A man with a maid,vol.IV

Chapter 3

For the nonce I must have appeared to both these young ladies as a gaping idiot, for when I beheld Miss Molly Bashe standing before me, my jaw dropped and I stared at her uncomprehendingly, as I could not for the life of me understand why this damsel whom I had served so cruelly would ever dare show herself within a hundred yards of me again.

“I do hope, Mr. Jack,” Molly Bashe declared in her rather high-pitched, affectatious voice, “that Julia and I have not disturbed you this afternoon.”

I eyed the delectable brown-haired minx who stood beside her and who stared at me with rather bold dark brown eyes, her small but very ripe mouth curled in a kind of tolerant sneer. I began to believe that here was a veritable counterpart of Molly, remembering how insolent and self-centered that young lady had been until the famous afternoon in the Snuggery with her mother. But for the life of me I could not fathom Molly’s motive for visiting me again, for she could only remember me as the perpetrator of her shame and that of her mother’s as well. I had taken her virginal hymen, made her girl-love her own portly, mature mother, and then subjected the pair of them to the depredations of Connie, Fanny and my own beloved Alice.

“This is my friend Julia Denton,” Molly Bashe replied. “May we come in, Mr. Jack? We were passing by your apartment after having finished some shopping at Horseley’s, and I told Julia that she would find you a most interesting person and your apartment even more so.”

More and more mystifying! But at least I must not remain ungracious, till I had discovered what had prompted Molly Bashe to seek me out and to ignore all the highly embarrassing memories which our second meeting must surely have cost her.

“By all means, do come in, you and your friend,” I replied, “but you will pardon me my summary attire, as I was not expecting company.”

“That is quite all right,” Molly Bashe said, and she suddenly gave me a quick little smile which further stupefied me. I was mentally undressing her and remembering our last encounter. My three exquisite aides had among themselves stripped her naked, and I could still recall how delicious, how exquisitely shaped and perfectly made, how lithe and charmingly rounded and plump for all of them, so juicy and fresh she was. I could remember, too, her large, firm, upstanding breasts with their saucy little dark-coral-tinted nipples, as well as the thick quantity of dark moss-like hair that clustered so prettily over her adorable virgin slit which, like her mother’s, was particularly plump and prominent. Of course, Molly was eighteen and a real tidbit, for all her annoying mannerisms derived, I was certain, from her mother’s influence over her. I should say that she was about five feet four inches in height, and now that she had actually crossed my threshold again, I confess also that I quite forgot about Alice’s imminent return to London on the morrow. It has often been said that a prick has no conscience, and no truer words had ever been spoken. Already I found myself anticipating how I could get delightful Molly Bashe to yield her toothsome person to me once again.

But the presence of Julia Denton, who seemed to be perhaps a year older and was infinitely more haughty and supercilious than even Molly-which is saying a great deal! — dampened my intentions to an extent. I could hardly imprison the luscious brunette and wreak my will upon her in her friend’s presence. But at the moment, what most concerned me was to find a reason for Molly’s visit.

It was not long in coming, for as Julia Denton began to look around the walls and to observe my framed lithographs, Molly Bashe approached me and whispered suddenly, “I must talk with you privately, Mr. Jack! It’s most important. Can you manage to get me alone for just a moment and give Julia something to do while we talk?”

I could and did. Clearing my throat, I announced to Molly’s companion that Molly’s mother had a few weeks ago paid a visit to me to request some information concerning a school for her daughter, and that I had collected some literature on the subject which she had forgotten to take along with her. I was now going to procure it and to give it to Molly, who could then in turn bring it to her mother.

Julia Denton gravely nodded and then dismissed me with a shrug of her winsome shoulders as she turned back to contemplate the decor of my salon. I quickly took Molly Bashe by the elbow and escorted her down the hallway and into my study room, closed the door and said, “I am even more anxious to talk to you, Miss Molly, because I will tell you frankly that I had never expected to see you again in all my life.”

At this, the charming young brunette had the good grace to blush violently and to lower her eyes, whilst entwining her slim fingers and twisting them nervously as she sought to formulate her remarks to me. And then finally, with a deep breath, she lifted her dark blue eyes to mine and stammered, “I–I don’t hold any grudge against you, Mr. Jack, for-for what happened that other afternoon. That is one reason I came here.”

“This is heartening news indeed, my dear. But may I know also the other reasons which prompted your visit?”

Once again Molly Bashe blushed furiously. She had a soft white skin whose finely grained quality I had already tasted to my great delectation, and she had the very decided ardent temperament that such a sign always presupposes. At last she managed to express herself in a tone that was far from her usual affectatious one and which was rather more stammered than clearly enunciated: “I–I know what you must be thinking, but I want you to believe-truly I do, Mr. Jack-that-that I’m not angry with you for what you did. I know that Mummy was trying ever so hard to get me married off to you.”

“That is correct, and I felt that she had gone much too far. But I will say in all gallantry at this moment, my dear, that from the physical point of view marriage to you would not exactly be an abomination. It was only that I could not tolerate your mother’s unscrupulous maneuvering to foist you off on me, and also that you yourself behaved like a younger edition.”

“I–I know. But you see, Mr. Jack, M-Mummy has nothing to live for except me and that is because my father died about ten years ago. She is eager to marry me off, and she has just announced my engagement to a gentleman who is about forty-five. He has a minor diplomatic post at the Embassy, and he is a very good match, at least from Mummy’s point of view.”

“My heartiest congratulations, then, Miss Molly,” I said cheerfully. “And I am happy that you bear me no rancor. When are the happy nuptials to be celebrated?”

“Next-next week, Mr. Jack,” Molly Bashe replied in a low and unsteady voice, again lowering her eyes and averting her face from my gaze. Arthur-that is the name of my fiance-has been transferred to Bwaniphur in India, and we shall go there after we have had our honeymoon in Italy.”

“I am sorry to hear that you will have to reside with your husband in India, for you will find it trying. But then, that is your own affair, and all I can do is to wish you well, and your husband too.”

“This is very difficult for me, Mr. Jack,” Molly Bashe faltered, and again her large dark blue eyes fixed on my face with an almost poignant appeal. “I don’t wonder that you are cynical and contemptuous of me, but I did think that perhaps-that perhaps because you did what you did, you did not hate me too much.”

Now this was really astonishing! Here was this eighteen-year-old affectatious little minx, whom I had had stripped naked, forced to suck her mother and be sucked off by the latter, thoroughly thrashed and feathered and tickled, and then fucked and utterly demeaned in a way which certainly no well-bred young lady would expect from a gentleman. Yet she was making me her confidant to tell me about her imminent marriage, and in a voice which suggested that she was not thoroughly happy with the prospect, in spite of her mother’s efforts to marry her off to anyone who might be eligible, myself included.

“We had best go back quickly, or your friend may be suspicious and think that there is some love affair between us,” I said casually.

At this she blushed even more violently, and then she suddenly blurted, “Oh, Mr. Jack, the fact is-well-I–I don’t like Arthur at all, but Mummy insists that is a brilliant match. He is an old fussbudget, more womanly than manly, and I am afraid that I will simply be just a daughter to him instead of a wife. Remembering how you seemed to enjoy me when you had me at your mercy, I–I came here half in the hope that you would teach me what it was like to make love in an ardent and passionate way. I know that I shall never look for that from Arthur.”

Now I was, really floored! Would wonders never cease? Far from being discomfited and hugely embarrassed by my violation of her, this delectable brunette was actually begging me to repeat the episode-unless my ears had played me a bad trick.

“Am I to understand, Miss Molly,” I demanded somewhat incredulously, “that you are offering yourself to me this afternoon? But what about your friend, Miss Denton? How do you expect us to manage a clandestine amour when she is here in my apartment? Will she not tell your mother and blemish your reputation, perhaps even destroy your hopes for a profitable union with this estimable diplomat?”

“I–I want you to do the same thing to her,” came the amazing and unexpected answer. “I want you to capture us both and-and-and to f-force us just as you did Mummy and me that other afternoon. Will you, Mr. Jack?”

“But, my dear girl,” I exclaimed, taken as you may well suspect most emphatically aback by this astonishing declaration, “what motive could I possibly have to proceed against Miss Denton, whom I have only just met and who has certainly never affronted me?”

Again Molly Bashe blushed to the roots of her dark hair and lowered her eyes. Her magnificent young bosom rose and fell with a turbulence I could only ascribe to the singularity of her proposal and to the emotional enervation it must have caused her. “Well, you see, Mr. Jack,” she stammeringly explained, “Julia is my cousin, and she has just been most terribly jilted. She was betrothed to a young officer in the Grenadiers, and she expected to be married next month, but the dreadful rascal was sent along with his regiment to Gibraltar and only yesterday she received a letter from him saying that he was secretly engaged to a very beautiful Moroccan girl whom he expects to marry when he gets leave in his new post.”

“Yes, but-” I began, rather helplessly, I will admit, because this whole thing was taking on the aspect of an impossible fantasy.

“Julia is a very passionate girl, Mr. Jack,” she astoundingly went on, still keeping her eye lowered and her cheeks on fire from the emotions which were being raised in her magnificent young bosom, “and she has confided everything in me because we are dear friends. Her fiance-well-dallied with her very scandalously, and he almost took from her what only a husband should take. And she is pining for him, the foolish girl, and I thought to myself that if you were to make her a prisoner and force her to do your will, it would distract her from thoughts of that wretched upstart who dashed all her hopes so thoughtlessly.”

I let out a gasp of incredulity which I am sure that you, dear reader, would have done in my place. For here I was being offered not only the opportunity to enjoy Miss Molly Bashe in all her voluptuous young naked beauty and to take from her whatever I wished to assuage my virile desires, but also I was being offered this other girl whom I had only just met.

“But how can I be sure-” once again I tried to learn the answer to the riddle.

Molly Bashe, however, once again interrupted in a faltering and unsteady voice: “You see, Mr. Jack, I know that Julia is very much like myself, a proper young lady brought up by doting parents who never bothered to explain to us what would be expected of us when the time came to marry. My poor Mummy still treats me like an eight-year-old girl, or at least she did until that other afternoon.”

Once again her blushes threatened to halt her faltering speech entirely, and she had again to draw a very deep breath and to twist her fingers this way and that before she could find courage enough to go on: “I–I was horrified when you did all those dreadful things to Mummy and me that afternoon, Mr. Jack. But I was helpless and tied and I couldn’t do anything, and then besides you whipped me so hard I had to obey. And it was-it was awfully thrilling. I know that Julia feels the same way, and she would never give herself to you just by coming to your apartment and offering herself. But I thought that you might tie her up as you did me, and whip her bottom a little and then she would do anything, and it would distract her from losing Henry.”

Gradually the light dawned. I had to deal here with two exquisite young masochists, who though they were both products of our smug Victorian society secretly experienced the same lustful desires as a tavern wench or others of that same lowly station in life. Now, they rationalized, if they could both be forced to yield to the will of a man, they would be able to tell themselves that they were not guilty of any sin because they had been made to do the bidding of their assailants. And then they would be free to unleash all their inhibited passions under the guise of being coerced to obedience and docility.

It was a highly ingenious scheme, and already my prick was longing to take part in it. I had greatly misjudged Miss Molly Bashe. Either that, or the instrument which now began to throb and turgify between my thighs had proved a catalytic rod and untapped the damned-up sensual force within her voluptuous young being. For I will say that this psychology is not uncommon with many women who profess the greatest chastity and the sublimest virtue: they tell themselves that if they are obliged against their will to surrender their fair persons, the sin is not theirs and therefore they remain inviolate amidst the most heinous violation, pure amid the riotous erotic fantasies which make of them a sexual plaything for the will of a male.

At any rate, my lonely and neglected prick would now have reason to show the utmost gratitude to this fair charmer and her sycophant, and I was instantly ready to show her how even a prick which is said to have no conscience could pay its debt of gratitude!