The Young Wife (12 page)

He pulled my hair, so that I gasped, and stuffed the panties into my open mouth. I gagged at the taste, but he did not care. He shouted, ‘Get up on to the desk,' and I scrambled to climb up on to the golden surface of the wood. My bottom opened, and my big cheeks wobbled, as I struggled up. The hardness hurt my smooth knees, and I bit down on the wedge of cloth between my teeth. I tried to settle comfortably on the desk, and spread my soft knees wide, so that I was resting on the muscle, not the bone. The class laughed, in a false, excited way, and I knew that they were staring at the hairless cleft and pussy-lips. I gripped the outer edges of the desk, and dipped myself to let them see. My sex gaped, tight and wet, beneath the dry crinkling of my arsehole.

‘See how tight it looks, class?' rasped Webb, and stroked a trembling hand against the stretched tendon to the right of my pouting cunt. The smooth flesh of my inner thigh shivered like a horse's flank, and my cheeks clenched in anticipation. He slapped me tentatively, as if it might break the spell, and I rolled my buttocks back to encourage him. The dream carried no pain. Just warmth.

He told someone to come forward and have a go. I felt a rocket in the tender cleft of my behind. One by one, they all came forward to slap my quivering cheeks, and I panted through my nose and the wet gag. At last, with my cheeks on fire, they had all had a chance to smack me. How many times? Perhaps ten, or even twenty. In the dream, I felt the burn like a memory of a nettle-sting, but not too deeply, and so I squirmed again, to make them want to really smack me hard. Lust boiled in my entrails, and I rolled my bottom shamelessly, like a stripper in a shabby bar.

Hands gripped my squirming hips, and I tensed, ready for the blow, but nothing came. My cheeks were stretched apart, and my cunt mouthed wetly open. I felt something hard and dry being pressed against my anus, and I struggled to pull my hips away. I felt it pressing in, and panic made me spit the gag out on the desk. Before I could cry out, I felt an awful stretching begin. It was as I sensed the object moving in that I awoke, with thighs tight shut, and tensed against the wet pouch between them. I squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, and then I came.

Five

Jessica's sexual awakening had been as brutal as mine, and we had the same beast to thank, so it was poetic justice that he should come into our care and that he should be as helpless. It was, after all, exactly how he liked his women to be, though the roles were now reversed. I wondered how he was feeling, being at our mercy, and sometimes I was to wish he could tell me. One can only see so much in a person's eyes, and I had some deliciously cruel refinements planned for Leo.

Why did I hate him? Because of what Elizabeth had let him do.

When Jessica had come to me, in distress, I had no idea that it would draw the threads of my life together, and give me the opportunity for revenge. I thought it was an affair. Nothing more. At first, I did not even think it would be that. I have my morals, strange as that may seem, and I was determined not to abuse her trust by taking advantage of her situation. When she worked for me, I had felt the mildest of attractions to her, but I had refused to allow my mind to follow that avenue of thought, and I felt no distress when she left to get married. It all sounded so perfect. A rich, handsome, cultivated man had swept her off her feet, and was going to carry her off to live a life of idle pleasure. Too good to be true, of course, but I suppressed my cynical nature and I wished her well.

Her disillusionment gave me no joy. In fact, I found it a little depressing at first, but I found that looking after her was a perfect antidote for that. I wasn't going to seduce her. Honestly, I wasn't. I couldn't help allowing her to seduce me, though. She is just too beautiful to resist.

It is her aura of innocence that makes her so desirable. Big blue-green eyes with thick black lashes. Tumbling masses of dark wavy hair framing a perfect heart-shaped face. A little cleft chin below plump, graceful lips. So kissable. They tremble when she wants to cry, and thin to a taut curve of glossy pink when she is cross.

Her skin is like ladled cream, poured into the sweetest of moulds. Her breasts: what glorious mounds of cool alabaster. Ripe and full, like wineskins bursting into rosy-tipped crowns.

Her nipples are long and thick, like the clipped-off stumps of twigs, and they swell, dark with excitement, when they are licked. How I love to lick them.

Her stomach is a rolling plain of smooth white skin, with the upturned island of her navel floating on the creamy sea. Downy hair drifts like a patch of sea-grass at the first creasing of her silky little snatch, and the swells of her groin roll tight into the sweet triangle at the tops of her pretty, plump thighs. She is scrumptious, from her glossy hair to her milk-white toes, from the sharp blades of her back to the rolling globes of her cheeks. I could eat her, fuck her, lick her, devour her.

And then, into this dream comes the beast, the bastard, who had used my first love like a common whore, and now had nearly taken Jessica, sweet Jessica, in just the same way. I could have killed him when I first laid eyes on him, but I did not. Had there been the faintest spark of recognition in his eyes, I might have tried to end him there: but, even as my anger flared, my mind turned cold, and I knew what I was going to do. He was harmless, neutered, and I had him in my hand. Looking back now, I realise that I was not in my right mind. Revenge was all I could think of, so I began to scheme, and turn things over in my head. Should I kill him, or torment him? Should I destroy him, or keep him on the edge of despair? I knew exactly what would cut him deepest, as he loved to be the one to dominate, and now he was helpless. There was only one thing in my way.

I could not be seen, by either Jessica or Leo's relatives, as being a danger to his health, though the idea had been planted in my mind by something Jessica had said, in all innocence, in the car on our way over to her house. Yet, that was exactly the approach I was going to take. I would use all my perverse experience to drive him out of his mind with impotent lust. I merely had to make up my mind whether to murder him with excitement, or not.

I couldn't wait to get him all to myself, but I had to act the part of the hired help, at least until the witches were out of the way. I also had to make arrangements for the real medical care, as I had no intention of doing anything to make Leo's life more comfortable, so the moment I was alone in the room that had been assigned to me I phoned my cousin David. He was all set to take off on a tour of the Far East, but I managed to lure him with the promise of hard cash. No medical student can resist that. He could do all the lifting and cleaning of Leo, leaving Jessica and me to do the ‘entertaining'. He also had the advantage of being very easy on the eye.

At six foot and two inches tall, with the body of a Greek god, and the looks of a thirties matinee idol, he was destined to be a godsend as far as the ‘coven of two' were concerned. God, how I hated those bitches on sight!

The only thing that made them bearable was their undeniable attractiveness, especially the younger one, Antonia. What a cow she was: though a very sexy little cow, it must be said. She was a typical Mediterranean princess, with dark-eyed, sulky good looks, and a lush body which she flaunted in the tightest clothes she could pour herself into. When she and Jessica were duelling verbally over who was the boss in that house, I was studying her trim little rear. She looked very good in riding gear, though I doubt that she ever sat on a horse for the pleasure of riding alone. She was far too fond of how she looked.

After David assured me that he would be there that evening, I changed into one of my little outfits. It was totally impractical, and not really meant to be worn as a working outfit at all, unless of course the work involved fantasy role-playing. I love to dress up, especially as all the naff archetypes. Schoolgirls, vamps, nurses and, on this occasion, saucy French maid. I don't think the coven got the joke. It's an English thing, I suppose. I was half expecting some comment when I walked back down the stairs to the hallway where they were loitering. I could feel the stiff ruffles of my underskirt bobbing dangerously high around my bottom, and my breasts were like two balloons peeping out of the fussy, starched collar of my dress, yet they did not seem at all surprised. It made me wonder what they were used to.

When I heard the key turning in the lock of Leo's room I laughed inwardly, and I had to stifle another giggle when Jessica's eyes popped at the sight of me in my outfit. She had a strange look in her eye, and I knew that something had gone on in there even before she showed us the ‘blinking' trick. I had to try that out, and I offered to feed Leo at the first convenient break. I noticed that the bitches weren't too keen on the idea of doing it themselves, and Jessica had obviously given them something to think about. They couldn't wait to get away. Probably to do some plotting: though, in the end, it was to do them no good. I am far, far more devious than any other woman I know.

I wheeled the beast into his lair, and closed the door behind me. I didn't lock it, as I heard the two bitches heading upstairs to pack. I waited until Leo had accepted what food and drink he could out of the squeezy bottles that were used to feed him. I felt less anger, and even a cruel tenderness, as I watched him sucking on the clear spouts. He was as helpless as a baby. I watched his eyes, though, and they gave him away. He could not stop looking at me, crippled as he was, in a leering, calculating way, and I was glad that he retained his wickedness. It made what I intended to do so much more satisfying.

At every opportunity I flaunted myself. Bending to wipe his chin so that he could see right down between the bulges of my uplifted tits, I breathed with my upper chest so that they heaved and swelled with every intake of air. I flashed the backs of my stockinged thighs to him, when I bent to the food tray, and made a point of turning my back and adjusting my stockings. I felt very powerful, and in control, for the memory of what he was capable of made his current situation so sweet. Had he been well, I would have been over a chair in an instant, with his thick cock being forced into me. The thought made me horny as hell, and I relished his impotent desire. I made a pretence of looking back, to catch him staring at my thighs, and smiled coyly at the hunched figure in his chair.

‘Sorry, Mr Johanns. I hope this doesn't upset you?' I saucily enquired, knowing full well that he could not be more pleased. I wondered idly if he could get an erection, and resolved to find out.

‘Do you think I have nice legs, Mr Johanns? All my friends tell me that I have. I am quite proud of them.' I smiled, then continued, ‘You must think I'm terribly vain.'

He made an odd sort of snorting noise, like the sound of a chair being moved in another room, and I moved closer to him. I drew the front of my skirt up to just below the bulge of my knickers. The tops of my stockings showed, curved around the full flesh of my thighs. I leaned towards him and breathed the question, ‘Do you think they are nice?'

I had no idea that Jessica had done the same sort of thing just half an hour before, but if I had known I would have carried on as I did anyway. He made another soft and strangled grunt, so I turned to let him have a look at the side view. I tensed the muscles in my legs, and tilted forwards to make them lengthen at the back. My heels were high enough to make my calves bunch into firm balls of shapely muscle, and I knew from other experiences that they looked graceful yet powerful. I sensed that the lowest curves of my buttock were bared, and I tilted a little more forward to let them show.

‘Oh!' I exclaimed, in mock horror, ‘You can see my bottom when I do that, can't you?'

His eyes rolled, and he must have been cursing his infirmity. He wanted to do to me what he had done to Elizabeth, and the understanding of that made me dizzy with power.

‘Poor man! Are you missing your comforts?' I asked him, with a great show of concern. ‘Never mind. Nurse will look after you.' I paused, as if considering, then told him sternly, ‘I don't suppose that little miss you married has looked after you that way, has she?'

He knew exactly what I meant, and tried pathetically to blink an answer to me, but I was not going to ask him the right questions. I crossed swiftly to the door, and locked it, just in case, then I walked back over so that my back was to him. I was turning over the possibilities in my mind, even as I was pulling down my pants, and I paused when they were at my knees, to give him a flash of my peeping sex, and me some more time to think. I bent right over from the hip to gather them up, and the cheeks of my bottom winked briefly open. I saw a group of candles in a sconce on the wall, and I knew exactly what he would want me to do. I twirled the frilly pants around in the air above my head, as I sashayed over to the candle-holder and plucked a thick white column of wax with my free hand. It felt satisfyingly long and heavy, and my stomach fluttered with anticipation as I turned back to face him. I hid it behind my back, and gave him a foxy grin.

‘I'm going to do something very naughty, Mr Johanns,' I said, ‘Something very naughty indeed.'

I produced the candle, and trailed a finger along the waxy stem.

‘I'm going to pretend that this is a cock,' I said, with a high note of emphasis on the ‘cock', then explained further. ‘I'm going to pretend that it's your cock, Mr Johanns. Would you like that? Hm?'

His blinking was automatic, and emphatically positive. Wicked man. I kneeled before him, with the candle in one hand, and reached for the bottle of his dessert with the other. I tilted my head back, and squeezed a little dollop out on to my protruding tongue. Stewed apple, sweet and slippery, thrilled my mouth with its tartness. I squirted another stream along the length of the candle, then licked along the white tube, scooping it up with my curling, pink tongue. I popped the end into the warmth of my mouth, mimicking the first actions of fellatio. His eyes goggled, and I slipped the candle further in, though the taste was none too pleasant, and hollowed my cheeks to suck it, as if it were his cock. I whipped it out and shuffled round so that my back was to him, then flipped my skirt away from the plumping of my spread cheeks. I felt my anus, hard and tight, pouting back from the open cleft, and I tilted forwards more to let him see. Reaching awkwardly back, I squirted a thick blob of the cold apple on to the dry pucker of my arse. It sent a shiver down my spine, and the hairs on my neck stood up.