The Maid Returnsbychristinamonroe©
Authors note: this story completes the tale of Mary, the maid. It follows on from my other stories 'The Maid's Tale' and 'Further Adventures of the Maid' and ties up a few loose ends. It will make more sense probably if the other stories are read first (this is an obvious ploy to get you to read them all!).
The Maid Returns
Phillip looked over at the woman sleeping beside him, her long blonde hair drifting over her face like strands of silk. She lay on her side, her bare shoulders towards him, her breasts hidden from sight. He longed to wake her, but it was late, and he should return to the house and try to maintain the behaviour proper for the lord of the Manor.
Phillip had installed Mary in this small cottage on the estate several months ago. His wife knew about the cottage and its occupant but, as was her wont, she had refused to acknowledge the existence of her former housemaid as Phillip's new lover. Whether she knew of their familial relationship she kept to herself, but Philip believed that he had kept this secret: only Thomas, his sea-going friend knew that Mary was Phillip's illegitimate daughter by an almost forgotten housemaid from many years ago. Mary herself was unaware of this: she believed Phillip was her Master, and her lover, and obeyed his commands.
Phillip sighed, long and heavy. He thought that had never felt like this before about any woman. His wife, the Baroness, was alienated from him. She blamed him for the loss of their trueborn daughter, now a courtesan in London, seduced by the same Captain Thomas, although, truth be told, their marriage had failed a long time before this. His wife found pleasure only in the debasement of their maids, revelling in whipping them into submission. He had wondered at her activities, but had never had taken the opportunity to investigate, being occupied by deflowering and seducing as many women as came within in reach. Lying awake now, listening to the deep breathing of his daughter, he wondered if he should have taken more of an interest in his wife's desires. Maybe that would have led him from this sinful path.
But he knew that he wouldn't turn from this. Mary had told him about meeting Victoria in London. She hadn't known that this was her half-sister, and still didn't know, but at Phillip's urging, Mary had told him of the night they had spent together. In his minds eye he had seen the two girls exploring each other's body, fingers and tongues probing. He had seen Victoria pressing a finely carved dildo into Mary's dark tunnel, knowing the sounds that Mary would have made at this invasion. The thought of the two girls, his two girls, together had aroused him and he knew that, one day, he must see this for himself.
Mary turned in her sleep; her slim form moving gracefully as she sought, unconsciously, the warmth of her Master's body. Her head nuzzled close into his shoulder, and he felt her warm breath on his neck. His hand rose, almost of its own accord to caress her, sliding over her skin, dipping down to her narrow waist and easing over her full hips to cup her buttock, pushing gently to press her pubis against his outer thigh. She murmured in her sleep and he felt her awaken, her body reacting instinctively to his, her thigh rising to cover his and he could sense the heat rising from her.
'I must go,' he whispered, and tried to disentangle his arm from her, but Mary began to push her thigh against his and he groaned. Her leg was raised, her knee almost reaching his groin where his cock was beginning to rear, the bulbous tip engorging.
He could feel her womanly wetness slipping against his thigh, the heat of her searing his skin, branding him. She was irresistible, and he tried to push her away, to distance himself from the silk of her skin, the musky taste and scent of her, knowing that if he stayed he would be lost in her.
Mary, secure in the knowledge that her Master desired her, became more forward. Her right hand slid down his body and began to caress him, her nimble fingers curling around his cock, slowing stroking him and cupping his heavy scrotum, feeling the weight of his manhood. Still half asleep, she began to nuzzle at his neck, her smooth lips kissing and caressing, gently biting at his shoulder and biceps, enjoying the feel of the hard muscle underneath.
More awake now, she manoeuvred herself onto him, lifting her body to cover his, her arms falling to either side of his head, her mouth meeting his in a lazy kiss, tongues entwining as she slowly began to rub her body against his. Luxurious as a cat, she slithered against him, her thighs spread wide so that he could feel how much she wanted him, rubbing her pleasure bud against the firm muscle of his abdomen and down to cover his cock.
Helpless under her, his cock rearing, he gave in. He helped her mount him, moaning as the heat of her velvet-lined sex enveloped his manhood. Mary sat more upright, beginning to rotate her pelvis, pushing down on his tense scrotum, knowing that this would stimulate him. His hands held her hips as she swayed, and he watched in mounting excitement as her hands moved to cup her firm breasts, playing with her nipples, pulling gently at them until they stood erect and firm for his pleasure.
She fell slowly forward to push her breasts against him, and he felt them rub against his chest. They kissed again, a slow caress as his hands moved to touch her, not knowing where to stop: her breasts, full and ripe, her nipples, aching with need, her slim waist, her curvaceous hips. He began to touch her pleasure bud, that firm nubbin of tissue at the apex of her sex, knowing that this would bring her to fulfilment, wanting to catch the ecstasy in her expression as she came.
His thumb slid over her smooth belly, down through the fine tuft of blonde hair at her pubis and found its target, erect and rubbery. He began to massage, gently at first, but steadily, listening with pleasure to her breathing becoming more ragged. She threw her head back, still trying to stimulate his cock with her pulsating sex, but her senses were concentrating on the touch of his fingers. She lay forward once more, trapping his hand between their bodies and rubbed against him, forcing her clitoris firmly onto his rigid finger, riding his cock, her pelvis now thrusting lewdly. He heard her panting, her breath catching in her throat as she whimpered in excitement, and then a long drawn out moan of release as she reached her crisis.
He felt her muscles clamping around his rod, drawing him deeper into her body. Phillip thought that she had milked him dry earlier in the evening, but he could feel his seed eager for release, and lifting his hips from the bed, he thrust forcefully as his cock spurted milky fluid into her, mingling with her silken love juices.
Mary slid from him, slowly taking her place beside him again. Not a word was spoken, and she was soon deeply asleep once more. Phillip eased himself from her embrace and went to saddle his horse for the short ride back to the manor house where his cold bed awaited.
The next morning, Mary slept late, uncharacteristically for her. Since moving into her cottage, she had retained her housemaid's habit of rising early, and she found it difficult to lie abed, feeling slightly guilty about relaxing. Phillip had explained that she would want for nothing, offering her a maid of her own, providing money for the dressmakers so that she could dress to please him, enhancing her body with fine fabrics and stylish dresses. Fine jewels appeared often, rings to adorn her slim fingers, ornate necklaces to emphasise her firm, high breasts, and gems to sparkle in her earlobes. She had refused the maid, enjoying the novelty of looking after her own home, and had time to read and embroider, visit the local village, and sometimes, borrow the carriage from the Manor house to travel into town to look around the fine shops there.
But today, she lay sleeping until well after sunrise. Eventually she stirred, and stretched luxuriously, arching her back. Her master's visit the previous evening had been unexpected but welcome. He visited regularly, but often several days sometimes went by without an appearance when he was tied up with family matters. When he did call round after these absences, their coming together was climactic and exhausting. She revelled in the delight he took in her body, and had explored every inch of his, both of them trying to find new ways to sate their appetites.
Her mind drifted back over the previous evening, remembering the feel of him inside her. Then her eyes flew open in panic; she remembered mounting him late in the night. She had forced her attentions on him, acting like a wanton woman, teasing his cock so that she could use it. He would be angry at her, acting so forward, not waiting for permission or for him to decide what he wanted. Shuddering, she pulled the blankets around her a little more tightly, wondering what his punishment would be.
The same thought had occurred to Phillip on the ride home. Much as he had enjoyed her wantonness, he knew that she knew she deserved punishment for her lewd behaviour and he began to plan.
Phillip had decided that Mary should learn to ride, and he had taken her out on several occasions. She had been scared at first, and worried that the stable lads would be difficult, angry at her for leaving Jack, one of their friends. But the presence of their Master had quelled any trouble, and she had soon become competent, enjoying the feel of the horse beneath her, the muscles rippling as she cantered around the local countryside.
A few days after his last visit, Phillip summoned her to accompany him on a ride around his grounds, and she dressed carefully for this, cutting a fine figure in her tailored habit and silk top hat. She wore her thick gold hair in a chignon, her long graceful neck displayed to perfection. Phillip nodded admiringly when she appeared; she looked like a trueborn lady with her fine leather gloves, pale against the dark grey of her habit.
He made no mention of her unseemly behaviour, and was the picture of courtesy throughout their ride. Mary had been expecting him to stop half way through their travels: many of their previous trips had been interrupted by a stop in the country, Phillip overcome with desire for her and wanting her there and then, up against a tree or in long grass, and she almost asked why he hadn't, but she was wary of appearing forward again.
They returned from their ride early, and Phillip brushed aside the attentions of the stable lads, dismounting and leading the horses into the stables himself. Then he closed the door, but didn't bolt it. He helped Mary dismount, holding her slim waist as she swung herself down.
She smiled at him, but her smile wavered as she saw a frown cross his features.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her.
'I'm very displeased with you Mary,'' he stated flatly, 'you know why.'
She hung her head and murmured an apology, but he continued.
'You need to be punished, don't you?' and she nodded, swallowing nervously, wondering what he was going to do.
He swung his riding crop, slapping the tough leather against his riding boots, and pushed her against the wall of the stables, ordering her to brace herself with her hands. He swung the crop, catching her lightly on the rump, but the end got entangled in her skirts, and he hissed in disappointment.
'Undress yourself, Mary,' he demanded, and she slowly began to disrobe, throwing a worried glance towards the stable doors. As she dropped her clothes aside, he pushed her back against the wall, her arms braced and her legs spread. He ran the tip of the riding crop down her spine, then back up the side of her chest, and under her breast, caressing her lovingly. Her nipples were erect and she was biting her lower lip in nervous excitement.
Moving into position behind her, he flicked the riding drop at her bottom, pulling back slightly so that it just flicked her, a stinging slap rather than a whipping. She gasped, and he swung again, laying the light blows across her buttocks so that they quivered, beginning to glow pinkly.
Stopping then, he stood still, listening to Mary's ragged breathing. She was trying not to whimper, trying not to make a sound that would attract the attention of the stable lads out in the yard. The blows hadn't been too hard but were stinging, and the warmth from her buttocks was beginning to spread through her pelvis.
Suddenly, she felt her master's hands on her, burrowing between her parted legs and she had to force herself not to rub against his exploring hand. Phillip could feel the moisture there, and knew that she was aroused. He reversed the riding crop in his hand, holding it so that the thick, leather clad handle was freed, and began to draw this across Mary's sex from behind, massaging the lips of her sex with it.
She felt the warm leather, hard and alien, and began to rock slightly, feeling the pressure against her sensitive flesh. She could feel herself begin to open, the entrance to her quim throbbing with desire, wanting to be filled. She mewed slightly, trying to angle her pelvis so that the handle could enter her, but he teased her with it, pushing against her, and then withdrawing. For a few moments, he continued to torment her, stimulating the lips of her sex and her clitoris with the crop, and then he moved closer to talk to her, leaning forward.
'You're a slut, Mary,' he whispered, 'a wanton slut. You fucked my daughter, you fucked my friend, you fucked Jack.'
At each obscenity, he forced the handle of the riding crop into her, thrusting it without mercy into her soft flesh. She moaned quietly, and he thrust again.
'You're fucking yourself right now on a riding crop,' and he rammed it into her, her tight sex swallowing several inches of the thick handle. He could hear the soft noises her sex made, the luscious sounds of her juices flowing and knew that she need more than penetration.
'Touch yourself, Mary. I want to see just what sort of whore you really are. Touch your cunt for me.'
Mary obeyed, bracing herself against the onslaught with one hand, moving the other to touch her throbbing flesh. She ran her hand down to her left breast, cupping it and rolling the aching nipple between her fingers. Phillip continued to plunge the riding crop into her sex, and her body was trembling, her skin sensitive and tingling. She leaned forward to rest her head against her left arm; her body now angled slightly, her full breasts falling forwards a little. This changed the angle of Phillips thrusts and she felt the handle of the riding crop grazing against the inside of her sex, filling her, tantalising her sensitive flesh.
'Touch your cunt for me, Mary,' he asked again, and she obeyed, trailing her hand down over her stomach. Slowly she drew her fingers over the lips of her sex, now stretched around the handle of Phillip's crop. She felt her pleasure bud begin to pulsate, and starting to rub gently, she drew back the hood that hid it, feeling it expand and tingle. Inhaling sharply as a stab of desire shot through her, she began to manipulate herself, circling around the sensitive tissue, sometimes touching it directly to cause tremors to run through her.
'You'll fuck anything, won't you?' he sneered, 'I bet you're waiting for the rest of the stable lads to come in. I bet you want them all to fuck you, to take it in turns and spill their seed in you.'
His coarse words excited her, and Mary, lost in a whirl of desire, could see herself clearly. Standing naked in front of her master, watching him raping her soft flesh with his crop and masturbating herself for him, she knew that he was right. She wanted the stable boys to come in and see her. She wanted to exhibit her body for them, to show them how much of the riding crop she could take. She wanted to lie back in the straw and spread her legs for them all, demanding that they watched as she plunged her fingers into herself time and time again. She could imagine herself being held down by them, taking them all, feeling her sex ravaged by their rough cocks over and over, sinking deep into her, spilling their seed until she was covered in their sticky juices.
Phillip could sense her excitement beginning to peak. Continuing to use the crop in her, he reached forward to play with her breasts, pulling and rolling her nipples almost viciously. He pushed himself against her, and she could feel his erection through his riding breeches, hot and hard against her buttocks.
She came with a stifled moan, quivering against him, her fingers withdrawing from her quim. He continued to play with her breasts and she trembled, shimmers of desire still coursing through her. He slid the crop from her, looking down to see her juices glistening on the handle.
Mary leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, and he took her by the shoulders, turning her around so that he could embrace her. She nestled into him, grateful for the support for her legs now weak and trembling.
'My wanton woman,' he murmured into her hair, kissing her cheek lightly, 'I think you enjoyed that rather too much for it to count as punishment.'
She cuddled into him, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her shoulders and the urgency of his erection against her thigh. He was tempted to take her there and then, to bury his cock into her moist warmth until she spent again and again, but he knew that the stable boys would be gossiping: he had no wish for unnecessary talk around the Manor House. He helped Mary back into her clothes, the thick gabardine of her riding habit covering the curves that aroused him so much.
A few days later, Phillip was sitting in his study staring pensively into the fire. The flames had burnt low, but he was too lost in his thoughts to do anything about it. He was thinking about his daughter Victoria. He missed her presence around the house, her liveliness, her energy and her adoration of him. Mary had told him how the two girls had met up by accident. She had told him of being overwhelmed in the park and trying to relieve her arousal surreptitiously only to find Victoria watching.
At his questioning, Mary told him of Victoria's behaviour. He found it intriguing that Mary had responded to Victoria's demands in the same way she responded to his. Seeing the two girls together was obsessing him. He wanted to see Mary's tongue lapping at Victoria's plump sex, the two girls mounting each other. He was fascinated by the description of the carved phallus with which Victoria had penetrated Mary, and wondered how that would feel.
Thoughts of Victoria filled his consciousness, and he found himself fantasising endlessly about her. He alternated between dismay at the thoughts he had about his trueborn daughter, and desire for her body, knowing that by now she must have had many lovers and would be experienced and maybe eager for him.
In the end, he decided that there was nothing else for it and he must go to London. He told his wife that he was going to try and convince Victoria to return to the family home; the Baroness had been unimpressed, knowing that their daughter was now a courtesan, and ambivalent about her possible return. She was conscious of their status in the county, and had spread the rumour that their daughter was unwell, and had gone to Bath to a spa there to recuperate. She didn't want the Baron to return with a trollop, a painted harlot that would bring shame on them.
Phillip had to take Mary; she had become an indispensable part of his fantasies about his daughter. In his mind's eye, he had every move worked out and wanted to see the two girls perform for him.
Mary had no idea that this was what the Baron had in mind. She was overjoyed that he had included her in what she thought was a visit to the cosmopolitan capital, giving her a chance to see the sights again, this time with a companion. She looked forward to it like a little child would a holiday, excitedly planning her wardrobe, eagerly counting down the days.