Sensing her calm, I walked up behind her, softly bringing her hair round to one side. Flo's influence on me all those months ago transferred to that situation.
“Your tresses are quite unique,” I told her, stealing a perceptible whiff. The tip of my finger caught the silken skin of her nape and her shoulders tensed. Fine blonde hairs trailed from her hairline and followed her spine, and further probably, though I could not see below the top of the vest she wore.
“You do not have a special person in your life?” I asked.
“No,” she admitted. “I like the single life. I like to see people. Sometimes guys, sometimes girls, it depends. I haven't decided which I prefer, yet.”
This shocking revelation ‒ I had not foreseen. Not with all the years of screwing anything that walked could I have predicted this. However, my conquests had all been men after all. That she was a lesbian or bisexual was inconvenient to say the least. It was less taboo and less of a challenge this way. This would not do. My heart sank, it did, oh it really felt like it had dropped an inch in my chest. Men: I had a grip of; women I had not conquered. We are certainly more complex than men, for sure.
Is her intention to discombobulate?, I wondered.
I pondered for some moments, trying to decide whether she was playing me, secretly at my own game. I hoped she didn't know there was a perving man hanging back in that chamber. Maybe she could smell him! Maybe she did not care.
“How is it possible you do not know which you prefer?”
“I have never come across such a person yet who matches me,” she revealed, “for stamina, enthusiasm and technique.”
“Lucinda, whatever do you mean? You judge lovers by their, I don't know, sexual qualifications?”
“It's not quite that,” she revealed, momentarily considering, “I really just, I don't know, I obviously haven't met the right person yet.”
“I've had many lovers,” I revealed. “None of them female. I have never pursued one yet. I simply know I like men. I have never been tempted.” (A little lie, I guess…)
“Never? But why?” She swung around to look at me, taking a step back to survey me curiously.
I had already turned the tables, or so I thought, deeming myself rather clever. I held out my hand to catch her wrist and gently told her, “I just love men, and men love me. Woman and woman would not be the same, how could it be? I love a man's parts too much. And the bigger the better!”
I thought that if I feigned a little ignorance, I might appeal to her in some way. Maybe then, she could feel as though she was pursuing me.
“You can't say you don't find me attractive?” the girl asked.
“Of course, your exterior is very attractive. Your hair, as I said, is remarkable. My own has never pleased me and yet yours is luminescent without even so much as a hair product or a straightener in sight, I'd guess.” Her smirk confirmed my assumption. I continued, “And your height, just right, your slender frame, much to be fond of there, your eyes gentle, your skin pale and fresh. Yes, a lot to find pleasing.”
“And yet?” she queried.
“Not male. And yet, I find you agreeable. As I find myself so when I consider my body through a lover's eyes. When I imagine his adoration of my outer casing, in this way I really do feel content with myself. Through his eyes, I see myself beautiful.”
“That's where we differ. I see myself beautiful from the inside, hence the lack of products and grooming. I am of the mind, you see,” she professed.
“I too enjoy a mind, as you say, and in fact the brain can be as highly arousing as any other organ. But I guess what I was trying to say is that I do not love the image of myself, for that would be too narcissistic, would it not? Men are so different, so mysterious, so wonderful and hard, in body and other areas!” I chuckled, and evinced a little splutter from her.
“I dunno, sometimes I just find myself laying there with a bloke, thinking hurry up. Get on with it. I'm bored here.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly, really, I do. I used to be like that. Until I became more decisive with my lovers and told them what I wanted. However, I also came to realise it was more about having a real connection with someone. Only then did true passion find me.”
“Well, all what you say makes sense, and yet all of that eludes me, I am afraid. I want to find something where I don't have to be decisive and it just happens. I think then I shall know it is real.”
The more I talked to the girl, the more I realised she was naive and impatient. She was possibly a little more inexperienced than she let on and even more immature. I needed to speak to Noah and find out what his thoughts were. I imagined him now getting very annoyed.
“I must really get out of this corset, sweetheart, just give me a moment,” I said, diving across the room to go behind the screen.
“I'll just get another drink, shall I?” she asked.
“Sure. Go for it.”
I pulled the black curtain away and looked him in the eye, with my hands doing the communicating, telling him I was stumped. He smiled a warm, comforting smile and beckoned me toward him. I bent down and reached for his lips. A warm, soft kiss that was so tender. My knees went weak.
He whispered so quietly in my ear, “She needs the Chambermaid. Don't let her have you, though. You're mine,” he asserted, and bit my bottom lip.
“I love you,” I whispered, nodding. I undid the corset half-way before heading back out.
“Lucinda, you'll have to help me. I can't reach behind to undo it.”
“Oh, okay,” she stammered, a little nervously.
She placed her champagne flute down on the coffee table and tried to compose herself. I, nonchalant, headed toward her with no shame or embarrassment, though I was only in my underwear. It was the clothing I felt most at home in. I turned so that she might undo me.
“How many women have you enjoyed, or been with?” I asked.
“Err, I think, three. Yeah, just the three.”
“And men?”
“Fifteen. Something like that. I stopped counting when they got boring.”
Ah, I decided, she doesn't realise she needs to be different for it to be different.
“Lottie, it's going to come away. You'd better grab it before I undo the last.”
“Oh, yes, darling,” I muttered, absentmindedly. She continued working and I did not reach for it.
“Lottie, it's… it's all undone. If I let go…”
She let go and I turned around bare chested. I felt the cold against my nipples and they must have pricked up something rotten. Her chin dropped.
“Your breasts are beautiful, really. They are so full and round. I wish I had some like yours.”
“Darling, silly girl!” I laughed, “Let's see what you have then, they surely must be like the rest of you.”
She seemed to relax, smiling timidly, unsure if I was teasing her. She managed to get her brassiere off without removing her shirt and stood shy, before me. I smiled back, confidently, and walked toward her. I ran my hands through those locks again and hovered before her, eyes glancing down at what she had. They were small and modest but very beautiful, I thought. She was blushing, beginning to pant, with my sexual presence before her.
I moved toward her, brushing my chest against hers.
“Lovely,” I said, and kissed her gently on the lips. She shuddered and moaned, tensing again. “Relax, we can take it slow.”
I could tell she was in deep trouble. She was now quaking with desire, aching for me to touch her. I too really enjoyed the touch of her soft female mouth but she did not know that my mouth was already imprinted on by my Master's.
“On the bed,” I said.
I lay down with my suspenders, French knickers and heels still intact. She crawled up next to me in her jeans and vest, barefoot, and placed an arm over my torso. She breathed deeply and shook, nerves taking her a little, while I remained placid and calm. I was the waiting lover who'd had time to arrange herself, while she had arrived unprepared.
“You're unusually beautiful, Lottie,” she told me, with champagne breath travelling into my own mouth. I had so far not had a drop.
“What do you mean, darling?” A question more for my lover's benefit than mine.
“You… you really are dazzling. Your eyes are so blue, almost azure, and so big set in such a dainty face. Your hair really suits you short and your mouth is so plump and speaks so well, so eloquently, so…”
She reached down and kissed me, her mouth toying with mine. I let her. She was a little apprehensive but soon her enthusiasm flowed. Her body made its way closer to mine and I reached beneath the vest, stroking her back.
“Ah Lottie.”
Her hand reached for my breast and she gasped. She bent down to bring a nipple to her mouth. She moaned, taking it between her lips so daintily, and I cried out, enjoying the tiniest of orgasms. That was all it took for me. She returned to me, kissing me more intently. We lay side by side, and I reached for her breast, so tender and unassuming in its natural state. Over the material, I massaged it. She broke from our kisses and threw her head back, overcome with joy. I peeled the strap down and the garment followed, unsheathing what I was searching for. She really had the smallest, most delightful little bosoms, with light-brown areola and a shape that did not shift though she was laid down. I pushed her over to lie down flat and teased her with my teeth, between sucks and licks. I was merciless. The poor girl writhed and wriggled before me. I drew the top down and kissed her stomach, before moving back up to her mouth. She gazed into my eyes as if transfixed, perhaps even, bewitched. She reached for my buttocks and her eyes widened.
“I want to be naked with you,” she said.
“Yes,” I whispered.
This was not about either one of us dominating, or so I thought. It was about pleasure and appreciation of one another's bodies. It was about a nice ending to a nice afternoon.
I lay on my back and peeled my knickers and suspenders off, and lastly, my shoes. She tore her vest off, her jeans and cotton panties. She climbed back on the bed next to me and held her body close to mine. It was in fact extremely sensual and comforting, to have a little lithe body next to mine. She smelt natural and high, of vaginal excretions and mild sweat. It was not unpleasant. Our little bodies together, holding one another, it felt safe and innocent. I imagined my Master watching us and being terribly conflicted. Oh, the things he would love to do. I thought only of what he would like to see. I worked my way down her body, kissing and teasing, before deciding to test out her preferences. When my index finger reached her secret place, I was aroused. It was hot and slippery, just like my own felt on masturbating, only hers was definitely different. She had a full bush that was not even a little bit trimmed and for some men this spelt inexperience. It was like a new game to play and my inner Chambermaid smiled and flexed her inquisitive bicep. She was delicate and hadn't been subjected to regular invasions from a gigantic phallus like mine had. She lay back, arms above her head, eyes closed, willing to let me do what I wanted. I pressed a finger further in and reached up rather sharply, taking her aback. I was inserted all the way. She yelped and sat up slightly, eyeing me. I swilled the juices inside of her around, before drawing out my digit.
“You're highly aroused,” I said, sniffing my finger.
“God, I know,” she moaned.
“Lay back, shut your eyes,” I commanded.
I sucked her nipple and rubbed her pussy nonchalantly, all the time seeing her willing me to make her cum. I started, very slowly, to rub my thumb around her clitoris, but never touched it. I could tell this movement alone might even make her cum, just at the thought of me touching her. She whined and moaned a lot, spreading her legs apart, shifting in unison with my movements to encourage me on. I always hesitated and she thrashed against me. I surveyed her slim boyish hips with delight and watched her legs open and close like billowing leaves around the bud of a wild flower.
“Please,” she begged, “please Lottie. I am so wet and hot. Please.”
“Why rush,” I whispered, “enjoy yourself,” and she seemed to relax.
“What do you like?” I asked.
“To be licked.”
“Okay, in a minute.”
I licked along the breastplate and tasted her sweat. It was sweet and lovely. I placed her own pheromones in her own mouth, with my tongue laced around hers in a long, passionate kiss. Just how Flo had taught me.
“Oh,” she groaned, “oh…”
And so, I placed two fingers inside her genitalia and massaged her pronounced ridges, rubbing my thumb against her clitoris every time I thrust in and out. She arched her back, pushed her head in the pillow, used the headboard to prop herself up and buck against me. She lifted her hips, her buttocks, and really got into the swing of it.
When she started to ask, “Please, please, do not stop,” I went to work with rough, mashing strokes and massaging. I watched her as I worked her, looking at her without an ounce of emotion. I was simply asserting my will on something akin to an engine with highly-tuned workings. It was as simple as that for me, though she was very pleasant, as I had always known she would be. I glanced behind myself at that moment, over my shoulder, to see if I could steal a glance at my love between the screen's cracks, and as I did my phone flashed on the nightstand. I read the text that skated across the top of the screen: Let her lick you out. I want you to.
My eyes widened. I would be doing it for him. That was so pleasing to me. She was thrashing and carrying on quite happily, still letting me hold her mid-motion, when I simply decided to concentrate three fingers over the hood of her central pleasure point. I rubbed very hard until she moaned, loudly, her eyes squeezed shut and crying out for me not to stop. When she jolted and struck her hips bolt in the air, I sensed her orgasm drip out and she fell, weary, into my arms. She nuzzled my breast and held my body, seeking recovery.
“Oh Lottie, oh, I never came so hard. You must practise a lot.”
“I just really felt like we connected. It's not like me to do this.”
“I want to lick you,” she said, immediately seeking out my intimate areas. The tables had turned again. She explored my nipples and navel, trailed her hands all over my cushioned body, which was in contrast to her largely athletic one.
The next thing I saw was her blonde hair draped over my groin as she contemplated where to start first. It was a sight to see: her angelic appearance surveying my black landing strip, which was how my Master preferred it. He sometimes liked something to spray his seed on.
“Lottie, you really are very aroused, more than I, even. You are covered and a thick globule, oh, a string even, of pussy juice is just hanging there… it's…”
She started licking my cream off me, moaning and enthusing ‒ eating away the starter before the main. I breathed little feminine breaths of coy joy, ever the modest little learner. I was very easily aroused, but, I was ridiculously taken by the thought of my Master rubbing himself behind that very screen at the scene unfolding right before him; of his lover being fawned on by a woman and relative stranger she had very successfully seduced. I imagined how he might deal with me once Lucinda was gone and couldn't help but foam from my pussy at the very prospect. I imagined his phallus raging, already lubricated and violent, awaiting my touch. I suppose what happened next was indeed heightened by my thoughts. I lay back, closed my eyes, and once she had licked me clean, she began sucking my clitoris furiously, quickly bringing me to fruition. I held my legs wide open with my feet in the air and my hands holding my thighs up. I jumped my hips up and down while she maniacally touched me and I put on the show of my life. I screamed, and wailed, and cried out for dear mercy, but she did not stop.
“Ah, ah, ah, lick me, suck me, don't stop, oh baby, oh sweetie, there, just there… ooh.”
The act was like a routine she had perfected over a great deal of time; she was ruthless and exacting. I thought her rather mechanical in fact, possibly someone whose passion for her work left her with li
ttle passion for much else. I related to that; I used to be her. She sidestepped the tease and the foreplay to go right for the jugular. If Noah wasn't in the room, I might have been a little disappointed. Nevertheless my vascular muscles wobbled unnaturally, perhaps artificially, superhumanly throbbed, drew in on themselves, and took control of my nervous system so that I was rendered useless in every other department.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah…” it continued like that for a long time. I could not remember how many times I came. I woke from my stupor, weak and numb, with wetness all around me. I curled up in a ball and seemingly fell asleep, so weary from her pursuit of my pleasure. She folded me up into the sheets, kissed my cheek, and redressed herself. I was deadened but aware.
Thinking me asleep, she got her things together, ready to go.
“Seems nobody outstrips me. I even got you so freakily aroused, gorgeous little Lottie. I couldn't bear to break your heart, so I bid you adieu,” and she scribbled a note by the bedside, then left.
I turned to eye the note which read: Donations can be posted to…
When she was down the corridor, the hallway door shut, and the downstairs door could be heard being slammed soon after too. Certain she was gone, Noah emerged and undressed quietly. He got in under the covers with me, holding my spent frame in his arms.
“It was because you were watching,” I told him.
“Shush, darling,” he said, soothingly, stroking the hair from my forehead. “Silly little girl, wasn't she?”
“Yes. She thought she had me,” and we chuckled. He gathered me in his arms and drew me on top of his body. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me, smiling, his eyes creasing. He was flaccid.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“I came twice,” he chuckled, biting my shoulder. “It was so hot.”
“I know. I was here. I was getting preyed upon by that flesh eater!”
“Poor baby,” he soothed, rubbing my back. “Shall we bathe, drink the rest of the champagne, and I'll read to you?”
“Oh yes, please. I love you.”
I kissed his mouth, holding my hands securely at his cheeks. He brushed the hair from my forehead and beamed with a relaxed smile. I knew I had never loved anyone more and might never again love anyone as much. However, it had taken almost a year to build up, with the Chambermaid's strange routines and scenarios somehow holding us tightly bound together. I forever feared that it might take just one little interruption to break us. I wondered whether one day some factor might wade its way between the fantasies and the structures we had built up, toppling what we had. He picked me up in his arms, making me feel puny and pathetic, and I curled into his embrace, happily dwarfed and reminded I was the physically weaker.
A Fine Profession (The Chambermaid's Tales Part One) Page 28
