The Son - Day Two
Mark walked into her room and her heart started pounding. She wondered what calamity this new day would bring.
'Good morning, Mrs. Marshal,' he teased.
The reminder that she was a mature woman, a mother, and a widow, heavily hit her. It was difficult to shake off a feeling of guilt, which clenched her stomach. Lying awake in bed her thoughts were dominated by yesterday's sessions with Mark. Enjoying sex with a neighbours son was appalling.
Now the source of that illicit pleasure was boldly standing over her, filling her with the sense of being a bad girl.
'Come on, get up, maid,' he said.
In trepidation she wriggled out from under the sheets, trying to delay the moment of exposing her naked body. He looked her over with a leer on his face. Nothing more could be expected from a self-centred teenager. Knowing he was going to spend the day crushing the last of her self esteem, was a horrendous thought.
She watched him pull another corset from the closet. It was a red bustier, designed to be wrapped around the waist. She turned around to let him tightly lace it. She tried to draw a breath to tell him it was too tight, but couldn't find a breath to speak.
'I'll ease it off a little,' he said.
She was pleased he was at last thinking of her welfare. He had the right to treat her with contempt after she flagrantly gave herself to him. Instead, he was pleased with her. She hoped it was her, and not just the prospect of sex.
'I've had breakfast. Make yourself something, then clean the house, maid,' he said.
The light teasing voice was a welcome contrast to the previous condescending tones. It seemed she had won him around. So what was she to do with this hard earned success? If she dare leave, Margaret would take pleasure in spreading vicious gossip about her, throughout the neighbourhood. She hung her head in shame, for the gossip would be the truth.
'Yes, sir,' she demurely spoke.
Watching him leave the room left her feeling lonely. She held his strong muscular frame in mind for a moment or two, imagining his arms wrapping her protectively. When the enchantment faded, she pulled on the cheap overall and made her way downstairs. Of course he didn't give her underwear, but it didn't matter, for she had become used to it.
Jane walked through the house looking for something to do, to keep busy and keep her mind off things. The kitchen cupboards were organised, and the living room was in order. She tidied and cleaned the bedrooms while they weren't around. Not that Margaret or her son would notice if they were left untouched.
Mark was in the study. It was difficult to keep away from him any longer, as it was break time. It occurred to her that she had become well trained, keeping to a time table of cleaning and meal times. Knowing she had been trained as a household maid was worrying. It left her feeling vulnerable, wondering what else she might be cajoled into doing, or had already absorbed.
Outside the door she hesitated, not knowing how to approach him. Quietly walking in, she placed a cup of coffee on the desk, and stood back, trying to be unobtrusive. All those dreadful things she had said to him, while he took her on this very floor, flashed through her mind. Why those nasty words had escaped her mouth, or even came to mind, was difficult to come to terms with.
'Hello beautiful maid,' Mark smiled at her.
Jane bowed her head feeling embarrassed.
'You're wearing that dreadful thing again, why?' he asked.
'I'm a maid,' she offered as an explanation.
It was more than that. She wanted to look like a maid, and nothing more. How could she stay there under these despicable conditions while pretending to be a normal, responsible person. It was easier to shrink into the role of a maid, negate all accountability, and shirk adult responsibilities.
'You're my maid, so you wear what I say,' he firmly stated.
She wondered if he was going to spank her again for disobedience. The thought brought with it a sexual thrill. Excitement flowed through her body, and with it a small gasp of surprise escaped between her lips. She looked at him, and licked her lips. It reminded her she had applied make-up. The excuse had been that it was to cheer herself up, though now it seemed it was for him.
'Yes, sir,' she murmured.
'Don't forget, you are here to obey me, maid,' he heavily stated.
A demure smile crossed her face that she couldn't control.
'Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir,' she readily agreed.
The phrase was trotted out without thinking, though surprisingly, it was meant. She wanted to serve him! She tightly pressed her lips together, not wanting to reveal how deferential she had become.
'Take it off,' he demanded.
Reluctantly she pulled the front open to reveal the bustier. Apart from the soft flat shoes, a waist snugly covered, nothing else was hidden from him. To be naked before him was strangely natural. He admired her body, leaving her feeling wanted.
He patted his lap, and said, 'Here.'
Like a lap dog, she eagerly jumped onto his knees, or rather, lowered herself. He wrapped his powerful arms about her, hugging her close.
'I enjoyed making love, did you?' he asked.
Unable to look him in the eye, it was only just possible to acknowledge the fact. 'Yes,' she whispered.
'Is that all you have to say?' he teased.
'I'm sorry. . .' she tried, and faltered, unable to say more.
'Sorry that we made love?' he asked, sounding annoyed, yet revealing amusement.
'I'm sorry for the nasty things I said,' Jane regretfully admitted.
'Forget that, you were in the throes of an orgasm. Lots of people say things,' Mark said, as though he were a man of the world.
Either his friends had mentioned it, or he read it somewhere. It was certainly a surprise when this puritan woman shouted out such foul language, and with so much feeling too.
'I've never been so bad before, only with you,' she said.
'Not with your husband?' he asked, sounding curious.
She buried her head in his shoulder when he referred to Philip. It felt disloyal to mention his name while sitting on this young guy's lap, let alone talk about something so private.
'Well? Answer me obediently and truthfully, or you'll be spanked,' he stated, though didn't mean it.
'Never. I've never had multiple orgasms either,' she mistakenly said.
The cat was out of the bag and he was reacting to her unbidden admission. He didn't say anything, it was the way he gripped her. She fidgeted, unable to escape the tight embrace, while waiting for a reaction.
'Really! Why?' he asked, with a voice full of curiosity.
'I don't know. Something's happened to me,' she heavily sighed.
'That's easy to see. You're very different now,' he stated.
'How so?' she said.
She latched onto the comment, from a need to understand what was happening to her. She held her breath waiting for an answer.
'You're different. Not just sexy. I mean, you're naked, sitting on my lap. No, it's more than that. You were, how can I put it?' he pondered.
She sat waiting for more, needing to understand, hoping he had a clue.
'You wouldn't have put up with any of this maid stuff. You were sensible and responsible,' he said.
'You mean boring, and staid,' she offered.
'I thought you were strict, and determined to have your own way,' he said.
'Sometimes, maybe. I can't carry it through if someone strong stands up to me. Never could,' she confessed.
'So it's all bluff. My mother is very determined to get her own way, and will see things through to the end,' he stated.
Jane would have to agree, especially from experience over the last few days. He interrupted her thoughts by kissing a nipple, which turned to a hearty suck. She should tell him to stop, though the will to resist had long gone.
'How do you feel now?' he asked.
When she didn't answer he kissed her lips. 'Stop that,' he told her, and playfully slapped a leg. 'Stop squeezing your thighs together, naughty girl,' he grinned.
'Sorry, sir,' she routinely said.
It was highly embarrassing, having him find she was reacting to his kisses by rubbing her thighs together.
'How do you feel right now?' he persisted.
'Helpless, you're squeezing me tight,' she quickly answered.
'You're not answering the question,' he teased, and bit on a nipple.
'Fired up!' she admitted.
'Sexy?' he enquired mischievously.
'Yes! Very sexy,' she sighed.
'You really are a slut, aren't you,' he told her.
'Yes, I'm a sexy slut,' she whispered, as though trying on the phrase for size.
'You're my bitch, say it,' he demanded, and bit on a nipple again.
He slid a hand between her legs, to find her wet and ready. Hearing her moan was satisfying.
'I'm your sexy bitch, your bitch in heat,' she groaned.
Feeling his fingers teasing her, crushed all pretences. She really was his to do with as he wanted. She kissed his face, smothering it with her lips. She found his mouth and sucked his tongue into hers. The way her head moved back and forth, it was as though she were fucking herself on his tongue.
Her head swayed giddy from the strength of emotion coursing through her mind. She hardly noticed him lay her on the floor. He stroked her body, telling her how wonderfully beautiful she was.
'I don't deserve you, I'm not worthy of you,' she spoke, with heartfelt emotion.
Castigating herself from guilt, was also meant to get him to say he needed her. She hardly heard his words, from being too wrapped up in her own shroud of shame.
'You want me,' he loudly repeated.
'I'm too old. I'm just an old slut, too old for you,' she objected.
Feeling fingers explore between her legs concentrated a different emotion, distracting her away from self-pity.
