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House Of Evil by Robert Desmond

Chapter One

“Just take your time, my dear, and try to pretend I’m not even in the
room with you,” George Blackwell instructed the stunningly beautiful
redhead with a slight chuckle. “I’ll simply be working in here for
awhile.”

“Yes sir,” Nadalee Parker replied in a soft, shy voice, nodding sweetly
as she bent down to dust a bookshelf a few feet away from where her new
employer sat behind a huge mahogany desk, his intelligent but somehow
disturbing gaze seeming to bore straight through the sheerness of her
white maid’s uniform. She felt a cold shiver run through her, as though
his eyes were stripping her bare, and the very fact of his assurance
that she should pay no attention to him because he was “working,” made
her feel all the more uncomfortable in his presence. For he was not
working at all but only sitting there, almost leering at her, glancing
up and down the length of her body with a strange sort of approving
smile on his stern-featured face. Her hand trembled inadvertently as
she swiped along the tops of the books with the feather-duster and she
suddenly found herself unable to concentrate on what she was doing from
one moment to the next.

Jesus, what an innocent, juicy young bitch! George thought to himself
as he ogled his new maid’s lush, girlish figure. She was almost like a
toy, a sexy little eighteen-year-old toy, with long copper-red hair and
big fluttery emerald-green eyes. And man, he was glad now that he had
allowed his wife, Dolores, to talk him into buying Nadalee the
“uniform” she was wearing. It was a lacy blouse and a kind of little-
girl pinafore with a tucked-in waist and a short skirt that accentuated
every inch of the lovely girl’s body, from the deep cleavage showing
between her large, firm, white breasts to the taper of her slender
waist and the rounded outward curve of her luscious hips that sloped to
her long full-swelling thighs and, lower, to her well-formed calves and
ankles…. Hell, yes, she was absolutely mouth-watering to look at! He
could hardly wait to get his hands and mouth on those ripe young curves
and bring her to a pitch of passion that would make her beg for what he
could certainly give her when she was ready. But she had to be ready,
he reminded himself, or his ambitious plans for her in the future might
never be fully realized. Still, though, he decided, it could not hurt
anything now to relish her choiceness from a distance. He involuntarily
drew in his breath at the sight of her sweet chasteness. There was no
denying that there was something especially vulnerable about Nadalee,
in that almost naked expression on her face that made her look as if
she required protection from everything around her and that she was the
kind of girl around whom men automatically watched their language and
probably usually felt guilty about even desiring. After all, she looked
so pure, so thoroughly innocent, so untouched by the tough
sophistication of big city life and the fast types of people that he
and Dolores had left behind them in San Francisco. But there was
something more too, something deeper and excitingly sensual, an innate
sexuality in her that seemed to be just begging to be exploited to the
fullest. Well, by Christ, he was just the man to do it, he gloated
inwardly, thinking with pride of himself as one of those rare, rare
exceptions-a man whose own perversity and lust were points of genuine
honor in his mind.

“Do you like it here, Nadalee?” George asked bluntly, surprising the
girl with the sudden sound of his voice.

“Oh yes-yes, I like it very much,” the redhead answered quickly,
avoiding his eyes as she struggled to control herself and not betray
her discomfort around him.

“Do you like me, Nadalee?” he interrogated, grinning pointedly as he
continued to feast his eyes on her voluptuous young body like some sort
of monarch about to enjoy a ritual sacrifice. He could not get over her
youthful smoothness, how unused and unmarked she appeared to be, even
though he knew that she was married to Newton, whom he had hired along
with her as chauffeur and handyman, a young man who was only two years
older than she.

“You didn’t answer my question, dear. I asked if you like me,” George
repeated after a moment.

“Y-yes … I-I like you, sir,” Nadalee stammered, blushing a little as
she continued to work without daring to look up at the big man sitting
behind the desk.

“But what exactly do you like about me?” he taunted, enjoying her
embarrassment and how she unconsciously dusted again a surface of the
bookshelf that she had just finished a moment before. “Do you like me
the same way you like your husband?”

“I … I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Blackwell,” the lovely green-
eyed girl quailed as she turned to briefly glimpse his face for some
sign, some clue to his meaning, and saw the slight smirk on his face as
his eyes blatantly traced the contour of her throat to the tantalizing
valley of cleavage between her full breasts suspending below her bent
form under the gauzy veneer of the lacy white blouse. She hardly dared
to breathe and anxiously wondered why he was putting her in such an
awkward position by asking a question that she obviously did not know
how to answer. She knew that her face was a beet-red color and the
knowledge only served to fluster her more.

“Now come on, my dear, it’s a simple question,” he chuckled hoarsely as
he watched her full, rounded buttocks poke high in the air when she
bent lower to flick the feather-duster over the books on a lower shelf.
“I’m certain that a bright girl like you knows what I mean…. Do you
like me as a man in the same way that you like your husband? I’m merely
curious, that’s all, so you mustn’t try to avoid answering for some
silly reason that has nothing to do with the truth.”

“I’m sorry…. I’m sorry,” she blurted, unable to decide on what he
wanted her to say. Of course she did not have the same feelings toward
him as she had for Newton, her own husband! But maybe the stern-faced
man meant something else….

“That’s okay, honey,” George said, faking a patronizing tone of voice
to further intimidate her. “Just forget it. I guess it’s not all that
important anyway.”

“But Mr. Blackwell, I’m sorry,” she said meekly, an apologetic frown on
her face as she straightened up to look at him and a feeling of girlish
confusion mounted in her. “It’s only that I don’t know what you want me
to say.”

“Please, forget it,” George rasped, wiping his palm across his forehead
in mock disgust.

“But really, I’m sorry,” Nadalee whimpered, afraid that she had
actually offended her employer. She wondered now if she had been wrong
to suspect him for what might after all have been just an attempt on
his part to make harmless conversation. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mr.
Blackwell, but I just don’t understand you.”

“I said forget it,” he snapped, his tone causing her to wheel away from
him as though she had been cuffed for stupidity. He sat watching her
apply herself to cleaning the room with renewed fervor, grinning to
himself as he reveled in the power he felt after making the little
bitch squirm. Damn, he thought, he had fucked a lot of women, many of
them young, but never had he even come close to screwing anything as
luscious and naive as the girl before him. The picture of her lying on
her back with her innocent young legs spread wide and just the thought
of helpless mewling grunts of pleasure coming from those tender lips
goaded his prick into rock-hardness. He could feel the blood throbbing
painfully into its large expanded head and the tiny droplets of
slippery clear seminal fluid, that already had begun to seep from the
sensitive contracting gland at its tip, smearing wetly against his
beefy hairy thigh. Then, silently, surreptitiously, he opened the fly
of his expensive woolen trousers to ease the pain a little. Then, with
the massive desk shielding him from detection, he slowly massaged the
heavy thick foreskin back and forth over the wet jerking cock-head as
he leered salaciously over at the beautifully built young redhead who
was still working away in deep concentration on the long bookshelf. He
could not help but smile contemptuously as he noticed how determinedly
she was evading any direct eye contact with him, holding herself back
from him as if she really knew what a fiend he was when his own greedy
enthusiasm for obscene sexual situations took over his brain and body.

Well, never mind, he thought to himself, this big prick he now held in
his hands was the great equalizer, the piece of equipment that would
teach her the facts of life, and he would see that she prayed to it
like an idol of pleasure before very long. But shit, he could barely
contain himself from jumping up now and throwing her down to the floor
to ram it up deep between her soft silky white thighs. Probably the
time would be right tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, but soon,
soon, no matter what.

Being careful not to attract her attention, he slyly opened the last
button at the top of his fly and peeled open the flaps of his trouser
front to fully release his hard thick penis. It stood out in proud
menacing erection under the desk-top as he savored the thought of the
obscenities to come, dwelling particularly on what a delectable sight
it would be to see his stiff cock throbbing out its load into Nadalee
Parker’s sweet innocent face and down over her soft pale breasts as she
knelt down in front of him. He lewdly pictured his sperm dribbling down
over her chin to the hollow of her slender throat and forming warm
sticky pools between those lush firm breasts of hers. It was driving
him half crazy and again he considered going through with it then and
there as he stroked himself to a rigidity that threatened to erupt into
a streaming flow of thick white cum at any moment…. But no, not yet,
he chided himself; not until everything was perfectly arranged
according to plan. He knew that he would hate himself if he allowed his
impatience of the moment to spoil all the juicy fun in store in the
near future for everyone in the household.

“Mr. Blackwell, there’s a call for you on the telephone downstairs,” a
tall, completely bald man of about thirty announced suddenly at the
open doorway to the study. The unexpected sound of the gruff male voice
caused George to jump slightly in his chair, swearing as he glowered
with loathing at the unwelcome intruder. It was Braun, his and Dolores’
personal manservant for the past five years, a brutish half-wit who was
well-trained and obedient but too stupid to observe certain
formalities.

“You goddamned fucking idiot, I’ve told you over and over to knock
before you enter a room!” George barked savagely at Braun. The husky
sweating man of forty-five lifted one hand from his lap beneath the
desk-top to smooth back his silver-grey convict-short hair and then
reached down again to button his trouser fly before rising to his feet.

Nadalee twisted quickly around from the bookshelf with a look of open-
mouthed amazement on her pretty face at the sound of the ugly vile
words that George Blackwell had used so cruelly to reprimand the dull-
minded servant who stood there unfazed and uncomprehending in the
doorway. She had never heard a man speak that way in front of a woman
before and she was visibly shaken. But that shock was mild compared to
the one she felt when George finally rose and she saw the jutting
hardness of his penis straining against the semen-soaked fabric at the
front of his trousers. She almost fainted, her body sagging back
against the wall for support, her knees feeling as light as balloons as
she gazed helplessly at the lewd, disgusting spectacle of the older
man’s shameless lust. Any other time she would have run away as fast as
possible to escape from such an indecent, vulgar exhibition of evil
carnality as this but now she was paralyzed, her feet rooted to the
floor, and she could not bring herself to take her eyes from his
bulging maleness. It was as though she had been spellbound, was charmed
into motionlessness, and not even her own innermost horror could break
the trance of wicked fascination that held her sight locked inexorably
on the tent-like protrusion in his trouser crotch. It was insane,
hideously sinful, something that she had never done before in her short
sheltered life.

There was a glint of pleased amusement in George’s dark inquiring eyes
when he saw the stunned expression on Nadalee’s exquisite face. By God,
look at her, the impressively big man smirked to himself as he strode
heavily toward Braun who was still waiting silently at the entranceway.
Goddamned if the sensuous-looking young maid did not seem to be more
than just a little interested in her new employer’s aching hard-on!
Shit, maybe he should just stick around and forget all about his
carefully worked out plans for the girl in the near future…. Maybe
his scheming was actually unnecessary…. Maybe he should try to have a
go at the tasty little cock-tease right now.

“It’s a long distance, Mr. Blackwell,” Braun droned thickly in an
almost characterless voice, reminding George of the telephone call
waiting for him downstairs. “Mrs. Blackwell said to tell you it’s
pretty important and that you should get down there as soon as you
can.”

“Don’t you worry yourself about it, Braun,” George admonished, “because
if it’s any close friend of mine, whoever it is can damned well afford
to pay for a few lousy extra minutes of telephone service, long
distance or not.” When Braun failed to offer the inane reply that he
usually uttered after any remark that George made in his presence, the
big-limbed wealthy man turned slightly to glance at his feeble-minded
employee and saw that the bald servant was examining Nadalee’s
scantily-clad form, his nostrils quivering as his deep-set eyes
hungrily scanned the girl’s soft curvaceous limbs.

“You stupid son-of-a-bitch, you’re going to get yourself all hot and
bothered for nothing if you don’t stop gawking that way at the poor
young thing. Anyway, she’s married, you know,” George teased as he
sneered insultingly at the already obviously aroused moron. Laughing
aloud then, he slapped Braun on the shoulder and shoved him playfully
toward the hallway outside the door.

Just as the two men were leaving the room, George threw another cackle
back over his shoulder and said wryly, “Nadalee, honey, I want you to
decide what it is that you like about me when you go home today. We can
talk about it tomorrow.”

A second after they were gone, the lovely distressed girl slumped down
limply with her back against the wall, shaking so violently that she
was barely able to support her own weight with her legs. Gradually,
regathering her senses little by little, relief from being alone again
coming over her, she began to relax and breathe normally for the first
time since she had been in the room that afternoon. As her mind began
to clear, she found herself remembering the odd chain of events that
had brought her and Newton to accept their present jobs with George
Blackwell and his harsh-seeming but extremely attractive wife here in
Southern Oregon, jobs which paid well but were so psychologically
demanding that sometimes she wished with all her heart that she and
Newton were still back in Oklahoma, living the modest life they had
known as newlyweds in a tiny town outside of Tulsa. Not that they had
been wildly happy there; not when her husband had been so gravely
religious and sober-minded, just as he always was now, but at least she
had been among friends and had felt freer to be herself while Newton
worked as a service station attendant in town. And they had had “the
dream,” as her handsome brunette husband called it, that someday they
would have enough money saved up to buy a farm and raise children. It
had been all he ever talked about and finally she had come to have
faith in the dream as well.

Then, one evening before dinner, Newton had come running into the
kitchen to her, waving the Tulsa newspaper excitedly and pointing to an
advertisement in the classified section. “This might be our chance to
make ‘the dream’ come true!” he had enthused, urging her to sit down
and read it then and there, even though she had been in the middle of
cooking their meal. The ad had read: RETIRED COUPLE WANTS ATTRACTIVE
YOUNG MAN AND WIFE AS MAID, CHAUFFEUR & HANDYMAN. FIVE-ROOM COTTAGE
PROVIDED, MORE THAN GENEROUS PAY AND MANY BENEFITS. ONLY REQUIREMENTS:
WILLINGNESS AND APPRECIATION OF PRIVACY IN BEAUTIFUL FOREST AREA. SEND
PHOTOGRAPHS.

Newton had insisted that they answer the advertisement and they had
spent the entire evening drafting a reply and choosing the best of
their wedding pictures to accompany it. They had received an answer
within a week, a friendly letter of acceptance along with a check for
airplane fare and instructions to meet a Mr. and Mrs. George Blackwell
at the San Francisco airport on a date less than a week away. It had
been a frantic time for the next few days, packing, Newton quitting his
job, saying goodbye to everyone, but at last they had arrived in San
Francisco and been surprised to find that their new employers were not
the elderly couple that they had expected.

After a drink together to get acquainted, they had all left the
terminal in the Blackwells’ expensive shiny black Chrysler and driven
into the city itself where George had given them a fistful of money and
told them it was an advance for clothes and personal items that they
might need up in the mountains where they were going. She remembered
now how Newton had practically fainted when the older, white-haired man
had told them what their salary would be. It was more than they had
dreamed possible! More than three times as much as Newton had been
making at the service station back home! And there were supposed to be
what the Blackwells had called “premiums,” to be paid every few months,
if the young Parker couple “worked out all right.” As the big car had
sped northward toward the Oregon border, Mr. Blackwell had explained
how he had made a virtual fortune on real estate holdings in California
and had decided to retire while he and his wife were still young enough
to enjoy themselves. He had gone on to relate how they had searched all
over the west coast to find exactly the right spot to build a luxurious
home with servants’ accommodations nearby, a spot where they could have
privacy in lovely natural surroundings, and how excited they had been
when finally they had found and bought the property at Quail Lake.
Nadalee had been proud when he had said that she and Newton had been
chosen out of over two hundred couples who had answered the
advertisement from almost all over the United States.

They had arrived at Quail Lake that evening, been given a large bundle
containing their uniforms, and then the Blackwells had escorted them by
flashlight to the roomy, nicely-furnished cottage that was located
about three hundred yards from the main house. It had all seemed to be
a fairy tale, too good to be true, and she had been filled with
childish happiness over the elegance of their new home and the seeming
windfall of money they would be earning simply as servants.

That had been a week ago. But now, despite the fact that Newton was
well pleased with the way things were working out, she was nervous and
always plagued with a feeling of unexplained anxiety, as though her
welfare were constantly on the verge of being irredeemably destroyed,
not only by George Blackwell’s insolent behavior, but also by a strange
mixture of unreconciled feelings inside herself. She had been
struggling with herself, as was even now, against an overpowering
resentment at her husband’s miserly displays of affection toward her
even while she wanted more than anything to please him and be a perfect
wife. She knew she was being silly but it was becoming harder and
harder-especially lately, during the short time that they had been at
Quail Lake-to endure the strong sense of loneliness that she felt.

Well, she decided, there was no time right now to dawdle over such
unimportant matters. She was merely a young newly-wed and Newton surely
realized what he was doing, even if she was unhappy to the point of
misery sometimes, and besides, his apparent coldness toward her was
probably only because he worked so hard to please the Blackwells and
that his mind was filled with plans for the farm that, now, in one
short week had become less “the dream” and more of a reality in her
mind. Her mother had warned her against selfishness, had said, “If you
can’t be certain your man is leading you in the right direction, you
shouldn’t have agreed to follow him in the first place.”

Nadalee noticed the clock on the wall behind the big desk that George
Blackwell had occupied less than five minutes ago. Heavens, it was
almost five-thirty, only twenty minutes before her husband would be
expecting her back at their cottage, and she still had most of the
study to clean! Despite her troubled state of mind and the
embarrassment she had suffered in the room, she knew that Newton would
be absolutely infuriated if for any reason the Blackwells were
dissatisfied with her work as a maid. Sighing, she straightened up and
set herself to the task of finishing the task with a fresh burst of
energy, praying that she could do a decent job and still be home before
she was missed.

Twenty minutes later, almost to the second, Nadalee hurried through the
garden toward the forest path that snaked through the towering trees
along the lake to the cottage. Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks
at the sound of a menacing growl behind her. After what seemed an
eternity, she turned slowly and saw that it was Buck, the huge black-
and-brown German Shepherd that was nearly always at Braun’s side. She
had forgotten in her haste that the bald servant usually allowed the
dog to run free in the afternoon.

“Go home, Buck, go back!” she commanded with shaky authority. But the
ferocious-looking creature would not budge and sat there a few yards
behind her, snarling as he moved his head up and down to scan her body,
eyeing her as though he were human. She was frightened half to death
but could not help but admire Buck’s raw animal magnificence. Even
perched on his haunches, he was imposingly large and feral, even
exciting…. His chest was as broad as a young boy’s and she allowed
her eyes to roam from its huskiness down along his fawn-colored belly
to the hairy sheath aiming up between his powerful hindquarters. For
some reason, the canine’s furry sex organ reminded her of the sight of
George Blackwell’s erected penis under his woolen trousers, how it had
jutted out so lewdly and yet had been mysteriously exciting. The German
Shepherd’s ensheathed maleness now had the same alarming fascination
about it, like some mighty hidden strength that was threatening but
oddly thrilling as well.

Realizing what she was doing, she quickly raised her eyes and stood
there in confusion for another long moment, wondering if the beast
would attack her. Then, suddenly, she heard Braun’s deep voice calling
Buck back to the house and watched with relief as the big dog rose and
turned to trot off, his dark pod-like testicles swinging heavily down
between his back legs as he went. They looked to be as large as, if not
actually larger than her husband, Newton’s!

A couple of minutes later, she was already halfway home, still
trembling from the shock of her encounter with Buck. She stopped at one
of her favorite spots along the trail, hoping to calm down a little
before she arrived at the cottage. She peered out through an opening in
the evergreens at the idyllic mile-long lake shimmering like molten
fire in the light of the late afternoon sun. It was a brilliant blaze
of orange and gold that softened and finally faded in the rhythmic
green water that lapped at the glacier-formed rocks and the exposed
down-curving roots of pines along the edge of the shore. Good Lord, it
was a beautiful place! She had to admit that she had never seen
anything so utterly breathtaking anywhere in Oklahoma. She felt the
coolness of the air wafting over her skin, her wide green eyes full of
the poetry of nature as she gazed out at the oblong body of water
nestling in the bosom of the high peaks surrounding it.

Just as she turned to leave, a hawk came into view, circling up high
over the lake and then gliding silently down on the still air to flash
in the sunlight like a hover of gold. Oh, if only she were that free,
that free to soar and feel the bloom of young womanhood in her limbs,
free to be herself and not haunted by whatever it was within her that
seemed to enslave her almost as much as Newton and the Blackwells.

Remembering the time, she hurried down the shade-mottled path toward
the cottage where her husband would be waiting impatiently for her to
prepare his dinner.

Chapter Two

“Honey, do you like Mr. Blackwell?” Nadalee asked suddenly,
interrupting the after-dinner silence in the living room and causing
Newton Parker to lift his eyes from the Bible he was reading. He did
not answer her right away and sat staring across the dimly-lighted room
with a pious scowl on his face. Reading Scripture and quiet meditation
for nearly two hours every evening were practices that his farmer
parents had taught him and he devoutly followed them. Nadalee knew
perfectly well that this was a sacred time of day and he resented her
intrusion.

“Well, honey, do you like him?” the redhead asked again.

“Nadalee, I’m trying to read the Bible,” Newton said sternly, turning
his head to glare reprovingly at his lovely youthful wife. “We’ll talk
about Mr. Blackwell later … when it’s time to go to bed.”

“Sure, honey, it’s all right with me if we talk about it later,” she
nodded obediently. Resigning herself to the fact that she would have to
wait out the long stretch of lonely stillness before her, she shrugged
her shoulders and settled back in her chair then to gaze downward at
the floor. Just as always, she would spend this time pretending to pray
and think divine thoughts but really she would be mulling despairingly
over the emptiness of their life together. It was nothing unusual at
all. It was Newton’s regular habit to postpone their daily “talks” for
bedtime and when they were finished, instead of touching and caressing
her, making her feel loved, he inevitably announced that they had
better get to sleep because tomorrow would be another “hard day of
work.”

“Why?”

“Why what, Newton?”

“Why do you want to know if I like Mr. Blackwell?” he asked, curiosity
as well as irritation in his voice now. He could not focus his
attention again on the passage he had been reading while her question
continued to play on his mind, intriguing him to the point of
bewilderment. He could not for the life of him understand why she had
thought to ask him that.

“Oh, it’s nothing important,” she said softly, surprised that he wanted
to know enough to persist this way. Also, she was sorry now that she
had even dared to bring up the subject, for surely it would cause
trouble between them.

“It must’ve been pretty darned important, Nadalee, or you wouldn’t
bother me when I’m reading the Bible,” he insisted. “Now tell me, why
do you want to know if I like Mr. Blackwell?”

“Honestly, honey, we can talk about it when we go to bed,” the
beautiful young redhead said soothingly, trying to appease him with a
weak smile of assurance.

“Nadalee, I want to know right now what made you ask me that question!”
he demanded, his handsome face clouding with frustration and anger.

“Well, he … Mr. Blackwell … he was … looking at me today,” she
finally said stumblingly, her enthusiasm to share this shocking
knowledge with her husband suddenly fading away. She knew that, unless
she could come up with a watered-down version of what had happened, he
would prod her until she blurted out the whole sordid truth about their
employer’s behavior that day.

“You just don’t make any sense,” Newton grumbled. “What’s my opinion of
the man have to do with his looking at you? What’s come over you?
You’ve been actin’ like the devil’s got you ever since we came up here
to work.”

“Please, I just wanted to know if you like him,” she said, her eyes
filling with tears and her slim shoulders clenching inward as she made
a huge effort to fight down the emotion that would betray her into
telling the whole story.

“All right, sure, I like him. Why shouldn’t I? He’s a fine man with a
good heart and he brought us here to pay good money for honest work.
Lord willing, he’s our big chance to get that farm and settle down to
live like honest people should.”

“But Newton, don’t get mad at me,” Nadalee pleaded with a choked sob.
“Can’t you see that I was only teasing you-I just wanted to see if
you’d be jealous of him. I know you admire him and I was only … only
teasing … I’m sorry I said he was looking at me! I’m sorry I said
anything at all!”

“You should be!” the brunette husband accused. “This is a funny time
… after dinner this way … to be pullin’ silly little girl stunts
like that.” With his last remark, the tall slender young man hung his
head for a moment and mumbled a brief prayer, then rose and closed the
Sacred Book.

She watched him walk grimly across the living room floor and reverently
place the Bible next to the large photograph of his mother and father
on top of a cabinet, then turn on his heel to stride briskly away
without a word toward the rear of the cottage. She was alone now, more
than ever alone, and an overwhelming feeling of miserable desolation
swept over her.

Lord, how she wished she had kept her mouth shut about the incident
that afternoon! She should have realized that Newton would never listen
to anything that seemed to threaten their jobs here at Quail Lake …
their “big chance to get that farm” someday. It was almost funny, now
that she thought of it, for maybe she had been teasing her husband a
little by daring to mention that their harsh-faced employer had stared
at her that day. Maybe she had actually wanted to see if Newton’s
puritanical approach to sex was strong enough to make him want to
protect his own wife from the lewd gazes of an older man-even though
any show of indignation on his part might well cause George Blackwell
to fire them both. Well, now she knew, she smiled bitterly, but still,
it was impossible for her to wiggle out of the untenable position she
had put herself in by changing her story at the last minute and not
truthfully saying what had happened in Mr. Blackwell’s study … what
awful things he had said to her.

For the first time that evening, she pictured again the lurid spectacle
of her employer’s hardened shaft in his trouser crotch. Then, without
warning, an unwanted tingle of sensation fluttered in her stomach as
she remembered the wide spreading stain of wetness that she had seen at
the tip of his penis where it had strained under the woolen fabric. It
caused her to think back to one night when Newton was still courting
her. They had been to a potluck dinner at his church and had been
sitting quietly in his beat-up old jalopy, parked in front of her
parents’ house on Taylor Street. It had been summer and they had
listened to the crickets chirping as they held hands, very much in
love. Suddenly, the good-looking brunette boy had reached over and
thrown his arms around her, jerking her to him and kissing her hard,
his tongue actually slipping between her lips to touch hers. His breath
had been warm and clean and she had felt his hands start to play
lightly down from her sun-tanned shoulders to her chest. Then he had
reached for one of her breasts and found his way under her blouse and
then under her bra. It had been terribly exciting, as if the soft flesh
had been given miraculous life in a second. His hand had been hot and
firm, her nipple pulsing in his palm, and she had begun to quiver and
make small sounds far back in her throat.

Newton had mistaken her sensual arousal for whimpers of protest,
though, and had swiftly withdrawn his hand to sit with his head hanging
down in shame. He had spent almost an hour apologizing to her, begging
her forgiveness and promising never again to stray from the strict
moral values that his parents had drilled into him. And she had tried
to console him, saying that it was just as much her fault as his….
Nevertheless, he had carried the burden of his guilt around with him
for almost a year, had even seen her less for awhile, until eventually
the horror of the liberty he had taken with her cooled in his mind.

They had been married a year later, two days after her seventeenth
birthday, and then her suffering had really begun. On their wedding
night she had felt free to give herself to him completely and had
wanted to please him as much as she could with her inexperienced body.
At first it had been wonderful to be all naked and cozy together in the
warmth of their honeymoon bed and he had stroked her with his hands,
roving them maddeningly over the full length of her body, over her flat
white stomach and then on down to the auburn softness of her pubic
hair. He had stroked her there slowly, gently insinuating his middle
finger between the moist, never-before-entered lips of her vagina. It
had started a thrilling prickling feeling in her that she had never
known before and she had squirmed around on the mattress beneath his
probings. Then she had unexpectedly felt a blunt fleshy pressure
digging against the top of her thigh, gouging demandingly into the
tender sensitive skin there, hurting her a little but not enough to
make her object and risk losing the waves of sensuality it made in her.

It had been his penis!

She had never actually felt its nakedness against her own naked flesh
and the muscles of her body had contracted involuntarily at the strange
touch. A rippling shock of electric pleasure had gone racing through
her as he inserted his finger deeper and she had been literally unable
to move. Then, Newton had taken her closest hand to place it over his
rigidity, gasping as he felt her fingers clenching around him. She had
never dreamed that it would be so enormous, even though she had seen
its swollen length beneath his trousers that night in the car, the same
stain of wetness on his pants that she had seen just that afternoon on
George Blackwell’s pants in the upstairs study.

At last Newton had rolled over on top of her and placed his penis
between her thighs, reaching down with one hand to guide the tip up
into the tiny, virginal opening of her throbbing wet vaginal passage.
After the initial pain of entry, she remembered that nothing in the
world had ever made her feel so good, so complete, so utterly female
and worthwhile. They had tossed and moaned for what seemed ages, until
eventually he had groaned louder and she felt, a hot, thick stream of
liquid spurt up inside her stomach, filling her so much that it had
flowed out again and drenched the sparsely growing curls of her pubic
hair, covering the insides of her thighs with its slippery wetness and
dripping down to moisten the sheet beneath her buttocks. He had given
out a final groan and then collapsed over her body, mumbling abject
apologies into her ear for having brought them to what he said was a
low, indecent level of unholy lust.

It had been evident that he was unaware of her frustration that night,
for he had obviously thought that they had both reached climax and he
had been responsible for reducing them to what he considered to be
ungodly behavior. Strangely enough, she had not told him that she had
been only on the brink of orgasm. Perhaps it had been pride-she could
not remember now-but she had tried to be understanding and stroked the
back of his neck tenderly, consoling him with soft whispers even as she
had hoped desperately that he would get hard again and do the same
thing to her a second time to end the tension she felt. Instead,
though, he had risen from the bed and dressed to cover his nakedness
before rummaging through their luggage for the gilt-edged Bible his
father had given him before he died.

Newton had spent most of the night reading verses on carnal lust,
scolding himself in prayers for what he had done to his new bride on
the first night of their honeymoon. The next day they had had an
argument after she had come up to him to kiss and enjoy a little
session of snuggling against him. Then, she had really wanted him to
make passionate love to her and when he had kissed her back and held
her to him just long enough to quicken her pulse and breathing, he had
pushed her away and almost shouted that sex was evil except as a divine
means of reproducing children.

It had been the same ever since. Newton made love to her only when he
could convince himself that God really wanted him to have a son, “a
strong boy to help him work the farm someday.” At times he seemed
almost obsessed with the idea of having a child but could not manage to
overcome his feelings of sacrilege when it came to the act of sex
itself, and accordingly, he had established a pattern of making love to
her a mere once or twice a month. And even then, he fondled and
caressed her vibrant young body only long enough to stimulate himself
to the point of achieving an erection. Then, soon, too soon, without
any warning or buildup of her own passion, he would pump his male sperm
up into her womb and rise from her to return to his own bed.

As the result of this unrelenting moral code of Newton’s, she had lived
a life of total confusion during their one year of marriage, feeling
always either frustrating desire for him or a sense of profound
loneliness and exile. Sometimes, she even reminded herself of one of
the divorcees or old maids she had read about in English translations
of those saucy French novels, the books that at sixteen she had
discovered and been able to sneak out of her grandfather’s supposedly
secret library of erotica when the old man had been living with her
mother and father then. But there were crucial differences between her
and those desire-ridden fictional characters-she, Nadalee, was young
and alive, married, and wanted more than anything else simply to share
all that she possibly could with her husband, the man whom she loved
now, despite everything, just as much as ever.

She thought about the warmth of his lean body and how blissfully
comforting his strong muscular arms would feel if suddenly,
miraculously, he would call out for her to come in to bed with him. She
knew better than to hope for miracles now, though. And yet, she could
not shake off the feeling that she had been deserted and she could not
help but be vaguely frightened as she contemplated the bleak prospect
of the future as Newton’s wife. She realized that she was not even an
adult yet, not in years anyway, but she was, nevertheless, a person and
had the same need for affection and understanding that any fully mature
woman felt. She worked hard every day around people who were strangers
to her, only to come home to another stranger, her husband. Here at
Quail Lake, twenty miles from the nearest town, there was no one to
talk to, no form of diversion for her, and she felt more and more
imprisoned within herself as each day passed.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom
door slamming shut behind Newton and the soft padding of his footsteps
as he headed toward their bedroom. Heavens, how long had she been
sitting here letting her mind wander? Glancing over at the clock on the
wall by the entrance to the kitchen, she saw that it was after ten, the
time they usually went to bed. Newton was evidently terribly angry at
her or he would surely have summoned her from the living room by now,
reminding her of the time and that they had to get up early the next
morning.

The sweet-faced girl uncurled her legs from under her and swung them
over the edge of the chair, allowing the blood to prickle for a moment
in her ankles and feet before she stood and then hastily moved around
the room, switching off the overhead light and the several table lamps
in the room. She thought of George Blackwell again as she made her way
cautiously through the darkness toward the lighted hallway…. What
could she possibly say to him tomorrow if he renewed his interest in
what she “liked” about him? She knew that she would have to lie if he
cornered her somewhere in the house to torment her with the question, a
question that embarrassed her even now, for she could not honestly say
that she felt anything but plain fear and loathing of the man. She had
never met a more heartlessly ruthless person in her life, not one who
seemed to take such undisguised satisfaction in the discomfort that his
very presence caused in other human beings around him. He was
completely unlike anyone she had ever known among the sturdy reliable
people of Oklahoma…. If Newton believed that there truly was a Satan
on this earth, certainly George Blackwell was the fiend himself … or
at least seemed to be the most likely candidate for the position. What
was worse, she thought bitterly, the wealthy man had had the gall to
use her as an instrument with which to torment Braun, the bald half-
witted servant who always seemed to stare at her with such open,
actually pitiful hunger.

“Blast it, Nadalee, if you can’t make up your mind to come in here to
your bed, at least turn off that bright light out there so that I can
get some rest,” Newton growled out from the darkened interior of the
bedroom, the tone of his voice no less wrathful now than when he had
left her alone in the front room of the cottage three hours earlier.

“I’ll be in there in a minute, honey,” the ravishingly beautiful girl
assured. With a deep sigh of fatigue, she opened the linen closet at
the end of the hallway and took out her nightgown, reflecting one last
time, though less clearly now, on the strange events that had taken
place that day. Maybe everything was not as bad as it seemed, she
debated sleepily…. Perhaps she was just exaggerating everything in
her mind and was being a silly little girl, exactly as Newton had said
earlier. Maybe her physical and emotional needs were not really the
same as those of a fully mature woman, were in reality nothing more
than the selfish flights of adolescent fancy of a girl who was only
eighteen … even though she was married and temporarily isolated from
friends and fun. Maybe, despite everything she had felt to the contrary
that day, maybe she really was being silly and too emotional. It could
be that her gloomy conclusions lately about the circumstances at Quail
Lake, as well as those concerning her marriage to Newton, were no less
absurdly melodramatic than the distressing theatrics of those
frustrated old maids and divorcees whose entanglements in spicy
fictional situations were the very meat of the risque novels she had
borrowed so furtively from her grandfather’s naughty collection….
After all, it had been two years ago when she read them, when she was
only barely sixteen, and now she was older, married, a housewife with a
husband to look after and a good-paying job that required
responsibility. Naturally she had more common sense now and there was
no doubt that the sensational plights of those women in the books would
seem like utter nonsense to her if she cared to read them again at this
point in her life. She felt oddly relieved now that she had acquitted
herself of her own indictment, because above all, it was important to
her to be herself for Newton.

A few moments later, Nadalee was cuddling up tightly to the pillow she
held in her arms, the covers pulled up over her ears, her young body
slowly unwinding from the pressure of her experience that afternoon and
at home that evening. Unconsciousness rose like a welcome tide of
darkness throughout her whole being, gradually obscuring the last
pictures in her mind of Mr. Blackwell’s penis jerking obscenely in his
trousers and of the big German Shepherd’s furry sheath….

Chapter Three

The next morning, a little after seven o’clock, Nadalee felt buoyantly
happy and fresh as she bounced briskly along the springy forest path on
her way to work at the Blackwell house. She was about fifteen minutes
early and she was glad of it. The beautiful young redhead’s spirits
bubbled over at the majestic splendor all around her, her large green
eyes brilliant with wonder as she tried to look everywhere at once and
drink everything in simultaneously. It was one of those special
mornings and she wished she could say hello to somebody or somehow
embrace the air.

There was a cool exhilarating breeze breathing in mildly from somewhere
out on the lake … cool yet pleasantly warm as though the wind were
coming only from out where the diffused image of the sun was mirrored
like an immense white beacon blazing in the stupendous green of the
water. She could see long luminous white clouds trailing their own
reflections across the glassy surface of the lake. To her, they seemed
to be wisps of smoke drifting away from the raging bonfire of sunshine
out in the middle. Then, suddenly, she saw a trout flash upward out of
the water, a silver streak of iridescent grace that fell back with a
splash and was marked by rippling circles of blue-green that widened
outward, winking little lights where the sun sparked on their tiny
crests. It was all so wondrous, so calm and familiar, she thought
almost religiously; it was like an ideal world God had created
somewhere else and then, for some unknown reason, had decided to place
here in the midst of the harsher reality of the regular world. Oh, if
only Newton were here with her now, she wished, fighting down the
sudden desire to run ahead and search for him in the tool shack or the
garage where he usually worked mornings.

Newton was the real reason why she was in such high spirits this
morning. When she had risen this morning, she had expected him to show
at least the lingering traces of his anger from last night but instead
he had been almost cheerful at breakfast. He had not given any
explanation for this wonderful difference in his behavior except to say
that he had been doing what he mysteriously referred to as “some hard
thinking that morning.” Then, just before he left for work, he had
surprised her by stopping at the doorway to kiss and hold her for a
long blissful moment. She remembered now with a glow of radiant
happiness just how astonished and thrilled she had been as she watched
him disappear into the forest, so much so that her fears and doubts
about their relationship had become meaningless to her in an instant
and then the future had seemed to change in that instant from dismal
blankness to a bright hope in her mind. Oh, anything, she would do
anything! she resolved as she bounded along the same winding trail that
he had taken earlier that morning, if only Newton would continue to
show her such love and let her know that she was more important to him
as a person than merely a female who cooked and cleaned his house,
would someday probably bear him the son he wanted.

Two minutes later, Nadalee entered the Blackwell house through the
kitchen door at the back and was confronted by Dolores Blackwell
herself. The young maid stood silently for a moment, gazing at the
thirty-five year-old woman who was leaning back against the long
counter next to the stove where John, the chef, was busy preparing what
seemed to be a particularly elaborate breakfast. Nadalee had been
afraid of Mrs. Blackwell since taking the job and had never been able
to pinpoint just why.

“Well, good morning, Nadalee,” Dolores greeted. “Aren’t you a bit
early?”

“Yes, Mrs. Blackwell,” Nadalee said, “but there were some rooms
upstairs I didn’t have time to clean yesterday … so I wanted to get
an early start this morning.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, darling. I want you to work in the
main living room and to spruce up the dining area this morning,” the
attractive older woman instructed. “Some of our special friends from
San Francisco are driving up for a party George and I are giving the
day after tomorrow, and of course we’d like everything to be just right
for them.”

“Oh, I’ll work extra hard and polish the silver and everything,”
Nadalee assured with enthusiasm.

“I knew you’d understand, darling,” Dolores smiled, nodding her head up
and down as she spoke. “But make certain not to forget to straighten up
our bedroom as usual this afternoon…. Come up just after your lunch
about the time you ordinarily do.”

The young housewife opened her lips impetuously to ask what she should
do after that and then swallowed the question as she remembered that
Braun always relayed Mrs. Blackwell’s orders to her in the afternoon.
Not knowing what to do, Nadalee remained rooted to where she stood,
waiting for the other woman to say something or dismiss her, whatever.
But Dolores Blackwell said nothing and turned away to whisper something
to the thin, rickety looking grey-haired chef beside her.

Nadalee took advantage of the opportunity to take her first long look
at George Blackwell’s wife. She was slightly surprised when she saw
that Dolores was even more strikingly attractive than she had at first
thought that first day at the airport. The woman was a honey-haired
blonde with inviting blue eyes and a lush body of eye-pleasing
proportions. Her mouth was small and her red lips seemed to pout in a
way that suggested chronic boredom. Nadalee recalled the story that Mr.
Blackwell had told on the drive up to Quail Lake from San Francisco,
how some years ago he had gone to New York City to conclude a big
business deal and had met Dolores one night at a stockbroker’s dinner
party. Recently divorced from her last husband, the blonde had been
employed as a successful, high-priced fashion model in the big city.
She and George had both been free to make the most of the strong
attraction they had for each other. Then, after a few dates, they had
decided that they were perfectly matched and had flown west for a brief
wedding ceremony in Las Vegas, followed by three wild weeks of gambling
and drinking to celebrate the fact that they had found each other.

Not long afterward, he had been lucky and fallen into a multimillion
dollar real estate bonanza, had made enough money overnight for them to
retire for the rest of their lives. They had indulged themselves in
lavish comfort and idleness for a few years in San Francisco until they
had chosen Quail Lake as a spot where they could build a miniature
empire and, as Mr. Blackwell had put it a week ago, “relax without
worrying whether or not the blinds ought to be closed.”

“Nadalee, darling, is there something wrong?” Dolores asked as she
peered across the kitchen at the girl still standing there just inside
the door.

“No-no, nothing’s wrong,” the pretty redhead said with a look of
embarrassment on her face. “I was just … just thinking about
something.”

“By the way,” Dolores began, ignoring the girl’s reply, “I’ve got to
admit that that’s a nice dress you’re wearing but it’s not exactly your
uniform, is it?” The challenging glint of amusement in the blonde’s
lively eyes made Nadalee feel suddenly foolish and very ashamed of the
red scoop-neck dress she had chosen that morning in place of the white
uniform that had still been wet from the laundering she had given it
the night before.

“Oh, no … I’m sorry,” Nadalee apologized in a weak voice, “but my
uniform needed washing and it didn’t dry out in time to wear today. I
hoped you wouldn’t mind if I wore this instead … only until
tomorrow.”

“Even though I’ve got to admit that on you it’s certainly sexy enough,”
the elegant blonde woman said in a coy whispering voice, her blue eyes
dropping to carefully assess the generous expanse of rounded bare flesh
swelling up above the low neckline of the red dress, “I guess we’ll
just have to wait to see if George approves or not.”

A puzzled frown on her face, Nadalee watched Dolores suddenly
straighten up and march breezily off toward the doorway that opened
from the kitchen into the main ground floor corridor. The older woman
turned at the last second to flash a quizzical grin back at her and
then disappeared.

“By damn, one thing’s for sure,” John said a moment later in his
squeaky voice, “Mrs. Blackwell’s got something up her sleeve-something
for you.”

“What do you mean?” Nadalee worried.

“I mean, honey, that I’ve seen her act this way quite a few times,” the
skinny chef answered, “and something funny always happens when she
does…. But I just can’t understand all the rest of it, though.”

“All the rest of what?” the girl asked quickly, a feeling of irritating
confusion coming over her.

“It’s hard to explain,” the thin-faced chef of nearly sixty said with a
shrug. “Do you know that she came down here to tell me to take the
afternoon off…. She told me to take one of their new boats and go
fishing out there on the lake.”

“What’s so strange about that?” Nadalee laughed.

“Nothing much, I guess,” he admitted, “except that she knows damned
well I don’t even like to fish. And besides, I’m scared to death of
deep water anyway.”

Nadalee stood in the center of the huge master bedroom upstairs as she
looked around the interior one last time before she left. Satisfied
that she had missed nothing, she bent down to gather up the assortment
of cleaning materials heaped in a pile at her feet. She froze with both
hands halfway to the floor when she heard the unexpected sound coming
through the partially open door from the adjoining bedroom to her
right.

It was a husky male groan.

Good heavens, who could be in there at this time of day? she wondered.
What was going on? Nadalee straightened up bravely and walked slowly
toward the door. When she was a mere six or seven steps from her
destination, she heard an even louder groan, a woman’s this time!

My God, someone is hurt in there, the redhead thought, her first
reaction naturally being to rush forward and throw open the door as
fast as she possibly could. As she reached forward to grasp the handle
on the door, the sound of a low menacing animal growl reached her ears
and caused her to freeze again. She stood there for an endless moment,
wondering what she could do as she listened for more sounds with every
ounce of her concentration, her eyes glued to the floor. Gradually, she
was able to make out other noises beyond the door even though her own
heart was thumping so loudly that it was difficult at first. She could
hear heavy rushed breathing punctuated by occasional grunts and moans
of what almost sounded like passion. But that could not be, she
reasoned, for everyone was supposed to be downstairs-and anyway, only
the Blackwells would be together that way here in the house today. It
seemed highly unlikely that her wealthy employers would dare do such a
thing during the broad daylight, especially when Dolores Blackwell knew
that their servant would be working in the next room at that time of
the afternoon. And even if they had been so bold, surely they would
have at least closed the door beforehand.

Her whole body tensed automatically as a nearby male groan suddenly
erupted to join the other human sounds inside the room. This one came
from only a few feet away from where she stood, petrified, her lovely
white teeth chattering slightly from the fright and incapacitating
confusion she felt. Her heart stopped and she hardly dared to breathe
as the closest male groan resounded in her ears again. Finally,
curiosity got the best of her and she slowly lifted her eyes from the
floor to see if she could catch a glimpse of the source of the sound.

As her eyes adjusted to the brighter light that streamed into her face
from the next room, she was able to make out a tall male form standing
beyond the partly open door to her right. She blinked several times to
clear her vision and sharpen into focus the hulking form which stood in
towering profile only slightly over a yard from her own position.

The color in Nadalee’s face ebbed suddenly as she sucked in her breath
in horror!

She saw that it was Braun, the bald half-wit of thirty. He was standing
there in front of her completely naked and holding his enormous rigid
penis tightly with both hands. The long hard shaft of male flesh looked
almost as thick as a young tree trunk and glistened all along its
jutting length. It was incredible! It made Newton’s penis seem small by
comparison-though she knew that her young husband was extremely well-
endowed since she had seen photographs of other naked men with
erections in the illustrated marriage manual that she had bought back
in Oklahoma without telling Newton. She had studied the text and
pictures carefully again just before they had left to come here because
she had begun to worry anxiously about the possibility that their sex
life was a failure due to some short-coming on her part. Now, despite
her crippling shock, she was able to remember the manual’s statement
that “… the average male sex organ ranges from five to seven inches
when in a state of erection.” Good Lord, she gasped, Braun was
certainly not average! His huge protruding member was at least eight
inches long, maybe more, and even his large hands could barely encircle
its pulsing heavily-veined girth.

She saw that the bald moron’s eyes were glazed as he stroked the long
hard penis up and down in lewd rhythmic time to the now wet sucking
noises she could hear coming from the bed on the other side of the
room. Nadalee could not tell who was making the sounds as she was not
standing far enough to one side of the open doorway to have a view of
the wall against which the bed was placed. Braun was so close to her
that she was afraid to even breathe for fear he might hear her. She
stood there shaking from head to foot, her feet cemented to the
carpeted floor, watching in horrified fascination as the servant’s
fingers skinned the thick foreskin of his uncircumcised penis rapidly
up and down the full length of it, the huge bulbous head bursting
evilly into view, like a giant monster crawling from a secret lair,
with each hard downstroke that he made with his hands. She was close
enough so that she could see that it was wet on the top from the white,
sticky lubricating fluid beginning to ooze forth from it.

Braun’s breath sounded thick and heavy now and she could see thin white
flecks of spittle joining each other to grow heavy and run down from
his lips as he stared like a man in a trance at the bed just out of her
view. His penis frightened her so much it was almost as though she were
seeing one for the first time. It was monstrous and she could not even
imagine having something that big inside her…. My Lord, such a
massive thing would ruin her for life if she ever tried to take it
between her legs!

Then, in her dazed state, the lovely girl thought she saw an almost
imperceptible flick of the shiny-headed man’s beady eyes toward the
spot where she stood. What if he should turn a little and discover her
watching him? How on earth could she possibly explain the fact that she
had been caught spying on the idiot as he obscenely masturbated
himself? No one would ever believe her when she tried to tell how she
had been a victim of circumstances and had seen Braun only by accident.

Nadalee heaved a soundless sigh of relief when she saw him turn
slightly away to gain a better view of whatever was happening over on
the bed. As the tempo of the noises inside increased, she had to admit
that her curiosity to know what was going on had been piqued to an
almost maddeningly intense desire to chance a look in for herself. At
last it became too much for her and she moved cautiously backward out
of Braun’s range of vision to lean against the wall a few inches from
the stationary frame of the doorway. Then, leaning forward, the girl
placed her fingertips against the door itself and gently eased it
forward until the bed across the room came into view by degrees. Her
whole body was shaking violently and the fear she felt made it almost
impossible to draw air into her lungs without feeling nauseous. When
she saw the two forms on the bed, it took her brain an extra moment to
register what her eyes had already communicated to it an instant
before.

A chilling shiver ran crazily up the length of her spine and lodged
perilously in her throat, almost causing her to retch then and there.
Right before her very eyes, clearly illuminated by the bright daylight
pouring in through the open shutters in the other bedroom, she saw
George and Dolores Blackwell coupled lewdly on the bed, their naked
bodies thrashing wildly as their loins smacked wetly and wantonly
together. Nadalee felt the blood draining from her head and she had to
fight for a moment to remain on her feet as waves of blackness crossed
over her consciousness from the sudden shock of catching the older man
and woman in the act of love. It was what she had watched Braun gazing
at so intently before she had stepped backward to her present vantage-
point.

“Ooooh, fuck me, baby, fuck me,” Dolores moaned up at George, her eyes
clenched tightly shut as she ground her pelvis forward against the big
man’s loins. The foot of the bed was pointed directly at the doorway
and Nadalee could see her employer’s hard, thick penis disappearing and
reappearing with each cruel thrust and withdrawal that he made in his
blonde wife’s willingly sucking vagina. It was the first time that
Nadalee had ever seen other people actually making love and she was
frozen to the door, unable to move, as she watched with detached
revulsion the ravishment of the stunning older woman’s aroused and more
than willing body on the swaying bed against the far wall of the
adjoining room.

Nadalee could not help but study with horrified interest how the
woman’s legs were splayed out wide on either side of her husband’s
plunging body and occasionally kicked high in the air. Then the blonde
folded them around his driving buttocks, her ankles locking tightly
behind his thighs to pull him into her with all the strength of a
tiger. Nadalee could see the muscles standing out on the woman’s inner
thighs as she struggled like a crazed she-demon to get him deeper
inside her.

Then Nadalee saw George Blackwell drop his enormous hands down lower to
cup his blonde wife’s naked white buttocks with a savage strength that
gouged the blunt tips of his fingers cruelly and deeply into the
flaccid smoothness of her flesh. He squeezed the soft rounded globes
tightly together, forcing the walls of her vagina closer around the
thickness of his rigid penis. Nadalee found herself straining her eyes
for a better view of the thin, ragged edges of the blonde’s vagina
clasping hungrily around the pistoning shaft as though it were a
starving mouth nibbling greedily at the feast of hardness. The
beautiful young maid could see the soft golden pubic hairs that
surrounded the parted lips grazing teasingly against the pulsing corded
ridge that ran along the full length of the underside of his penis. It
was an obscene but fascinating sight that caused an unwanted flutter of
sensation in her alert nerve-ends and made her legs shake more
violently than ever.

Blackwell’s wife’s hotly quivering buttocks were grinding faster now
and their mewls and groans of pleasure were becoming more and more
desperate as Nadalee stood gazing at them through glazed, almost
uncomprehending eyes as if she were hypnotized by the lewd spectacle
taking place on the bed. George’s impassioned wife made wilder and more
demonic thrusts which were met with equal fury by the big millionaire’s
pelvis, smacking down hard into her, slamming her nakedly writhing body
back down into the mattress with each powerful stroke. The loud
slapping sound of sweat-soaked stomach against sweat-soaked stomach
echoed lewdly throughout the room as the thirty-five year-old woman
curled and uncurled her legs in frantic final desperation around the
driving hips that flattened her curvaceous body down into the wildly
squeaking mattress with each mighty surge.

Nadalee’s breath came increasingly faster as she continued to observe
the shameless pair’s insanely rhythmic fucking motions grow more and
more viciously demanding with each passing second. They were both
puffing heavily and the mesmerized young girl could see small rivulets
of sweat streaming down over Mr. Blackwell’s grinding and hollowing
buttocks as he worked frenziedly over his sex-craved wife’s writhing
body. Small beads of gleaming perspiration had also formed on the
shapely blonde woman’s brow from the heat of her ceaseless exertions
and her large wide-open blue eyes were glassy and unseeing as she
bucked upward to meet her husband’s hard driving loins.

As she stared with intense concentration at her lusting employers,
Nadalee suddenly realized that the tiny rustlings of sensation in her
limbs had become undeniably pleasurable during the last minutes.
Despite the fact that she loathed to admit it, the luscious teen-aged
wife knew that her vaginal lips were slippery with moist wetness and
throbbed into the crotchband of her sheer nylon panties. She felt a
tingling hardness at the tips of her pinkish-brown nipples and the
cheeks of her buttocks flexed involuntarily to the pounding rhythm of
the Blackwells’ love-making. Oh my God, she moaned inwardly, she had
actually permitted herself to become sexually stimulated by observing
the obscene performance across the room. No, no, she protested to
herself in horror, struggling against acceptance of the thought that
Newton might have been right to call her a shamelessly evil person
those times soon after they were married when her passion during
sessions of intercourse had overwhelmed her to the point of near
abandon. It was not true! And yet she remembered how once she had been
actually on the threshold of what must have been orgasm. Her brown-
haired young husband had sensed something devilishly fantastic about to
take place in her and had abruptly rolled to one side to ward it off.
Afterward, she had been so ashamed that she had not allowed herself to
lose control ever again.

Now, though, Nadalee’s nerves seemed to be threatening her again with
sensual betrayal. She stood quivering in the doorway with her right
cheek pressed firmly against the cool enamel covering the wooden frame,
her magnificent large breasts rapidly rising and falling with every
short panting breath she took. It required all the strength she had to
fight back the sudden desire to lower her hand down to her own lust-
lubricated vagina. Even so, incredible sensations of delight made her
erect clitoris pulsate and secrete a fresh trickle of cuntal juices
until her panties were soaked through and through. She had not been
this excited since the first days of her marriage and it seemed to her
that she would either have to scream or explode fairly soon.

“Ooh, yessss, I’m almost there, almost…. Fuck me, fuck me faster!”
the voluptuous blonde whined obscenely in a high voice that suddenly
commanded Nadalee’s full attention again. Lord, what Mrs. Blackwell
must be feeling right now, the girl thought almost enviously as she
stared in enthrallment at the woman flailing wildly under the silver-
haired mountain of a man on top of her. A fleeting resentment came over
the young wife as she thought of Newton’s sexual techniques … if he
had any at all … as compared to the aggressive boldness and
undisguised lust of her forty-five year-old employer. As untrustworthy
and disgusting as the redhead thought he was, it was obvious that at
least George cared enough about Dolores to demonstrate his feelings in
the ultimate act of love. Not that Nadalee thoroughly approved of the
horrible, barbaric way the man showed his affection; but it was better
than nothing … better than mere promises and prayers instead of real
communication … better than what Newton called “the dream.”

Nadalee gazed on at the lust-ridden couple, sensing that their bout of
love-making was nearing the cataclysmic crest of feeling that she had
only read and heard about from others. It was at that instant that she
let her eyes wander a little and caught sight of a slight movement next
to the jouncing bed.

It was Buck, the massive German Shepherd, his ferocious jowls parted
and his long furled tongue panting out wetly as he sniffed within mere
inches of Mrs. Blackwell’s naked, cock-filled vagina. Nadalee gasped in
alarm as she watched the blackish-brown creature poke his muzzle
forward to lap up some of the blonde’s spilled vaginal juice from the
sheet just under her nakedly exposed buttocks, the redness of his thick
eager tongue snaking out again and again. It was unnatural even to
watch-and yet the curvaceous youthful redhead felt her womb contract
slightly from the very vileness of the sight of the dog’s nearness to
the passionate woman. Depraved, senseless thoughts raced madly through
the maid’s mind, shocking her, until at last she heard George’s breath
quicken and knew that someone was on the verge of climax.

“Ooooohh, I’m cummmmming! Oooooohhh!” Dolores groaned, a low, inhuman
gurgle coming from her throat as both cheeks of her buttocks slowed
their wild scrambling for completion and began to make small, spasmodic
jerks up against the penis sunk deep between her open legs. At almost
the same time, Nadalee heard a gasp of surprise from Mr. Blackwell’s
throat as he ground down hard inside his wife’s vagina, his thick,
fleshy cock beginning to throw out its white, milky sperm deep inside
the jerking sheath engulfing it. The rich creamy fluid filled the
blonde’s passage completely and cascaded out around the pink moist lips
of her cunt. To the young girl’s dismay, she could clearly see a thin
white stream of it running down the wide-split crevice of the older
woman’s buttocks and onto the mattress below. After jerking against
each other convulsively a few more times, the wealthy couple lay still,
breathing thickly, and finally the big brawny man withdrew himself from
her arms and legs to roll over on his back beside her, his entire body
glistening with a sheen of sweat as his broad hairy chest heaved up and
down, filling his lungs with much-needed air. The thick fleshy shaft
between his legs was deflating rapidly and there was a slight seepage
of warm sticky perm still seeping obscenely from the tip.

Nadalee’s own desire had finally overcome her horrified restraint a few
seconds before and her hand had probed under her short skirt to insert
itself inside the elastic top of her panties, her fingers sliding along
her warmly moistened vaginal slit and coming to rest on the erectly
pulsating bud of her clitoris. Now she began to rock gently with silent
pleasure as she massaged herself, sending rapturous flutters of
sensation through her belly that seemed to branch out and touch every
inch of her physical being. She was so totally absorbed in what she was
doing that she was oblivious to everything around her and did not sense
the shadowy hulking form moving stealthily up behind her. It remained
motionless then for a long moment, hovering within a foot of the girl’s
slender shoulder.

Suddenly it moved with lightning speed.

“Oh!” Nadalee cried out in fright, cringing away from the strong wiry
hand holding her arm in a powerful vice-like grip. She was caught
completely off guard and had to gulp to recapture her breath as she
quickly withdrew her hand from beneath her skirt. The spell was
shattered, the rising flame of her passion suddenly snuffed out, and
she could only stand there quaking with terror from head to foot.
Gradually, the hand loosened its painful grasp enough so that she was
able to straighten up and relieve the pressure where her right shoulder
was crushed against the frame of the doorway. It helped her breathing a
little and she began to wonder who was behind her. Slowly, she turned
her head back and saw with horror that it was the bald simpleton,
Braun. The tall, grotesquely ugly servant was still stark naked and his
nostrils were twitching with excitement, just as they always did when
she was present, as though he were some kind of wild animal catching
the maddening scent of a bitch in heat. There was a weird twisted grin
on his moronic face as he raked the lovely girl’s trembling young body
with his hungrily-shining eyes.

She dropped her own eyes to avoid his and saw with a rush of panic that
Braun’s gigantic penis was standing out even further from his sinewy
loins than before. What was worse, she could see the tremendous cock
growing longer and harder even as she stared at it, its thick blood-
engorged head throbbing mightily as occasional droplets of semen oozed
from the eye-like hole at the end and dropped down in gleaming white
strings to the carpet below. She looked down lower then and caught
sight of the huge testicles sagging between his hairy legs like fleshy
sacs heavily weighted with balls of lead. My God, she thought, they
were as big as baseballs! It was the first time she had seen them. The
huge-sized spheres had not been in clear view when she had watched the
idiot masturbating himself just inside the other bedroom awhile ago.

“It’s big, ain’t it?” Braun snickered lewdly, his normally dull eyes
sparkling a little as he pointed down with one finger at his abnormally
large cock. Nadalee could not answer or even object to the obscene
question as she felt her cheeks flush to a burning crimson with the
realization that he had seen her looking down at his genitalia. Oh no,
she groaned to herself, wave after wave of humiliation and shame
washing over her, making her wish with all her strength that she could
magically vanish from the room. Not only had the half-wit caught her
red-handed in the act of masturbating herself as she was spying on the
Blackwells together, now he knew that she had been staring openly at
his rigid penis and the sperm-filled testicles hanging down below! She
had never been so horribly embarrassed and overwhelmed with guilt in
her life! Not even her fanatically religious husband had never made her
feel as sinfully evil as she did now, standing there fighting back the
tears of remorse beginning to well up in her.

“Okay, let’s go,” her naked captor grunted, his ugly face split by a
satisfied grin as he tilted his head toward the interior of the next
bedroom. A spasm of fear traveled through her, suddenly replacing her
other emotions, when she realized what he intended to do with her. She
was deluged with terror at the very thought of facing George and
Dolores Blackwell, presented before them like a common criminal while
Braun charged her with the list of immoral crimes she had committed in
the last fifteen or twenty minutes…. And what if Newton should
somehow find out about her disgraceful behavior that afternoon! That
would be the worst mortification of all, she thought to herself,
dreading almost to the point of panic even the remote possibility of
such a thing happening. Surely it would end their marriage forever, for
he could never bring himself to forgive such a Godless sin.

Braun nudged her rudely with his shoulder, scowling to show his
impatience with her as he tilted his head again toward the entranceway
to the other room, indicating that she should step through the doorway
in front of him.

“No, please! I can’t go in with you right now…. I’ve got too much
housework to finish,” she whispered in protest, hoping to bluff the
weak-minded servant and convince him that her duties were more
important than his taking her in to confront their employers. “If you
force me, I’ll just have to tell them how much you’ve been bothering me
lately when I’m working.”

The tall gangling nitwit’s narrow brow furrowed as his dim mind tried
to grapple with what she had said. Little by little, though, the
puzzled expression on his face changed and slowly hardened, a glint of
ominous malevolence lighting his beady rat-like eyes as she remembered
how Mr. Blackwell had taken him aside before lunch for a serious
conversation in the downstairs study. The big silver-haired millionaire
had carefully explained what he wanted him to do upstairs that
afternoon. If he noticed the good-looking young maid peeking through
the purposely open doorway, he was supposed to slowly back out of
sight, creep out to the hallway and sneak into the next room and grab
her from behind. Well, so far he had done everything exactly right and
now all he had to do was take her in there to Mr. Blackwell, Braun
decided, his blood beginning to boil at the thought of her daring to
resist him.

Nadalee knew that her strategy had failed when she saw that Braun was
glaring at her in such a hateful way, the sullen anger in his face
causing her to fear that he might ball his free hand into a fist and
smash it into her face at any moment. She winced with pain as he
cruelly tightened his iron-like grip on her arm, bruising her flesh,
and then pushed her roughly through the doorway between the two
bedrooms.

Braun held her in front of him at arm’s length as they walked across
the room, the beautiful redhead’s heart pounding fiercely in her throat
as they approached the bed where George and Dolores lay staring up at
the ceiling, still recuperating from their torrid bout of sex. Nadalee
throttled the panicky impulse she had to escape by trying to twist away
from him and then run back through the master bedroom to the stairway.
Actually, she felt almost thankful that the brute’s hand was locked so
solidly on her arm, for her legs were so wobbly with fright that she
needed even that strange form of support to walk at all.

Braun’s pulse quickened, his nostrils twitching again, as he watched
her full rounded buttocks sway enticingly before him, each cheek making
a provocative circling motion under her skirt as she walked. Even
though his huge erect cock had fallen to semi-hardness when he had been
forced to remember his instructions a few minutes ago, the movements of
Nadalee’s perfect young ass made the great shaft jerk higher, its
colossal length swinging from side to side with every step he took.

Chapter Four

“It’s damned hard to believe that you’d do a thing like that,” George
said grimly, an exaggerated expression of disgust on his face as he
glowered at the terrified girl standing a few feet away from the bed,
“but if Braun says he caught you peeping at us from the doorway, it’s
got to be the truth.”

“How could you, Nadalee, after we’ve been so good to you and your
husband?” Dolores frowned, wagging her head back and forth in mock
disgust even as she choked back the burst of laughter rising to her
throat. Suppressing herself, she added, “It’s a serious matter, you
know, and we could send you to jail for what you were doing … while
you were supposed to be working!”

“That’s true,” George agreed. “If it weren’t for Braun, maybe we never
would’ve known what kind of girl you really are.”

“Yeah, I caught her, didn’t I?” the imbecile slobbered, his crushing
grip on Nadalee’s arm tightening as he grinned proudly at the
Blackwells. “She’s a bad girl, ain’t she? She’s bad because she was
playin’ with herself.”

“What do you mean, Braun? What was she doing?” George asked
immediately, barely able to conceal the sudden excitement he felt as he
considered the remark.

“She was rubbin’ herself down there, Mr. Blackwell. She had her hand
there under her dress,” Braun answered, pointing an accusing finger at
the well-defined vee where Nadalee’s creamy thighs joined under the
tightly clinging skirt of the bright red dress she wore.

“My God, did you hear that, Dolores!” George exclaimed, the tone of his
voice one of manufactured indignation. “Our innocent-looking young maid
was not only watching us make love, she was masturbating too!”

Nadalee stood silently, stiffening occasionally as her honor was
slashed to pieces by the others…. But what could she do? How could
she possibly defend herself against them? Every torturing accusation
was true? she thought blackly, and there was no way to soften the
harshness of those truths.

“I caught her lookin’ at my prick too, Mr. Blackwell. She was lookin’
at it for a long time,” Braun suddenly boomed, his announcement causing
his employers to gasp. The bald half-wit’s ugly misshapen face almost
glowed with gleeful pride when he saw George give him a little smile of
approval. The servant seldom received anything but verbal abuse from
the Blackwells and he had long ago come to expect nothing else from
them. But for some reason altogether beyond his comprehension, it
seemed to him that they prized everything he said this afternoon.

“Well, Dolores, I suppose that settles the matter,” George said with a
note of finality, his deep voice uncommonly mellow and tinged with a
note of sympathy that the crestfallen young beauty failed to detect was
phony.

“I guess there’s nothing else we can do,” the blonde sighed, her gaze
swerving abruptly to take in Nadalee’s still-trembling form beside
Braun. She saw with a sense of satisfied delight that the curvaceous
youth’s flawlessly lovely face gave clear evidence of the war of
conflicting emotions that raged within her, her tortured expression a
strange mixture of anxiety and distressing humiliation. By God, George
never fails! Dolores thought with elation. Reviewing what had happened
so far, she realized that everything was working perfectly and in
accord with her husband’s clever plan to bring the sexy-looking little
bitch around to their way of thinking … at least as far as sex was
concerned.

“Now, as much as I dread it, I guess we’d better call Newton up here
and tell him all about your behavior at the doorway, my dear.
Naturally, he should know about how you nearly seduced Braun, a poor
feeble-minded moron who would probably let you have your way with him,”
George said sternly, his voice becoming gruffer by the moment. “I think
it’s only fair that we explain to him how his own wife was caught
masturbating herself as she peeped at her employers making love in what
they thought was the privacy of one of their own bedrooms.”

“It’s a crying shame, of course, but it’s our responsibility, darling,”
Dolores consoled softly, pretending to show sympathy for her broad-
shouldered giant of a husband because of the distaste he feigned about
facing Newton with the report on Nadalee’s shocking immorality. “I only
hope that our unpleasant news doesn’t completely destroy him…. He’s
devoutly religious, you know,” she said to George confidingly, “not to
mention the fact that he’s extremely sensitive when it comes to
marriage and decency.”

“Yes, I know, because I’ve had a few discussions with him in the tool
shack and heard him talk about how a good wife should behave…. And
he’s always excited about this great dream he has of owning a farm
someday,” George informed, the former gruffness in his voice suddenly
softening to a quiet tone of counterfeit sentimentality. The big man
lowered his eyes then to gaze pensively down at the bed in a pretense
of brooding regret. His talent as an actor might not work on the stage,
he grinned inwardly, but the juicy young redhead standing with Braun
seemed to be pretty damned well convinced by the performance he was
giving now, sitting naked on the bed.

“Listen, this is something that I’m sure we both agree ought to be
done,” the naked blonde chimed in, her lush white breasts swaying
slightly as she rocked forward a little on her haunches, the upturned
palms of both hands extending outward toward him to emphasize their
lack of choice in the matter. “I know decisions like this aren’t easy
to make, darling, but don’t forget that we’ll be stranded without
anyone but John for awhile and that won’t be very easy, either.”

“Dammit, baby, I just can’t help myself,” George objected, grimacing in
disgust as he lifted his eyes to glower at Nadalee for a moment. “I
despise even the thought of having to tell Newton that he’s fired from
a good-paying job, a job he likes, because of his wife’s perverted way
of entertaining herself during working hours. I’m afraid this girl’s
poor husband will lose a damned sight more than his position, though,
because only yesterday I telephoned our San Francisco bank and made
arrangements for the deposit of a healthy chunk of cash in a savings
account I opened for them…. You see, I’d been thinking of the farm.”

“It’s really sad that little Nadalee here can’t behave, isn’t it?” the
voluptuous blonde said, wagging her finger at the cowering girl like a
mother punishing a naughty child by shaming it. “Well, George, I guess
she’s left you with no alternative but to cancel the account the very
first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You’re goddamned right, baby! All I’ve got to do is get on the
telephone with Joe Samuels, the president of the bank himself, and I
can promise you that the account will be dead within twenty minutes-
just as dead as the only real chance that Newton will probably ever
have to buy his dream farm,” George rasped peevishly, a bitter sneer
twisting his lips and intensifying the look of sternness that naturally
characterized the expression on his face. He paused for a moment,
thinking, then continued less harshly, “Jesus, it really does seem
rotten of me, though, to hit a nice hard-working guy like Newton with
such a terrible disappointment this way … so soon.”

“No, you mustn’t blame yourself, George, because it won’t be rotten of
you and Newton won’t feel any terrible disappointment, none at all, not
when he doesn’t know a thing about the money in the bank or even that
you opened a savings account in his name,” Dolores corrected smoothly,
her tone solacingly soft and gentle in an outward show of concern for
him. Then, in a more matter-of-fact voice, she added, “Besides, she
obviously excites Braun so much that he’s always frustrated, always
walking around the house feeling angry and hurt because he doesn’t
realize that she’s something he can’t have … even though he caught
her spying on us. And even if that problem with Braun could be solved
somehow, there’s no reason to worry about having to fire them and take
back the farm money. He’ll understand why you’re letting them go,
anyway, and he won’t know about the big opportunity that his wife is
causing him to lose.”

She lifted her eyes slightly away from the piteous sight of Nadalee’s
wildly quavering body to glance at her silver-haired cohort in sexual
blackmail, the blonde’s mask of seriousness fading and the faint trace
of a grin shaping her mouth when she saw George’s face. With his head
sagging downward and his chin resting high up on his chest, he
pretended to be thinking again, profoundly, frowning gloomily as though
whatever was on his mind filled him with sorrow and resentment. It was
true, Dolores decided admiringly, that the man was an absolute genius
when it came to manipulating people, leading and forcing them into
compromising situations, positions in which others could not help but
fill the pair’s mutual need for entertaining distractions from the
boredom of wealth. She loved this strangely exciting blackmail sport
her husband had taught her and never failed to be astonished by his
wonderful talent for creating an entirely different set of rules for
each new game they played at someone else’s expense. She also adored
the agreement they had that allowed them to swing with other sex
partners, together or apart if necessary when the other lovers they
found for themselves were either too shy or afraid to perform right out
in the open. She was grateful to George for salvaging her from the
dreary predictable life she had led as a model in the best salons in
New York City and she was always willing to go along with his marvelous
schemes.

“Well, even though this mess seems harmless to you,” he grumbled
sullenly after a long silence, “this is one time you’re wrong …
because it’s worse than you think.”

“But how can I be wrong?” Dolores wondered, puckering her lips in a
forged pout of mild abashment and enjoying the sense of pride she felt
in her ability to pounce on his cues and give the right replies and
responses back to him. “There’s just no way that Newton can be
heartbroken over losing a chance he’ll never know he had. It’s a cinch
that our darling Nadalee won’t risk telling him, especially not after
he hears how her sluttish behavior cost them their jobs. There’s no one
else around here to tell him … who even knows … and I certainly
won’t ever say anything to upset him more. So don’t work yourself up so
much, darling, because there’s nothing to worry about … at least not
as far as that’s concerned.”

“Hell, I might as well break the grim news to you now,” George began
solemnly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his
feet slowly with a grave look on his face. “Newton knows all about the
farm fund I started yesterday … about the account in his name,
everything.”

“Oh God, I’m so … so sorry,” Dolores lamented, “but how did he find
out?”

“I hate to admit it, God knows, but I told him early this morning,”
George announced, feigning regret and pausing for a moment to let his
words sink into Nadalee’s dazed mind. “Just as always, he came up to
get some logs burning in the dining room fireplace, and since I was
downstairs, I figured it would start his day out right to give him the
good tidings. He got so excited he actually swore a few times and then
he made me promise not to say a word about it to anyone. He wanted to
keep it a secret from his sweet wife until he thought it was time to,
start looking around for a place … then he would surprise her.”

“It’s so pitiful,” Dolores said, sympathizing, “and now I understand
your concern for him.”

“You’d understand how rotten and sad it is, baby, if you’d seen him
leaving to go back to their cottage for his breakfast,” George said,
shaking his head. “He must’ve felt ten feet tall when he headed for the
kitchen door, swaggering and whistling like someone without a worry in
the world.”

Then, easing his great bull-like body a few steps backward, George
cocked his head and eyed the girl still standing next to Braun,
delighting in the visible effects of the sadistic torture they were
inflicting on her. The thrillingly beautiful young wife’s eyes were
tightly shut, her face bloodless and white, and she clenched her lower
lip between her teeth to keep them from chattering. Christ, he thought,
he could hardly wait to watch the show he was sure now would take place
in a few minutes. It was all he could do to keep from giving the bald
idiot the signal to throw Nadalee Parker on the bed and take her at
will, but George wanted to punish her and force the young helpless wife
of his hired hand to beg him for mercy. He knew that she was helpless
and utterly confused now, ready to make a bargain with him … even
though she was fated to lose her proud innocence in the deal and little
realized that there were no terms he and Dolores would accept other
than theirs.

“All right, there’s no sense putting it off,” George broke in, “so we
might as well get dressed and go down to have our little talk with
Newton.”

“Please … please don’t tell him anything,” Nadalee implored, her
voice a meek trickle of sound as she spoke for the first time since
entering the bedroom.

“It’s got to be done,” he insisted with a hint of callousness, despite
the tears beginning to streak her pale cheeks.

“No, please, Mr. Blackwell … don’t do this to him,” Nadalee entreated
again, her tone still whispery and distant as more tears spilled from
her eyes.

“Why not, you little whore, why shouldn’t we tell the poor bastard that
you’re both being fired! Why shouldn’t he know about the farm fund he
lost! A man should be told why, you know, when it’s because he’s
married to a female Peeping Tom who plays with herself and teases a
poor helpless moron!” George barked, brutally spitting out the words
with explosive force as he waited indignantly for the wincing young
maid to attempt an answer.

George’s every accusing word was a separate blast of pulverizing shock
to Nadalee. She could feel her knees weakening even more and her body
was sticky with sweat, a cold perspiration that seeped from her skin as
she stood there swaying before him, fighting her impulse to scream
hysterically…. Nothing made any sense at all, she thought vaguely,
remembering dimly how happy she had been that morning with Newton and
later walking along the trail, so magnificently happy, and now it
seemed that she was sinking deeper and deeper into a quagmire of misery
and shame from which she could not escape without half killing Newton.
She knew her pious young husband well enough to realize that he would
never listen to any excuse she might make for her behavior … if she
were lucky enough to even think up an excuse … and that he would
readily accept a man’s word over hers, particularly when that man was
their employer and someone like George Blackwell. Despite his being
hard to live with sometimes, she loved Newton and would do anything in
her power to keep from losing him.

“What’s wrong, don’t you have anything to say, my dear?” George asked
caustically, a taunting glitter in his cold dark eyes as he glared at
his victim. She looked so pure and untouched, he mused fiendishly, his
impatience growing by leaps and bounds. “Aren’t you ashamed of
yourself?”

“Oh yes, yes … I’m so ashamed,” she heard herself say, wetting her
lips before adding, “and I’ll do anything, sir, if you won’t tell
him…. Anything! I’ll work extra hours and I promise to never do what
I did again, I swear it!”

“Promises aren’t enough, not nearly enough,” Dolores joined in, her
voice thick with mockery, “because even though we might be convinced of
your good intentions, there’s still Braun to worry about with you in
the house…. Isn’t that right, George?”

“I suppose so … unless…”

“Oh, what, what can I do, please tell me, oh please!” Nadalee sobbed,
lifting her free hand to cover her face as she mumbled, “I’ll do any
thing … to stop … losing our jobs … Newton’s big chance for …
the farm.” She could not see the wicked smirk of triumph that slanted
the corners of George’s mouth as he winked first at Braun and then at
Dolores.

“Do you want to stay here?”

“Oh, please … yes!”

“Then, my dear, you want to help Braun, don’t you?”

“Anything…. Yes, I want to help him,” she said absently, innocently,
not looking up as she answered between sobs and prayed that the wealthy
man would believe her.

“I’m glad you’re coming to your senses, Nadalee, at last,” George
congratulated her in a strangely husky voice as he turned to glimpse
over at his wife.

“She’s brighter than I thought, agreeing not to cause more problems by
holding back what she owes him,” Dolores said almost gaily as she
smiled up at the dense servant.

“Okay, Braun, you heard what she said,” George smiled broadly, baring
his teeth in satisfaction. “Undress her and do what you’ve been wanting
to do to her.”

“You mean it, Mr. Blackwell, I can do it to her?” Braun blinked in slow
recognition and then a toothy grin broke over his grotesque face when
he saw the wealthy man’s nod of affirmation.

“Dolores, I suggest that you get off the bed now-and close both doors,
too,” George instructed in a voice that was clinically calm except for
the betraying trace of lecherous excitement in it. He saw Braun’s prick
throb slightly and begin to rise slowly as he gazed at his delicious
reward for long silent obedience in serving the Blackwells.

“No, not this way! Not that-I can’t!” Nadalee wailed, staring at George
in disbelief as the powerful idiot forced her toward the bed, a strange
crazy fluttering deep inside her stomach beginning as she realized
fully the complete helplessness of her position as though for the first
time. Her protests were cut short by Braun’s fingers clamping harshly
over her mouth, muffling the resisting girl’s sounds of complaint as he
reached down with his other hand to jerk up at the hem of the short
skirt. There was a sharp tearing noise as it suddenly ripped loose,
fanning up the fullness of her firm white thighs and up over the
rounded blue panty-covered softness of her buttocks. Braun gasped and
wriggled the skirt of the dress over her hips to the narrowness of her
waist, his eyes bulging open as each voluptuously smooth portion of her
young body was presented to his view.

“I believe you’re taking too long, Braun, so hurry up,” George coughed
urgently at the servant as his own hands found the creeping semi-erect
length between his legs. He began to skin it back and forth as he
watched the pagan rape about to take place like some Roman spectator at
a special event of carnage taking place in an arena. Braun’s nostrils
flared in undisguised desire as his fingers coursed greedily over the
smooth silky softness of her naked thighs. He pinched the nylon-covered
globe of one of her ass-cheeks, grinning lewdly as she groaned against
his fingers still clamped over her mouth. There was only a glimmering
blue narrow band of sheer nylon between his hand and the roughness of
his blunt fingertips, bunched tightly up in the crevice of her
buttocks, and he could see silky tufts of her soft auburn pubic hair
protruding from beneath the tight elastic of the leg-bands. The rounded
globules of her soft young buttocks stood out brashly, exposed to his
lust-crazed eyes and quivering convulsively as he moved his eager hand
upward to run it lewdly over the curve of her right hip, fondling the
luscious flare of velvety flesh above the panties.

Nadalee wished she could faint, mercifully fall unconscious to the
floor, for she knew now exactly what was going to happen to her. She
saw thin lines of spittle drooling from the bald moron’s hideous mouth
and his eyes were gleaming with animal desire as he moved closer yet to
her, pressing his vile repulsive body up to her side until suddenly she
became aware of the massive hardness of his penis digging against the
naked flesh just above her waist. He had forgotten George’s
instructions to make haste and now, in his very excitement, he lingered
a moment to rove his hand higher up on her back, suddenly becoming
frustrated in his obscene anxiousness with the obstruction of the
dress. Without thinking, he released her mouth and seized the flimsy
garment with both hands, stripping it up savagely over her head and
then flinging it in a useless heap on the carpet a few feet away from
where they were standing.

“Dammit, Braun, hurry up,” George hissed commandingly, “the girl wants
to help you.”

“My God, Mr. Blackwell, make him stop, make him stop!” Nadalee pleaded,
using the half-wit’s removal of his hand from her mouth as an
opportunity to beg for mercy.

“Shut up, you…. Mr. Blackwell don’t like no talkin’ now,” Braun
growled threateningly. The lust-maddened idiot slapped her hard, flat
across the cheek, jerking her head to the side so hard that she thought
surely he had broken her neck. She struggled to twist away from his
cruelty but the bald servant caught her by the hair and jerked her back
to face him, delivering another brutal blow to her other cheek this
time, bringing a stinging sensation to her skin as though she were
being doused in raw gasoline. She was terrified more than ever now,
afraid to struggle or offer any resistance at all for fear he would
become even angrier and kill her right where she stood.

Braun giggled dementedly as he devoured her partially nude body with
his eyes, his hands roaming over her bare back and shoulders. The
smooth satiny softness of her skin was interrupted above only by the
thin white brassiere that laced across her back, and below, by the
flimsy panties that stretched tightly over her buttocks. She could feel
a small wet circle of seminal fluid seeping from the huge throbbing
glans of his penis and smearing where it touched her flesh. Then,
locking one hand on her shoulder to hold her fast, she felt the fingers
of his other hand rummaging behind her, working clumsily at the clasp
of her brassiere. Suddenly, without warning, he hooked his fingers
under the strap in anxious frustration and yanked harshly at it. Her
full resilient young breasts fell free, the cooler air attacking her
pinkish-brown nipples and perking them to sudden erection. She gasped
as he pulled the torn piece of now useless nylon down over her arms and
the two large, firmly rounded mounds came fully into tantalizing view.

Braun wasted no time now and gazed down at his own hands cupping the
maddening cloud-like softness of the two naked breasts in both of his
hands, squeezing their ripeness until they overflowed from the bony
fingers and made her groan with humiliation. Still not satisfied,
though, the grotesquely ugly moron proceeded to knead both hard rubbery
nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them tightly
between them as a lewd grin came over his lips. He saw a wincing
expression of pain momentarily replace the embarrassment and sense of
degradation on her face, and it evidently amused him. He continued to
pinch and knead at her breasts with an ecstatic intensity until he was
harshly interrupted by a loud urgent rebuke from his employer.

“You’d better hurry, dummy, if you want this girl,” George threatened,
“or I’ll take her away and call Newton upstairs to send them back
home…”

“I-I want to fuck ‘er, Mr. Blackwell…. I really want to-to f-fuck
‘er,” Braun begged in a deranged voice. His eyes gleamed with inflamed
desire as his shaking hands dropped along the sides of her quivering
body down to the elastic band at the top of her sheer, flimsy panties.
Hooking his fingers into the thin nylon with an instinctive confidence,
he began to peel them slowly down over the lush curves of her almost
still adolescent hips. Trembling in abject horror, Nadalee flinched as
she felt the last of her protective clothing being removed from her
almost entirely exposed body. She dared to glance down at the bald
surface of Braun’s head below her as he jerked the brief panties from
her ankles and finally freed them altogether.

She was completely naked now, shamefully bared to the leering eyes of
two men and her attractive blonde employer who was standing a few feet
behind her husband. She felt her stomach turn as she stifled a deep
piercing scream in her throat when the idiot’s warm breath blasted on
the skin of her smooth flat tummy just above the soft silky triangle of
pubic hair. His mouth was a mere three inches away from the triangle,
his eyes closed as he breathed in deeply of the sweet, feminine aroma
from her cunt, rising and wafting to his nostrils teasingly.

“How’s her pussy smell, dummy?” George asked, chortling at the crazed
single-minded expression on the retarded servant’s face. Jesus, the
gigantic wealthy man thought to himself as he stroked his own cock, the
girl was even more beautiful than he had ever imagined! He was almost
sorry he had decided to wait until tomorrow to indulge himself with
her.

“G-good, Mr. Blackwell … s-she’s got fresh little c-cunt,” Braun
answered stutteringly, leaning forward a little to place a wet,
slobbering kiss on her soft tummy from his kneeling position. She
swayed dangerously, almost losing her balance as she felt his lips
pressing tightly into her nude flesh. The sudden moist contact sent an
unexpected chill racing along her spine and she automatically jumped
from the electrifying wetness of the pressure, losing her balance
completely then and staggering backward toward the empty bed. The edge
of the mattress caught her behind the knees and she sprawled backward
to land face up with her arms and legs opening wide as she hit. Braun
rose from his kneeling position a little and leaped forward to catch
her there as she kicked desperately to close her legs. He dropped his
hands at once to the full rounded moons of her buttocks and crawled up
further on the bed between her open milk-white thighs, crouching on all
fours as his knees pressed outward between her ankles and his face
panted a few inches above the hair-covered vee of her naked loins. And
then he backed off slightly to run his long pink tongue slowly and
wetly over the tender inner flesh of her thighs, causing her to groan
in helpless humiliation even though a strangely warm shiver ran over
the tattered nerve-ends of her lower body.

Nadalee had geared her mind to fighting off pain and depraved abuse …
not the tenderness and hateful tiny sensations of pleasure suddenly,
and without warning, beginning to flower inside her. She had not been
prepared for this and knew less about resisting it than the physical
attack she was certain was all Braun could manage.

The idiot’s mouth watered as he gazed down at her body beneath him.
Saliva dripped from his open mouth, drooling down to mingle with the
juices beginning to ooze from the delicious narrow slit that started at
the bottom of the smooth white belly and trailed down through the snowy
soft spheres of her creamy buttocks where they pressed tightly against
the bed. Nadalee was almost out of her mind now with sheer confusion as
she tried to filter the unwanted pleasurable sensuality from the
feelings of horror she sensed as a still basically decent person.
Through half-slit eyes, she could see that shadowy form of the bald man
crouching between her open legs. Then she felt the flat palms of his
sweaty hands pushing outward against the tenderness of her inner
thighs, holding them wide apart. Her secret treasure was open and
vulnerable for the feeble-minded animal to do as he wished and she
watched with baited breath as he slowly lowered his head … slowly …
slowly … and at last his hot moist lips closed over the soft furry
mound at the base of her tummy!

“Noooo, oooohhh!” she moaned, jerking as his face disappeared from her
view into the female musk of the fleecy hair…. She felt Braun’s lips
planting wet tickling kisses on the cringing but moist aperture, his
tongue flicking out lizard-like, darting into the throbbing opening and
pushing up and down between the lips of her vagina. She swallowed
deeply as she felt his thumbs fastening on the moist folds, pressuring
them further outward, until finally his gaze froze solid, still, locked
on the completely open cavern exposed to his view and his heart raced
even faster at the sight of the pink fragile inner flesh, glistening
wet and tempting.

Lunging forward, he locked his lips on her and blew softly into the
naked hole, his long tongue flicking outward and probing into the
wetness when he felt her squirm and heard a groan escape involuntarily
from the now open lips of her mouth. The ravishing young redhead’s
elbows pressed tightly against her ribs and her head was beginning to
roll slowly back and forth on the mattress as Braun’s hot searing
tongue shot out its flicking tip, circling feverishly around the
quivering erected clitoris, his lips sucking to draw in the warm soft
folds of her cuntal lips deep inside his mouth. His tongue continued
its maddening licking against the straining pink bud of her youthful
sex and, even though she fought against the sounds as they rose to her
throat, she gave forth husky groans of passion. There was no denying
that something she had never felt before in her life was happening to
her … something that was so different from the harsh blows he had
rained on her cheeks a few moments ago that she was at a loss to
understand it. The brute was actually sending soft, feather-like
sensations warmly and wetly up from her vagina to flood her entire
nervous system. She could no longer think but the moron was not hurting
her and that was all that mattered at the moment. That, of course, and
the fact that she was experiencing a light rising sensation of
floating, up, up, above the reality of the situation and the horror of
the threat to expose her to Newton that the Blackwells held over her.

“Ooohh, oooohhh,” Nadalee exploded ecstatically into the otherwise
silent bedroom, her breath coming now in small quick gasps that came
out as small mewling grunts. Then, growing bolder, Braun began a sudden
flicking and curling of his wet hot tongue, imbedding it deeper inside
her and sometimes withdrawing it all the way to jab its tip
tormentingly at her tingling clitoris. He could feel the elastic-rimmed
opening of her pussy clasping at his pink hot lingual spear, trying to
hold him inside her but blossoming open fully when he followed the
primitive drive he never realized was in control of his weak mind as
well as his body.

“Jesus Christ, baby, look at her, just look at the hot little bitch!
Bet she’s never blown her nuts in her life!” George gasped suddenly,
his eyes wide open as he nudged his shoulder against