Ezmarelda" Part 2: Ezmarelda's Delicious Purple Ass
"Who does he think he is? I had done nothing wrong. So, Why did he spank me?"
In the privacy of her quarters, Ezmarelda rubbed her stinging behind though her nightgown as she pondered her master's strange behavior. She had tears in her eyes that she would never show him.
"...And why was he acting so strangely? Sir seemed to be thinking about something else. He was like a child on Christmas Eve."
"...And ordering me to bed without "relieving myself"--who does he think he is?"
She thought about that day at the beginning of summer when he had hired her from her once a week cleaning duties to full time housemaid. She still became aroused when she thought about that spanking in the laundry that sealed their arrangement. It was like a contract. He still could not resist the temptation to spank her at any infraction of his rules. Ezmarelda enjoyed his stern treatment of her. She always became wet when she stood before him listening to him lecturing her in that rumbling voice, knowing she would soon be bent in submission over his desk or the table or his lap.
"But tonight he spanked me too hard and for nothing. And then he leaves me wet and hungry for his cock. If he thinks I'll be his slave tomorrow morning, "bright and early" in his fucking Vineyard then he is in for a surprise—an Ezmarelda surprise."
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Though it was early fall and time for wine making, the air was still quite warm at nine O'clock. Leonard decided to use an age-old method for the first pressing of the grapes. The grapes had already been dumped into the wooden vat the afternoon before. This was a family tradition, a weekend of wine making and dinners to produce an abundance of wine for himself and his brothers. Leonard had arranged for them to come later in the afternoon with their wives, when it would be cooler to press the grapes into a rough mash with the wine press. But this morning he would have Ezmarelda all to himself.
Ezmarelda, is nine O'clock bright and early to you? And I asked you to wear old clothing."
"Sorry, Mi'Lord, I just couldn't get up this morning after last night's... after last night."
She had worn a brightly colored full skirt and a white blouse that laced in the front. She had haphazardly laced it to reveal her full bust line.
"Very well then, Ezmarelda, Remove your sandals, rinse your feet in the bucket and step into the vat."
"But Sir, it is sooo many grapes. It will take forever for me to even make a dent in this mountain of grapes."
He wanted to see her in the tub. Leonard loved Ezmarelda's rich sumptuous body. Her raven black hair and her fiery eyes drove him to all ends of fantasy and distraction; he had dreamed of having her in this tub of mash all summer.
"There will be others this afternoon. I just want you to begin the pressing this morning." Now remove your sandals, rinse your feet in the bucket and get in the tank...Now. "
Stepping out of her sandals she wiggled the toes of her right foot in the cool water in the bucket. She withdrew her foot and perched it on the edge of the tank. Her foot sparkled with glistening beads and her silver toe ring looked like chromium against her dark complexion.
"Wouldn't Mi lord rather I place my feet in his lap like we have done before? You love it when I pay special attention to you with my pretty feet. I always see you admiring them whenever you can. That is why I wash the windows bare footed, Sir--to see the way you look at them when I am on the step stool.
"Ezmarelda, I will not ask you again..."
"But sir I will ruin my clothes."
"I told you to wear something loose and old."
"But I wanted to look pretty for Mi Lord," Ezmarelda said with a petulant pout.
"Don't worry about your clothing, Ezmarelda, you will be out of them soon enough."
"Sir, you are joking. Someone would see me." She toyed with him, knowing that through taunts and teasing she could control this man's lust.
"I will not be seen naked out here in this barrel of rotting fruit," she huffed.
"Ezmarelda, get into the vat. Now."
Ezmarelda lifted her skirts and tucked them into her waistband. Her perfection didn't stop at her toes. Leonard bathed her legs in the heat of his inflamed stare. Ezmarelda was strong and toned from hard work or at least from the hard work she had done before entering into Leonard's employ. Now she spent more time dreaming up teasing scenarios to temp and taunt her lord. She stepped over the rim of the vat. Her first few steps were tentative but the grapes felt so sensuous under her feet. The grapes crushing and tickling her between her toes as the mash squished this way and that.
"Sir, it feels so icky. My toes are going to be blue for a month."
Fall was the time to make wine. The vat was eight feet in diameter with three-foot high sides that slanted outward. It looked like a giant version of a washtub but it was made of wood. Steel bands bound the oak staves like a barrel. It was about one third full of grapes--plump succulent concord grapes. Their skins were crisp and the fruit full. They had thrived in the hot sun and were rich with nectar from a generous proportion of seasonal rain. Ezmarelda felt the lust in his eyes and it warmed her from within. She knew just how rapt his attention to her beauty could be. She feasted on this attention.
"Ezmarelda, try to stomp through the grapes with high steps. Yes! March, Ezmarelda; march through the grapes."
"Yes, Commandant." She laughed as she lifted her knees high and swooshed her skirt from side to side, marching through the heaps of grapes.
She flung her hair wildly and stepped down harder into the piled grapes. They sprayed up and out from beneath her feet. Big droplets were landing on her skirt and on her white blouse. Her bodice was partly unlaced and there was a glob of purple juice on the tanned upper swell of her breast. It oozed down into her ample cleavage. Leonard could not suppress his enthusiasm for her performance.
Yes, yes! Ezmarelda, march through the grape. Squash them with your pretty feet."
Just then she caught her leg on a clump of grape. Or at least it seemed that she had; she went down on one knee. The wine grape felt so luscious to her as it enveloped her to her thigh and the acid crispness even tingled between her legs. She froze in this position and looked back over her shoulder at her master.
"Sir Leonard, you will be so angry with me for falling?"
"Ahhh, Ezmarelda, now you have certainly ruined your clothes."
"Would Sir prefer that I remove them?"
"Yes, I would prefer that you removed your dress," he croaked out in response to her teasing question.
She was out of her loose skirt in a flash and flung it out over the edge of the tub. She stumbled again and her white panties and blouse became even more stained with the purple mash.
"Oh! Sir, I am so clumsy. Look at my blouse."
"Remove that too, Ezmarelda. In fact, why don't you take everything off?"
"If you wish, Sir." Ezmarelda took her time standing from the swampy slurry of grapes. She rose to her full height and stood proudly erect and smoked Leonard with her dark eyes. She unlaced her blouse slowly and peeled it from her shoulders. The purple was everywhere now. She slipped out of the white garment and wrung it out into the mash. Then she stood before him in only her panties. Once bleached white, her panties were now splotched with deep purple stains and the contrast against her olive flesh was vivid in the crisp morning sunlight. She stood defiantly facing Leonard in the center of the vat. Her proud nipples were as dark and engorged as two of the fruits in which she stood.
