The Young Wife (11 page)

‘Did you like that, Leo?' I breathed, right into his face.

One fast blink.

‘Would you like me to do it again sometime?' I asked.

Blink!

‘Good boy,' I said. ‘Now, if you continue being such a sweet boy, I might do other little things for you. Do you understand?'

Very slow and emphatic blink.

‘Well, I'm very pleased with your progress. In fact, I might explain this little trick to Vivian, and Antonia,' I suggested cautiously. Then I went for the kill, and explained, ‘But if I do tell them, you must not ever disagree with me Leo. Ever. Or there will be no more little favours. Do you understand that, my naughty little husband?'

Blink!

I was a very satisfied young woman when I unlocked the door and wheeled Leo out. As I suspected, the ‘coven of two' had not gone very far, and gaggled excitedly over Leo, like he had just returned from the South Pole. All an act, if a little less convincing than mine.

I knew that I must strike while the iron was hot, and while the memory of my open buttocks, and what lay between them, was still fresh in Leo's mind.

I was acutely aware of the dampness of my thighs as I faced the bitches. I could see that they had been ‘in conference' by the sly looks on their faces, and I decided to attack before they could get a word in, or God knows what half-baked plan they would have tried to set in motion.

‘I have had a little breakthrough with Leo,' I announced, and they looked at each other with suspicious, catty little glances. ‘We are able to communicate a little,' I continued, ‘and he has indicated his willingness to leave all matters relating to his comfort to me. Blink once, if you agree, darling Leo.'

The ‘coven' bent forwards and stared as the remnants of Leo blinked once, on cue. It took several such examples to convince them, and they still insisted on trying various combinations of questions and blinks before they accepted that he had full control of his eyelids. The tears ran down the poor man's face before they relented. They were in the same boat as me, and had to act on the assumption that he would eventually recover enough to take charge of his own life again. We were all constrained in that way. I could not afford to let him think that I had anything but his best interests at heart, and they had to go along with his wishes now if they were to stay in his favour later on. At that point, Anne joined us, and I had to look out into the distance for a moment to struggle for control. She was wearing the archetypal maid's outfit so beloved of stage farce, and it seemed there had not been enough material to make one that fitted her.

Her long golden legs were sheathed in fishnets of a gauge closer to trawler nets, and the healthy muscularity of her calves and firm thighs were, if anything, even more accentuated by the framing of the black stripes. Her ruffled skirt, complete with little apron, was barely below the juncture of those lovely legs, and afforded her little room for manoeuvre in any bending over scenario. Her little sandy breasts bulged over the linen framing of the collar, and the black-stained puff which broadened her shoulders only set the narrowness of her waist into sharper relief. The bitches were lost for words, as was I, and they could only watch as she wheeled him back into the room that served him, and came back out for his meal bottles. These consisted of sterilised plastic bottles with lengths of capped see-through pipe stuck in their tops, and they were convenient for squirting both food and drink into the invalid's mouth. No fuss, no mess, just squirt.

It was getting a bit much for me, especially when Anne bent to pick up the tray with the utensils, and surprised the three of us with a perfect view of her immaculate frilly undies stretched taut over the perfect globes of her tight rear. I excused myself, and opted for a walk around the grounds to clear my head. I heard Anne bid me farewell, with a deferential, ‘Miss Jessica.' As if I were not a married woman.

I shut the front door behind me, making sure first that I had my doorkeys, as I wouldn't have put it past those two bitches to lock me out; then I crunched around the gravel drive to the back of the house, and sat on one of the carved wooden benches that had been set at the side of the croquet lawn. I sat there for a while, musing on the possibilities of my situation, and studying the skyline. It struck me suddenly that it was my seat, and the trees on that skyline were my trees. As was everything I could see, including the beautiful house behind me. Mine and, of course, Leo's. I turned to admire our house and, in doing so, my eye was caught by movement in the window of one of the lower rooms. Intrigued, I rose up from my seat, and wandered over, taking care to stay at the periphery of the windowframe in order not to alert the people inside, in case it was the coven.

It was not. As I neared the clean panes, I crouched and peered in from a crouching level. The breeze floated in under my skirt, and I felt the stiff brush of hair on my sex ripple in the cool waves of fresh air. It felt delicious on the bald skin around my arse and lower lips, so I settled myself more comfortably in a wide-kneed stance, even as I concentrated harder on the figures framed by the glossy white window.

I saw that Anne had evidently finished feeding Leo, for she was wiping his slack chin with a linen napkin, and tidying him up generally by quick dabs of the napkin's corner in strategic spots. I could see all of the long, clean lines of her legs, and the white fluff of her panties as she bent to minister to him. The heels of her patent court shoes made the muscles of her calves swell and bunch in the most attractive way. Her slim ankles made a pleasing contrast to the curvaceous bulging of her muscular thighs, and the lean lines of legs made me a little envious, for I am more bulky than she is. She walked out of view for a moment, eventually returning with one hand hidden behind her back.

Then she astounded me by turning her back on Leo, and dropping to her knees. I half-expected her to do something, but not so soon. I wondered idly if she knew about the blinking trick, but could not tell if she was speaking as her head was turned away from me. She reached out to touch Leo's face, and then drew her hand out, with something long and white held in it. It took me a while to realise that it was a candle, and I smiled to myself in anticipation. Naughty girl. She was going to do something bad.

I watched as she rolled the crisp, white panties over her spread hips, until they were hooked around her plump knees. The straps of her suspenders curved over her widespread thighs to the wicked black fishnets that clung like spiderwebs to her swelling haunches. Her toes pointed sharply back at Leo, and her heels stuck stiffly up over her dainty arched ankles. I watched in amazed amusement as she settled herself more firmly on her knees, then started to roll her hips in a slow burlesque that made her cheeks grind slowly in the most amazing rolling, muscular fashion. Her cunt would pout up, and then disappear, pout, disappear, until my own cooling nest began to heat again, and I felt the lips curl outward of their own volition, to offer themselves to the breeze like the petals of a pink orchid.

Then over her hip came the thick white spike of the candle, pointing at the circling, grinding buttocks, and spearing steadily to a point between them. She laid it in the rolling, grinding cleft, then pointed it again, and pushed. Into the little brown eye of her clenched anus it slid, and my own arse spasmed in sympathy. I noticed that she had chosen the thick end, and the thought made me push a hand under myself, to stroke the open slit that hung above my heels. It felt better like that.

To be crouched down like a naughty girl, spying in the window, and rubbing my slippery, pulsing cunt was heaven. I flirted with the rubbery seam of my bottom-cleft, still entranced by the smoothness, as I watched Anne work the candle further up her back passage. Then she removed her hand, with the candle well ensconced, and began to roll her hips again, so that the other end described imperfect, jittery circles in the air above her glowing cheeks. I could not be bothered to look for Leo's reaction, for my attention was riveted on the point of entry of that wicked, white stem. I saw the plump lips of Anne's slit bulging out beneath her squirming cheeks, and the way the candle-end began to quiver with the strain transmitted to her bottom. It flicked up and down in tiny, almost imperceptible jerks, and I felt my stomach contract at the thought of what was making it do that. My eyes started to mist, and I could not care any more if anyone came round the back of the house. I stuck the tip of one middle finger up my own arse, and frigged it into me, in time to the rubbing of my other hand. Anne had gone completely down on her face, and her hands stretched out in front of her to provide some support. Her bottom was high and swirling. If I had been in there I would have pushed the candle in, as far as it would go, and twirled it around in her arse, like I was twirling my fingertip. My arsehole pulsed as I came, and I thrust a scrabbling wedge of fingers into the wet, sucking petals of my cunt. I gasped, and nearly stumbled, when the force of my orgasm made my legs tremble uncontrollably. I concentrated on the flicking, twitching end of the candle, until I had subsided enough to withdraw my wet fingers and use them to haul myself quietly up. I left Anne to it, and wandered off to admire the trees at the end of the garden. My trees; my garden.

My dreams that night were a little frightening in their intensity. I was sleeping in the room lately absented by Antonia, though it bore no trace of her, and I had made it up freshly with clean linen from the cupboard. I had slipped into it, completely naked, and had drifted off to sleep thinking about Anne, who was doubtless doing the same downstairs, in the room next to Leo's. The witches had arranged for an agency nurse to sit up all night, in case there were any problems, and I didn't see any point in disturbing a perfectly good set-up just because they had made it. So my mind was easy, and my heart was content. I had won, for the moment, and I felt a lot more in control of my life than I had before Anne had taken me under her wing and into her bed. I was set to sleep the sleep of the just.

My dream started, as before, with me in the class, at my desk day-dreaming. Once again, I began to pleasure myself against the hard surface of my chair. I flipped my skirt out, and squirmed my hot cheeks against the cool, yet slightly sticky, surface of the chair. Air drifted into my crack, to cool the tender insides of my cheeks, and I rocked the hot, panty-covered mound of my sex against the thin wood. I heard the hateful voice of Mr Webb interrupt my reverie, and the lurch of my heart snapped me almost out of sleep. I drifted back down, and settled back into myself.

I knew that those behind me could see the plumping of my smooth, pale buttocks, and the wet roll of white knicker disappearing into the tight cleft between the bulging cheeks. Again, as before, I was ordered to rise, and approach the front of the class, and again, I obeyed and gloried in the rolling of my bare bottom, and the vicious whispers of my classmates.

They gathered round me, when I was bent over the desk, and my cleft was again pulled open for their inspection. They swarmed around me, like angry wasps, and I closed my eyes to shut out their spiteful buzzing. I felt the sweaty fingers groping at my soft flesh, and squeezed my cheeks to hide the dampness in my crack. My efforts were rewarded by rough treatment, and I groaned into the polished desktop when they parted my fleshy globes. I felt my anus attempt to draw in. So vulnerable, under its thin covering of damp cloth.

My cunt bulged and throbbed against the hard and eager fingers that pushed at it. I felt a crude, thick fingertip push a peak of cloth against my bottom-hole, and my heart thumped, rolling over in my chest. I expected to drift away, but I did not, and the finger pushed harder at the clenched and puckered rim. I felt the cloth go in, and squeaked out loud, but no noise came. I was mute, in my dream, but still I moaned and squirmed.

Webb ordered them back, saying, ‘I'll show you just how bad this girl is.'

I sensed them moving away, but I did not attempt to rise. I felt too weak, too lazy. I was fearful, but it was a strange sort of fear. My insides churned with slow, fat excitement, and I wanted to stay as I was: bent over and exposed. Webb walked around the desk, and I turned my face away from him. I heard him breathing harshly, and my cheeks quivered uncontrollably. I feared, but I wanted, what he was going to do.

I felt his trembling fingers pluck at the elasticised edges of my knickers and slowly draw them further into the warm inrolling of my plump cheeks. His cold-tipped hands lingered, drawn to the warmth and tightness. He tucked the material into a tidy strip. My face flared hot and flushed against my hand, and the class gasped nervously at the sight of him arranging my clothing in that intimate and perverse way. I squeezed my cheeks brazenly, drawing admiration from the boys, and contemptuous comments from the girls.

‘Pull down your pants, and let us see what you are like,' he sneered, and I hurried to obey. I had to reach under the hem of the pleated skirt to get my thumbs under the high, elasticated edges of my tight white knickers. I pushed, and wriggled them, down over the flaring curves of my muscular hips. They fell, but only to my knees, and I shuffled my ankles slightly apart. They caught on the swell of my taut calves, and I had to sway my legs to step out of them. I straightened my legs, to tense the sculptured limbs, and put my heels together, knowing that this would excite and infuriate Mr Webb. I was brazen, and tilted my bottom up so that the wet petals of my throbbing cunt would show.

‘Look, class,' he cried, and stooped to gather up my pants. ‘Have you ever seen such a little slut?'

He grasped my hair, and turned my face towards him. His trousered hip bumped against my bare cheeks. I felt the hard rod of his penis knock against my trembling thigh, and knew that he wanted to fuck me. My pussy melted, and I felt the moisture gather in the little brush of hair at the beginning of my slit. I wanted them to rub my wetness into the pulsing core of me. To spread it over my tummy, and in the ravine between my naked cheeks.