provided. Victoria was enjoying herself. She was the belle of the Ball, squired by the most handsome young men that the county had to offer, her dance card full, young men vying for her attention. But she only had eyes for one man. Thomas, the sea-captain who had been staying with the family for a few weeks, had pleaded lack of dancing ability and had excused himself from the Ball, talking with the older folk in the sitting room away from the ballroom. She longed to take a seat with him; she had grown accustomed to his attentions over the last few weeks and decided that her initial impression of him as a rogue was completely unfounded: he had been nothing but a gentleman. Sometimes, in her room, she had tried to imagine what it would be like to kiss him, but her memory could only provide her with images of the brief brush of her father's lips against her cheek as a child, and the tickle of his moustache, or the cold lips of her mother barely touching her face. She had no understanding of what went on between a man and a woman: there had been some discussion amongst her friends, some of the older girls had whispered, but Victoria discounted it, it was too shocking to be true, and her mother certainly would never have stooped to that. She would have to be careful: her governess had told her that she shouldn't wish for a baby in the presence of a man or she would surely get pregnant, and that would be a disgrace to the family. Pleading tiredness, she sat out the next dance, crushing the hopes of a young buck from the next county who had been seeking the hand of an heiress, and wandered out to find her mother. She was intercepted by Thomas, his eyes glinting with humour, and his manly appearance made all the others in the room seem like mere boys. As he gazed at her, she felt her legs suddenly tremble. She put this down to exhaustion, and he noticed her wavering; offering his arm he escorted her to a quiet corner, well away from the music and crowds. He sat close, and she felt his body radiating heat. After first solicitously asking after her health, he proceeded to tell her how beautiful she looked. She was wearing a dress in her favorite pink, the soft pastel colour highlighting her blonde hair and sparkling deep blue eyes. Her waist was nipped in, and this had the effect of pushing up her breasts, the full swell curving over the top of her bodice, the skin almost translucent. She took a deep breath, subconsciously causing her breasts to push outwards, and Thomas could no longer contain himself. He lowered his head, and kissed her cheek lightly, then before she could protest, moved to cover her mouth with his. Her lips parted under the pressure of his probing tongue, and she welcomed him into her mouth, powerless in the force of his passion. She could feel his tongue move against hers, and instinctively, she pressed back, caressing his tongue, tasting the scent of tobacco on him, and exploring his mouth eagerly. Thomas smiled inwardly; this was just the start. He pulled away, suppressing a smile at the look of disappointment on Victoria's face. Apologizing profusely, he declared he was overcome with love for her, and Victoria's heart, unformed and untried, melted in the face of what she thought was his obvious adoration for her. She agreed readily to meet him later that night, and for the rest of the evening, she held the thought of his kiss close to her. It was well after 2am; the carriages with their weary revellers and even wearier footmen and servants had departed, and the teams of servants left behind at the House had begun to clear away the debris of the Ball. In the confusion, Victoria had managed to slip away from her parent's supervision, and met Thomas on the terrace. He was seated in the shadows, well out of sight of a casual observer. She almost ran to him, and he pulled her to him. Insisting that she shouldn't sit on the cold stone of the summer seat, he sat her on his lap, her slim thighs pressing against his. His arms wrapped around her to keep her warm, and she relaxed in the circle of his strong arms, resting her head against his shoulder. Slowly, so slowly that she didn't realize what he was doing, he eased his hands to her shoulders, caressing the exposed flesh above the neckline of her gown. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling gently, his tongue lightly touching her ear. His kisses were so subtle, so delicate that she was soon squirming in his lap, not knowing why she was feeling like this, but aware of a sensation of anticipation rising in her, yearning for him to do something, but not knowing quite what. His caresses began to grow more adventurous, running the tips of his fingers over the curves of her girlish breasts. She jumped, and tried to slide off his lap, but his other arm held her tenderly, and his mouth continued to graze over the skin of her shoulders. She pressed closely to him, trying to return his kisses, trying to turn his mouth to hers, to taste him and feel his tongue against hers. He kept her at this peak of longing, teasing her, stroking her gently until she relaxed under his hands and allowed his inquisitive fingers to roam freely. Reaching down, he stroked her slim ankle, clad in the finest silk stockings. Slowly he edged his way up her shapely calf, and slipped his fingers between her knees. He could feel her warm naked flesh above her garter, and felt his cock begin to firm and harden in anticipation. Victoria gasped; but Thomas soothed her with murmurs of love, and she let him travel on. His hands slid higher, and she parted her thighs slightly, automatically, not knowing under what imperative she was doing this, but only knowing that this had to happen. His finger tips brushed against the soft hair covering her mons pubis-crisp curls flattened against her. He insinuated a finger tip into her virgin slit, softly parting her lips, continuing to kiss her shoulders as she leaned back against him. She was stretched out, almost laying flat against his hard body, her skirts ruched up in front as his hand explored her intimately. His finger grew bolder, and slid deeper, feeling the warmth of her flesh; he could sense her arousal, the smell of musk was unmistakable. His finger tip slowly caressed her sex lips, smoothing through the crevices, feeling the moisture begin. He whispered softly to her, telling her to sit up, and settled her on the seat, kneeling at her feet. He pushed her skirts above her knees, and then pushed them gently apart. She whimpered, knowing that she was exposed, and scared that they might be disturbed, but it was late, and her parents thought she was safely in bed. Thomas reached forward, and tasted her virgin sex, his probing tongue taking a long slow lick the length of her slit, triggering a shudder from her. She drew back, scared of the sensations that were careering through her, but her hands acted differently, reaching down to hold his head to her. He concentrated on her tiny pleasure bud, nestled beneath its pink hood, and easing back the fleshy hood with the tip of his tongue, he sucked lightly. Using a steady rhythm, he flicked across the erect tissue, tasting the fresh clean scent of her. His fingers began their exploration once again, probing gently but ever more deeply until he had pressed one inside her, feeling the incredible tightness of her sex, the muscles gripping tightly. He twisted lightly, and knew that she was truly virgin. She drew in her breath sharply, a brief pain spasming through her, but he continued to move his finger relentlessly, beginning to probe and delve and soon she could sense wetness developing there, and heard the luscious sounds of her excitement. Thomas was hard now, his cock straining. This slow seduction was as exciting as a quick fuck to him, knowing that every touch, every caress bound her more strongly to him. Knowing that, innocent as she was, her first lover would be the one she would always yearn for. He had such plans for her, he wanted to experiment to see what depths of debauchery he could introduce her to, to try and ignite the hot blood that surely ran in her veins as it did in her father. She was writhing now against his mouth, her hands holding fast to the edge of the seat, her breath coming in short gasps. She didn't knew what was happening, but the sensation of pressure was overwhelming, a bubble rising deep in her pelvis, her muscles contracting, shivers running through her. Release came soon, and she gasped in amazement, the shock washing over her, her body feeling as rich and smooth as molten chocolate. She shuddered voluptuously, a giggle rising in her chest, knowing that she suddenly felt ridiculously happy. Thomas was still gently manipulating his finger deep within her body, but he lifted his mouth from her sex, and smiled up at her. The next morning, the household slept late. Victoria awoke to a whole new world, and wanted immediately to explore, but she had to behave in front of the household staff and her parents. Thomas met her at breakfast, and acted, as usual, the perfect gentleman. After breakfast, he asked permission to take her to the nearby Roseby Castle, a grand home to which they had been invited by friends, the invitation repeated last night at the Ball. The visit was organized for the following day after the household had settled a little, and Victoria looked forward to time alone with her lover. She spent the day anxiously wandering, never settling, so twitchy that her mother snapped at her in the morning room threatening to send her to her room if she couldn't compose herself like a lady. The next day began well, the promise of sunshine in the early dawn as Victoria awoke desperate to ready herself for her lover. He was waiting in the entrance hall after breakfast for her, and gallantly escorted her to the carriage. Roseby Castle was famous for its rotunda; a dome modelled on St. Paul's cathedral, a walkway elevated high around its circumference inside, many many feet above the great hall. It was beautifully decorated in rich reds and golds, the early summer sunshine throwing flame coloured patterns on the granite flagstones far below. Their host had left them to explore, giving them the freedom of the Castle, and they climbed the steep staircase to the rotunda. Looking down, leaning over the banister that was all that separated her from the drop over the Hall, Victoria felt a momentary dizziness, and leaned back against the broad chest of her lover. His hands came up to take her shoulders, and she felt him press against her, holding her close. Through her skirts, she could feel an insistent pressure against her buttocks, a hard rod that he was starting to rub against her, and she heard his breathing deepen against her neck. Without a word, he bent her forwards slightly, allowing her to take her weight on her arms against the banister. Gazing down, watching out for their host or his staff, but wanting to trust Thomas implicitly, she was shocked to feel the rush of cool air against her skin as he lifted her skirts. Her fears were instantly doused as she felt the joyous touch of his fingers on her, the delicate probing again causing tremors to race through her. She felt her mouth water, a physical hunger rising in her, and rocked back readily against his finger, wanting him to touch her again and again. Thomas was ready; his cock was hard, the bulbous tip already oozing. He released himself from his britches, and guided Victoria's hand behind her to touch him. Her slim fingers were hesitant, but she felt the warm soft skin, and instinctively curled her fingers around, grasping the fleshy rod. 'Victoria,' she heard him whisper, 'do you love me?' and she nodded, 'oh yes, Thomas,' she gasped, knowing that she wanted to see what she was holding, but being prevented from turning round by his strong hands. 'Do you trust me?' he asked, and she nodded, wondering what was going to happen. 'I want to do something which might hurt a little, but you want to please me, don't you?' She nodded enthusiastically, and felt him shift position behind her, lifting her skirts higher, and moving in so that she could feel the hard warm rod rubbing against her buttocks. His fingers played with her, stroking and caressing her sex until the soft sounds of her sticky flesh being manipulated echoed around the rotunda. She felt a pressure, a firmness against her sex, and then she opened under him, her lips parted and her muscular virginal tunnel surrendered to his invading cock. There was pain, as he had promised, but it was fleeting, and she was so overwhelmed that she welcomed this as a sign of his love for her. She could feel him pushing against her, and felt his tool move within her, a sensation new to her, but making her feel so complete that it was as if it had always been there. She braced herself against the banister, pushing back against him, her knees almost buckling under the pressure as he grew more excited and his thrusts speeded up. Her sex was tight, tighter than he had ever known before, trapping his cock and milking it, squeezing the firm flesh of his weapon unmercifully until he was ready to unload his sperm deep into her. Just then, there was a voice from the Hall far below them. 'Hello up there!' it was their genial host, looking up cheerfully, not realizing that he was looking at his guests copulating. The rotunda walkway was so high above him, that all he was able to see was the two of them standing close together, looking down. Victoria was alarmed, and attempted to pull away, but Thomas knew that nothing could be seen, and he continued to thrust-this would be a good test, a test to see what she was capable of. She called down, and managed to exchange a few pleasantries about the views, all the while listening to Thomas whispering in her ear about how he felt, how much she excited him and how much he wanted her. Her excitement was rising to meet his, and with a final violent thrust that pushed her against the banister, she felt her sex flooded with viscous juices, and heard him groaning quietly. Their host far below announced that he was on his way up; they would only have a minute to tidy themselves. As Thomas withdrew, a spurt of sticky seed ran down her thighs, and she heard him whisper in her ear; 'Come away with me.' To be continued…… Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 05 The House at Rothsmere was in uproar. Victoria had vanished, taken by that rogue, Sir Thomas Brandon, the notorious slaver. Phillip was in dismay; he had lost his lover and his daughter, and knew that he should have been more wary of Thomas. He knew Thomas would be aroused at the thought of having both of Phillip's daughters, and knew that his trueborn daughter had been violated. Images of her spread beneath Thomas rose in his mind, and he couldn't rid himself of them. Worse still, he found himself growing erect as he thought of his sweet daughter being taken by that rogue, her sex opening and ripening for him, her mouth welcoming him into the warm cavern of her throat. He imagined Thomas pumping her full of his seed, Victoria swallowing it down, luxuriating in the taste of it as her father had done. He could see his daughter lying there, her head thrown back in ecstasy, the muscular buttocks of her lover ramming his iron cock into her, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in Phillip's ears. He wondered if Thomas had explored further, pushing his fat cock deep into Victoria's secret passage, the pain and pleasure mingling for her as they had done for Phillip. Worst of all, he felt jealousy for Thomas, jealousy that he should have been the one to taste that forbidden fruit first. His wife, as usual, blamed him, forgetting that she had been the one who had actively encouraged the liaison. Victoria was their only offspring, conceived in hatred, the baroness disgusted by her husband after only a few short months of marriage. He had always been driven by his cock, and had not, at the time, refined his techniques of seduction. The marital bed had been an unhappy one, and for the Baroness, the memories of sex were unwelcome. They had existed as a couple together only for appearances sake, both leading separate lives. But now, drawn together in worry, the unhappy couple waited for news. Meanwhile, Mary had given birth. Her son was born soon after midsummer, a placid child, easily contented, fat and happy. Betsy adored him, pouring all her love into him, her face softening whenever she gazed on his. Mary had a relatively easy birth, and her strong young body had returned to slim beauty quickly. Only the fullness of her breasts showed that she had given birth, and now they pushed forward exuberantly, straining her bodice until she had had to make some adjustments with her needle. Jack was overjoyed; he loved his son unconditionally. Even looking at the baby with a critical eye, he could see only Mary in him, no hint of his father, and that was good enough for Jack. Since the baby's birth, Mary had been unusually unsettled. To her dismay, she didn't produce enough milk for her son, and a wet nurse was found. Between them, the nurse and Betsy occupied her son's time, and Mary felt left out. She had been warned by the elderly neighbour of the dangers of allowing Jack back into her bed too soon after the birth, but Jack had not shown too much interest in her. He was occupied with his work, and, Mary suspected, with Betsy. Betsy had become invaluable to them in the months she had been part of the family, and Mary thought that she could always rely on her. But she had seen signs over the last few weeks that Jack seemed to favour Betsy. She had thought Jack adored her, that he worshipped her, but sometimes she felt that he was overwhelmed by her. He was a man of simplicity, and couldn't fulfill some of her complex desires. Betsy, on the other hand, was uncomplicated, her needs simple. Mary knew that Betsy had come to love Jack-he enjoyed her easy company, her simple soul. Jack, however, was not that simple: he knew Mary was unhappy. He knew that he didn't satisfy her, and to be truthful, Betsy, with her ready mouth and welcoming sex was more the woman for him. He decided that Mary should have a holiday to cheer her up, and began making plans to send her to London. Maybe the excitement of the great city was what she needed. In London, Thomas and Victoria had taken a house in Regent's Park, a grand villa with airy rooms and wonderful views. The views didn't matter to Victoria; she was obsessed with Thomas, wanting him desperately, aching for his touch. His prediction had come true; as her first lover, she constantly yearned for him, needed him inside her, touching her. Thomas may have been her first, but under his tutelage, he was the first of many. Over time, Victoria learnt more of him, more of his desires and his needs and she worked hard to satisfy them. He had found that her blood did indeed run hot, and she was willing to please him. She was as willing to learn as her father had been; nothing was taboo for her as she had known nothing else. He gradually introduced her to her sexual nature, and watched her, almost dispassionately, as she learnt to do those things that pleased him most. Chief amongst these was watching her with another lover. He knew that Mary had enjoyed performing, revelling in the exhibition of her own body, and he wanted to see if her half-sister shared the same perversion. The first time took place in their villa, only a few short weeks after they had arrived in London. Thomas had invited a friend home for dinner, a man who had served as his first officer back in his slaving days. Dinner had been served early, and the drinking began equally early. Victoria, getting used to the taste of wine, was in a pleasantly detached mood, the alcohol firing her blood as it usually did. She gazed with pleasure on her lover, his strong arms and muscular chest, her eyes dropping to his britches where she knew his equally strong root grew. She leaned back in her chair, her mind drifting over their life since they had run away together, the things he had introduced her to. She had changed a lot, she knew, no longer the innocent girl, she now welcomed the feel of his cock in her, and learned to say the word out loud, knowing that it excited him to hear her speak lewd words during their lovemaking. He loved to hear her beg him, and he always demanded to know exactly where she wanted him to touch her, what she wanted him to do. He enjoyed watching her touch herself, seeing her fingers exploring her own sex. He would have her hold back the lips of her sex while he plunged his tongue deeply into it, or play with her pleasure bud while he rode her from behind, all the time demanding that she tell him how hard to thrust, how quickly to pound into her. He had taught her how to take his cock in her mouth, how to relax her throat so that he could slip deeply into her, pouring his seed out in hot spurts. It was this last thought that made her sigh with desire-the weight of his cock in her mouth, the smell of him, sweat mixed with heavy maleness excited her, the feel of his balls against her face as he thrust into her, fucking (and oh, what a word that was!) her mouth. She could feel her juices begin to flow as her mind wandered; dreaming of what he would do to her when his guest had departed. Suddenly, she felt his hand on her shoulder, startling her from her dreams. She smiled up at him, and saw the familiar look of lust clouding his features. She had forgotten their companion, and looked down in excitement as Thomas's hands slipped down into her low cut bodice, scooping her breasts out, pulling the dress down so that they sat high and proud, the nipples erect. She lay back in her chair; her head thrown back, and pressed his hands against her breasts, encouraging him to caress her. She preferred his touch to be rough, vigorous, getting more pleasure from having her nipples pulled almost viciously, rolled tightly between his fingers. His strong hands massaged the smooth globes, his fingers digging deeply, almost cruelly, and she growled deep in her throat. She knew what came next, and stood up to turn and kneel on her chair, leaning over so that her breasts fell forward. Thomas raised her skirt above her waist, exposing her French lace pantaloons. The pink flesh was visible through the fine silk, and he pulled them down, ripping the delicate material, exposing her rounded buttocks. He knelt behind her, kissing the plump cheeks, smoothing his hands around her flared hips to begin to caress her sex, fingering the soft lips covered by fine hair. She was wet, and he knew that she had been thinking about him, and that she was ready to be taken. Thomas motioned to his friend to take his place; Art had been watching intently, shocked and aroused that this fine lady was putting on such a lewd display for him. His sturdy cock was erect, and he had been massaging it through his trousers ever since she had first exposed her breasts. He readily stood up, and pulling his trousers down, he settled into place behind her. Thomas continued to stroke her, noting that Victoria's eyes were closed, her mouth open in pleasure. Art took hold of her hips, and roughly pulled her back against him, impaling her soft flesh on his thick rod. He pushed into her hard, his length slipping into her, taking her by surprise. Her eyes opened, and she gasped when she saw her lover standing in front of her, and knew that another's cock was plundering her, raping into her with abandon. Thomas's cock was firm, so erect that it slapped up against his belly, and he steered it into her mouth, forcing her to take him. She had to hold on and steady herself against the back of the chair, and Thomas could feel her mouth being forced onto him under the pressure of Art's thrusts. Thomas held her head steady, and began riding her mouth. He pushed in deeper and deeper, fucking her, disregarding her comfort, taking her roughly in the way that he knew that she enjoyed. Art was playing with her buttocks, pulling them apart to expose the dark cleft, and to watch himself ramming into his Captain's lady. She was so wet and tight, nothing like the women he had had before. He knew he wouldn't last long; he could feel his seed rising, his balls tightening and he erupted with a curse into her, pumping his jism deep inside. Victoria felt his seed drip down from her slit, coating her thighs, and revelled in the feel of it, knowing that this was pleasing her lover. His cock was rigid, slamming into her throat, almost choking her, and she knew that he was about to unload his come into her as well. She swallowed it down, almost without tasting the salt-sourness of it, so far down her throat he had been. Her dress was ruined, coated in come, and she pulled it off, naked in front of the two men now slumped in exhaustion. She was desperate to reach a release herself, and as they watched, she played with her own breasts, running her hands down her body, feeling the seed still dripping from her and rubbing it into her sex and her belly. She sank a finger inside herself, wet and juicy, and then started to play with her pleasure nub, standing hard and taut. Sitting on the hard dining chair, her legs spread wide apart, the men watched as she rubbed frantically, sliding her finger hard over her flesh, stimulating it beyond endurance. She came, gasping, her hand still buried in her sex. Thomas, semi-erect still, smiled inwardly; he had trained her well. Back in Marsden, preparations were underway for Mary's trip to London. She was to stay in a respectable boarding house for young ladies, and had plans to visit all of the grand monuments. Initially Jack had arranged to come with her, but he couldn't leave the stables, his business too new and busy. In addition, he wasn't keen to go to the big city, but he knew Mary was. Mary was unsure as to whether she had wanted Jack there anyway; she had felt distanced from him recently. One night, not long ago, she had heard the baby crying and went to him. Betsy had beaten her to it, and Mary watched, her heart contracting in jealousy as the baby smiled up at the woman cradling him her arms. Worse still, she had seen Jack and Betsy together and the way they had looked at each other. They had had intimate moments together, the three of them, but Mary had been part of that, and most often she was the centre of attention, her body pleasured by both Jack and Betsy, both of them eager to taste her, touch her, in the way that pleased her most. But late one evening, when Betsy had been seated cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, holding the baby, Jack had sat beside her. He had raised his hand and tenderly moved a lock of hair from her eyes. Mary, unnoticed, had watched from the kitchen door and noted the intimacy and tenderness of the action from which she was excluded. She knew that Jack loved her, and she loved him, but she knew that this wasn't enough for her any more. The night before she left, they had lain in bed, their heads close together. Betsy had taken the baby to her room to give them some peace, and Mary knew in her heart that this was the last time that she and Jack would be together, the last time she would take pleasure in his young body. He was firm and strong, his arms and chest still developing with muscle. She ran her lips over his shoulders, nuzzling his neck, and then mounted him, her slim body lying along his. She could feel his cock rise beneath her; his reaction automatic in the face of her hot quim pressing against him. She began to rock, trapping his cock between his belly and hers, and her mouth lowered to kiss him, their tongues entwining, hers exploring his mouth deeply. He lifted his hands to hold her, his fingers sliding up to play gently with her breasts. The full flesh cupped in his hands, he strained his neck to take her nipple in his mouth, rolling it gently over his tongue, feeling it bud out and tighten. Softly he stroked the gently curving undersurface of her breasts, knowing that she was sensitive there. His hands slid down to caress her hips, and she slid her thighs to either side of his, parting her sex lips. He could feel the wetness of her, the heat radiating from her flesh directly through to his cock. He wanted to bury himself in her, and she slipped a hand between their bodies and guided him to her velvet-lined entrance, settling into place, riding him slowly. She leaned back, resting her weight on her hands stretched out behind her, and he watched his cock slide slowly into her. Her sex-lips were parted like this, exposing her love-bud, and he reached forward to finger it for her as she moved her hips, raising herself on his thick shaft. The pressure of her buttocks on his balls was exquisitely sensitive, and he could feel his seed rise quickly. She shifted position again, now leaning forward so that he could take her nipple in his mouth, and spread her thighs more widely so that his pubic bone rested against her pleasure bud. She rubbed herself against this, feeling the firm pressure radiate through her pelvis. Faster and faster she rubbed, riding his cock. Suddenly, he could bear it no longer; he needed to slam into her, to ram his hard cock deep into his lover, burying his rod to the hilt inside her needy sex. He flipped her off him, rolling her onto her back, and held her legs apart. Holding onto her ankles high in the air, he thrust into her vigorously, slapping against her flesh in abandonment. She was overwhelmed by this, by Jack's sudden change from sensitive lover to wild animal, but knew he needed to unburden his load. Her pelvis rode to meet his, and together they moved in the rhythm of their sex. At the point of release, he pulled his cock from her, and spurted jets of come over her, strings of white seed landing on her belly. Groaning, he collapsed against her, resting his head on her shoulder, as she cradled him in her arms. Cuddled together, his come drying on her belly and her sex, they slept. Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 06 Mary wandered round Regent's Park in a daze; it was enormous, so much space to explore after the enclosed streets and crowded shops of the centre of the great city. The Queen, Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Victoria, had opened the Park to the public only a few years earlier, and it had immediately become a popular place to stroll and to ride: young bucks dressed in the finest riding habits pranced by on highly-bred horses, their horses tails swishing, their hooves held high. To Mary, a country girl born and bred, the Park seemed odd; the countryside tamed and cosseted, the animals pets rather than work-mates. But there was no denying the beauty of the gardens; the flowers were glorious, sensual arrangements of colour, the soft scents of the roses rising in the warmth of the summer. She was a little lonely without Jack. Despite the problems they had having, she would have felt better having him with her. But he was busy with the stables, and he was uneasy about coming to the city, his gypsy blood instinctively disliking the idea of permanence. Betsy had been quite content to stay at home with Jack; she was absorbed in minding the baby, his every need indulged by her. Mary also thought that Betsy wanted to spend a little time with Jack alone: as an orphan, Betsy had seemed to attach herself to those who treated her kindly. First Mary, then Jack was the object of her passion. At first, this hadn't threatened Mary in any way; she thought she had been secure in Jack's affections. Mary had thought that Betsy was a diversion for him, a companion and a helpmeet, but reasoned that he didn't feel for Betsy the all-consuming passion that he felt for Mary. But now, things had changed; the interactions between them were unbalanced and moving. Jack knew about her other lovers, Thomas and Phillip, but that was in the past for Mary, so she thought. But she was no longer content with Jack-she needed more. She was self-aware enough to know that Jack couldn't satisfy her need for correction, her need to be ordered around and punished if she did wrong. This admission triggered something inside her, and even musing quietly in the Park about this, she felt her blood start to rise, and the familiar pulse in her sex begin to pound. She sat at one of the fine wooden benches that adorned the pathways around the Park, pressing her thighs together to subdue her unruly desires. As her strong thigh muscles flexed, she felt a tremor run through her. She began to clench and unclench her thighs and realised that this had the effect of compressing her sex, the pressure stimulating her pleasure bud. She looked around, and could see no one except a young woman wandering in the direction of the Zoological Gardens. Under her voluminous skirts, the movement of her thighs was hardly noticeable. She wanted so much to reach under her skirts and caress her sex, stroking until she reached that height of ecstasy that she desired. She pictured herself laying back, her skirts thrown up, exposing herself to the world. In her mind's eye, she had drawn a crowd: top society ladies and gentlemen were standing around her, their gazes fixed on her pink, hot flesh, watching as she slowly rubbed and flicked at her pleasure bud, watching her sink her fingers in side herself, searching for the juices that she knew would be flowing. She knew that she was putting on a show for them, knew that she was performing and that all of them were desperate to take her. She knew that the men wanted to impale her with their hot and hard fleshy rods, and that the women wanted to kneel between her thighs and taste for themselves the salt-sweet scent of an aroused woman. She understood her own desires: she wanted to perform, to be watched being taken in any way, by any body. The thought that her actions would arouse such feelings of sexual excitement in those watching was so erotic for her, and she began pressing her thighs together more vigorously, more quickly. She placed her clasped hands into her lap and surreptitiously she pressed down, forced her plump mound hard against her pubic bone. She repeated this several times, and knew that she was about to orgasm. She dreamt that the watching crowd drew closer, wanting to see the juices flow from her sex, to smell her arousal. She wanted someone to come forward and lick those juices away from her fleshy lips. Her eyes opened, looking around to see that she wasn't disturbed. She noticed the same young woman, attired in fashionable dress, walking towards her, but this woman's attention was focussed on the Zoological Gardens. She imagined that it was this woman who finally came to her, begging to let her taste Mary's juices. The thought of a stranger subjugating herself in front of her caused her pleasure to peak, her orgasm flooding her pelvis, her legs suddenly weak. The effort of trying to keep quiet made her bite down on her lower lip, drawing blood which tinged her mouth with the taste of metallic iron. She sighed deeply, and relaxed her hands. There were tiny half-crescents where her nails had dug deeply into her palms, the skin blanched white with pressure. 'Excuse me?' a voice cut across her half-dreaming state, and she looked up into a face that was almost the mirror of her own. It was the woman who had been making for the Zoological Gardens; her attentions had not been as firmly focussed as Mary had thought. 'Excuse me for disturbing you, but I do believe we are acquainted,' the woman came closer, and Mary saw her aristocratic face change as she took in Mary's appearance, and realised she was deigning to talk to a social inferior. 'You're Mary, aren't you? One of my father's staff. What on earth are you doing here?' the woman's voice was accusatory, and her intonations and upper class drawl were so like her fathers that Mary felt servile again, almost as though she was caught doing something wrong. She recognised Victoria, but she had changed, she had grown from a girl to a woman in a few short months. There was something about her stance, her confidence that was different. The girl who had grown up in the House, just a few months younger than Mary, would never have worn such fashionable clothes, or have such a low cut bodice, or worn such tightly boned skirts that showed her impossibly tiny waist. She stood in front of Mary, her entire stance demanding to know what a servant was doing here, mixing with high society when she should have been working. Mary jumped to her feet quickly, and just managed to stop herself from curtseying. She knew that she had every right to be here: the Park was a public place, and Mary was no longer a servant, but her body and mind responded automatically to the imperious tone. 'The Baron released me from duty, ma'am,' she said, her head bowed, and her hands clasping together nervously. Victoria looked her up and down, noting the well cut dress, and the soft white skin of her hands. Mary's nails were long; she didn't have the appearance of a servant any more, and Victoria wondered. She knew Mary had left the House only a short time before she had done so herself, and the rumour that she had heard from her lady's maid was that Mary had run off with Jack the stable lad. Victoria wasn't so sure: Mary had money now, that was clear, and Victoria had heard enough from her lover Thomas that her beloved father wasn't as straight-laced as he had appeared. She had been watching the girl sitting on the bench for a while before she had approached, and Thomas had introduced Victoria to debauchery so thoroughly that she had a fair idea of the reason for Mary's leg movements and thrusting hands. Her own blood ran hot at the thought of someone being so overcome with desire that they had pleasured themselves in public and she was intrigued, approaching to find out more. Realising that they were already acquainted would only make it easier. At Victoria's silence, Mary looked up and noted a softening of her face, the arrogance smoothing out. 'I would be delighted if you would take tea with me, Mary,' smiled Victoria; 'we could talk about your adventures since you left my father's employ.' A little confused at this change of tone, but conditioned to obey her superiors, Mary acquiesced, and the two young women walked off together, their slim graceful figures drawing appreciative glances from passers-by. Victoria lived very near-by. After several months of debauchery with Thomas, he had left her, taking his post again at the helm of his ship, leaving her the house. She knew she could have returned home to her father, but she was too ashamed of her behaviour. The months with Thomas had seemed like a dream. He had gradually immersed her in his life, teaching her, showing her how to arouse and enjoy her body, and the bodies of others. He had enjoyed watching her with other men, and she had relished performing for him, exhibiting her beautiful body for his pleasure and those who he invited to partake of her. She hadn't realised that this wasn't just favours; money had been changing hands. Thomas was well known in certain circles for being able to provide new entertainment for jaded appetites, and an aristocratic lady willing to debase herself, to allow men to use her body was a new attraction for many. After Thomas had left her, these men came calling still, and she maintained her lifestyle. She kept the luxurious, beautifully appointed villa in the grounds of the park, and dressed well, the finest silks and satins. She had no close friends however, women of her own class shunned her, and her only companions were her lovers, who paid for her time in gold. Victoria's maid took their cloaks, and Mary marvelled at this; only a few months ago she would have been in that position and she found it hard not to jump up and pour the tea when it was served. Once Victoria's initial haughtiness had dissipated, the girls got on well. Conscious of the gulf in status between them, they did however feel a connection. This may only have been their shared history, their lives that had briefly and superficially touched when they were both in Rothsmere, but they genuinely enjoyed each others company, and Mary promised to return later in the week for dinner. Victoria, still intrigued by Mary's behaviour in the Park was determined to find out more about the girl. The day of the dinner invitation had arrived; Mary had spent the intervening days looking for a suitable outfit. She had decided on a dress of pale-pink velvet and silk, the colour suiting her complexion. A heavier wrap, trimmed with pale rabbit fur, accompanied the dress. She wore her hair simply, a loose twist pinned into place, with tendrils floating at the sides of her face, framing her beauty. She was nervous, and knew that this was because Victoria was the daughter of the Baron, a connection to the place that she missed so dreadfully. Victoria was so like him in her tone and her expressions, so much so that Mary found herself drawn to the younger woman. She was surprised to find that she was the only guest; the table had been set intimately for two, and Victoria plied her with fine wines and delicious food. Mary was unused to drinking. Beyond a glass of sherry at Christmas time in the House she didn't touch it, and soon found herself drifting deliciously, her head spinning. Victoria complimented on her dress; she herself had a strong preference for pink. She had a beautiful ball gown in the same colour that she had worn in front of the Queen, and invited Mary to come and see it. Mary eagerly accepted the invitation and followed her hostess to her dressing room. Victoria took the dress from its stand and they faced the full-length mirror, Victoria standing behind Mary, and held the dress against her. The soft pink suited her, and standing together, they realised how similar their appearance was. Mary was slightly shorter, her body a little sturdier, and her beauty untouched by artifice: Victoria, encouraged by Thomas, had taken to wearing cosmetics. Perhaps caused by the way she led her life since her abandonment, there was a slight cynical glint in her eye, a harsh twist in the set of her lips that aged her a little, especially when set next to Mary's exuberant country fairness. Victoria raised a hand and stroked the side of Mary's face, lifting a tendril of her fair hair. As Mary watched in the mirror, Victoria slowly lowered her mouth, and dropped a delicate kiss on her cheek. Mary heard the younger woman's voice whisper in her ear: 'What were you doing in the Park, Mary? I saw you moving very oddly.' Mary couldn't answer: Victoria was now slowly tracing her way down the side of Mary's neck, nibbling lightly at the pale skin, delicately licking the curve of her ear. She dropped the evening gown carelessly to one side, and brought her hands up to encircle Mary's waist, and Mary watched in the mirror, fascinated by the movement of the other woman's hands on her. They slid up over her bodice: Mary could feel very little through the thick boning of her corset and bodice, but as Victoria cupped her breasts from behind, she felt the touch of the woman's fingertips stroking the upper curve of her breasts. 'Answer me. What were you doing in the Park?' the aristocratic voice was demanding now, and Mary responded to the tone. 'I miss Jack....I wanted him to touch me,' Mary's legs were beginning to tremble. Although the sensations through the dress were diminished, the view in the mirror excited her. She had never watched herself before being caressed, and yearned to press her breasts in the woman's hands. 'I want to see where Jack touches you.' The imperious tone was impossible to ignore and Mary's very soul yearned to obey. She knew that she needed to be commanded, and her nature was to please her Master. This woman was so like him that she instinctively obeyed. Victoria helped Mary take her dress off, the corsets needing to be unfastened. Her petticoats followed suit, and soon Mary was standing naked in front of the mirror. Victoria stood behind her still, looking over the girl's body. With Thomas she had once caressed a woman, but that had been one of his cheap whores, paid to pretend pleasure and moan excitedly. She hadn't enjoyed the experience: the woman was older, her breasts flapping a little, sagging against her ribs, the skin of her belly drooping with childbirth. This girl was taut and firm, her breasts pert. Only the darkened nipples showed that she had given birth: her belly was flat, the tuft of fair hair at its base looking intensely inviting. Victoria slid her hands around the slim waist, and Mary felt warmth radiating from them. Again her breasts were cupped from behind, this time her nipples contracted, pink tips peaking out from between Victoria's fingers. They stiffened, the areolas dimpling, and Victoria rolled them gently between her fingers. 'Does Jack do this to you, Mary? Does he excite you like this?' Victoria's voice was breathy now, and Mary could barely hear her over the loud beating of her heart. She nodded in affirmation, but Victoria wanted an answer. She suddenly tweaked Mary's nipple, eliciting a gasp of pain from her, and demanded an answer, her tone strict. 'Yes, yes he touches me there,' Mary spoke quickly, for Victoria still had her nipple in a vice like pinch, and Mary soon realised that Victoria wanted to know details. As her body was caressed, the aristocratic hands exploring her intimately, Mary told Victoria about Jack. She told Victoria how he had first seen her, playing with her own sex outside in the oak clearing, how he had begged to taste her, and erupted with passion inside her. She described how it felt for her when Jack had pillaged her dark entrance, stretching the tight muscle, filling her so completely she could hardly breathe. She told her about Betsy, about the two of them seducing the girl, taking her in turns, licking and caressing her until she was so wet that Jack had ridden her virgin sex easily. Both girls were panting now: Mary's legs were weak with desire and she could barely stand. Victoria, still standing behind her, had burrowed her hand between the girls thighs, and her fingertips were brushing the fleshy lips of Mary's sex, feeling the damp hair and the heat radiating from her. Victoria knew without touching that her own sex had responded similarly. She slid her hand out, and reached around Mary's waist, her hands sliding down to the girl's plump mound. She pulled back the lips of Mary's sex, and in the mirror they both saw the pink bud pushing forward, peeking from under its hood, engorged and erect. 'Touch yourself, Mary,' she demanded, and watched closely as Mary did as she was ordered, using the middle finger of her right hand to flick lightly at the nub of tissue. Victoria pulled back harder, stretching the skin almost painfully, exposing more of the sensitive flesh. Victoria knew that Mary was about to reach her crisis, and ordered her to stop. Her hand falling by her side, obeying without question, Mary stood waiting; she knew that Victoria was in control and she was happy with this, this seemed to be the natural order of things. At her order, Mary helped Victoria disrobe, marvelling at the firmness of her breasts. Victoria's body was so different from Betsy, the only other woman Mary had known. Betsy's flesh was warm and abundant, her large breasts soft and pliable; this woman was hard and finely muscled, her breasts so pert that they hardly shifted when she moved, her nipples fine brown peaks rather than the rosy pink that Mary was used to in Betsy. Victoria led Mary to the bedroom, locking the heavy door behind them. Her bed was huge, a grand four-poster draped with heavy red velvet curtains. She ordered Mary to bend over the edge at the bottom of the bed, her feet flat on the floor, and eased Mary's feet apart, separating her thighs. She began to stroke as she had done before, her finger tips teasing the warm downy hair and the fleshy lips, before probing more deeply. Her fingers edged into the slippery canal of Mary's sex. The girl was wet, viscous juices flowing readily, and she could feel Mary begin to move, trying to rock her body so that Victoria's fingers would thrust more deeply. She knew that Mary wanted to be penetrated and eased a third finger into her, bunched up tight. Her thumb was resting against Mary's perineum, and she started to press against the tight ridge of muscle there, stimulating and pressing, her thumb beginning to probe at the tight amber ring. Incoherent groans were coming from Mary's throat, growls of pleasure begging Victoria to touch her, to take her, to do as she wanted with Mary's body. When Victoria stopped, Mary almost cried out in anguish, but the interruption was only brief, and then the stimulation of her sex continued. But it was different now. Victoria had taken a dildo from her dresser, and was using this to violate Mary. Thomas, a collector of erotica, had picked this up in India; it was reputed to be many hundreds of years old, and was made of ivory, the phallus decorated by intricate carvings of men with women, women with women, and men with men in many positions. A fine piece of art in its own right, it was nevertheless a perfectly carved large phallus, and Mary's wet tunnel accepted it gratefully. Victoria watched as Mary's sex seemed to swallow the phallus inch by inch, disappearing inside her, and when the younger woman pulled it out, it came reluctantly, Mary's vaginal muscles contracted around it's stiffness, clinging to it, coating it in her honeyed juices. With one hand working the dildo, Victoria used her other to play with Mary's pleasure bud, and was soon rewarded with shudders of orgasm that washed unchecked over the girls body, throaty gasps erupting from her mouth. The girl had spent heavily, and Victoria allowed her to collapse onto the bed to rest. Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 06 Mary lay on her back, panting, her heart beat slowly coming back to normal. She had not felt this degree of abandonment since the night with Thomas and her Master, and at that moment would have done whatever was required of her to experience that again. Victoria lay beside her, propped up on one arm, looking down lazily at her exhausted body. Victoria's sex was in need of attention now, her bud throbbing almost painfully, but she could see that Mary was in no position to sit or stand as yet. Instead, Victoria knelt over Mary, her knees on either side of the supine girl's head, and lowered her sex onto the girls face. The warmth of Mary's panting breath against her sticky engorged flesh made her shudder in anticipation, and then she felt the girl's tongue moving on her. Mary was experienced at this: Betsy preferred being licked and sucked to all else that Mary did. Mary swirled her tongue, encircling the taut flesh, flicking it lightly, and then probing deeply into the girl's vagina, thrusting with her stiffened tongue and being rewarded with milky juices. She licked at the fleshy lips above her face, driving down into the folds and crevices, then back to nibble and suck delicately at the pleasure bud, knowing that this would bring her to orgasm. She could hear Victoria's breathing deepen and quicken, her panting echoing around the room. Victoria pressed her sex harder against Mary's face, smearing it with her juices, and began to caress her own breasts, grasping at the tight flesh, pulling her nipples almost viciously. She came with a deep groan and fell forward. Slowly dismounting from Mary's face, she could feel the muscles of her thighs still tremble with the aftermath of her pleasure. She leant forward and began to lick the smeared juices from Mary's cheeks, and this soon ended in a deep kiss, their tongues entwined, searching each others mouth and sharing the taste of love juices. Exhausted, but only temporarily sated, the two young women lay entwined, their graceful limbs caressing and stroking, both of them not wanting this delicious interlude to come to an end. Mary's mouth found its way to Victoria's breasts, and she licked and sucked at the younger woman's nipples with abandonment, revelling in the feeling of the taut flesh pushing between her lips, sucking on the firm peaks whilst her hands caressed the smooth flesh of her waist and thighs, rubbing across her buttocks. Victoria sat up slightly, her legs parted, the slim graceful thighs separating to allow Mary access to her sex. Victoria was engorged, her sex reddened and still swollen with loving, and Mary started to finger it gently, just flicking lightly at her, her fingertips dipping and stroking into the complex folds and grooves, tracing paths of ecstasy. She wanted to taste her again, to lick and suck at her sex, to take her in her mouth and drown in the feel of her, to inhale the musky smell of her aroused woman hood. She eased a finger inside Victoria's tight vagina, probing at the muscular ridged walls, enjoying the heat and wetness there. With her other hand, she nudged a finger against Victoria's tight dark entrance. Mary knew that she herself welcomed this, that she had enjoyed being taken there and hoped that Victoria would want this too. Victoria felt the probing and breathed deeply, knowing she was about to be penetrated, her secret entrance violated in the most delicious way. Soon Mary had another finger inside Victoria, both hands probing her body. She began to push, to thrust gently, alternating her movements. She could feel the movements of her fingers of both hands between the thin membrane separating Victoria's love passages, and massaged the wall firmly, rewarded by mewls of pleasure from the younger woman. Mary leant forward, still fingering the supine and ecstatic noblewoman, and laid her hot mouth over her erect flesh, sucking the nub of tissue deeply, caressing it with her tongue. Victoria, the sensations overwhelming her, began to grind her sex into Mary's face again, tremors washing over her, her mind ablaze with passion, knowing that she had not received such pleasure before. Mary lay down beside Victoria, gently pushing back the tendrils of hair that had stuck to the woman's face, now covered in the sheen of sweat. Victoria's bosom was still heaving, the exertions of sex overwhelming her, and Mary exulted in the sight of her firm breasts rising and her nipples still puckered and erect. This time they slept, still entwined, their flesh seeking comfort in each other. Further Adventures of the Maid Ch. 07 Mary had left the house in Regent's Park with reluctance. She knew that she had no place back home with Jack-he was better suited to Betsy. Victoria had asked her to stay, but she knew that no matter how thrilling her union with the young noblewoman, this wasn't enough for her. She wanted a man; no dildo, no matter how finely carved could take the place of a mans cock for her. She longed to feel the weight of it in her mouth, her sex, even her amber rosebud. She couldn't resist the sensation of it, a firm rod of flesh, smooth soft skin over the hard core, relentlessly thrusting into her, finding release in her body, unburdening its load into her needy flesh. She knew she had to go back home to the only home she had ever known. She decided to write to her master; she thought of him every day, and the feelings were growing stronger the longer she was away from him. The time with his daughter had been a dim reflection of the time with him. He knew what she needed; she had longed for him, longed to feel him inside her again, to feel his pleasure and receive his punishments. The letter was written; in her careful childish hand, she had written to tell him how much she wanted to be with him again. Phillip received it with mixed emotions. He longed for her, every fibre of his being knowing that they were matched, that they satisfied each other completely. But she was forbidden to him, even though she didn't know that; he had to take the burden of that knowledge. Could he meet with her knowing of their kinship, their shared blood? He knew that the desires that ran in him were met equally in her; she was everything to him. He had lost one daughter; he had had word of Victoria, now a courtesan in London. He knew that he was to blame, knowing that he had allowed her to come under the influence of Thomas, as he had himself. He had lost Victoria, he didn't want to lose Mary again. He dreamed of Mary; his thoughts were full of her. No matter where he went in the House, he could see her, insubstantial as a ghost, but always there. She was there in his study, kneeling over to set the fire, her pert rump outlined in her skirts. He was feeling beneath her dress, feeling for the first time her excitement. He felt the firm flesh quiver under his fingers as he slapped her; she had enjoyed her punishments, knowing that she had deserved them. Even sat on the chaise longue he could see her, kneeling before Jack, taking one lover in her mouth whilst opening for another pressing at her sex, giving pleasure to both of them. Out riding, he seemed to gravitate towards the oak clearing, knowing that Mary had met Jack here, knowing that Jack had buried his cock deep into Mary, thrusting inside her, pumping his seed deep into her bowels. Phillip had watched, seeing his daughter violated, but knowing that she had offered herself to Jack in this way, knowing that she had wanted this most dark pleasure. He groaned, his cock hardening as it always did when he thought of her. How should he reply? He desperately wanted to see her again. If nothing else, she had mentioned that she had seen Victoria in London, and he wanted news of her, the daughter that refused to see him again. He wrote to her, a carefully worded letter that would reveal nothing should it fall into the wrong hands, and waited for her return home. Mary came back to the cottage she shared with Jack and Betsy, but knew that this was only temporary. Betsy had welcomed her home like a sister, and proudly showed her the baby. In the short time Mary had been away, he had seemed to grow inches, his smile blossoming, showing pearly front teeth just coming through. Mary knew that she had missed her son, but that Betsy was a better mother than she could be to him; she knew that the three of them now made a family, and she had slipped to the edge, looking in. The following day, she made her way to Rothsmere. Jack took her in the cart, worrying about her, knowing that she was putting herself in an awkward position, but accepting that this was what she felt she had to do. She waited in the oak clearing, the autumn wind cool but refreshing, her fine wool coat hugged closely to her. Sitting on the fallen oak, she sank deeply into thought, wondering about her future, so deep in thought that she missed his approach. Her master had been watching her for a while, steeling himself not to go to her as soon as he arrived. He watched her, drinking in every detail of her, the way her hair had grown and was curling over her collar, the new fullness of her breasts just visible beneath her coat, the anxious nibbling of her lower lip showing her tension. Her hands, the fingernails now long and graceful, plucked nervously at each other, and he knew that her nervousness was mirrored by his. Stepping forward, he called out her name and her head lifted, looking for him. She stood and watched him come to her, wanting to throw herself into his arms but not knowing if this would displease him. He strode over to her, not heeding the undergrowth grasping at his fine trousers, and took hold of her, folding her in his arms. Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he spoke: 'I've missed you, Mary,' his voice was deep and stern, and she looked up in dismay. 'Don't leave me again or you will have to be punished.' It was then that she saw the smile in his eyes, and knew that all would be well. She returned his kiss, her mouth searching for his and they clung together for long moments, their tongues entwined. Phillip groaned inwardly; despite his determination and good intentions, he had to have her. He brushed the long hair away from her face and cupped her chin in his hand. She began to unbutton her coat, and he looked down at her body, shown to it's best advantage in a tightly fitting dress of silk, so fine that he could see her nipples outlined clearly, standing erect in the cool breeze. His hand slid from her chin down to her breasts, fuller than he remembered, but still firm, the sumptuous flesh warm under his hands. He cupped them both, and lowering his head, he laid a soft line of kisses along the upper curve of them displayed above her bodice. He felt her nipples harden under his palms, and knew that he wanted to take them in his mouth and suckle. He had thought that it was too cold for them here, but she was young and eager, and wanted him so badly that she didn't care about the cold. He helped her undress, her hands made clumsy by her desire. She had worn nothing but the dress that day, and her naked body soon rose from the rumpled pile of pale silk, exposed for him. He looked at her for a long time, fixing her in his memory, gazing at her rounded curves with delight. She had matured, her figure refining, the breasts high tipped with rosy nipples. At the base of her stomach, her curls were neatly trimmed; she had admired this on Victoria, and had asked her to show her what to do. Through the delicate curls, the lips of her sex were clearly delineated, and Phillip knelt in front of her, almost in supplication, reaching out with his fingers to touch her there. Just with the tip of a finger, he traced gently down her slit, barely skimming her, and then leaned forward and laid a kiss at the top of her slit, probing slightly with his tongue, tasting the musky scent of her. She pressed his head to her, wanting him to take her, to suck at her pleasure bud, to thrust his tongue deeply into her love tunnel, and lap at her pussy in the way Victoria had done during that long night with her master's daughter. Phillip held her hips, and strained forward with his tongue trying to bury it deeper, feeling her warmth envelop him. His face was buried in her now, the crisp curls rubbing against his cheeks, and her juices beginning to smear his face. She was trembling, and he knew that she was close to her crisis. But he wouldn't let her reach this; skillfully he kept her just at the peak of pleasure but no further down the road to fulfillment. She would only come when he decided to allow it, and he knew what he wanted to do to her first. Ever since his coupling with Thomas in the oak clearing, Phillip had dreamed of taking Mary there. He had imagined her laid over the oak log for him, waiting for him to plunge into her body, and the image was very strong in his mind now. He got up from his position in front of her, and laid her coat over the log. He ordered her to lie upon it, and show herself to him. She complied, reaching round with her hands to part her buttocks, balanced awkwardly, her breasts crushed under her weight. Her discomfort, though, meant nothing to the feeling inside her; his words of command had eased something for her; knowing that she was acting to please him gave her satisfaction too. He knelt behind her, his face close. She was fully exposed for him, parting her cleft with her fingers, the tight ring of muscle clearly visible, the skin puckered around it. His fingers reached out and he began massaging the thick ridge of muscle between her vagina and her secret passage. He knew that she would find this pleasurable, but it wouldn't result in an orgasm for her; rather, it would keep her close to it, increasing the sensation when he finally allowed her to come. Continuing to rub gently, he leaned forward and placed his tongue against the unyielding muscle, as he had dreamed of doing. Licking gently, feeling her shudder beneath him, he started to push, his tongue insistent until the muscle relented, and he began probing her. She whimpered, but remained in position, her body responding to the sensations. With his free hand, he released his cock from his trousers. He was already oozing, clear juices collecting at the bulbous tip of his cock, as excited as a boy at the thought of fucking Mary again. He began to rub his cock, sliding his hand slowly up his rigid shaft, looking at the engorged veins. He was using his left hand, the unfamiliar hand for him, and the sensation was almost as if a stranger was touching him. He watched himself masturbate, taking his tongue from her, his gaze alternating between his cock and Mary, seeing her amber hole slightly dilated, wanting him. He needed to drive into her, but wanted this to last. So he replaced his tongue with a finger, slowly pushing into her, feeling the tight muscle gripping him, welcoming him into her heat. She began to rock, pushing back against him. He soon eased another finger into her, and began to fuck her, driving his fingers in, the muscles beginning to relax. He knew that she wanted him, and he demanded that she tell him what she wanted him to do. 'Please, sir...' she begged, 'please, I want.....' 'What do you want, Mary?' he needed her to say the words, and knew that this would excite him, hearing those words from her mouth. 'I want you in me,' she was pleading now, but he was adamant. He removed his fingers, threatening to stop fucking her, and the torment was too much for her. 'I want to feel your cock in me,' she gasped, almost ashamed of her need, but knowing that he would punish her if she didn't do as he asked. At this, he smiled, and drove into her, pushing his cock deep into her quim, coating it in her thick salt-sweet juices. Then he held the tip of his helmet to her muscular ring and pushed. The hole dilated, the muscles still relaxed and he sank in, lubricated by her own oil. She had to hold on to the log and push back against him, his thrusts were becoming wild, but she wanted that; she needed this first time to be hard and fast and deep. She wanted to feel him unload into her, to feel his hot seed pumping into her bowels. In her mind's eye, she remembered Victoria taking her this way with the carved dildo, using exotic creams from the Orient to lubricate it. The cream had warmed her tunnel and relaxed the muscles, but it didn't feel the same as being filled and stretched by a rod of flesh. She remembered Jack thrusting into her like this, but he would never initiate this, she had always been the one to indicate her dark desires. Apart from that last time, he had never lost control, and had never rammed into her hard; he didn't understand her need for physicality, always deferent when sometimes she wanted force. She could feel herself coming, and her muscles tensed around him, milking Phillip's cock. At the first spasm of juices from him, she let go, and spent hard, gasping, throaty breathless panting that was so loud that it disturbed the rooks nesting in the nearby trees. He continued to pump until his cock was emptied. As he slid out, a gush of milky seed followed him, and he looked at her ring, now reddened and slightly swollen. He knew that she had come, but was tempted to touch her again, finding her irresistible. He slumped at her feet, sitting against the log, not letting her get up. Holding her cheeks apart with the fingers of his left hand, his right hand reached to caress her abused hole, slipping inside, pushing his come back into her. She groaned, but the sensation was welcome. He slid his fingers forward down her slit, and into her vagina. She was so wet, so excited by him, that he could push in three easily. She eased herself up a little from the log so that he had better access to her. From behind, he slowly took her again with his fingers, his thumb resting against the tight ridge of muscle, massaging there. He couldn't reach her pleasure bud, that erect nubbin of tissue too far forward, and demanded that she play with herself for him. On her hands and knees now, she began to stroke herself, the taut bud almost too sensitive to touch. He thrust his fingers rapidly into her, fucking her almost mechanically, knowing that she was enjoying the sensation of two hands on her, two set of fingers touching her sex. He could hear her breathing still ragged from her first orgasm, but her second followed quickly. Her body hadn't recovered, and she shook and shuddered from his touch. She came with a long, drawn out moan, and her arms almost buckled under her. He allowed her to rest, covering her with her coat. Sitting close to her, he caressed her face, and she smelt her juices on his fingers. She wanted to taste, and he fed them to her; she sucked and licked his fingers until they were clean of her sticky juices. They lay there for a moment, conscious of nothing but each other. He knew that there was no going back, and that Mary would be with him for good. They needed each other, and he would no longer try to resist. THE END