Besides, she had yowled on the third lash, which was early for Stacy. She had no doubt Mistress could make a girl yowl on the first if she desired.
The woman was magnificent with a whip, simply magnificent. The hurt was intense. Stacy thought she'd probably cry before too long.
Then of course there was the other thing. Every so often, Mistress would lay the whip down beside
Stacy and use her tender hands on her flesh in the most intimate manner. Her' fingers were 'so gentle and nice. They didn't squeeze or fondle… they caressed. First they traced the whip marks on the cheeks, then up the slender back and under to a breast. Then, perhaps, they trailed on the sensitive flesh of the inner thighs before stroking gently the silken sex hair. Then, with a maddeningly soft touch of a finger or two, Mistress would trace the two separate sex lips, and gently stroke the clit- oris. Stacy's body almost arched in tension, so tight were her emotions. The feeling was sensa- tional, yet so taunting! If only she would plunge and probe with those fingers! But no, only the tender, delicate caress.
The occasional adventures of Mistress' fingers did something that the whip could not do. They made Stacy's knees buckle in helplessness. It was all she could do to keep her position and to keep her hands on the table edge. It was perhaps five lashes, or seven, then that intimate caressing which pro- duced a scream every bit as loud as when the whip fell. Stacy had never experienced such ultimate variance between pain and pleasure. It was un- believable in its contrast. At length, one became the other. Pain and pleasure were one. The fingers or the whip. Each now was intensely sexual. Stacy was dripping between her legs shamelessly. She had no idea how many lashes fell. She really didn't care.
In a daze, she felt Mistress' face caressing her own, the soft, rich lips nibbling at her mouth, and her own lips returning the kiss. Mistress whispered into her ear, "Have you cried yet, Stacy?"
"No, Mistress, not quite."
"I will make you' cry now, little girl, with the whip. A girl isn't whipped proper.ly until she cries.
Then, when you cry, I'll come back and we'll kiss , again!"
"Yes, Mistress."
The hall echoed with the terrible lash sounds and
Stacy's bottom lurched and bounced. She began to sob. Mistress returned her face to Stacy's.
"Are you close to orgasm, Stacy?"
"Yes… you… know I am."
Mistress withdrew. The whip howled up into
Stacy's sex. Just once. The shock and the hurt and the surprise was so intense that Stacy's mind could not react quickly to it. It was not possible that anything could hurt like that! Then the agony at her sex subsided somewhat, and the full implication of where she had Taken the lash overwhelmed her senses. Stacy climaxed quite wildly and beat her fists upon the table for a very long time in utter astonishment at the force of her orgasm.
Mistress departed from the hall. Stacy had no desire to move or stand up. Her eyes were closed.
Trish and Dania stroked her wet back.
"Wait until you see your ass in the mirror," laughed Dania. "Looks like a zebra! See, I told you a whipping from Mistress was special. How do you feel, hon?"
Stacy managed a weak smile for her friend.
"Just go away and let me lie here and die. It isn't the whipping, it's the other stuff."
"We know!" laughed Trish. "Hey, you're start- ing to squirm again. You gonna come again?"
"I think so."
Master and Mistress had,.class, thought Stacy.
After all, Mr. Hilljngs had,jumped all over her-the; very first night., It was quite obscene to fuck a maid the very first night. A girl should, at least be. given the chance,to get adjusted to the new home to her new employers before bedding her. It was only proper.
It was the fifth night before Stacy was tele- phoned to the bedroom. More than enough time to get adjusted, and Stacy admired them for it. Class in people always shows through. It was not un- expected either, for Stacy knew that afternoon.
She had been dusting the library shelves as
Mistress read across the room. She had heard
Mistress' book plop down, and the soft footsteps behind her. A maid obviously doesn't turn around when Master or Mistress puts their hands about her waist. It's their privilege. Mistress' hands went to Stacy's skirt hem, then lifted the skirt up to her waist before holding her again. Stacy was all legs and white panties: It was hard to continue dusting, of course. There simply is no other way for a gir1 to react but to lay her head back on Mistress' shoulder and purr like a kitten being stroked.
"Would you like to dust around in just your pants, Stacy? It would please me."
"Of course, Mistress." And so she did. Mistress had a terrible time trying to read eventually. !"Share some wine with me, Stacy. Sit over there so
I can look at you."
It was, naturally, a unique compliment. A domestic wasn't often asked to sit down and share wine with the mistress or master. Stacy plopped herrself in the hardback chair across from the ele- gant woman. Mistress didn't wish to talk… just to look at her. Well, that's what maids are for,
Miss Cummins had said in school. You certainly didn't initiate the conversation. It took some prac- tice to sit like that, silently, and let yourself be admired. You weren't supposed to blush, or fidget, or drum your fingers, or look around. You just acted like you were alone, fingering the rim of your wine glass, and looking very comfortable and self- assured. If you wore your skirt, you opened your legs just enough so your panties showed. If you wore just pants, or were naked, then it was proper to keep the legs apart further. It was in chapter three of Nelson's Domestic Studies. Above all, make sure your underpants are the sheer kind. Let them see your fur. Talk with your eyes, not your mouth.
Stacy slipped one thigh over the chair edge, spreading herself wide apart. She sipped her glass, and began with the eye treatment over the top of
the glass. It was always effective, said Miss
Cummins. Mistress joined in with the eye game. It was sexy. Stacy moved her other thigh over the chair edge. Her pants now didn't do much to covet, her, as she well knew. Her brown tufts would be sticking out both sides of the narrow strip, her. pink lips pressed visibly and clearly against the moist, white sheerness of her panty. It was effec- tive. Mistress subconsciously ran a tongue over one lip.
"You'll have to excuse me now, Stacy. I hear my, husband's car in the driveway. Put on your things
Tell Trish to serve the cocktails this evening, an
Dania the food. By the way, advise Dania to serve without her blouse tonight. I like to watch her when she walks. You shall serve the wine course after dessert, Stacy. I think I shall have you sit on my lap and feed me the wine. I just adore your eyes."
"Yes, of course, Mistress."
"Oh, by the way, Stacy, tonight you shall spend with us in bed."
"Thank you, Mistress; It's very kind of you."
Thus, when the telephone rang in the domestics bedroom, Stacy was ready. Trish and Dania had mothered her like a hen, brushing her hair, putting on her lipstick and perfume, and generally fussing over her. Stacy wore only heels.
"Stand up, darling," said Trish. "Let us see you
Oh, you look just scrumptious! Could eat you up
Here, let's put some rouge on your pretty nipples.
"On her pussy, too," chimed in Dania. At Iast
Stacy was perfect.
The phone rang. "Well, here I go," beamed
Stacy.
"Bye, honey," said Trish. "We'll miss you tonight. Fuck Master nice. He's sweet." Trish kissed
Stacy carefully on the cheek to avoid messing her lipstick, and Dania followed.
It was a lovely night with Master and Mistress
Master was very efficient, but not overbearing
'Like everything else he did, it was done with style and expertise, and it was only twice. Just right is every way, not too quick, not too long. Just a very efficient taking of a domestic. As for Mistress, she was magnificent. It helped when a mistress was very attractive and responsive, and Mistress was both. A girl just performs better when her mistress excites her. Stacy did one of her best jobs on her