Further Adventures of the Maid

The House at Rothsmere was in uproar. Victoria had vanished, taken by that rogue, Sir Thomas Brandon, the notorious slaver. Phillip was in dismay; he had lost his lover and his daughter, and knew that he should have been more wary of Thomas. He knew Thomas would be aroused at the thought of having both of Phillip's daughters, and knew that his trueborn daughter had been violated. Images of her spread beneath Thomas rose in his mind, and he couldn't rid himself of them.

Worse still, he found himself growing erect as he thought of his sweet daughter being taken by that rogue, her sex opening and ripening for him, her mouth welcoming him into the warm cavern of her throat. He imagined Thomas pumping her full of his seed, Victoria swallowing it down, luxuriating in the taste of it as her father had done. He could see his daughter lying there, her head thrown back in ecstasy, the muscular buttocks of her lover ramming his iron cock into her, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in Phillip's ears. He wondered if Thomas had explored further, pushing his fat cock deep into Victoria's secret passage, the pain and pleasure mingling for her as they had done for Phillip. Worst of all, he felt jealousy for Thomas, jealousy that he should have been the one to taste that forbidden fruit first.

His wife, as usual, blamed him, forgetting that she had been the one who had actively encouraged the liaison. Victoria was their only offspring, conceived in hatred, the baroness disgusted by her husband after only a few short months of marriage. He had always been driven by his cock, and had not, at the time, refined his techniques of seduction. The marital bed had been an unhappy one, and for the Baroness, the memories of sex were unwelcome. They had existed as a couple together only for appearances sake, both leading separate lives. But now, drawn together in worry, the unhappy couple waited for news.

Meanwhile, Mary had given birth. Her son was born soon after midsummer, a placid child, easily contented, fat and happy. Betsy adored him, pouring all her love into him, her face softening whenever she gazed on his. Mary had a relatively easy birth, and her strong young body had returned to slim beauty quickly. Only the fullness of her breasts showed that she had given birth, and now they pushed forward exuberantly, straining her bodice until she had had to make some adjustments with her needle. Jack was overjoyed; he loved his son unconditionally. Even looking at the baby with a critical eye, he could see only Mary in him, no hint of his father, and that was good enough for Jack.

Since the baby's birth, Mary had been unusually unsettled. To her dismay, she didn't produce enough milk for her son, and a wet nurse was found. Between them, the nurse and Betsy occupied her son's time, and Mary felt left out. She had been warned by the elderly neighbour of the dangers of allowing Jack back into her bed too soon after the birth, but Jack had not shown too much interest in her. He was occupied with his work, and, Mary suspected, with Betsy.

Betsy had become invaluable to them in the months she had been part of the family, and Mary thought that she could always rely on her. But she had seen signs over the last few weeks that Jack seemed to favour Betsy. She had thought Jack adored her, that he worshipped her, but sometimes she felt that he was overwhelmed by her. He was a man of simplicity, and couldn't fulfill some of her complex desires. Betsy, on the other hand, was uncomplicated, her needs simple. Mary knew that Betsy had come to love Jack-he enjoyed her easy company, her simple soul.

Jack, however, was not that simple: he knew Mary was unhappy. He knew that he didn't satisfy her, and to be truthful, Betsy, with her ready mouth and welcoming sex was more the woman for him. He decided that Mary should have a holiday to cheer her up, and began making plans to send her to London. Maybe the excitement of the great city was what she needed.

In London, Thomas and Victoria had taken a house in Regent's Park, a grand villa with airy rooms and wonderful views. The views didn't matter to Victoria; she was obsessed with Thomas, wanting him desperately, aching for his touch. His prediction had come true; as her first lover, she constantly yearned for him, needed him inside her, touching her. Thomas may have been her first, but under his tutelage, he was the first of many. Over time, Victoria learnt more of him, more of his desires and his needs and she worked hard to satisfy them.

He had found that her blood did indeed run hot, and she was willing to please him. She was as willing to learn as her father had been; nothing was taboo for her as she had known nothing else. He gradually introduced her to her sexual nature, and watched her, almost dispassionately, as she learnt to do those things that pleased him most. Chief amongst these was watching her with another lover. He knew that Mary had enjoyed performing, revelling in the exhibition of her own body, and he wanted to see if her half-sister shared the same perversion.

The first time took place in their villa, only a few short weeks after they had arrived in London. Thomas had invited a friend home for dinner, a man who had served as his first officer back in his slaving days.

Dinner had been served early, and the drinking began equally early. Victoria, getting used to the taste of wine, was in a pleasantly detached mood, the alcohol firing her blood as it usually did. She gazed with pleasure on her lover, his strong arms and muscular chest, her eyes dropping to his britches where she knew his equally strong root grew.

She leaned back in her chair, her mind drifting over their life since they had run away together, the things he had introduced her to. She had changed a lot, she knew, no longer the innocent girl, she now welcomed the feel of his cock in her, and learned to say the word out loud, knowing that it excited him to hear her speak lewd words during their lovemaking. He loved to hear her beg him, and he always demanded to know exactly where she wanted him to touch her, what she wanted him to do. He enjoyed watching her touch herself, seeing her fingers exploring her own sex. He would have her hold back the lips of her sex while he plunged his tongue deeply into it, or play with her pleasure bud while he rode her from behind, all the time demanding that she tell him how hard to thrust, how quickly to pound into her.

He had taught her how to take his cock in her mouth, how to relax her throat so that he could slip deeply into her, pouring his seed out in hot spurts. It was this last thought that made her sigh with desire-the weight of his cock in her mouth, the smell of him, sweat mixed with heavy maleness excited her, the feel of his balls against her face as he thrust into her, fucking (and oh, what a word that was!) her mouth. She could feel her juices begin to flow as her mind wandered; dreaming of what he would do to her when his guest had departed.

Suddenly, she felt his hand on her shoulder, startling her from her dreams. She smiled up at him, and saw the familiar look of lust clouding his features. She had forgotten their companion, and looked down in excitement as Thomas's hands slipped down into her low cut bodice, scooping her breasts out, pulling the dress down so that they sat high and proud, the nipples erect. She lay back in her chair; her head thrown back, and pressed his hands against her breasts, encouraging him to caress her. She preferred his touch to be rough, vigorous, getting more pleasure from having her nipples pulled almost viciously, rolled tightly between his fingers. His strong hands massaged the smooth globes, his fingers digging deeply, almost cruelly, and she growled deep in her throat.

She knew what came next, and stood up to turn and kneel on her chair, leaning over so that her breasts fell forward. Thomas raised her skirt above her waist, exposing her French lace pantaloons. The pink flesh was visible through the fine silk, and he pulled them down, ripping the delicate material, exposing her rounded buttocks.

He knelt behind her, kissing the plump cheeks, smoothing his hands around her flared hips to begin to caress her sex, fingering the soft lips covered by fine hair. She was wet, and he knew that she had been thinking about him, and that she was ready to be taken. Thomas motioned to his friend to take his place; Art had been watching intently, shocked and aroused that this fine lady was putting on such a lewd display for him. His sturdy cock was erect, and he had been massaging it through his trousers ever since she had first exposed her breasts. He readily stood up, and pulling his trousers down, he settled into place behind her.

Thomas continued to stroke her, noting that Victoria's eyes were closed, her mouth open in pleasure. Art took hold of her hips, and roughly pulled her back against him, impaling her soft flesh on his thick rod. He pushed into her hard, his length slipping into her, taking her by surprise. Her eyes opened, and she gasped when she saw her lover standing in front of her, and knew that another's cock was plundering her, raping into her with abandon. Thomas's cock was firm, so erect that it slapped up against his belly, and he steered it into her mouth, forcing her to take him. She had to hold on and steady herself against the back of the chair, and Thomas could feel her mouth being forced onto him under the pressure of Art's thrusts. Thomas held her head steady, and began riding her mouth. He pushed in deeper and deeper, fucking her, disregarding her comfort, taking her roughly in the way that he knew that she enjoyed.

Art was playing with her buttocks, pulling them apart to expose the dark cleft, and to watch himself ramming into his Captain's lady. She was so wet and tight, nothing like the women he had had before. He knew he wouldn't last long; he could feel his seed rising, his balls tightening and he erupted with a curse into her, pumping his jism deep inside. Victoria felt his seed drip down from her slit, coating her thighs, and revelled in the feel of it, knowing that this was pleasing her lover. His cock was rigid, slamming into her throat, almost choking her, and she knew that he was about to unload his come into her as well. She swallowed it down, almost without tasting the salt-sourness of it, so far down her throat he had been.

Her dress was ruined, coated in come, and she pulled it off, naked in front of the two men now slumped in exhaustion. She was desperate to reach a release herself, and as they watched, she played with her own breasts, running her hands down her body, feeling the seed still dripping from her and rubbing it into her sex and her belly. She sank a finger inside herself, wet and juicy, and then started to play with her pleasure nub, standing hard and taut. Sitting on the hard dining chair, her legs spread wide apart, the men watched as she rubbed frantically, sliding her finger hard over her flesh, stimulating it beyond endurance. She came, gasping, her hand still buried in her sex. Thomas, semi-erect still, smiled inwardly; he had trained her well.

Back in Marsden, preparations were underway for Mary's trip to London. She was to stay in a respectable boarding house for young ladies, and had plans to visit all of the grand monuments. Initially Jack had arranged to come with her, but he couldn't leave the stables, his business too new and busy. In addition, he wasn't keen to go to the big city, but he knew Mary was.

Mary was unsure as to whether she had wanted Jack there anyway; she had felt distanced from him recently. One night, not long ago, she had heard the baby crying and went to him. Betsy had beaten her to it, and Mary watched, her heart contracting in jealousy as the baby smiled up at the woman cradling him her arms. Worse still, she had seen Jack and Betsy together and the way they had looked at each other. They had had intimate moments together, the three of them, but Mary had been part of that, and most often she was the centre of attention, her body pleasured by both Jack and Betsy, both of them eager to taste her, touch her, in the way that pleased her most.

But late one evening, when Betsy had been seated cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, holding the baby, Jack had sat beside her. He had raised his hand and tenderly moved a lock of hair from her eyes. Mary, unnoticed, had watched from the kitchen door and noted the intimacy and tenderness of the action from which she was excluded. She knew that Jack loved her, and she loved him, but she knew that this wasn't enough for her any more.

The night before she left, they had lain in bed, their heads close together. Betsy had taken the baby to her room to give them some peace, and Mary knew in her heart that this was the last time that she and Jack would be together, the last time she would take pleasure in his young body. He was firm and strong, his arms and chest still developing with muscle. She ran her lips over his shoulders, nuzzling his neck, and then mounted him, her slim body lying along his. She could feel his cock rise beneath her; his reaction automatic in the face of her hot quim pressing against him. She began to rock, trapping his cock between his belly and hers, and her mouth lowered to kiss him, their tongues entwining, hers exploring his mouth deeply.

He lifted his hands to hold her, his fingers sliding up to play gently with her breasts. The full flesh cupped in his hands, he strained his neck to take her nipple in his mouth, rolling it gently over his tongue, feeling it bud out and tighten. Softly he stroked the gently curving undersurface of her breasts, knowing that she was sensitive there. His hands slid down to caress her hips, and she slid her thighs to either side of his, parting her sex lips. He could feel the wetness of her, the heat radiating from her flesh directly through to his cock. He wanted to bury himself in her, and she slipped a hand between their bodies and guided him to her velvet-lined entrance, settling into place, riding him slowly. She leaned back, resting her weight on her hands stretched out behind her, and he watched his cock slide slowly into her. Her sex-lips were parted like this, exposing her love-bud, and he reached forward to finger it for her as she moved her hips, raising herself on his thick shaft.

The pressure of her buttocks on his balls was exquisitely sensitive, and he could feel his seed rise quickly. She shifted position again, now leaning forward so that he could take her nipple in his mouth, and spread her thighs more widely so that his pubic bone rested against her pleasure bud. She rubbed herself against this, feeling the firm pressure radiate through her pelvis. Faster and faster she rubbed, riding his cock. Suddenly, he could bear it no longer; he needed to slam into her, to ram his hard cock deep into his lover, burying his rod to the hilt inside her needy sex.

He flipped her off him, rolling her onto her back, and held her legs apart. Holding onto her ankles high in the air, he thrust into her vigorously, slapping against her flesh in abandonment. She was overwhelmed by this, by Jack's sudden change from sensitive lover to wild animal, but knew he needed to unburden his load. Her pelvis rode to meet his, and together they moved in the rhythm of their sex.

At the point of release, he pulled his cock from her, and spurted jets of come over her, strings of white seed landing on her belly. Groaning, he collapsed against her, resting his head on her shoulder, as she cradled him in her arms. Cuddled together, his come drying on her belly and her sex, they slept.