She turned and saw me. It startled her. She gasped.
“Where did you… what are you doing here?” There was an edge to her voice.
“I thought I’d visit you, Annie.”
She frowned: “What do you want, Master Lars?” There was a hint of anger. My confidence vanished. I was scared. But there was still the immense desire to violate her in that prissy, bourgeois room. And something in me was challenged by her tone. Something wanted to say: “Shut up slut, and do what your betters tell you!”
“What do you want?” she repeated impatiently.
I remembered what Gunilla had said.
“Cunt.”
“What?”
“Cunt’s what I want, Annie.”
“Why you filthy little boy. I’m going to tell your mother what you said and she’ll wash your mouth out with soap. And your father will whip you within an inch of your life.” She was really mad. And I was terrified. What a mess. Gunilla was wrong. Or had she played a trick on me? Oh my God!
But I had to go on. Something in me refused to Jet her be so proper and indignant.
“Yes, Annie, I got to thinking about you. I decided you must have a really juicy pussy, so I thought I’d just come over and play with it.”
She was furious! Her face was red with anger. “I should slap your face,” she said. “You filthy-mouthed brat. A nasty child like you thinking you can talk to a respectable woman that way. It’s vile.” There was nothing left in me now but terror for what I had gotten into. I wanted to run. “And do you intend,” she continued, “to speak of my breasts also? Or maybe you call them tits like other vulgar gutter types?” With a flicker of hope I saw her hands come up slowly to cup her breasts as she spoke-and squeeze them a little! Maybe there was a way out, by pushing forward!
“Oh, yes, Annie. I always call them tits when I think of you. At breakfast I always think about licking Annie’s tits, never her breasts.” She sucked in her breath and her eyes widened.
“Why… why what do you think you’re saying? Master Lars, you must not talk to me like that. Please.” Her tone was hanging almost invisibly. “Remember you’re only a child. A little boy shouldn’t speak to a woman about her… about her…”
“Pussy. Is that the word you’re searching for, Annie? But you know it’s different with a master and a servant. You know that it’s right for a master to speak of his servant’s pussy if he wants to-whatever his age. You know that in your soul, don’t you Annie? Your soul is a servant’s soul, and it does what its master commands.”
Annie stood there bewildered, staring at me. I went over and sat in a chair-remembering Father. She kept turning to face me like a sunflower. It was marvelous to see her standing in that proper, Protestant room, dressed in her modest black Servant’s dress, holding her breasts and staring at me helplessly.
“But you’re only a baby of fourteen,” she pleaded. “You mustn’t expect…”
“Oh, but I do, Annie. I expect you to show me your big luscious tits and your hairy cunt and everything. I expect to suck your fat nipples and stick my fingers in your wet cunt- into your ass! You’ve never had a little boy’s cock in your mouth, Annie; and you want, it. I expect to fuck you until I’m satisfied. I expect to use you in whatever way pleases me.”
“O, Master Lars,” she moaned, “please! You mustn’t…” She was pleading now. There was no question of my power.
“But I must, Annie. And I will! Now I think we’ll begin by you turning around slowly so I can see what I’m getting.”
“Please…”
“Turn, Annie!”
She turned, begging me to stop. She turned until she was facing me again, still holding her breasts. Her eyes were wide and vacant now. Her hands went to the neck of her dress and began unbuttoning.
“I have to show myself to you, don’t I, Master Lars?”
“Why, Annie, you’re suggesting things for me to require. You want me to force you to take off your clothes, don’t you?”
“I have to take off my clothes, don’t I? You’re forcing me to show you my tits, aren’t you? I must show you my pussy right out here in the light because you demand it…” She was talking to herself. Her face was dazed. She let her dress slide to the floor. She was wearing a lacy white slip. “You want me to pull my slip down because it’s more obscene that way, don’t you?” She pulled down the straps and slid her arms out so the slip fell to her waist. I was startled to see that her brassiere was made so that her nipples stuck out red and bare through two holes.
“Why, Annie, what a whore’s brassiere you’re wearing.”
“Yes. Your father requires it.”
“Father?”
“Yes, he uses me now. Almost every day he uses me, and he says he likes to know when I’m serving dinner that I’m dressed like a whore on the other side of that dress.”
She was pulling at the nipples, teasing them. She pulled the slip down over her hips-with some difficulty. Her pants weren’t like the tight ones I’d seen, but were a little like shorts, all lacy and expensive-looking.
“You wouldn’t let me stop now, would you? I’ve got to show you everything I suppose?” She was like someone walking in their sleep.
“Yes, Annie, and do everything.”
“Everything!” She carefully reached inside the brassiere and lifted her breasts out so that they spilled over. They were different. They were very soft despite their firmness, and they looked like they were blanched by electric lights. They were totally sexual. The red nipples Were even more startling against their pallor. As she leaned forward to lower her pants, the breasts swung out huge. She stood up for me to look at her cunt. It was a forest of curling black hair. She’d dyed it! A great mane of it against her pale flesh. And white garter belt.
“You want me to keep the stockings on, don’t you, so I’ll look even more a whore?” She was stroking the hair on her cunt lovingly. “Probably you want to watch me play with myself like your father does, don’t you?” She sat on the couch opposite me, lifting her legs until her heels were on the edge. She opened her legs wide and began working her fingers inside the hair. She was stroking her body with the other hand, milking at her breasts and rolling the nipples between her thumb and finger. The right hand had two fingers into her hole and was stroking in and out. I could see the glistening. Then three fingers. This stretched her so that I could see the beautiful red flesh shining amid the fur. She had excited herself to the point where her mouth was open and her talk a jumble. I noticed my new camera lying on the table beside me.
“Is this my camera, Annie?”
“Yes, your mother had me take it into town to get it loaded with film for you.”
“And there is film in it now?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t really paying attention. Her eyes were half closed, and the fingers were fucking her faster and faster.
“Well, then, I think we might just take some pictures of you.” I picked up the camera.
“What?” She was startled, though the fingers continued softly to caress her. “Take pictures of me? Like this? None of them ever took pictures!”
“None of whom, Annie?”
“Well… just them.”
“Well, Annie,” I said in a firm voice. “Well, my other masters.”
“Then others have used you?”
“…Oh, yes. They always use me. The last master used to bring his friends home to have parties-and I was the entertainment. They used to take turns. His wife walked in one day unexpected when they were all at me at once.”