Lilac Hunt

You have been very kind in commenting and voting (please don't stop!) for the first five chapters of Pamela's adventures. Those who have posted one or more as a favourite and others who have chosen to follow these episodes are so very much appreciated.

As those who have followed the whole story so far, they will have noticed my faux pas with Chapter Five in thinking it was Tuesday. Yes, I was letting time fly -- the fun with the Headmistress disciplining Pamela as the naughty schoolgirl was, of course, Monday.

But no matter -- this is Tuesday, Chapter Six.

We both look forward to your thoughts.

Frank

****

You know how it works. You've been fast asleep for hours and suddenly, you start to dream. You don't know it at the time but it's probably because you need to get up to close an open window or go to the bathroom. You seem to be able to fight it, at least for a while, but eventually your consciousness starts to take over and you know there's no getting away from it and you have to waken up and do something about it. Well, that happened to me around something o'clock this morning when it was still pitch dark. But it wasn't a window or the bathroom that was calling me. It was Pamela.

As I now know, she was lying on her side next to me as I lay on my back, with her head on my pillow with her mouth within kissing distance from my ear. My dream, as I recall it, was of Pamela slowly wanking my cock as she whispered things to me that I don't recall. As I slowly began to emerge from a deep sleep, I began to pick up words and then phrases that started to mean something but not enough to make me react with understanding. It seemed to go on for ever but eventually I started to hear what she was saying.

"You're so hard, baby ... Does that feel good? ... Tell me what you're dreaming about ... Are you dreaming about tomorrow tonight, baby? ... Are you dreaming about Yuma and Maya being here? ... Tell me, baby ... Who is playing with your cock? ... Is it Yuma? ... Is Yuma playing with your cock? ... Or maybe it's Maya? ... Can you feel which one of them squeezing it harder? ... You love the thought of Asian pussy, don't you, baby? ... Which one of them will you have sucking your cock tomorrow, baby? ... Will it be Yuma or Maya? ... Or will it be both of them together? ... Just imagine Yuma and Maya taking turns to suck your cock ... And just think, baby, when they change over they'll kiss to share the taste ... You'd like to see that, wouldn't you, baby? ... Two sisters ... Kissing ... How long do you think you'll last, baby? ... I wonder which of them will make you cum in her mouth ... Who will it be, baby? ... Yuma? ... Maya? ... Tell me, baby ... Baby? ..."

I was awake, hard as iron, and shuddering. I opened my eyes and suddenly everything became real despite the darkness. I reached down and placed a hand on hers to stop her wanking me as I was so close to cumming. It worked but she kept hold of my shaft and reached forward to kiss my ear.

"Who is it to be, baby?" she asked in a whisper. I closed my eyes again now I was in the land of the living and pulled back my hand as I felt just a little more in control.

I couldn't speak, picturing the two identical perfectly sculpted Japanese sisters in their waitress uniforms with the tight skirt that showed off her arses and legs. Pamela moaned quietly.

"Maybe I can help you, baby?" she whispered.

She lifted up the duvet and twisted around so I could feel her hair trailing down my body. I held my breath for some moments in sheer anticipation of what I thought she was going to do. But she didn't take my cock into her mouth at first. She just took hold of it in her hand and rested her head on me. I ran a hand down in the darkness and placed it on her hair. She had her mouth directly next to the tip of my cock.

"This is Maya," she whispered, taking my bell-end between her lips and sucking it gently, running her tongue all around it, round and round, her touch light, almost non-existent, the effect indescribable. I groaned loudly, throwing my hands and arms to either side of my body, my head pushed back into the pillow.

"Was that good?" she breathed. "Let's see what Yuma can do, shall we?"

With that she took my cock all the way into her mouth, making it gag her before pulling back almost to let it slip out but then it went back in, forcing my bell-end deeper into her throat, gagging ever louder. It almost pushed me over the edge but she withdrew just in time and moved up to rest her head on my pillow once again, her hand slowly massaging my saliva-coated shaft once more.

"Yuma and Maya are both on their hands and knees, baby," she whispered. "Can you see them in your mind's eye? Can you see how their hair is tied in pigtails? Can you see they're only in their tight black skirts and their matching hold-up stockings and stilettos? Can you see how their so-suckable tits are hanging? Can you see how their nipples are erect, baby?"

I moaned again, the imagery driving me crazy.

"Do you know what they're going to do, baby? ... You're lying like this, on your back with your head on your pillow ... You see then coming towards you, each straddling your spread legs ... Yuma on the left as you look and Maya on the right ... Your cock is rock hard ... They lower their heads and kiss both sides of your shaft ... You've never had two girls kissing your cock before ... Now they lick the sides, long and slow ... Oh, they're kissing now to share the taste ... "

This time I groaned.

"I know, baby ... Yuma is now looking at you as she opens her mouth wide ... You know what she's going to do ... Oh yes, all the way into her throat ... She's a dirty girl isn't she? ... Now it's Maya's turn ... She pushed out her tongue and starts to lick your tip ... Slowly, deliberately, driving you crazy ... She lifts her head and they kiss again ... It turns you on so much to see them kiss, doesn't it, baby? ... Yes, two sisters sharing your cock and kissing ... It doesn't get much better than that, does it, baby? ... Just imagine it, baby ... Just ..."

"Oh fuck!" I cried out and started to cum, spurting jet after jet of hot, salty sperm all over me, Pamela's hand slowly getting covered as she continued to gently stroke my still-hard cock. She giggled and kissed my ear.

"Enjoy that, baby?" she purred, using a tissue to wipe both of us clean. "I think you did."

"Fuck yeah!" I groaned. She giggled again.

"Now, go back to sleep," she whispered, rolling over. Shattered, I glanced at the clock. It was three o'clock. I breathed out and closed my eyes and somehow fell asleep.

Three hours later, bleary-eyed and still shattered, it was time to get ready for work. It was alright for Pamela, she had a day off for some unknown reason. With a deep sigh, I trudged off to my bathroom and turned on the shower, somehow hesitant about getting in before the water warmed up as I usually did.

"Get in, you bastard!" I admonished, stepping forward. The shock never failed to break me out of my martyrdom.

Fifteen minutes later, feeling more or less alive again and dressed in my dressing gown, I sat in the kitchen with my first cup of tea of the day, checking my office emails on my iPad just to see if anyone was after my throat. I skimmed down the senders' names in the inbox without seeing anyone's name who might be before noticing in horror that one of them was from Sheila Harrison. I closed my eyes as a mixture of excitement and alarm hit me.

Could it have been pre-ordained that my business partner, Boz, would chance to chat up an old ex of mine into having dinner and that one thing led to another and she found out who it was that worked with him? But even more than that, how come it happened just after Pamela had asked me about my previous liaisons, the discussion that set us both off on our new adventure of pussy hunting? And how had she found my office email address? I groaned, clicking on the message, fearing the worst.

"Hi Frank, long time no see!" I read. "You may have heard from Boz that he and I had dinner the other night? Well, I was amazed when your name cropped up and I thought I couldn't leave it without at least saying hello. Please don't blame Boz for my knowing your email address as he had already given me one of his business cards and it was obvious from his email what yours must be. Anyway, I mustn't keep you from your work so, just to say I hope you are well and maybe we might bump into each other sometime and catch up as I gather you live in the next village from Suckerton where I have a little house next door but one from the pub. Oh yes, and Boz said you had a lovely lady - it would be lovely to meet her too. Look after yourself. Sheila xx"

I read the message again and smiled. It had been fun with Sheila but I think we both knew it wouldn't work out, even from the early days. We had been too different in too many ways. Yes, the sex had been amazing but there has to be more than that, and there wasn't. It wasn't long before I found myself standing in bars with the guys, eyeing up the skirts, as if I didn't have someone at home. An image of her grew up in my mind's eye. She was undoubtedly attractive. That wild shoulder-length light brown wavy hair wrapped around her beautiful face with those striking blue eyes was unforgettable. As was her slim, curvaceous body with lovely legs. Oh yes, she had a gorgeous arse too. I smiled to myself. If only we had had more in common but we didn't, so that was the beginning of the end.

I hit the reply button before hesitating a moment. What would I say? I mean, yes, I would like to catch up, and the pub in Suckerton, the 'Cock in Cider', was pretty decent and I had heard they had New Bollock Twanger ale on hand-pump too, but what about Pamela? I cancelled the reply and hit the forward button to Pamela's address.

"Baby," I typed, "I just received this from an old flame and thought you might be interested. Frank xxx"

Hitting send, I smiled, wondering what she would make of it but that would be for later as she had been fast asleep. I was wrong. Less than a minute later I heard footsteps coming down the main staircase followed by the pad, pad, pad of her slippers on the stone steps leading down to the kitchen from the hall. She appeared at the doorway, carrying her phone, with excitement in her eyes.

"Morning, baby, it's not yet seven o'clock," I greeted after a glance at the clock. "What's got you out of bed at this time of day?"

"You know damn well what did," she retorted, sweeping her loose hair from out of her eyes. "Or rather who did."

"Would you like some tea?" I asked, innocently.

"Have you replied to her?" she asked, ignoring me.

"Of course not," I replied. "Not without speaking to you."

"Did you know about her and Boz?" she pressed, coming over to hoist herself on the stool opposite me at the breakfast bar. "You must have."

"Not until yesterday afternoon," I confessed. "I knew he was seeing someone, a divorcee he said, but I had no idea it was anyone I knew, let alone someone I used to share a flat with. He just said my company name dropped up in conversation over dinner and she put two and two together that his business partner was me. He's not seeing her again, I gather, or at least he doesn't think so."

Pamela took a breath.

"Tea?" I repeated. This time she nodded so I slipped off the stool and went over to fix her a cup and refresh mine.

"And toast?" she suggested. I laughed, reaching for the bread-bin.

I brought over her tea and placed it in front of her. She was re-reading the message.

"Isn't the row of houses next to the pub in Suckerton those that look like they are out of the village Miss Marple lives in?" she mused. "Little white cottages with flowers in the front gardens with hanging baskets on either side of the doors."

"I'll take your word for it," I observed, taking the butter from the fridge. "Jam?"

"Yes, please," she replied, not looking up. "Raspberry."

"I shan't be a second," she announced suddenly, slipping off the stool and headed out of the room.

I waited for the toaster to do its stuff then buttered it and was spreading her favourite jam on top when she came back in the room carrying a sheet of paper I didn't recognise at first. She climbed back up.

"Now," she began, a little breathlessly, unfolding the sheet. "Let's see what you said about her."

I groaned, suddenly understanding what it was she had gone to fetch. It was my summary of my old flames, stupidly retained as a bookmark in one of the girlie magazines in my 'secret' stash kept in the bottom of my wardrobe where anyone, particularly Pamela, would be bound to find it.

"Sheila Harrison," she read out. "Good kisser. 32C, big nipples, pierced, usually ringed, as with her clit ... baby, she's into fetishes! ... tight, likes being on top and having her rings pulled ... we can accommodate that ... enjoys being spanked and having her tits slapped ... that too ... not keen on anal ... she just needs to relax ..."

"That's enough!" I cried, embarrassed to the bone, climbing back onto my stool and placing the toast in front of both of us. "I wish I had never, ever, let you find that!"

"But you did, baby, didn't you?" she retorted. "OK, I'll not read it out ..."

I took up a piece of toast and sat cringing as Pamela took in my unauthorised disclosures in silence but not without expression. I shook my head and closed my eyes. After a few more seconds, she slowly folded the sheet and placed it to one side, taking up a slice of toast and munched it, her smiling eyes fixed on mine. I said nothing.

"Why don't you go back to Sheila and suggest we meet up for a drink one day next week, say," she suggested. "We could drop the car off at home after work and walk, it's only half an hour. We could treat her to dinner there too if you like, for old times' sake. What do you think?"

"What have you got in mind for afterwards?" I asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"We walk back," she replied, fully aware of my unsaid insinuation.

"That all?" I pressed, prompting a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yes," she replied, taking a sip of her tea. "Why? Have you?"

I laughed.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," I said. "You're incorrigible!"

"That's why you love me," she retorted. "Go on, reply to the lady with the tits and clit rings."

With a laugh, I did as she suggested, no, as she directed, just being sociable and hit send, closing up my iPad to finish my toast before collecting my things. I was still cross with myself for leaving my sexual crib notes but didn't want to take it out on Pamela as, in any case, had I found her thoughts on her old flames, I would have been just as bad. She came to the front door to see me off.

"Now drive carefully," she said, her arms around my neck. "Try to get home early if you can."

"Will do," I said with intent. "Right, must go."

I stepped out of the front door and went around the side of the house where I had left my car and threw my bags in the back. The tyres crunching on the gravel, as I crawled around to the driveway to see Pamela waving from the front step. I waved back and set off.

Half an hour later I was in the office, and alone. With Boz being out, I fixed myself some tea and settled back at my desk to check the previous day's cricket scores and the headline news but there wasn't too much excitement. Recalling the events of earlier that morning with Yuma and Maya, I fell to thinking about the discussions Pamela and I had had about recruiting a housemistress to run Harlot Hall and a lady's maid to try to run Pamela. Suddenly, an idea hit me as I took a sip of hot tea.

"There must be a website for recruiting service staff," I mused to myself, my fingers poised to type into a search engine. "OK, let's try experienced lady's maid, age thirty to forty, good education, unattached, live-in."

I hit send and waited but the results were disappointing. They were service recruitment sites, certainly, but not exactly what I was looking for. I pondered a moment or two then added 'dominant' to the list of attributes and tried again.

"Yes!" I said to myself as the 'Maid to Measure' website came up on top, somewhat amused by the title. I clicked on the link and its homepage appeared.

"For the mistress of the house," I read with a smile. "We have exactly the right maid for you to satisfy all your servicing needs!"

I glanced down the page. To register was free but, naturally there was a recruitment finder's fee. I was tempted to register but thought I had better let Pamela do it - after all, she would be the mistress. With a smile to myself, I picked up my phone and called her.

"Morning, baby," greeted Pamela as she answered. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, no, nothing like that, I just had an idea," I replied. "About your recruitment."

"What?" she replied. "You mean my lady's maid?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "Have you your iPad with you?"

"Yeah," she replied. "On my knee."

"Just plug 'Maid to Measure' in, maid spelled with an 'I'," I urged, feeling strangely turned-on. "Go on, try it."

I waited a few moments.

"For the mistress of the house," she read out loud, repeating what I had read. "We have exactly the right maid for you to satisfy all your servicing needs!"

"Yes," I acknowledged. "I thought you might want to register. It says it's free. Right, I'd better get on with some work. Maybe you'll call later but, either way, enjoy your day off."

"I will," she cried. "Baby, this looks like fun."

I killed the call and returned to my inbox to find a response from Sheila Harrison.

"Hi Frank," I read. "That sounds great. Next Wednesday would be good for me. I'll book a table for the three of us in the bar for 7pm and see you both there. Sheila xx"

I replied to confirm and then got on with dealing with the rest of my emails which took up a couple of hours. Just as I was finishing, my phone rang.

"Can you talk?" asked Pamela, sounding a little breathless which I deduced I understood.

"Yes I can," I replied. "I assume you have registered with the Maid to Measure site."

"How about this for an advertisement?" she asked. "Busy working couple seek attractive bisexual dominatrix as lady's maid, preferably aged between 30 and 45, to support the lady of the house in a picturesque English village in Clitshire. Must have experience in training subservient maids to high standards through strict discipline. Preference will be given to those with experience of living in the U.K., having good English. A competitive benefits package including live-in accommodation and all required dress requirements will be available. Please apply outlining suitability for the role, attaching an up-to-date curriculum vitae and, if agreeable, a contemporary photograph. An on-site interview will follow for successful applicants in the very short-term."

"That sounds great," I commended. "Professional and succinct. I like the 'very short-term': no point in leaving it for long. Well done."

"I'll send it off," she said. "Maybe we'll have had a response by the time you get back?"

Half an hour later I was making more tea when Boz returned.

"Guess what?" I challenged. "Tea?"

"Go on, I give up," he urged, interested. "Yes please, and a Hobnob."

"Pamela and I are meeting up with Sheila next Wednesday for dinner at the pub where she lives," I revealed before adding an afterthought. "I wondered whether you might ..."

Boz laughed as I handed him his cup and a chocolate biscuit.

"No, I don't think so," he cautioned. "It was a pleasant interlude, but it's over. Besides, after work tonight I'm meeting up with a rather nice little ..."

"Already!" I cried. "You don't let the grass grow under your feet, do you?"

He laughed as he made his way out of my office, closing the door behind him, and I settled down to do some more work. By lunchtime, I had sorted what needed to be sorted so popped out of the office for a sandwich and my Daily Telegraph. When I got back, there was an email from Boz to say that he too had gone off to see more clients and wouldn't be back in the office until the following morning.