Bedtime Confessions (The Chambermaid's Tales - Short Stories)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

“Never bovvered her, honest. We met at the law firm we work at. We fell for each as we bumped bodies at the photocopier or the coffee machine, ya naw!” He chuckled boyishly. “I just used my dick… inventively in the beginning. Now, she is avving trouble. It's put the spanner in our works, ya get me? We used to have sex all the time before.”

  I was honestly so taken aback! He had the smallest cock I had ever seen. It was at most an inch soft, maybe three when hard.

  “Was the last baby rather large? You hear of women who lose their ability to orgasm after something like that.”

  “Ten pound three,” he grimaced, and I mirrored his expression.

  “Why me? Why not see her doctor? Something else? She may have nerve damage.”

  “I just, ya naw, fawt if I did sumat like this, wiv you, I might be able to surprise her and… she might relax a bit.”

  “Well, you're in luck Ralph. Lots of luck, in fact. I have just the tool. Now zip up and let's get on with business…”

  “What happened then?” Flo asks eagerly as I take another sip of champagne.

  I smile wickedly. I know Flo is as famished as I am. We are both without a mate at present.

  “I took a few toys with me and one found use, great use,” I tell Flo. “A silicone tongue found great use…”

  Ralph knelt before the edge of the bed while I lay on the mattress with my legs spread. I advised him, “I expect when you go down on your wife, you are too busy to be able to watch her expressions closely. With this, you can watch. You can see everything that she does in response,” and the man with a little penis seemed already eternally grateful for what I was doing for him.

  I didn't want to tell him that I had some personal experience in this department. For years, my nerves had aggravated me and it was only with regular practise that I had come to enjoy so many orgasms.

  “So, Ralph. You shall sit her down in front of the television one night. Wine, chocolate, and a slushy film. Make sure the slushy film has a hot sex scene that will drive her thighs to waft, you get me?”

  “Yeah, babe,” he said.

  “So, honey, she's looking horny. She's looking like she might be getting wet, right? So, what would you do then?”

  “Jump her,” he said, while licking his lips.

  “That won't work, darling, if she is struggling to find her mojo again, you get me?” I persisted, trying to drill into him what he needed to do. “So, do as I say, do as I say, Ralph.”

  “You got it,” he agreed.

  “Okay, her knees are wafting. She's silently horny. She's rubbing her knee against yours. She's feeling a little hotter to the touch. First, you slip your fingers through hers and stroke her hands. You remain silent. You tease her fingers through yours for a while, as you continue to watch the film in silence. You quietly and subliminally arouse her more, yes?”

  “Yeah doll,” he said.

  “You draw a hand to your mouth and you silently suck one finger at a time. If she protests, say something sexy. Something coy. Say you're hungry, thirsty or something…”

  “Okay…”

  “Ask her if she wants a massage. If she does, leave the television blaring as you peel her clothes off and offer her a back rub. You sneak a finger inside the cup of her brassiere. Slowly. It is all about pace, Ralph,” I asserted.

  “We're horny fucks,” he smiled. “I'll never be able to keep her from pouncing me!”

  “So, you can change, you can. You can take control, Ralph. Take the lead. Make it slow. You need to keep her relaxed. Make it happen. Take hours if you need. Make it happen.”

  All the while, as I told him all that, my groin was placed before him. I was moistening myself with the talk.

  “So, we know now. Communication. Control. Calm, yes? She needs to be so wet, Ralph.”

  “You mean, like you are now?” He groaned.

  “Exactly, like I am now. I am a demonstration. Don't even kiss her mouth, Ralph. Kiss her everywhere but, until she's begging you. Rub her everywhere. I mean, everywhere. In between her toes. Between her fingers. Behind her ears. Especially at the nape of her neck. Kiss her. Woo her. Love her. Not fuck her. Love her, you see?”

  “Oh yeah. I can't wait to try it all on her.”

  “So, now we get to the best part…” I said and motioned for him to pick up his implement. “Take the tongue, the plastic tongue, and move it against her. Watch her eyes. Watch her mouth. You can take all night if you need to. Take your time. Use it. It won't break or tire. Watch her.”

  “So, I can practise on you, now?”

  “Yes,” I said, and he eased it against my clit. He rubbed gently and watched me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of a wide, strong tongue against me. An unrelenting block of fake flesh. It was almost better than a real tongue!

  “Slowly, slow,” I advised.

  He eased it against me and I motioned for him to set it to the lowest level vibrate. He did and I moved around the bed a little more, wriggling and writhing. He smiled as he watched me.

  “Keep it going, Ralph, you will make her cum with that fucking thing.”

  “Dang, I hope so!”

  “Next level Ralph!”

  And he ramped it up another gear, to a more intense vibrate that made the muscles of my thighs shake. I felt the cramps and the shivers run down my legs.

  I moaned and was lost to impending release. He knew his cue to take control, because I had lost mine.

  When I started rocking, I motioned for him to slip the tongue inside me. He did. He used it, in and out, in and out, of me.

  “Thrust that tongue, thrust that tongue, harder. Don't hold out on me,” I growled.

  Men need a little telling, now and again.

  “What's great,” I moaned, “is that you can use your tongue and that one on your wife. Both, both will surely work.”

  “I'd like to use my own right now, but I won't. I can't. Because I love my wife.”

  “I know you do, sweetie, and I certainly commend you on it. Now, the last setting…”

  He knocked the switch once more and the silicone tongue started pounding my intimate flesh. It thundered me at my core. My knees jerked and I could feel the lava start to spread across my pelvis. I also felt an urge to rock my hips. I was at the onset. I needed to warn him.

  “You are at the point now where I might easily orgasm,” I breathed, gathered myself, and continued, “but if you wait a little longer, just a little longer…”

  So, what happened next was… the tongue went everywhere. There was no momentum. No controlled rhythm. That's the best thing about being with a man. If you're with a woman or performing on yourself, we know too well what will work. When a man is tending to us, he knows not how we respond, for his machinery works differently. The way he works you without increment is fantastic. He wants to watch you take as long as you need. So, if he is doing only what he thinks will pleasure you, therefore he is prolonging what you may otherwise rush if performing on yourself.

  Ralph, the dear boy, just went like a madman, thrashing that throbbing, solid, remorseless tongue everywhere.

  It slipped in my anus and I sat up straight, screaming, before he moved it back to my clit and pummelled me. I had to lay straight back down and gather myself. That fake tongue was a miracle! Lord, it was!

  “I am buying ten of these,” he said, biting his lip and grunting. His muscled arms were bulging with veins. It was purely an execution of craft on both our sides.

  At last he used it over my clitoris, working so hard, I lost myself. I lifted my pussy, offered it to him, and he took it. I felt the thrumming pulses and the urge to hold back my desire to bear down. At last, the waves catapulted across my pelvis and the heat cascaded throughout my body. I threw my hips in rhythm with the simultaneous pumping of my front wall and the mass of juice released.

  I fell back, pulled my leather skirt down and curled up. He covered me in the sheets and made to leave. He took a new, unused tongue that I had left still boxed, on the bedside. He left
the money in its place and bade farewell, saying he would not take any more of my time. He was desperate to get home.

  I look up and see Flo glaring at me as I finish the tale. She has a flushed face but she seems contemplative.

  “I don't understand how you can help all those people, and not yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I know what she means…

  “Darling, you do not see?”

  “No, I do not.”

  She makes to leave the room, shaking her head. She's angry, yes. I detect she is!

  “Tell me before I whip it from you, Flo.”

  She turns back, holds the arm of my chair and bends over to look me in the eye from close quarters. I feel her breath on me and I see the blacks of her eyes twitching with disbelief.

  “Give up, my darling. Give in. You found your man. It's Him. It always will be. You desecrate every couple you ever helped in not helping yourself.”

  “No, Flo, you really still do not understand! He needs to read the book!”

  And for the second time that day, she sees me crying. This time, she holds me.

  She leads me to my bedroom and strokes my hair until I am drifting away, into tormented, drunken sleep. But before I fall into a deep slumber, I do not fail to hear her rummaging my toy drawer for one of the silicone tongues…

  Anticipation Is Paramount

  (Taken from A Fine Profession)

  My Initiate this day deserved a harsh lesson. He seemed so certain of my compliance and I was determined to thwart all his hopes.

  “Tell me again, why are we doing this?” he asked.

  “Were you not advised, it is not wise to question, but to simply administer to me in whatever manner I deem necessary, in order for you to receive the service in its purest, most effective form.”

  “Why do you talk like that?” the disobedient man asked.

  “If you question me again, I will leave. I have no cause or desire to be here with you. I ask your silence now and if it is broken, I will end our time abruptly.”

  He nodded, subservient.

  “Now, sir, please, let me just get comfortable.”

  The Initiate was tied at the wrists and ankles, splayed and bound on his back, completely naked. His pale body was fresh and blemish-free. He was young and lithe, very tall and slender. He was impetuous and naive, however; possibly an ambitious man of my own age, who had already made significant steps up the rung of his chosen ladder. I knew the type. He was attractive and ripe for the plucking, but this was always the way. I always had to resist; proving my love for my Master.

  On the towel I had laid down beside his body was a dish containing feminine shave gel, a two-blade lady razor and another dish filled with fresh, warm water.

  I peeled my lace thong away, wriggling out of it deftly, before stretching a foot out toward the bed to display myself to him.

  “What do you think, a little overgrown?”

  My pubis was barely covered by a millimetre of hair. This was about control.

  He nodded once more, gulping, twitching in his nether region.

  “Your absolute silence will be rewarded, in time, mon cher. Now, umm, I think we are ready, almost…”

  I reached for the riding crop and tested its quality, thrashing it against the air. He heard the whoosh, the sinister threat, and jumped, desperate to keep his mouth shut. I reached out, tracing the weapon along the length of his manhood, smiling sadistically.

  “You are gifted with a long member, my dear. We would not want that to change.”

  He violently shook his head from side to side, gasping, almost in shock at the thought of the pain that I might inflict. I licked my lips in anticipation.

  “Hush, my darling, we have no need of that… yet.”

  He lay there pallid, eyes bulging, fearful of my wickedness.

  My breasts were totally out of proportion with the rest of me. I wore a whalebone corset, antique, purchased at great cost by my Master. He knew my liking for the styles and shapes of a certain period and he sought it out for me, especially. It was my most prized possession. It was made from Japanese silk, blood-red, with an exaggerated black lace trim. It fastened at the front, but was long on the body, skimming the top of my pubic region. It was certainly an old-fashioned method of body-shaping, with such strong craftsmanship that meant it could be tightened to create the most sculpted hourglass shape. The client constantly watched my burgeoning chest. That was his weakness, and indeed, most men's. For what I had was out of the ordinary.

  I straddled his body at his waist, so that he might sense the heat of my groin against his belly. He groaned, lips trembling. I fell forward, pushed his head back, licked his neck and travelled over his mouth with the tip of my tongue. I looked him in the eye, flashing my best wide-eyed, innocent grin. His eyes narrowed and he must have judged me contemptible. Inwardly, I smiled smugly, relishing the control I exerted. I sat up, my back straight, grabbing the crop again so that I might use it to caress his chest, throat and stomach.

  “You are delicious. So clean and innocent, not like the hairy, sweaty brutes I usually deal with. You're… untainted. Natural. Babyish. Ooh, I might take advantage,” I drawled, sultrily. “Oh yes.”

  The things he wanted to do to me were racing through his mind, I could tell. Neither able to talk nor use his hands, he was terribly ill at ease. I laughed lasciviously and he must have thought me a witch, or a siren, hell-bent on punishing him. The restraints were taunting and terrorising his natural urges.

  I untied the top of my corset, slackening a few laces, so that my breasts spilled out. I looked down, observing the curve of my two glands, which were now swelling out of the unnatural cage they had been formerly squashed behind. I jiggled slightly, allowing further spillage, so that the very tops of my nipples sat on display.

  I breathed a few deep breaths, allowing myself the chance to relax a little. I stretched my neck and massaged it seductively, before ruffling my hands through my hair. He watched intently.

  “I love you,” he said, rather prematurely.

  My gaze fastened on him, hatefully, scorning him. I chastised him, withholding a curse under my breath. He panicked, having spoken out of turn, and I saw his chaste little expression, of admiration and fawning, unspoken desire.

  “I am not yours,” I warned, “and you will grow to hate me before long. No more interruptions.”

  For his impudence, I released a breast, and dangled it before him. He whined like a pup, salivating at the sight of it. I dropped it against his mouth, grazing it, and he tentatively reached out his tongue toward the dark-pink cohesion at the middle. He seemed to relax, hungrily running his tongue in circles around it. I quickly tucked my tit back behind its protective cover.

  I shifted in front of his face, knees now either side of his shoulders, my womanhood spread before him. He eyed my black stockings and suspenders and snarled at the sight of what was undeniably the sexiest lingerie he had ever encountered. A globule of my cream dripped on his face and he eagerly reached his tongue out toward his cheek, quickly taking it into his mouth, before I might wipe it away with callous disregard for what he deemed precious. In between my legs, my groin was severely aroused. It was easy for me to become so. My imagination, my dress and the scene incensed my ridiculously high libido. I knew I could not continue unless I attended to myself. It was too much of a distraction and the wetness would hinder the task at hand.

  “My dear, please nod if you approve of me administering to myself before we begin. I am a little too excited. I won't be able to concentrate otherwise.”

  He nodded quickly, as if it were the easiest decision he had ever had to make. Those of the boardroom would never have been agreed upon so easily.

  I drew two fingers towards my hot, wet folds and began mashing my clitoris. I moaned and arched my back, feeling relief wash over me. What had been crying out for attention was now getting it. I slid my digits over the protruding flesh, casually arousing myself, never rushing
the pleasure. I took my time, enjoying the chance to cause my Initiate agony. I drew my fingers away, dabbed them over his lips, and moved back to my pussy. I pushed my fingers inside, moving my hips to screw myself, all the while letting him watch it all. He eagerly devoured my scent from his lips with avid approval. I moaned and breathed heavily, telling him, “Oh, sweetheart, oh honey, I am so turned on. I am so horny.”

  “Please,” he whispered.

  He broke my enjoyment. I glared.

  “Let me, please,” he begged. “Let my tongue, let me…”

  Secretly, I wanted nothing more than to have this young man's swollen mouth and tongue devouring my flesh and cream. I wanted him to bury his face deep within my vagina and anus. I loved nothing more than to have a man's most intimate organ touch mine. The gentleman's deep, manly tones aroused me. Oh, to have that voice echoing vibrations inside me, that was pleasure. For me, that was all I might require if asked whether there was one thing I might take to a desert island: just a man's tongue, lips and voice. Therein lay my fount of all joy.

  Despite my own pleasure beckoning, screaming for me to cave in, the memory of my Master would always flash through my mind. He was always weighing on my heart and taunting me with his loving commands. His body was my temple, his heart my prison, his love my comfort. I was so deeply in love with him that I would have done anything he asked me to.

  “No,” I told the Initiate, “we can't.”

  Instead, I mutilated my flesh viciously, using the head of the riding crop, bringing myself to fruition violently and with vigour. He watched and admired it all, though desperate to join in. He squeezed his eyes shut and juddered, and sensing his seed was about to spring forth through no touch of either his or my own, I made myself cum alongside him. I threw my head back, felt my face scrunch up, moaning, “Oh, uh, yes, oh,” into the silence with him.

  His cry was deep and guttural, from deep down, while mine was high-pitch and shrill. Even when the orgasm took me, I continued, battling it out of me as hard as I could, so that as my body sank against his, my stream steadily spread across his chest and belly. I fell down upon him, my buttocks on his chest, my stomach pounding with breathlessness at his ear. He turned toward me, kissing my thigh while he had chance, and I was powerless to argue against him.