"Yes, Sir." Sima stood, belly tight from the stimulation of her nipples and waited for more instruction. The icy/hot of the limes and then Lee's warm tongue had juices of an entirely different type oozing between her thighs. Lee noticed her squirm a bit. "Oh, and Sima, always stand at attention with fingers laced behind your back and your thighs spread wide enough that you can't stand there rubbing your pussy lips together."
Sima flushed, embarrassed to have been so obvious, aroused to be put so much on display, her pussy made so explicitly available. She widened her stance, linked her fingers loosely. Her shoulders swiveled back; her breasts thrust forward proud and firm, nipples still glistening from the moisture of his saliva.
"No, no, no! Not like some bowlegged cowgirl. Christ, you look like you've just been fucked by the whole bunk house. No Sima, not like the slut we already know you are. Try for some subtlety, slut! Merely the hint of an invitation. Enough to see daylight; to let the warm spice waft up, not the juice spill out. Not so wide that the maid could ever be accused of trying to seduce the Master of the House. No, never! Just wide enough though, that the flat of his hand can always slide unbidden between her cunt lips ... like this."
Sima moaned as Lee's rigid fingers slid deftly between her parting lips. He sawed back and forth slowly a few times, his fingers grown slippery, coated with her juices. Sima struggled to stay upright; to remain in place; in form; knees bent slightly, not locked, not sagging. She struggled most however to keep from throwing her thighs wide open, hoping he might force those slick fingers clear up her cunt.
"That's good, Sima. Like you don't dare to acknowledge the liberties being taken, because a good girl of virtue would of course then be compelled to quit her position at the Manse. She knows that could cause her descent into a truly mean condition. Better to be used occasionally by one clean, generous and not so demanding Master, than be forced to prostitute herself to base hordes in back alleys or in some filthy whorehouse."
Lee knew of course, that Sima would probably prefer the latter fate. He'd watched her nostrils flare while describing "that fate worse than death," saw the flush spread across her chest and the slight quivering in her thighs. He continued to oh-so-slowly slide fingers through her slit, starting high now, making the lightest of contact with her hooded clit, then cutting a deft semi-circle through the cleft, ending the run with fingertips grazing her anus. Lee continued talking, spinning his tale in the dim light of the living room. Sima stood beside him listening, worse than naked, tingling, barely breathing, eyes vacant.
"But the maid had misjudged her Master," Lee continued. "He had tastes less simple than she'd assumed. He took his pleasure of her liberally. And though she feigned always to be unaware of his liberties, as though the pretense could wash away the shame she felt at his use, He showed no hesitation whatsoever. He took her with complete confidence of her assent, with no slightest hint of shame or dissembling. The entire household knew; many even witnessed him having her, since he took her in every room of the house at one time or another and cared not who might witness him rodding her cunt with his ample prick. Nor could they fail to hear his moans of pleasure as his seed jetted into her young tight cunt. Nothing was ever said. But she knew that all the other house staff were aware she was his household slut, had watched more than once as she was rutted by the Master. To her shame, the maid found herself becoming eager for his constant liberties and she couldn't deny that she'd begun responding to her abuse with sounds of undeniable passion.
Then one day the Master bid that she bring with her a flask of his favored drink, with cup, and had her follow him to the stables. He sat in the heavy leather chair found there, so that squires could assist in putting on and pulling off his stiff riding boots. His hand found its way to his favored position, four fingers deep into her cunny. Despite the invasion, the maid complied when ordered by him to pour his drink. As she poured though, she heard a noise. She finished the pour and looked up to where her Master's eyes had traveled.
The Head Groomsman had entered with one of the younger squires, both walking almost silently on the rotted hay and dung littering the stable floor. She looked curiously back to her Master; saw him nod slightly at the two men and her womb grew tight. No! He wouldn't! They wouldn't! They couldn't do this!
But they did. The Master's hand shot up into her deeply, pinning her in place so that she danced on tip toe. She looked from down to his face and found nothing there but eager determination, deep lust and utter confidence. She dared not refuse her disgrace. She looked back at the groomsmen. The Head Groomsman was devastatingly handsome, thick chestnut hair graying at the temples, early 50's, deep chested from a life spent breaking, and training horses, mucking stalls and bruiting about enormous bundles of hay and fodder. It was also he, she thought, her womb lurching, who choreographed studding of the mares.
Just yesterday, she'd been helping the Laundress gather in the dry bedding from the clothes line before a freak rainstorm could ruin it. And she'd stood in awe, looking toward the corral, witnessing a stallion mounting a mare in her heat. The stallion had reared up, his massive organ stiff and swaying, spearing blindly to find the mare's cleft. The Groomsman had sidled up so as not to spook the animals and had deftly reached between them and guided the stallions monstrously thick and throbbing meat home. She watched spellbound as the stallion's flanks rippled and quivered, driving his hips in an unnatural but utterly primal angle, surging his massive balls clear to the mare's hindquarters, embedding his huge slug of flesh deep in her puss. The maid was flustered. "The power" she thought, as the stallion rested his chest on the mare's broad back, using his purchase to drive his massive hips again and again against the unresisting mare. "So much meat sliding in and out. So thick ... " His massive head was thrown back, eyes showing whites, teeth flashing as he drained his seed into the mare's heat.
After a time, she knew not how long, the stallion ceased the titanic thrusting of his obscenely large sex into the mare's cunt. As he dismounted, the maid watched transfixed at his thick organ seemed to slither endlessly from the mare's recesses. Though it took no more than part of a second for the stallion to withdraw, it seemed an endless spectacle of obscene carnality to the maid until finally, it fell free, its full girth exposed, swinging pendulous beneath his flanks, wet and glistening. A gout of thin milky fluid spewed from the mares cleft, reminding the maid unavoidably of the gobs of semen that so often oozed from between her own thighs after being rutted by the Master. She shivered at what she'd witnessed; felt an ache in her womb and a throbbing in her clit.
She tore away her gaze only to lock eyes with the Master Groomsman, whom she realized with a shock, had been watching her closely. His eyes raked her taut young body in its fitted uniform, a knowing grin etched on his face. Like he knew her soul, knew its carnal stain. For the maid knew she'd been unguarded and her soul's sin had shone itself clearly. Her lips were parted, her face flushed and her hands were gripping her skirt hard at the delta of her mons. She was wet from the rutting she'd witnessed and he knew it.
Sima moaned. Somewhere around the time the stallion had "plunged his monstrous throbbing prick" into the mare, Lee had speared her cunt with four of his fingers. But she was spellbound by his story. Hovering on the edge of a massive orgasm, she'd adjusted her body only slightly, dutifully trying to imitate the maid of the story by acquiescing to her violation without really acknowledging that a hand was now thrust up her cunt.
But Lee had stopped the tale and now Sima was on the verge of an intense release. She felt it welling in her belly, pulsing and rippling out of her core.
"Don't slut!" Lee's hand withdrew from her cunt in the blink of an eye. Sima stumbled. Unconsciously, she'd been bearing down on Lee's invading digits. Though her legs were barely flexed, all her energy had focused on the hardness penetrating her core, embracing its invasion; willing it to sink deeper into her cunt. When he withdrew she gasped and stumbled, feeling a terrible emptiness.
"That's a good girl, Sima, because I have other plans for you at the moment. We'll revisit the Maid and Master at another time, but now my sweet little slut-maid I have your first cleaning assignment. I want you to transfer all the stale urine and dried precum coating my dick into your mouth. I think we both know the little bit of extra filth won't make much difference in that mouth of yours, don't we? And by the way, the next time, when I send you into a bathroom, I'm going to make you lick up your mess afterward, so think of this as practice." Sima simply nodded, too overwhelmed with need to speak.
