The Master & The Maid, a short story by EmyNaso. Date added: 2010-09-03. Times viewed: 8644.
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- Intro: Seduction and sexual corruption of the female servant
Master & MaidsEmy NasoAn extreme sexual story of the Master and the Miadhttp://emynasoerotica.blogspot.com/6100 words
First Night MovesCalvani sat, the pipe he’d tried to smoke three times, not satisfying his mood, propped against the glass ashtray. He held the new ink pen, given to him when he left London, in his slightly trembling right hand, the virgin white paper in the journal on the desk, as yet, not stained or marked with the many thoughts in his head. Each time he attempted to record the past his protective mind blotted out the images. The Doctor had no idea why their was a need to make a testimony of what had happened. It could have been a cathartic instinct, or a desire to see the action in words, a substitute for what deep down he found exciting.
Again he held the pen to the paper. The chronicle began.
My name is Doctor Melvin Calvani. I should say right away, much to the same disappointment of many guests at parties, that I am not the medical type, but obtained my doctorate in philosophy from Edinburgh University and practiced as a Psychologist in the Harley Street district of London. After a while, through no deliberate intension of mine, most of my patients were young women of the lower order, brought to me as displaying nervous or emotional problems. Because of money I’d inherited when my beloved wife died so young it was not necessary to restrict my professional interest to the rich. Indeed I found the case studies of the poorer classes fascinating. There is in the uneducated a nascent vitality, a raw sensual power the well off have lost.
He looked up from the paper, wiped his brow and continued.
I will confine this journey to salient matters, which much vex me and not go into great detail on the general nature of the practice. The perplexing issue that has made me leave, so hurriedly, London and find a place of rest at the sleepy town of Cromer, began three years ago, just after my own thirty-fifth birthday.
Lady Caroline Leathwaite, the wife of the prominent parliamentarian, Sir Oswald, came to me in June. It was not for herself that she sought consultation, but, unusually, for her personal maid, one Sophie Andersby. The young lady was only nineteen, having been in service with Lady Caroline since she was fourteen, and, showing great promise, then been promoted from housemaid to the mistress’s own helper. In short summary, young Sophie began, six months before presenting to my practice, began to dream violently and also exhibit signs of tremors during the day. After an initial consultation in the presence of Lady Caroline, the second appointment was alone with Sophie.
The Doctor almost dropped the pen, startled by a knock at his door.
The door clicked, there was a pause, then a pale face appeared. The dark eyes and high cheek bones, framed by the fairest of hair gave the maid a look suggesting even younger than her twenty years.
“Excuse, sir.” It was a soft voice, yet it had hidden depth, like the rushing water in a swirling movement somewhere below the stillness of a pool.
“Your supper, sir.”“Yes…put it over here…” Doctor Calvani found himself reluctant to use her name. He wanted to and while she peeked, elf like around the door his subconscious kept repeating, Alice, Alice.
Gliding into the room she gave him a gentle, shy smile. He noticed the way she maneuvered with the tray in her hands, keeping the door out of the way by sinuously holding it back with her left hip. He began to wonder if this manner of sensuality in everyday activities was a genetic function in mating.
“Mrs. Morton has sent you up a bottle of wine, sir. She says beg your pardon as you didn’t ask for it, but thought that you might welcome the….” The maid sought for the word, but obviously forgot it, so ended with a sheepish grin.
Calvani couldn’t answer, so intrigued with what he imagined was a parrot fashion repetition of the words of the cook.
“Over here, sir?”“Yes…Alice.” It was impossible not to use the name.
She put the tray down and curtsied. It was an odd sort of movement, not practiced and experienced in deference, but it had a natural charm to the eyes of Doctor Calvani. He watched her every moment. Alice arranged the cutlery, looked to him for permission to fill the glass with wine, bobbed again and made her way to the half open door.
The starch in her long white apron gave a crackling noise as she moved, her black dress just above small, laced shoes, swaying to the rhythm of her hips. It was a simply, cheap, maid’s uniform. It could have been, to Calvani, the expenses ball gown of a London socialite.
Her white, long fingered hand went to the edge of the door. It began to close.
“Wait!” The solid, paneled door, with its worn brass handle, swung slowly back. Alice Paston stared at the master, her lips very slightly parted.
Doctor Calvani suddenly realized he had not covered up the paper in front of him. It was a ridiculous worry. There was nothing in this journal that remotely confessed what was in his mind, and it had only just begun and could not reveal the experiences in London. Secondly, the maid could not see from where she stood any of the writing. Lastly, it was very unlikely Alice could read to any proficient standard to understand the learned Doctor’s chronicle.
He became conscious she still waited for instructions.
“Do you read, Alice?” It was his previous thoughts that prompted this hastily reflected question.“Read, sir?”He beckoned for her to close the door, seeking time to wonder what he was saying, what he was doing.
“Yes, Alice. I wondered if you had been taught to read at school?”She hovered, a butterfly, dressed drably like the chrysalis, but with the potential of the flying, gossamer beauty.“I was taught to read the bible…” her lips twitched, small white teeth nibbling at the corner of her wide mouth…”in parts, sir.”
Doctor Calvani got up from where he sat. The scrapping noise of the chair on the wooden floor made Alice startle. In repose she was pretty, in surprise her eyes widened and her body moved under the dowdy uniform. For a fleeting moment she was a gorgeous, evocative woman. He went to the bookcase, reached up and took out a leather bound book.
“Come over to the light, Alice.”
The new electricity beginning to illuminate the grand houses for the rich in London had not reached, or even been considered for sleepy Cromer. Even gas was not installed as mantle lights in the old house he now rented. Alice came close to the oil lit lamp on the table. The Doctor waited for her, not looking, just sensing her nearness. Then he opened the book.
“When I was in London, Alice, I always took an interest in teaching my servants.” He stole a rapid glance at the maid next to him, nervous that the very mention of the time he’d spent in the Capital would reveal to this innocent young woman the sins in his heart. Quickly he endeavored to control his breathing, knowing the thoughts were foolish. How could she have any knowledge of the darkness in the Doctor’s soul?
“Try reading this for me, Alice.” Calvani ran a finger across a line of type in the center of the page. “Your hand is in the way, sir”“Here, Alice, lean forward and let your own fingers touch the hard surface of the book.” His voice became slow, filled with an emotional sense for some of the words he used. The maid shuffled closer to the table and Doctor Calvani, her long black dress and white apron bunched together, pressing against his thigh as he sat on the chair. Her body had that aroma of Sophie, an evocative smell of cheap rosemary on her hair, and a pungency from the household washing soap. It was a natural tang of the allure of life in the raw.
From his childhood he remembered both. His nanny took him with her when she went to collect the family’s washing from a local lady. The house exuded a smell, overwhelmingly of the clean clothes, scrubbed and boiled. The washer woman had a young daughter, at twelve, three years older than Melvin. She played with him while his nanny and the woman gossiped. The girl was called Dottie. She mothered Melvin, showing him around the dreadful hovel of a house, proud, unaware that he lived in a fine residence in a fashionable part of London.
One day when she was pretending he was her brother, Dottie held Melvin very close and kissed his forehead in a motherly fashion. He was overcome with the rosemary odor in her flaxen hair.
“Sir. Sir?”Her voice brought him back. In its tones, its seductive call of lovers, of mother, of innocence, of sin, he heard Dottie, Sophie and now, Alice.
“Sorry. What is it…Alice?”She shifted from on head leg to another. The brushing of the apron touching him made Calvani shiver.“I don’t know the second word, sir.” It was that same naïve purity in the tone, yet somewhere in the cadence came the seductress calling him to her.
Calvani gulped. “Bare.” He said prosaically.“The bare autumn trees on the hill side.” She faltered and stumbled over the sentence. Calvani took a deep intake of breath. All he heard was the way she enunciated that second word. Alice made it sound like the hot, temptation of his dreams.
“That is very good, Alice, You re a good girl.” Calvani spoke, half turning the maid toward him, voice neutral in its praise. The hand that touched her arm, now lightly stroked the ties of the white apron.
“No need for maid and master, Alice. Well not completely.” His fingers pulled the tie, letting the bow undo. It was, to Calvani, an erotic act of extreme evocation, the apron ties more sensuous than all the hidden garments under a fine lady’s dress.
“Take it off, Alice. He had to close his eyes. Concealed memories of the instruction flooded a picture of Sophie into his mind. Calvani was sweating in the memory. Panting as he said to the London maid Take it off, Sophie.
“Shall I put it on the floor, sir?” It was Alice asking what to do with the apron.“Yes…erm, yes. That will be fine, Alice. He desperately tried to get back to the reading. When he looked up, Alice, her doll, round eyes was looking directly at him.
“Sir? Why are the trees bare?”Involuntarily his hands felt the rough material of her long dress, his fingers touching the hot iron creased folds, as it gathered in the middle. Her waist was slim, but now very close he could tell she was full of figure at her breasts and hips.
“What do you mean, Alice?”“It’s the bare bit, sir?” Calvani glanced down as she used that word.“Why does bare concern you?” Now he was enjoying the verbal frisson.Alice’s face became animated for the first time. She lost the shyness, the diffidence.
“You know, Doctor. Things like trees seem sort of daft to be…well, bare.”He smiled, liking her calling him, Doctor for the first time.“Can’t trees be bare, Alice.”
The maid giggled, quickly suppressing the impertinence. Calvani neither corrected or gave her leave to laugh. He just went on looking at her pale face, his hands on her waist, abstractedly letting thumbs rub against her stomach.
Well, begging your pardon, Doctor, it don’t seem right. If you don’t mind me saying.”“What is bare, Alice?”He carefully watched her expression, enjoying the sensation of what he imagined were her thoughts.“Don’t like to say…if you know what I mean.” Again she tried to suppress her ingenuous giggle.“I want mind.” His hands went around her waist, one daring to unconscientiously fondle her rear. Alice neither objected or showed any signs of acceptance.“It’s, well, you know, Doctor…I reckon people are bare, not trees.”
There intruded a silence between them. Calvani could not discern if the maid had any idea of the fever she had raised in him or if their little verbal game was obliquely sensual, coded and understood by them both, or an erotic figment of his imagination. It was too far for him to return.
“When are you bare, Alice?”There was no reply. Her large round eyes, closed and opened very slowly. Calvani let his hand on her waist slip to her lower stomach. Touching Alice’s rear as well, his fingers began to push into the black material of her long dress.
Like a startled bird she drew back. Calvani guiltily took his hands from her clothing.
“Perhaps it is too late to talk now, Alice.” He endeavored to regain the status of master and maid.“Yes, sir.” her voice trembled. She did her little dip of a curtsy and floated toward the door.
“Wait. Alice.”The maid looked back, halting in her silent exit, only the faint rustle of her dress audible.“Your apron” He picked it up off the wooden floor. Obediently she walked back to her master. Calvani circled behind the still maid. He took the apron and put it on her. His hands briefly felt the swell of her breasts. They were firm, upright under what he detected was only her black dress and course cotton shift. She would not be able to afford the fine undergarments of a lady.
He detected the rosemary in her hair and let his lips caress her head. The maid made no objections. When she went back toward the door, she momentarily glanced back. Calvani did not sense any protest or annoyance in her expression to his touching of her breasts.
She was almost at the door.“Alice!” his voice was urgent.“Yes, sir?”“Will…would you like to come to my rooms and read again?”
With a tender smile, she said, “I would like that very much…Doctor.”
It took him a while to compose his thoughts. Pushing the food away he poured wine and looked down at the journal, opening it, pen in his hand.
I explored the inner torment in Sophie’s mind, discovering she had many unusual phobias, being afraid of the snakes her mistress’s husband kept in an aquarium, and also the candle lights in the great hall of the house. Strangely she reacted in a curious manner when I tried word association theory on her. She became so upset when certain words, such as ’bare’ and ‘naked’ were included in the sequence that I had to comfort Sophie for some considerable time. When she was near my mind became clear. I knew what I had to do. Why is Alice the same?
In The Tavern At NightFor the next three days Doctor Calvani restricted his walks to the extensive grounds of the house, finding solace in a grove of Elm trees where the estate met the sea. He sat on an old bench, much rusted where the nails held it to together, and covered with algae. His was fortunate that the weather was mild for early October, giving him ample time to contemplate the breaking waves at the foot of the cliffs.
In the evening he ate in a small dining room, insisting Greaves the butler served his food. Afterwards the Doctor retired to his library of books, reading the medical journals. Without expressing any direct orders, Calvani avoided seeing the maid, Alice, only once coming upon her as she dusted the picture frames along a gallery. He kept his greeting to a polite, but terse comment, and she merely curtsied, without speaking.
On the fourth day the wind turned from a mild southwest into a bitterly cold northeast. He fretted in the house all day, finally, after dinner, deciding to walk into town, a place he’d yet to see.
The North Norfolk town of Cromer had always thrived on its fishing. Unlike the larger ports farther down the north coast of Norfolk, Cromer was not reliant on the herring fleet. It was a place of individuals, crab fishing being its livelihood.
From his new home, Doctor Calvani walked down the rutted road where there were a few cottages, mainly older folk who kept chickens and grew enough food for themselves. They banded together to brew the barley into malt and then ferment into a local beer. It was a subsistence economy, remote from London, and even the regional center at Norwich.
Beyond these homes, the town proper was a tight cluster of small terrace houses, where many of the fishermen’s family lives, cheek by jowl with shops and an occasional larger home for the few prosperous merchants.
In the last couple of years the railway line from Norwich had been opened. Its main use was trade, however, with it came an unexpected bonus, some said, to the small town.
‘Taking the waters’, as it was called, had become first fashionable, and now popular with the masses. On Sunday, the one day in the week when shops and factories shut, the people of the towns from Norwich, Swaffham and even farther away, took a train to seaside towns, including Cromer, and either bathed in the sea or ’promenaded,’ a newspaper coined phrase for walking along the concrete strands, or straithes as they were called in Norfolk, by the sea.
The cold October night saw none of this. Doctor Calvani walked along by the huge parish church, set on the very edge of the huddled town, down to the small harbor where the crabbing boats were tied up, and then, like a moth, was drawn to the lights in the tavern. It had never been a coaching inn, a staging point to anywhere. If you got to Cromer, that was it. The next place was the cold North Sea.
‘The Feathers’ was a solid, flint built tavern, the small windows each having tight shutters. Fastened back open, they could easily be shut when the sea decided to invade the town, throwing waves against man’s constructions.
Calvani pushed the door, entering into the tavern. He came into the tiny hallway, three doors offering different pleasure. A sign to the public bar would take him into the largest area where most of the men drank and played cards, many gambling until late into the night. Another way led to a dinning room, the noise of plates being cleared coming from behind the partly open door. He choose the third door into the smaller saloon bar.
The room had bench seats and tables along two walls and the bar on the other side. The only other people in there were two elderly men, deep in friendly argument over their game of cribbage. The Doctor was not in a sociable mood, so selected a table as far away as possible in the confined area.
Pleased to see a comforting fire, Calvani filled his pipe with the special mixtures of tobacco, slipped his cloak off, now he was warm and thought about a drink.
About to get up and go over to he bar, he was halted in the action by a young woman bustling in from a door next to the bar. She rubbed the shabby counter, mopping up spilt beer with an equally drink soak cloth. Flicking her straggly, curly brown hair from her face, the young woman beamed at the Doctor, threw the cloth behind the bar and walked over to him.
“Haven’t seen you in here before.” Her voice had the twang of the broad Norfolk accent, an odd raising of pitch on the penultimate word in her sentence. Unlike the common people in London where the vowels were flat and nasal, her voice was rounded and modulated in its own country manner.
“No, I’ve just moved to Cromer.”
She pursed her lips, wiping dirt from her cheek, only managing to spread it more over her freckled face. The way she looked daringly at him made Calvani find her lower-class impudence attractive.
She leaned confidently on the table where he sat, palms of her hands, firmly in front of him. He could not resist glancing down the front of her billowing dress, appreciating the swell of young breasts.
“’Ere, you must be that new posh Doctor they say is living up at the big house.”He smiled. “News travels fast. I only arrived a few days ago.”“Not much goes passed folk around here, mister. Soon after you hired your staff we knew you were coming.” She bent forward even more. Calvani’s could do nothing but visually take in even more of her ample bosom.
“Tell you the truth, sir. If I’d not been over at Mundesley along the coast helping my sister I’d have applied for the job of maid.” She gave him a wink, glanced down, grinning, making him aware she knew where he’d been looking for entertainment.
“Can I get you anything, mister?” Puckering lips, she stood, one foot raised, making her right hip push out and fulsome rear protrude suggestively. Grinning, the young woman added, “Well, drink that is.” “A Jamaican rum…large.”The barmaid turned and swayed back to the bar, gave him a look over the shoulder, uncombed hair covering most of her face except sparkling brown eyes, and then disappeared into the other part of the serving area, which he supposed linked to the two further drinking and eating areas.
Calvani found himself sitting, staring, waiting for her to return. When she did, the brown eyed young woman was holding a conversation with an unseen man. She may have been beautiful but the Doctor could not help thinking her crude language was something that needed to be corrected if she was to become acceptable to him.
“Here you are, mister. One large rum. And I’ve put extra measures in there for such a gentleman as you.”“”Thank you…?” he held out for her name.“Beckie, mister. My poor old ma had me christened up at the church as Rebecca. Much too fancy for the likes of my friends.”“I think it’s a delightful name…Rebecca.”“Just listen to you and enough flattery to make a girl fair blush,” she laughed.
He knew she was playing coy. Calvani was convinced it was only her way of teasing him.
“Why don’t you sit down here and let me buy you a drink, Rebecca.?”“Lord, haven’t got time for that, mister. The landlord would have a fit.”
She tantalizing put out an arm, nearly touching his shoulder, then just as quickly fussed with her dress, hands brushing down the side. She gave him an alluring smile, paused and then went back to her duties.
Calvani sipped his rum, disappointed Rebecca had not accepted his invitation. Occasionally he heard her voice, either in the continuing rowdy argument with the man he assumed was the landlord, and sometimes with men in the public bar. Inwardly rebuking himself for ridiculous jealous feelings that she was chatting and flirting with these unknown people, he eventually decided to make his way home.
Picking up his cloak, he went to the door, dwelling to clean out his pipe, putting out a hand to turn the handle.
“Better put your cloak on, mister. It’s a cold night. Don’t want a London gentleman getting taken to his bed after freezing in our Cromer air.” Grubby, yet small hands helped him into his cloak. He did not need to look who it was by the gloomy light at the door. He knew the gorgeously insolent voice. The unruly brown hair was truly erotic, a symbol of sensuality.
“Thank you, Rebecca.”She was very close, her fingers at his neck, easing the cloak on, her body pressing into his back.“Please call me Beckie, sir. I’m sure if you do we could become friends.”Calvani turned to face her.“Good friends, I reckon.” Her smile sent shivers through his body.
He reached out to touch and hold her.Beckie softly laughed and more away. It was a chuckle just for him, not meant for the rest of the Tavern, or the cold night outside.
“I will see you again…Beckie?” It was a longing question. Calvani knew, but could not restrain himself, that he should not have asked.“Don’t you get no ideas, sir, that I’m good friends with everybody.”“No, I wouldn’t think that, Beckie.”
Swiftly she moved forward, put a peck of a kiss on his cheek, and was back out of his reach. “I’d have to be treated nicely, you understand.”“Yes, I appreciate that.”
A voice shouted from another part of the tavern. “Beckie, get your lazy ass in here and serve our customers.”“I’m coming you fat swine,” she bawled. Then with a grin she swayed out of his sight.
Doctor Calvani battled through the strong wind on the way home. Greaves was hovering around when he went into the hall. Quickly dismissing the butler, he went to his room and sat before the journal.
Sophie cried in my arms though the session. Toward the end I explored why she feared these words. She looked so trusting, her eyes beseeching me to help. It was then I decided on drastic therapy. When I dare suggest it to Sophie she at first appeared shocked. Her trust in me was great. I find it difficult to record her, and my emotions, as she undressed before me. When she was uncovered and waiting, I got her to repeat the words ’bare’ and ‘naked.’
Taking her in my arms, feeling her soft body, seemed so natural. It was at first. But then? Is it the same with Alice and Beckie? Will they resist and need to be confined?
Where comes this fascination? Each time the female reveals her nakedness I see them as unique. Is that so? Where is the image? In my mind? Sophie was divine. I made her stand like an alabaster statue while I continually circled her, watching, taking in and marveling each contour of her body and tone of the flesh. White Snow of PurityThe next morning he went to the window just after sunrise. All the bushes and shapes in the gardens were gone. A blanket of snow covered everything, softening edges to branches and low walls, a white sheet of glittering flakes reflecting in the low sun.
He washed and shaved, using the bowl of hot water Greaves had brought up, then dressed and went down to the dinning room for breakfast.
“Mrs. Morton is in a bit of a panic this morning, Doctor,” Greaves said in his undertakers voice. “What with the deliveries not arriving due to the snow…then there is you, sir, getting up so early.” The butler glanced at the master to see if he’d taken the comment the right way and not been offended.
“Never mind, Greaves. I’ll go for a walk down to the cliff and come back later for breakfast.”“With this sun the snow won’t settle for long, Doctor. Don’t take the path through the lower garden. It will be treacherous in this weather. You can go around by the old stables. It will be…” His voices faded. Calvani didn’t stay around to hear him fuss any more.
He sat in the hall, pulled his boots on, selected a stout cane to help him judge the depth of the snow, wrapped a cloak over his shoulders and went out into the crisp morning.
He wandered about in the garden where there had evidently once been a row of cold-frames next to the greenhouse, the glass on nearly all of them broken. After being undecided which way the stables were, the Doctor trusted to luck and went left.
He soon discovered it was the right direction. At one time the house must have had many horses and carriages, as the stables were large and high, enough space to drive directly in. The outside was covered with ivy, the small leave and dark green Irish Hedera.
He heard the faint sound of the sea and was about to head off toward the cliffs. Dark clouds swept over and more snow began to fall. Calvani decided against the walk.
“So much for Greaves’s weather forecast,” he muttered. Thinking it would soon pass, he pushed at the rickety doors of the stable, got them to move and went in to find a moments shelter.
The iron hay holders, far up the wall at the height of a horse’s head, looked forlornly empty. The center section of the stables was wide, sufficient to house the carriage. All along the side were the horse’s boxes, separated with wooden slates, angled down to be highest at the back and lowest in the front. Each had a barn type door so that the top could be opened to feed the horse whilst keeping the lower half shut and locked.
Calvani noticed the light shone in, indicating the flurry of snow had passed and the sun was beginning to beak through. He turned to leave. A noise held his attention. Creeping along the horse boxes he got to the last one. The door, both halves, were shut. He began to carefully open it. Suddenly a figure, he thought a young, tall man, rushed out and pushed passed him.
“Hey. Stop,” Calvani shouted after him. He would have given chase. Another, more fragile figure in the horse box kept him in the stables.
“Alice! What are you doing here?”The maid did not meet his eyes. He perceived she was flushed and saw how Alice seemed to straighten her dress. “Who was that man?”“I’m not sure,” she began, no conviction in her voice.“What has been…” The Doctor paused. He suddenly realized that the young man was probably the lover, or at least the boyfriend of the maid, and they had been seeking to be alone in the stables.
He did not speak, unsure of his feeling. The Doctor could no distinguish whether he felt annoyed as her employer and master or angry that HIS Alice might have affections for someone else. Worse was the thought that Sophie, no she was Alice, may not be so innocent as he had suspected the other evening.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “You must tell me what this is about?”“Please, Doctor. We weren’t doing anything wrong.” “That’s not rue, Alice. Look at these marks on your best dress.” He pulled her sideways, pointing out the brown stains. She peered down, her face anxious, even paler than usual.“All we did, Doctor, was sit and talk. Jack is…a friend.”“Don’t lie to me, Alice. Jack is more than a friend. Where does he work?”
She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “He’s a blacksmith’s lad, over at Overton Farm.” Alice pointed as if he would know the district.
Calvani let Alice compose herself. Something about her vulnerability excited him. He inwardly knew his attitude was unreasonable. It may well have been Alice’s day off. He had no idea about servant’s arrangements and conditions of service. But the devil in his heart saw the opportunity.
“How many dresses do you have, Alice?”The question seemed to surprise her. Alice’s expression showed her defenseless naivety.“Two, Doctor.”“The black dress you wore the other evening?”“Yes, Doctor.”“And this white one?”She nodded.
It was more a faded cream than pure white.
“Both given to you for your time as my maid?”Alice managed a timid nod.“Yet this one is ruined.““I don’t think…” she decided not to argue with her master. Finding a position for a young woman in the district was difficult. There were laboring jobs in the farms but to work in a good house for a rich master was rare.
“You’ll have to take it off, Alice. Then we can see what damage has been done.”
Her head moved like a pecking pretty bird. Upward to stare at him in astonishment, then down in shyness, and finally slowly up gain to meet his persistent look.
Calvani determined not to speak and, perhaps start a discussion on his order. Resolutely he waited.
Alice took three more gulps of breath and a few head motions, before slowly starting to reach her arm behind her back and undo the button of her dress. When she had completed this task, she could not meet his eyes.
Ever so gradually Alice let the dress fall, until it slipped to her waist. It needed her to wriggle it over hips and then let it slide to the ground.
Calvani tried to hide his emotions. He drank in the scene, the shy Alice, standing in the old stables, dress around her ankles, almost covering her outdoor lace up boots, arms half-folded about the white cotton shift that went down to her knees.
“Let me see, Alice?”Demurely she bent her knees to lean down and pick up the faded white dress. Handing it to her master, she surreptitiously watch as he inspected the stain.
Calvani shock his head and half-turned to put the dress on the lowest end of wooden partition in the horse book. Then he turned back to admire Alice.
Neither of them spoke. Calvani took steps closer to the maid. She looked down at her feet. His hands reached out, touching the white shift, first at her waist, then up to her shoulders.
He knew what he wanted to do, must do, now he had come so far.
Inch by inch he pulled the shift up, the hem drifting up from her knees, to her thighs, magically, for him over her loins, then, up more, revealing Alice’s breasts.
The shift came off. He dropped it on the dirty stable floor. Calvani took hold of Alice, touched her cheek, cupped her face, and kissed her lips. The first caress was soft and gentle, the second, hard and long, his hands exploring her body. She did not oppose his hands on her breasts. When his fingers felt for her loins, her body trembled, a pathetic attempt to defy his desire.
He remembered Sophie. How she had tried to deny him her body. He must take Alice in the same way. It was to be his pleasure. Her satisfaction would have to be taught.
Fondling her body, his mouth sought her neck, then breasts and finally sucked the maid’s nipples. Her protests were weak gasps, eyes rapidly opening and closing, afraid to look, too frail of body and mind to resist.
“You must be mine, Alice. Only mine.”
He forced her across into the corner of the horse box, pushing her down on the hay where a while ago she had sat with her boyfriend, Jack.
“It will be easier for you like this, Alice.” Doctor Calvani turned her onto her front, kneeling behind her.
“I’m sorry…she sobbed.He was too erotically aroused to know for what she pitifully apologized. There was but a single thought in his head. To possess the maid as he had sexually dominated the other ones. Calvani unbuttoned his pant and took his stiff cock out. Alice attempted to look back. The Doctor pushed her head forward.
“Do not scream, Alice. We can do this gently…or I might have to force you.” His conscience did not stop Calvani, knowing he was already coercing the maid into the sexual act.
Hands between her thighs, prizing his way into her loins, the Doctor pressed down on her.
“Please, sir…I don’t…” Alice suppressed the shriek that was almost certainly in her throat. Groaning and panting hard, she submitted to his desire. The Doctor let his erect penis dwell on the lips of her clitoris for a moment, felt the soft folds of her sex, and penetrated Alice.
“So gorgeous,” he mumbled, his hips pumping solidly, body against her naked rear, cock deep inside of her. Alice never uttered a word, just kept on making whimpering sounds.
Calvani grunted and brought her up so she half knelt at his pleasure.
“So tight, so adorable,” he puffed and panted.
Quickly he thrust, frantically devouring the maid‘s body. Suddenly he held still, slipped his cock out of Alice, and ejaculated over her round, naked ass.
Doctor Calvani, went on fondling her breasts, still behind her, arms around the silent maid. Finally he got up, pulled Alice to her fit and patted her cheek.
“Get dressed, Alice.”
He watched her put the shift and faded white dress on. Taking hold of her around the waist, he whispered, “You are mine, now Alice. Come and read for me tomorrow night.”
Calvani would see more of the maid in a later adventure
ENDCopyright Emy Naso
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