Papa may spank her first, though-make her ready for the cock. Are you cock-ready, darling? Tell me yes!' 'I have… I have been. Does he-does he do it in your sight?'. I wanted not to know, and yet I did.
Pressed to the wall she kept me, and our thighs were warm. Julie would come and tongue us both, perhaps. Mad thoughts invaded me-I in this house, this strange room, with its camphor smell, the scent of polish redolent on wood. 'That is for you to say-or rather, it is now'.
'I have a choice?' Sullen my mouth. I altered it and smiled.
Tomorrow I would flee with Jane, I told myself. It mattered not as to the evening or the night. 'Of course, you silly. Is not love here shared? I will play a little with his cock. I promise you, I do no more than that. He is so timid really, one can handle him at will. His prick bursts in long, fine-spurting flood. Surprising, really, that he does so much. Ah, Fiona- yes, come in-what do you say? Shall it be Emily or Jane to play the maid today?' 'Neither', said I, and hooked her stare. 'You said the choice was mine-so be it. Fiona here shall play the part. Dress the girl quickly and be done with it. I would soon as see this play as any other'. 'But I don't want! Oh, not with Arnold, no!', Fiona uttered, pouting, shifting feet, tugging at dress. 'Fiona, she has never watched before. It is her due to see-today. Another time, another place, all will be different. Once and only once-you will for me?', so Constance wheedled, but I then stood firm, said it was my wish and not hers. At that, Fiona turned and ran downstairs, I following and Constance in my wake. 'The maid is Fiona', I announced. The congregation was complete: Arnold, his parents, and my sister sat as though all waiting for a train.
'You take command?', her father asked, his eyes amused, his mouth a line of doubtfulness. He lounged in shirtsleeves-a very common touch-as Arnold did, their collars off. I felt then in the long, ensuing hour that I had wandered on a stage-in view of audience-where an unwritten play was to be performed. Some altercation had ensued, but Fiona finally was sent upstairs, was dressed her part, and came down with a vague attempt at shyness, on her own. A skirt, much cut, of dusty black, came to her stocking tops which, like a servant's, were of the same hue. Unbuttoned was her blouse: the half-moons showed. Her hair was caught up with a ribbon tightly tied. 'Serve me. I will have port-the others, too', her father said and winked at me a vulgar wink that I ignored. Too long she was about it and was fetched by Jane who did not mind the chore and afterwards confessed to me that she had felt the girl a little, found no drawers, and 'tickled up her pussy just for larks'. Fiona was flushed when she came in, found us expectant, served her Papa first. I wondered at his hand that hovered near her thighs. He did not touch, though, and merely smiled.
Arnold did neither, for I stared him out. Hilda sniffed at her glass and rose. The night would be long, she said, and drifted off to go upstairs. 'Do you wear drawers, you naughty servant girl?', asked Constance of her sister when it came her turn to take a glass.-'No', said Fiona pettishly and made to make her exit, but her sister caught her wrist. I suspected some contraction of the action that might normally obtain-yet in all truth they had not the finesse for it.
Erotic moments, as I have long learned, must be played slowly, rather as a string quartet expands a melody as if to say, 'We may not finish here today'. Knees should be shown, the stocking tops displayed, a rim of thigh above-no more than that. First kisses should be soft, exploratory, the bottom rolling, wiggling, as one walks.
Hands may explore the tits outside the dress, but not within. A bedroom may be entered, but one sits at first, with thighs displayed, upon a sofa, toying with a prick not yet revealed to one, with fingers languorous-not too excited then-around one's quim. In such a mood, I have been come upon long since by a maidservant, but I did not stay my caressing hand, nor he. The girl looks slyly, sideways, at the pair. If she is clever, skilled at boudoir games, she may dust around a little, even humming to herself, and then depart- perhaps have glimpsed at last the lady's legs apart and seen her fondly tickled muff, the gentleman's stiff prick displayed. The couple may ignore her presence or, if the maid is pretty, may then call her back into the room and invite her to join them on the waiting bed. 'No drawers?
Why, how provocative! Go to the gentleman you first served, then, and ask his pardon for your rude display', said Constance to her sister who, hesitating, was ordered to put down her tray, given a push, and wandered with her finger in her mouth to her Papa. 'Yes?', he enquired.-'I have no d… d… drawers on sir', said she. 'Is your bottom, then, so warm you do not need to wear them? Let me see it; lie face down across my lap'. 'Oh no, Papa-I mean, sir-please!' A real wail from Fiona. Was it real? He seized her wrist and made her tumble down, face forward, belly on his thighs, and flipped her skirt up. The black stockings made her thighs above gleam sweetly. 'No, no!', she shrieked as he uncovered her and brought her bottom to our view. Chubby the cheeks were, plump with girlishness, the chasm tight. I could not resist the sudden thought that it invited explorations. Her ankles were towards us. Bent far over as she was, palms flat upon the carpet, one could see her nest, the peeping fig of the tight cunnylips. 'Sir, please-oh, not too hard!', she cried, then SMACK! His palm descended on her rumptious cheeks and brought a wailing cry from her, a pink flare showing on the snow-white hemispheres. 'Harder!', called Constance. Sitting on the ottoman with me, she ringed my waist and made me lean to her, our cheeks together. Thinking that I might be next, I made no struggle, watched his hand rise and descend again, bringing a juicy splatting sound and yet another sobbing cry. Her hips bounced and her fingers dug into the carpet. Arnold-who had a frontal view with Jane- gazed open-mouthed but otherwise was limp as washing on a line. My sister's hands moved up and down her thighs, her knees apart, a flush upon her face. 'WAH-HAAAR! Oh, Papa, not so hard!', shrieked the young, shapely victim while the tongue of Constance licked around my mouth and brought my yielding tongue to seek her own. A warmth was in my belly, and a mood of devilment. SMACK! SMACK!-'GOO-HOOO!' from Fiona.
Each time she closed her legs, he smacked her thighs and made her quim to show the more. Jane uttered a huge sigh, lay back and moved her bottom on the seat, watching the maiden's hot smacked derriere as it bumped up and down. Her armchair being next to Arnold's, she extended her hand to his, but when his did not move she drew it back again and gave me an excited, guilty look. 'BOO-HOOO!', Fiona sobbed. Her bottom was bright pink. Her legs went of a sudden limp. Her father's hand then raised up high again but descended very slowly and came to rest in seeming benediction on her quivering cheeks. 'You should see to her', he said to Constance. His lips looked thicker and his face was flushed. Fiona uttered up a wail and rolled like a rag doll from off his lap to settle on her tummy on the floor. She sobbed and sneezed, and then lay still again, legs spread. 'Help me take her upstairs, Emily. Arnold, you will follow us', said Constance.
'NO-HO, don't want to!', Fiona sobbed and drew her legs up, rolled into a ball, but Constance rose and roughly pulled her up, skirt hitched, her glowing bottom showing red. 'Come, Miss!