“I was startled but understood her-or thought I did. I had removed only my muffler and overcoat, or rather, the maid had taken them. I was about to take off my coat when she shook her head emphatically, tightening her lips, her luminous eyes imploring me. So I unbuttoned the fly of my immaculate trousers and that of my shorts and drew forth my organ, liberating it, already reddened and rigid with desire for her and she said, 'Yes, yes, that's it-now take me-oh-quickly, come to me,' she gasped.
“I knelt upon the couch, my hands wandering lightly over to her breasts and belly, her staunch elastic olive-satiny thighs, her pudescence-or to be less poetic, her quim-fur-was remarkably thick and prolific-very black, yet downy and soft as the finest silk, extending down to the cleft of her buttocks. Sensing that she preferred an instant conquest to a dalliance, I tried to acquiesce to her mood. I parted her thighs and lowered myself; in a moment was lying upon her, cushioned upon those full ripe breasts, so solid I felt I was being arched up by domes. Solid domes of lovely vibrant warm naked flesh. She moaned, closing her eyes, turning her head to one side. Her fists clenched at her side, she seemed to take an attitude of anguished submission, a submission that, while not defiant, embodied a ravishing clue to her personality. I prodded my organ against that downy fur and she moaned again, 'Yes, yes, I am yours-I submit, master-take me now.' And I thrust without waiting through her thick down to find a pair of petulant plump velvety lips, moist and eager to be pried apart. A moment later I had buried very slowly half of my length down her quim, the convulsive tremoring of which proved her readiness of passion.”
“Max-?”
“Yes, my sweet?”
“May I lay my head in your lap and drowse while you tell the story?”
“But-of course, darling.”
He moved aside to make room for her, and gently she laid her head down on his lap, her hands folded over her bare waist. And with her eyes closed, she whispered, “If it will help inspire you in the storytelling, love, please caress my breasts all you like.”
“Oh darling,” his hands gently caressing touched those rhythmically swelling naked ivory goblets. She sighed and he resumed, his eyes averted from her lest he forget the past and remember only the present.
“I began to possess her, slowly and not knowing her temperament in the act. She continued to clench her hands, her thighs abandoned, head thrown back, face contorted with passion and flushed, eyes closed, lashes and nostrils flaring. A little later, her mood of excitement, though not falling below what was to be expected, being not markedly intense and showing no sign of cumulative frenzy, she exclaimed vibrantly, 'Oh, master, hurt me-screw me hard and be brutal, very rough, please crush me, hurt me, pinch me, torture my wicked flesh. It burns for you-please!'
“I was suddenly at sea. Her request was genuine enough, I know. It was not a sudden whim prompted by desire either, I felt strongly. It was clear to me that from the first moment she had offered herself to me, she had been waiting for an opportunity to say just this. Somewhere deep down within most women, you know, there is a trace of masochism, though so faint it generally fails to be shocking-save for Lois, as you recall-and indeed this trace adds a certain pleasant spice to the sexual act, Marcia. It's probably a throwback to the far distant feudal times. Many women, for instance, adore a few gentle bites, and if they dared to, would ask to have them made not so gentle, were they not afraid of seeming perverse to a male with a lack of finer appreciation for these things. The feeling of being crushed and smothered for quite long periods too is associated with the female's love for masculine mastery. After all, Marcia darling, doesn't the very act of copulation carry with it, for most women, a certain masochistic connotation?
“I had, of course, a feeling for what is demanded by good manners and this came to my aid. My brutalities lacked conviction. I bit her nipples lightly, I pinched her buttocks, even her bottom hole, and gouged her sides with my elbows. They were little more than pretense for, after all, I had met her but the day before. But no doubt they stimulated her imagination, which did the rest. She flung her head and clenched fists about, arched, twisted, and groaned for joy. A frenzied orgasm followed, taking me by surprise, and I hastened to follow suit, my nails clenched in her bottom cheeks till at last I knew relief.
“During this lustful session, darling, I encountered a distinct thrill. I do not say I'd prefer masochism throughout a sexual relationship, but my sensibility sympathized with this lovely plump woman. I understood only too well her demands, her unsatisfied desires, and so would have found it perfectly natural and productive of a certain sense of relief to take full advantage of the liberty of action she accorded me. When we were seated again by the table, and while she served tea, the Baroness said, 'You were kind and intelligent, Herr Phillips. It's so difficult to find the right kind of man. I can't stand a mere brainless brute. I ought to have a regular lover, I know, but he'd have to be someone who'd understand and dominate me, someone, that is, of superior type. I see but few people and I can't pick up a lover in the street.' I then asked her why she wished me to retain my clothes. 'Because,' she smiled, 'it gives me the feeling that you are dominating me, raping me, being arrogant and contemptuous of me. You ought to have called me foul names, but I didn't ask you to do that. If you'd been wearing riding clothes, I should have begged you to keep them on, including your boots, especially if those boots had spurs, so you could trample me and spurn me as a naked slave, prostrate before her master.'
“She had remained naked and continued with a gentle smile, her voice the same, talking of things she found delicious, as simply as if discussing a collection of antiques. Occasionally, she leaned forward and took my hand. And I eyed her body, especially that furry slit. She saw I was looking and admiring it, and said without the least coyness, 'We could go on, but I do not want to make you late for the theatre. I wonder if you'd be free to come at the same time tomorrow or later?' However, I told her, alas, no, I had a trip to Amsterdam to prepare for in a day or so. This wasn't quite true, but I did not want to involve myself too deeply.”
“Wise man.”
“When it drew near time for my leave-taking, I asked her to let me tidy up a bit. Like her, I was in rather a mess. She sighed and said she didn't want me in her bathroom, in case I'd run into-here she stopped. 'Your maid?' I asked. 'Yes, not that I need give account of myself to her, and anyhow she's probably got a shrewd suspicion. But I shouldn't like her to see you like this. There's a bureau over there with a glass, if it would do- and in one of the top drawers you'll find eau de cologne, a comb, brush, and some small towels. Come see for yourself, but do drink some port first.' She at once led me over to the bureau. Then she said, with a flash of those lovely black eyes, 'While you are combing your hair, arranging your tie, and all that in front of the glass, please leave me to my own pursuits. Don't take any notice of me. I want to give you one more proof of my devotion and humility.'
“I thought I saw again in her voice and facial expression, a hint of that roguishness which I thought I'd already found, on more than one occasion, when she wasn't engaged in making pathetic requests to me. For instance, Marcia, when she'd fallen on her knees by the table and played the part of an ecstatic worshipper. I neglected to tell you that: just before she lay on the sofa, she knelt down and kissed my shoes, cupping her breasts and bowing her head, saying, 'I'm yours, you know that-have no fear-take me, master me.'
“She took out the comb, brush, and eau de cologne. Then rather shyly she said, 'Couldn't you, while I'm doing what I'm doing, call me some bad names?' I told her that I hadn't the least desire to call her bad names-and what for instance? 'Something like filthy bitch, repeated several times, and other worse words only too vile to repeat which would have some bearing on what I soon shall be doing.' I began to make my toilette.