My feelings were difficult to analyse. Shame, anger, and a wish for revenge fought with each other. At the same time, Muriel's charms were ever before me, and at moments John Thomas made gallant attempts to persuade me that the afternoon was worth everything. Juliette's bottom also rose before my eyes white and plump and round, quivering under the blows of the birch, opening and shutting between the strokes and showing glimpses of the dark pouting lips of her pussy - that pussy which I had felt and found so responsive to my fingers.
What were her last words? 'I should love you to whip me.' By Gad, I thought, why not? Surely it was worth risking another whipping myself to get the chance of making those lovely cheeks flinch and squirm. And then Muriel! What a gorgeous poke. How her tongue had caressed my old man. How her pussy had drawn every bit of life from me! Yes, undoubtedly I must call again.
So I argued that night. But next morning doubt and nervousness came over me again, and eventually it was quite a week before I rang the bell again at the little house in South Molton Street.
Juliette opened the door and smiled when she saw me. 'Madame was wondering why you had not called,' she said. 'She is rather angry with you, sir, in consequence, I fancy,' she added with a meaning look. 'She does not like to be neglected. But she is not at home now.'
'Can I come in and wait?'
'Oh, yes, sir, if you like.'
So I went in and shut the door. She led me into the little morning-room and for a moment we looked at each other. Then without any delay or explanation, we seemed to fall into each other's arms. Our tongues met, and our right hands dived straight between each other's legs. John Thomas rose at once and I found Juliette's soft little pussy already dribbling with expectation. I urged her gently back to an armchair and, kneeling before her, placed John Thomas in the haven where he would be. Her bottom lifted itself to meet him and we came together in a mutual flood of love.
'Tell me, Juliette,' I said when we had finished, 'does Muriel whip you often?'
'As often as she gets the chance,' she said with a wry little smile.
'But why do you submit,' I said, 'and how did it begin? It isn't usual for maids to be whipped.'
'I'll tell you someday,' she answered. 'It's too long a story for now. Besides, she's very good to me and I get more pleasure with her than I should anywhere else.'
She cuddled close to me and fondled John Thomas, who evidently enjoyed it.
'You said something to me as I was going away last time that puzzled me,' I said after a minute.
She blushed a little.
'Come,' I said, 'do you really like being whipped?'
'Don't you?'
'No, I'm damned if I do,' I answered with a laugh.
'Oh, you will in time. I don't always. There are different sorts of whippings. I didn't like being whipped the other day by Muriel in front of you, for she was wicked and jealous. But you, when I whipped you, didn't you like it? Wasn't it different to the whipping Muriel had given you?'
'Yes,' I said reflectively, 'it certainly was different.'
'Well,' she went on, 'if I like a person I do like him or her and want to do all and everything to please. With Muriel for instance, when she's nice and wants me' - she blushed a little as she said this - 'I'm willing to submit to anything. I know she wants to see my nakedness and watch my bottom wriggle, so I do all I can to gratify her, but when she's angry and only wants to punish me, I hate her and want to hurt her.'
'Haven't you ever whipped her?'
'Good Lord no! That's not her game, she's no Masochist. I only wish she were and I had the chance. I'd pay her back. But she's much too strong for me, and besides, I'm different, I don't like giving pain and she does. It's only when I'm angry with her.'
'Hm,' I said.
'What are you thinking of?'
'I was thinking, well, I don't know much about this matter, but I know this. I'd love to get my own back for my last call here. You and I together, eh? Couldn't we master her?'
Her eyes gleamed, then dropped. 'She'd kill me,' she said.
'Oh no. I'd see she did not do that. I'd make her promise to bear no malice and I don't think she would. If she did, I'd see you came out all right. The worst she could do would be to turn you out, and then you could come to me. I am looking for a flat to settle down in and should want a housekeeper, eh?'
'Oh, that would be lovely,' she replied.
'But you haven't answered my question. Would you really like me to whip you?'
'Try,' was all she answered. And before I knew what she was doing she had slipped off the chair and pulled up her skirt and petticoat above her waist behind, showing her dainty drawers. 'Sit down there,' she said, pointing to the chair she had just left.
I obeyed her. She then laid herself across my knees, face downwards with her head towards my left arm, and pulled her drawers open behind, showing the beautiful curves of her bottom, the cheeks of which stood out like two lovely white moons, though still slightly marked from last week's whipping.
'Now smack me and see if I like it.'
I gazed at the snowy globes with the shady valley between. Just at the meeting of her legs a few tendrils of dark hair showed themselves, promising other, more secret delights.
I smacked her lightly with my hand. It was more of a caress than a blow.
She lay still.
Smack-smack-smack, and my fingers crept between her legs.
'No, not yet,' she said, 'I want you to smack me.'
I humoured her and I smacked both cheeks quickly till they began to grow pink.
'Harder, harder!'
I smacked more severely. Her bottom became appreciably warmer.
'Harder still,' she said, 'harder!'
I did as she said, and my own hand began to tingle. The joy and lust of domination began to grow in me.
After one or two really hard blows, she shifted slightly and heaved her bottom, opening her legs a little.
I gave her several harder smacks. She sighed and wriggled. I stopped.
'Go on,' she said at once.
'But I'm hurting you.'
'I want you to hurt me,' she murmured fiercely. 'I want you to hurt my bottom. Can't you see it growing red and hot? Hurt me, hurt me.'
Her passion, though I didn't really understand it, fired me, and I took her at her word. Blow after blow fell on her plump cheeks and at length her sighs came quicker and quicker and became more like gasps. Her bottom heaved and opened and contracted, her legs parted and I could see the lips of her pussy parting and closing again as if eager for satisfaction.
Desire now took full possession of me and I smacked her as hard as I could, seizing every opportunity of making my hand reach the more hidden and secret retreats. It was a strange and maddening delight to me. After two or three blows on her firm bottom I felt my fingers strike the softer lips of her pussy. Once or twice I managed to reach that delightful spot with my fingertips while my palm just managed to get between the plump cheeks. This seemed to madden her as much as it did me. She flung her legs apart, pushing up her bottom, keeping it as wide open as possible. She muttered inarticulate cries, and at last after several blows which hit both marks full, she sank down heavily on my knees, imprisoning my hand between her thighs, which closed on my fingers like a vice. I felt her pussy throb and throb again and then a warm flood spread all over my hand.
I raised her up and held her close in my arms. 'You darling,' she murmured, 'take me, I am yours utterly.'
Her hands slid down and with feverish haste unbuttoned my trousers.
John Thomas, as was only to be expected, was rampant.
'Give him to me,' she half-sobbed.
'How would you like him?' I asked with interest, for I had not forgotten how she had asked to be allowed to wash it in her own way.
'Any way, so long as he is in me... in front, behind, any way, I don't care. I'm yours, all of me. Take all of me, darling, my master!' and she threw herself at my feet, embracing my legs, half-sobbing and writhing wit
h unappeased passion.
I lifted her up to her knees and she seized my affair with her lips and, flinging her arms round my bottom, began to lick and suck it with avidity.
'Oh, so that's the way you entertain my guests in my absence, is it?'
I turned hastily. There stood Muriel. She had evidently just come in. Her latchkey was still in her hand. She was holding the door open.
Juliette collapsed on the floor with a cry of terror. I stood stock-still like a fool. Certainly I must have presented a ridiculous figure, trousers unbuttoned, a rampant engine well exposed.
'Get up, you,' said Muriel to Juliette, going to her and touching her with her foot. 'You,' turning to me, 'can either go or stay, but if you stay...' She paused ominously.
'I'll stay,' I said, for I had an idea.
'As you please. I see I have arrived in time,' looking at my open trousers. 'So you can... but... I rather think you will be sorry.'
She led the way upstairs and I found myself again in the boudoir.
Juliette was already there, shaking with nervousness. 'Where are the cases?' thundered Muriel at her. 'Did you think I had you up here to talk to you?' and she suddenly gave her two swinging boxes on the ears.
The poor girl hurried out of the room.
'Muriel,' I urged, 'don't be too cruel to her. It was my fault chiefly.'
'Don't you fret yourself, my man, you'll get all you want.'
Juliette reappeared carrying the leather case which I recognised.
'Both cases, you fool,' said her mistress.
Juliette gave an even more terrified cry than before, but did not dare to argue.
She went out and came back with another, similar case.
Muriel unlocked the first. 'Undress yourself,' she said; then to me: 'And you tie her hands with this,' giving me a long piece of webbing. 'I must take my corsets off or I shan't have freedom enough for my arm.'
Trembling, Juliette undid her skirt, let it fall and waited.
'Everything,' said her mistress, 'didn't you hear? Everything, or it will be the worse for you.' Juliette then undid her blouse and took it off. A dainty camisole appeared. That was removed. Then the petticoat. Then the little corsets were undone and she stood simply in chemise and drawers, the lace frills of the latter peeping alluringly below the hem of her chemise. Her shaking hands groped under the chemise, she pulled the string and the frilly little legs fell round her ankles. She stepped out of them and stood waiting.
'I thought I said everything!'
A crimson flood invaded the poor girl's cheeks and neck. 'You needn't pretend to such modesty,' sneered Muriel. 'A girl who will kneel down to kiss a man in a sitting-room needn't be shy of stripping naked before him in a boudoir, especially when there is another woman to protect her.'
Juliette lifted the chemise and began to pull it over her head. I saw first her thighs appear, beautifully shaped and moulded like towers of ivory, then the dainty little bush, still dewy with our mingled love; next a sweet rounded little belly, smooth and firm. I noticed the dainty waist line and, above, two perfect pear-shaped breasts with bright red nipples standing out firm and bold, though all support had been removed. As she raised her arms above her head, I saw the silky hair in her armpits, matching the thicker curls of her bush.
Then the chemise slipped off her wrists and she stood, a slight timid figure, perfect, desirable and appealing.
I heard a sigh of appreciation from Muriel. 'Now tie her wrists together,' she said to me.
I had to obey. She watched me as I fumbled with the webbing.
'Now stretch her on the couch.'
I bent her down as she had been bent down the other afternoon.
'No, not that way. She must be crucified.'
'Madame,' stammered Juliette.
'Silence,' hissed Muriel as she placed some cushions across the middle of the couch, forming a ridge.
She then dragged Juliette to the couch and flung her face downwards so that the lower part of her belly and the top of her thighs rested right on the cushions. This naturally raised her bottom and thighs, making her body form a very broad inverted V.
'But what's the meaning of this?' she said as she saw the cheeks of the poor bottom still blushing slightly from my recent smacking. 'Do you mean to say you've dared?' she went on, turning to me. 'Oh, you just wait.'
She said no more but took hold of Juliette's right ankle and pulled the leg towards the edge of the couch. Then, stooping down, she caught hold of a silk cord that was fixed to the side of the couch, evidently for that purpose. It had a running loop at the end. This she slipped over the girl's foot and drew it tight. She then pulled the other leg as far apart as possible and fixed that in the same way.
Poor Juliette was now perfectly spread-eagled. Her arms were above her head tied at the wrists, her head was buried in the couch. Her bottom was raised, as I have said, by the ridge of cushions and seemed to invite the lash, and her wide-opened thighs revealed the mossy lips of her pussy, still slightly open. There she lay, a piteous little figure, all white.
The only contrast was her dark hair, slight silky tendrils in her armpits, the suggestive shadow between the cheeks of her bottom, the soft curls between her legs, and last of all, showing up vividly against the whiteness of her skin, her long black silk stockings, just a study in black and white, no touch of colour anywhere, for she wore black garters. I feasted my eyes on the lovely vision. How could anyone, I wondered, hurt such a dainty graceful creature?
I looked at Muriel. Her eyes showed clearly that she was by no means insensible to the alluring picture. But there was a gleam of fierceness as well as admiration in her glance.
'Now,' she said suddenly, 'I must get rid of my corsets. I shan't be long. You can admire the dainty darling's white skin while I'm gone. There won't be much white left after I've finished with her,' and she went quickly into her bedroom, leaving the door open.
I had decided to stay in the hopes of carrying out my scheme of vengeance on Muriel, and I had no intention of assisting at the punishment of Juliette. But when I saw the preparations and how helpless Juliette was rendered by her bonds, I began to doubt the possibility of succeeding in my object. Though no doubt I could have mastered Muriel by brute strength, there would probably have been a struggle, and Juliette's help would have been of the greatest use. All the time Muriel was pinioning Juliette my mind was working quickly, but I hesitated to make any attempt to seize her, preferring to wait until the last moment.
However, now that she was out of the way I saw my chance. Quick as thought, I sprang to Juliette's wrists and began to loosen the knots. She raised her head, gave a little cry of surprise and fear. I put one hand on her mouth and whispered, 'Keep quiet and pretend to be still tied. Remember what I said downstairs. Now is our chance. Keep your hands just as they are, till I tell you. Then free your feet and help me.'
I had only just time to loosen the knots and replace the webbing so that it still looked tight, and to get away from the couch, when Muriel appeared. She had put on the tea-gown again, with the loose sleeves. I was standing by the table when she came in, looking at the open case which contained the birches. There were four different sizes.
'Looking at my little ticklers?' she smiled. 'There are some more in here,' and she opened the other case.
Then I understood Juliette's cry of alarm when Muriel told her that she wanted both cases.
There were no birches in this one. Two or three canes of varying thickness, a couple of old-fashioned ladies' riding whips - not the modern hunting crop, but whips of long flexible whalebone with lashes at the end - a whip of seven knotted cords, very fine, but looking very wicked, and last of all a sort of birch made of wire, the ends of which were bent at right angles.
'Pretty, aren't they?' said Muriel, laughing. 'They'll come in later. We'll begin with this.'
She turned to the other case and selected a long pliant birch, weighing it in her hand and swishing it in the air.
Now was my
opportunity. As she turned from me to the couch and the prone girl waiting, I suddenly flung my arms around her, pinioning both arms tightly to her side.
She was completely taken by surprise. She had scarcely time to gasp out an exclamation of anger. 'Juliette,' I cried as she struggled violently in my arms.
Juliette quickly freed her wrists and, reaching down, got her ankles from the loops. Then she ran to me as I was holding the squirming, kicking Muriel.
The latter was like an eel. She kicked, she bit, or tried to, but my arms were tight round her middle, and as she had taken off her corsets, my grip crushed her ribs and gradually winded her.
Juliette, avoiding with difficulty the kicking legs, managed to get the band of webbing round first one wrist and then the other and draw it tight. My grip had not relaxed and in a comparatively short time Madame Muriel's wrists were bound together.
She still grasped the birch and all the time was pouring out indignant and angry expostulations. There was no trace of fear, however, as yet. Pride, rage and hate showed in every glance and tone.
When Juliette had finally and satisfactorily tied her hands, I dragged Muriel to the couch and pushed her on to it. She sat and glared at me, out of breath and exhausted.
Eroticon Heat Page 6