The Young Wife

by The Young Wife [Nexus] (retail) (epub)

  Then over her hip came the thick white spike of the candle, pointing at the circling, grinding buttocks, and spearing steadily to a point between them. She laid it in the rolling, grinding cleft, then pointed it again, and pushed. Into the little brown eye of her clenched anus it slid, and my own arse spasmed in sympathy. I noticed that she had chosen the thick end, and the thought made me push a hand under myself, to stroke the open slit that hung above my heels. It felt better like that.

  To be crouched down like a naughty girl, spying in the window, and rubbing my slippery, pulsing cunt was heaven. I flirted with the rubbery seam of my bottom-cleft, still entranced by the smoothness, as I watched Anne work the candle further up her back passage. Then she removed her hand, with the candle well ensconced, and began to roll her hips again, so that the other end described imperfect, jittery circles in the air above her glowing cheeks. I could not be bothered to look for Leo’s reaction, for my attention was riveted on the point of entry of that wicked, white stem. I saw the plump lips of Anne’s slit bulging out beneath her squirming cheeks, and the way the candle-end began to quiver with the strain transmitted to her bottom. It flicked up and down in tiny, almost imperceptible jerks, and I felt my stomach contract at the thought of what was making it do that. My eyes started to mist, and I could not care any more if anyone came round the back of the house. I stuck the tip of one middle finger up my own arse, and frigged it into me, in time to the rubbing of my other hand. Anne had gone completely down on her face, and her hands stretched out in front of her to provide some support. Her bottom was high and swirling. If I had been in there I would have pushed the candle in, as far as it would go, and twirled it around in her arse, like I was twirling my fingertip. My arsehole pulsed as I came, and I thrust a scrabbling wedge of fingers into the wet, sucking petals of my cunt. I gasped, and nearly stumbled, when the force of my orgasm made my legs tremble uncontrollably. I concentrated on the flicking, twitching end of the candle, until I had subsided enough to withdraw my wet fingers and use them to haul myself quietly up. I left Anne to it, and wandered off to admire the trees at the end of the garden. My trees; my garden.

  My dreams that night were a little frightening in their intensity. I was sleeping in the room lately absented by Antonia, though it bore no trace of her, and I had made it up freshly with clean linen from the cupboard. I had slipped into it, completely naked, and had drifted off to sleep thinking about Anne, who was doubtless doing the same downstairs, in the room next to Leo’s. The witches had arranged for an agency nurse to sit up all night, in case there were any problems, and I didn’t see any point in disturbing a perfectly good set-up just because they had made it. So my mind was easy, and my heart was content. I had won, for the moment, and I felt a lot more in control of my life than I had before Anne had taken me under her wing and into her bed. I was set to sleep the sleep of the just.

  My dream started, as before, with me in the class, at my desk day-dreaming. Once again, I began to pleasure myself against the hard surface of my chair. I flipped my skirt out, and squirmed my hot cheeks against the cool, yet slightly sticky, surface of the chair. Air drifted into my crack, to cool the tender insides of my cheeks, and I rocked the hot, panty-covered mound of my sex against the thin wood. I heard the hateful voice of Mr Webb interrupt my reverie, and the lurch of my heart snapped me almost out of sleep. I drifted back down, and settled back into myself.

  I knew that those behind me could see the plumping of my smooth, pale buttocks, and the wet roll of white knicker disappearing into the tight cleft between the bulging cheeks. Again, as before, I was ordered to rise, and approach the front of the class, and again, I obeyed and gloried in the rolling of my bare bottom, and the vicious whispers of my classmates.

  They gathered round me, when I was bent over the desk, and my cleft was again pulled open for their inspection. They swarmed around me, like angry wasps, and I closed my eyes to shut out their spiteful buzzing. I felt the sweaty fingers groping at my soft flesh, and squeezed my cheeks to hide the dampness in my crack. My efforts were rewarded by rough treatment, and I groaned into the polished desktop when they parted my fleshy globes. I felt my anus attempt to draw in. So vulnerable, under its thin covering of damp cloth.

  My cunt bulged and throbbed against the hard and eager fingers that pushed at it. I felt a crude, thick fingertip push a peak of cloth against my bottom-hole, and my heart thumped, rolling over in my chest. I expected to drift away, but I did not, and the finger pushed harder at the clenched and puckered rim. I felt the cloth go in, and squeaked out loud, but no noise came. I was mute, in my dream, but still I moaned and squirmed.

  Webb ordered them back, saying, ‘I’ll show you just how bad this girl is.’

  I sensed them moving away, but I did not attempt to rise. I felt too weak, too lazy. I was fearful, but it was a strange sort of fear. My insides churned with slow, fat excitement, and I wanted to stay as I was: bent over and exposed. Webb walked around the desk, and I turned my face away from him. I heard him breathing harshly, and my cheeks quivered uncontrollably. I feared, but I wanted, what he was going to do.

  I felt his trembling fingers pluck at the elasticised edges of my knickers and slowly draw them further into the warm inrolling of my plump cheeks. His cold-tipped hands lingered, drawn to the warmth and tightness. He tucked the material into a tidy strip. My face flared hot and flushed against my hand, and the class gasped nervously at the sight of him arranging my clothing in that intimate and perverse way. I squeezed my cheeks brazenly, drawing admiration from the boys, and contemptuous comments from the girls.

  ‘Pull down your pants, and let us see what you are like,’ he sneered, and I hurried to obey. I had to reach under the hem of the pleated skirt to get my thumbs under the high, elasticated edges of my tight white knickers. I pushed, and wriggled them, down over the flaring curves of my muscular hips. They fell, but only to my knees, and I shuffled my ankles slightly apart. They caught on the swell of my taut calves, and I had to sway my legs to step out of them. I straightened my legs, to tense the sculptured limbs, and put my heels together, knowing that this would excite and infuriate Mr Webb. I was brazen, and tilted my bottom up so that the wet petals of my throbbing cunt would show.

  ‘Look, class,’ he cried, and stooped to gather up my pants. ‘Have you ever seen such a little slut?’

  He grasped my hair, and turned my face towards him. His trousered hip bumped against my bare cheeks. I felt the hard rod of his penis knock against my trembling thigh, and knew that he wanted to fuck me. My pussy melted, and I felt the moisture gather in the little brush of hair at the beginning of my slit. I wanted them to rub my wetness into the pulsing core of me. To spread it over my tummy, and in the ravine between my naked cheeks.

  He pulled my hair, so that I gasped, and stuffed the panties into my open mouth. I gagged at the taste, but he did not care. He shouted, ‘Get up on to the desk,’ and I scrambled to climb up on to the golden surface of the wood. My bottom opened, and my big cheeks wobbled, as I struggled up. The hardness hurt my smooth knees, and I bit down on the wedge of cloth between my teeth. I tried to settle comfortably on the desk, and spread my soft knees wide, so that I was resting on the muscle, not the bone. The class laughed, in a false, excited way, and I knew that they were staring at the hairless cleft and pussy-lips. I gripped the outer edges of the desk, and dipped myself to let them see. My sex gaped, tight and wet, beneath the dry crinkling of my arsehole.

  ‘See how tight it looks, class?’ rasped Webb, and stroked a trembling hand against the stretched tendon to the right of my pouting cunt. The smooth flesh of my inner thigh shivered like a horse’s flank, and my cheeks clenched in anticipation. He slapped me tentatively, as if it might break the spell, and I rolled my buttocks back to encourage him. The dream carried no pain. Just warmth.

  He told someone to come forward and have a go. I felt a rocket in the tender cleft of my behind. One by one, they all came forward to slap my quivering cheeks, and I panted throug
h my nose and the wet gag. At last, with my cheeks on fire, they had all had a chance to smack me. How many times? Perhaps ten, or even twenty. In the dream, I felt the burn like a memory of a nettle-sting, but not too deeply, and so I squirmed again, to make them want to really smack me hard. Lust boiled in my entrails, and I rolled my bottom shamelessly, like a stripper in a shabby bar.

  Hands gripped my squirming hips, and I tensed, ready for the blow, but nothing came. My cheeks were stretched apart, and my cunt mouthed wetly open. I felt something hard and dry being pressed against my anus, and I struggled to pull my hips away. I felt it pressing in, and panic made me spit the gag out on the desk. Before I could cry out, I felt an awful stretching begin. It was as I sensed the object moving in that I awoke, with thighs tight shut, and tensed against the wet pouch between them. I squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, and then I came.

  Five

  Jessica’s sexual awakening had been as brutal as mine, and we had the same beast to thank, so it was poetic justice that he should come into our care and that he should be as helpless. It was, after all, exactly how he liked his women to be, though the roles were now reversed. I wondered how he was feeling, being at our mercy, and sometimes I was to wish he could tell me. One can only see so much in a person’s eyes, and I had some deliciously cruel refinements planned for Leo.

  Why did I hate him? Because of what Elizabeth had let him do.

  When Jessica had come to me, in distress, I had no idea that it would draw the threads of my life together, and give me the opportunity for revenge. I thought it was an affair. Nothing more. At first, I did not even think it would be that. I have my morals, strange as that may seem, and I was determined not to abuse her trust by taking advantage of her situation. When she worked for me, I had felt the mildest of attractions to her, but I had refused to allow my mind to follow that avenue of thought, and I felt no distress when she left to get married. It all sounded so perfect. A rich, handsome, cultivated man had swept her off her feet, and was going to carry her off to live a life of idle pleasure. Too good to be true, of course, but I suppressed my cynical nature and I wished her well.

  Her disillusionment gave me no joy. In fact, I found it a little depressing at first, but I found that looking after her was a perfect antidote for that. I wasn’t going to seduce her. Honestly, I wasn’t. I couldn’t help allowing her to seduce me, though. She is just too beautiful to resist.

  It is her aura of innocence that makes her so desirable. Big blue-green eyes with thick black lashes. Tumbling masses of dark wavy hair framing a perfect heart-shaped face. A little cleft chin below plump, graceful lips. So kissable. They tremble when she wants to cry, and thin to a taut curve of glossy pink when she is cross.

  Her skin is like ladled cream, poured into the sweetest of moulds. Her breasts: what glorious mounds of cool alabaster. Ripe and full, like wineskins bursting into rosy-tipped crowns.

  Her nipples are long and thick, like the clipped-off stumps of twigs, and they swell, dark with excitement, when they are licked. How I love to lick them.

  Her stomach is a rolling plain of smooth white skin, with the upturned island of her navel floating on the creamy sea. Downy hair drifts like a patch of sea-grass at the first creasing of her silky little snatch, and the swells of her groin roll tight into the sweet triangle at the tops of her pretty, plump thighs. She is scrumptious, from her glossy hair to her milk-white toes, from the sharp blades of her back to the rolling globes of her cheeks. I could eat her, fuck her, lick her, devour her.

  And then, into this dream comes the beast, the bastard, who had used my first love like a common whore, and now had nearly taken Jessica, sweet Jessica, in just the same way. I could have killed him when I first laid eyes on him, but I did not. Had there been the faintest spark of recognition in his eyes, I might have tried to end him there: but, even as my anger flared, my mind turned cold, and I knew what I was going to do. He was harmless, neutered, and I had him in my hand. Looking back now, I realise that I was not in my right mind. Revenge was all I could think of, so I began to scheme, and turn things over in my head. Should I kill him, or torment him? Should I destroy him, or keep him on the edge of despair? I knew exactly what would cut him deepest, as he loved to be the one to dominate, and now he was helpless. There was only one thing in my way.

  I could not be seen, by either Jessica or Leo’s relatives, as being a danger to his health, though the idea had been planted in my mind by something Jessica had said, in all innocence, in the car on our way over to her house. Yet, that was exactly the approach I was going to take. I would use all my perverse experience to drive him out of his mind with impotent lust. I merely had to make up my mind whether to murder him with excitement, or not.

  I couldn’t wait to get him all to myself, but I had to act the part of the hired help, at least until the witches were out of the way. I also had to make arrangements for the real medical care, as I had no intention of doing anything to make Leo’s life more comfortable, so the moment I was alone in the room that had been assigned to me I phoned my cousin David. He was all set to take off on a tour of the Far East, but I managed to lure him with the promise of hard cash. No medical student can resist that. He could do all the lifting and cleaning of Leo, leaving Jessica and me to do the ‘entertaining’. He also had the advantage of being very easy on the eye.

  At six foot and two inches tall, with the body of a Greek god, and the looks of a thirties matinee idol, he was destined to be a godsend as far as the ‘coven of two’ were concerned. God, how I hated those bitches on sight!

  The only thing that made them bearable was their undeniable attractiveness, especially the younger one, Antonia. What a cow she was: though a very sexy little cow, it must be said. She was a typical Mediterranean princess, with dark-eyed, sulky good looks, and a lush body which she flaunted in the tightest clothes she could pour herself into. When she and Jessica were duelling verbally over who was the boss in that house, I was studying her trim little rear. She looked very good in riding gear, though I doubt that she ever sat on a horse for the pleasure of riding alone. She was far too fond of how she looked.

  After David assured me that he would be there that evening, I changed into one of my little outfits. It was totally impractical, and not really meant to be worn as a working outfit at all, unless of course the work involved fantasy role-playing. I love to dress up, especially as all the naff archetypes. Schoolgirls, vamps, nurses and, on this occasion, saucy French maid. I don’t think the coven got the joke. It’s an English thing, I suppose. I was half expecting some comment when I walked back down the stairs to the hallway where they were loitering. I could feel the stiff ruffles of my underskirt bobbing dangerously high around my bottom, and my breasts were like two balloons peeping out of the fussy, starched collar of my dress, yet they did not seem at all surprised. It made me wonder what they were used to.

  When I heard the key turning in the lock of Leo’s room I laughed inwardly, and I had to stifle another giggle when Jessica’s eyes popped at the sight of me in my outfit. She had a strange look in her eye, and I knew that something had gone on in there even before she showed us the ‘blinking’ trick. I had to try that out, and I offered to feed Leo at the first convenient break. I noticed that the bitches weren’t too keen on the idea of doing it themselves, and Jessica had obviously given them something to think about. They couldn’t wait to get away. Probably to do some plotting: though, in the end, it was to do them no good. I am far, far more devious than any other woman I know.

  I wheeled the beast into his lair, and closed the door behind me. I didn’t lock it, as I heard the two bitches heading upstairs to pack. I waited until Leo had accepted what food and drink he could out of the squeezy bottles that were used to feed him. I felt less anger, and even a cruel tenderness, as I watched him sucking on the clear spouts. He was as helpless as a baby. I watched his eyes, though, and they gave him away. He could not stop looking at me, crippled as he was, in a leering, calculating way, and I
was glad that he retained his wickedness. It made what I intended to do so much more satisfying.

  At every opportunity I flaunted myself. Bending to wipe his chin so that he could see right down between the bulges of my uplifted tits, I breathed with my upper chest so that they heaved and swelled with every intake of air. I flashed the backs of my stockinged thighs to him, when I bent to the food tray, and made a point of turning my back and adjusting my stockings. I felt very powerful, and in control, for the memory of what he was capable of made his current situation so sweet. Had he been well, I would have been over a chair in an instant, with his thick cock being forced into me. The thought made me horny as hell, and I relished his impotent desire. I made a pretence of looking back, to catch him staring at my thighs, and smiled coyly at the hunched figure in his chair.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Johanns. I hope this doesn’t upset you?’ I saucily enquired, knowing full well that he could not be more pleased. I wondered idly if he could get an erection, and resolved to find out.

  ‘Do you think I have nice legs, Mr Johanns? All my friends tell me that I have. I am quite proud of them.’ I smiled, then continued, ‘You must think I’m terribly vain.’

  He made an odd sort of snorting noise, like the sound of a chair being moved in another room, and I moved closer to him. I drew the front of my skirt up to just below the bulge of my knickers. The tops of my stockings showed, curved around the full flesh of my thighs. I leaned towards him and breathed the question, ‘Do you think they are nice?’

  I had no idea that Jessica had done the same sort of thing just half an hour before, but if I had known I would have carried on as I did anyway. He made another soft and strangled grunt, so I turned to let him have a look at the side view. I tensed the muscles in my legs, and tilted forwards to make them lengthen at the back. My heels were high enough to make my calves bunch into firm balls of shapely muscle, and I knew from other experiences that they looked graceful yet powerful. I sensed that the lowest curves of my buttock were bared, and I tilted a little more forward to let them show.