Sinful Seduction (18 page)

Maddened by frustration she paced backwards and forwards, and then sighed. This was getting her nowhere. Her only chance was to make a break for freedom the next time the door was opened. In the meantime, she might as well get washed and dressed. She smiled ruefully; even if she were successful she'd hardly get far running through the streets naked, now would she?

Pouring the water into the basin, she washed herself as best she could. The cold brought a rosy glow to her skin and she shivered, her nipples rising and hardening as the icy water trickled down her breasts and dripped from their tips. Despite the discomfort, she scrubbed herself scrupulously. Lathering her hands she soaped the warm secret place between her thighs as if she could remove all trace of her stepfather.

She shivered again, this time with pleasure, as her fingers parted the soft lips of her sex and grazed the tight pink bud of her clitoris. She stroked it gently, feeling herself moisten as a delicious sensation of heat built in the base of her belly - then she stopped herself. Was she mad? This was no time to be pleasuring herself. Someone could walk in at any time. She scooped up a double handful of cold water and splashed her face to bring herself back to her sense.

Drying herself on the threadbare towel, she picked up the torn remains of her dress and slipped it on over her damp body, then groaned in dismay; it was worse than being naked. Even if she held it at the neck, she couldn't cover her breasts. Their pert nipples peeped provocatively from the tatters of red satin, inviting attention.

Then an idea struck her. It was a matter of moments to slip the dress off and put it on again - back to front. She smiled as her confidence returned. Not only was she decently covered, but also the tight material compressed her breasts till she was as flat chested as a boy. Now, provided she kept her back turned to the wall, she looked as prim and proper as any governess. Perhaps Mrs Wilkes would reconsider her bargain after all?

But as the day wore on Maggie's newfound self-confidence wore off. Hour after hour dragged past and no one came near. She strained her ears for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but there was complete and utter silence. It was like being shut up in a tomb.

With nothing to do but stare out of the window at the rooftops or at the four blank walls of the room, her mind ran riot, imagining the possible horrors that lay in store for her. She paced restlessly, unable to sit or lie for more than two minutes at a time before fear goaded her to her feet again, and it struck her that this was how a prisoner in the condemned cell must feel, as he waited to be dragged to the gallows. It was not a comforting thought.

So it was almost a relief when she finally heard a heavy tread on the attic stairs. At least the dreadful waiting was finally over. And nothing could possibly be as bad as her fevered imaginings - could it? She stood, defiantly facing the door, waiting for Mrs Wilkes to make her appearance.

And she didn't have to wait long. The sound of her asthmatic wheezing outside was followed by that of the key turning in the lock. The door swung open and Maggie gasped.

Mrs Wilkes was not alone.

Behind her stood the menacing figure of the huge black manservant who had carried her, kicking and screaming, to her prison. In the clear light of day he was even more frightening. He must have been well over six feet tall and the material of his clothes strained to contain the muscles beneath. His hands were so large they looked as if they could encompass her waist without even trying.

Close behind him stood a man she had never seen in her life before, and given the choice, would never have wanted to. He was low browed and brutish, with a nose that had been broken and badly set more than once. A scar that looked like a souvenir from some pub brawl twisted his lips into a permanent scowl. Dark greasy hair fell across his forehead and the narrow eyes beneath regarded her with avid anticipation.

Her heart sank as all hopes of making a run for freedom died. She might as well try and run through a brick wall. Trying to ignore the two men, she got to her feet, straightened her shoulders and stared at Mrs Wilkes, her calm demeanour masking her wildly beating heart.

‘What do you want now?' she asked coolly. ‘I told you last night I was leaving.'

‘I think not, my dear,' said Mrs Wilkes. ‘As to what I want, that's quite simple. I want an answer to the little business proposition I put to you last night.' She smiled. ‘I do hope you've had time to reconsider your hasty words.'

Maggie laughed harshly. ‘“Business proposition”? That's the first time I've heard it called that!' She spat on the floor at the woman's feet. ‘I'd rather go to hell than turn strumpet to fill your pockets!'

Mrs Wilkes shook her head in regret. ‘I'm sorry to hear you say that, my dear,' she said. ‘Had you been willing, our little arrangement could have been settled quite amicably to our mutual benefit.' Her face hardened. ‘Now I'm afraid you leave me no option.'

‘What do you mean?' Maggie quavered.

Mrs Wilkes tutted in exasperation. ‘Come, come, my dear, you're a sensible girl. Think about it. If a horse won't go, it must be driven. With a touch of the whip, if necessary.' An insincere smile flickered across her lips. ‘Now, are you quite sure you won't reconsider your decision?'

‘Never!' Maggie cried passionately.

‘Very well, my dear, on your own head be it,' said Mrs Wilkes in resignation. ‘You can't say you weren't warned.'

Maggie stared into the woman's cold grey eyes and her stomach lurched. Somewhere in their depths, like an ancient pike at the bottom of a muddy pool, lurked a glint of evil pleasure. She was enjoying all this. Far from being disappointed at Maggie's defiance, she was delighted! If Maggie had agreed to her proposition, she would have been deprived of her wicked game.

As if in response to Maggie's thought, Mrs Wilkes' smiled widened. She took her hands from beneath her black silk apron and Maggie gasped. In one of them the woman held what looked like a short shuttledore bat, padded with soft black leather. She clicked the fingers of the other and the black servant stepped forward. ‘Hold her down,' she ordered.

Shaking her head, Maggie edged away until her back touched the wall. It was a waste of time. In two strides he crossed the tiny room. She lashed out frantically, but he caught her wrists in one huge hand, flung her facedown across the bed and flipped her skirts up over her head. Kicking and squealing she struggled to rise, but he held her down as easily as if she'd been a naughty child.

Mrs Wilkes looked down at the flailing legs and the soft white curves of the girl's bottom and nodded in satisfaction. Her clients would pay dearly for the privilege of savaging that tender flesh - but first the silly chit must be made to realise the futility of resistance. She rolled up the sleeves of her gown and raised her arm.

Maggie tensed her buttocks as she heard the sound of the bat whistling through the air - then gave a muffled gasp as it connected with her bottom. The tender flesh went white beneath the force of the blow, then turned pink as the blood rushed back. She writhed as she attempted to escape the pain, biting her lip to remain silent. She wouldn't give the despicable woman the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She wouldn't! Mrs Wilkes raised her arm again.

At the second blow all Maggie's fine resolutions deserted her. The globes of her bottom quivered and jumped as the bat smacked down. Coming so close on flesh already throbbing like an aching tooth, the pain was indescribable. She shrieked aloud in agony.

Beneath the third and fourth blows she lost track of time and place. Nothing existed but the pain that filled her world. Her backside was no longer pink; it was a fiery red - and felt as if it had been scalded, the muscles tensed beneath the skin. Finally it was over and she huddled in a whimpering heap upon the bed.

‘Well,' panted Mrs Wilkes, ‘have you changed your mind yet?'

Maggie pulled herself upright with difficulty and glared at her from tear-filled eyes. ‘Never,' she whispered again, her voice hoarse from shrieking. Despite the pain, her lip curled in a triumphant smile. ‘If that's all you can do, you're wasting your time.'

Mrs Wilkes smiled in amusement. ‘All?' she said. ‘Why, my dear, I haven't even begun.' She clicked her fingers again. ‘I do believe Miss Carter needs a little more instruction. Tie her to the bed.'

Eagerly the two men obeyed. Hauling Maggie to her feet they ripped the remaining tatters of her dress from her quivering body. As one held her, the other tore a strip from the skirt and twisted it into a makeshift rope. As Maggie struggled they forced her back down onto the bed, bound one wrist, looped the material through the iron bedstead and bound the other. She tried to break free, but she might as well have been manacled in iron for all the good it did. Naked and exposed, she lay there looking up at them in horror.

Smiling, Mrs Wilkes seated herself on the chair beside the bed and nodded to the black manservant. ‘Jebediah, if you would be so good as to introduce Miss Carter to her new duties, please?' He grinned back, revealing startlingly white teeth against his black skin.

Horrified comprehension dawned on Maggie as he began to undress. The wicked old woman was going to sit there and watch while this monster ravished her! ‘No! Please, no!' she begged, gazing wide-eyed at the sadistic old witch.

‘There's still time to stop, my dear,' smiled Mrs Wilkes. ‘Have you changed your mind?' Maggie gritted her teeth and shook her head. ‘In that case Jebediah, carry on, if you please.'

He was naked now and Maggie looked in fearful fascination at him, unable to drag her eyes away from his body. He was terrifyingly beautiful, like a huge statue, carved from the wood of some dark, exotic tree. Her eyes took in the broad, gleaming chest, tapering down to the narrow waist. As her glance fell lower she gasped in trepidation; even without being aroused, he was huge. His cock lay against the bulge of his balls like a sleeping snake.

As she watched with dread it began to twitch and swell, rising massively from the patch of dark curly hair, until it jutted from the base of his belly like a thick black club. She whimpered as he loomed over her, his prick bobbing as he moved.

He climbed onto the tiny bed and knelt beside her, his hands reaching for her breasts. He fondled the soft mounds - then she gasped as he pinched her nipples until they rose between his exploring fingers. He grunted with satisfaction, then leaned over and took first one, then the other between his lips, flicking his tongue across their tender tips and grazing then with his teeth. As he bent over her she could feel the thick rod of his cock pressing against her belly.

Maggie closed her eyes and whispered a soft protestation. The scorching pain radiating from her beaten bottom still pulsed through her, but now it was being joined by a different kind of heat. She felt herself moisten and moaned in complaint, struggling to break free - but her helpless writhings served only to inflame him more.

He swung himself up and straddled her shoulders, his swollen cock only inches from her flushed and spellbound face. She tossed her head from side to side, trying to escape, but he seized her hair and held her in place as he pushed the bulbous tip against her soft wet lips. They slowly parted and he groaned as he slid into the warm moistness of her mouth. She gagged, hardly able to breathe as he moved his hips and sank even deeper, his thick shaft almost choking her.

Just when Maggie thought she would suffocate, the weight shifted from her breasts and he withdrew. She drew in a ragged breath, gasping with relief - all too soon! Instead, he dug his fingers into the tender flesh of her thighs, pulling them roughly apart to reveal the pink, glistening cleft between. She whimpered again as he thrust first one, then two fingers inside her, slipping them in and out faster and faster. She sighed, but this time with reluctant pleasure.

When he withdrew them they were wet and gleaming. Grinning down at her he oiled his cock with her juices, then knelt between her legs and hauled them up onto his shoulders. Unable to drag her eyes away, Maggie watched as he parted the lips of her vulva and rubbed the turgid purplish-black head of his prick slowly against the swollen opening, each movement a torment.

Just when she thought she could bear no more, he pushed forward and she shrieked as there was a moment of resistance before the full length of his massive organ slid slowly inside her. Gripping her hips he began to move, and she gazed down between her breasts in fascinated lust as it pumped, black and glistening, in and out of her wet cunt - each thrust taking her nearer her own moment of exquisite release, and when he finally exploded inside her she threw back her head and screamed her pleasure like a cat in heat.

A cruel chuckle brought her back to reality. ‘The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice, eh, my dear?'

Maggie shrivelled inside with shame. She had forgotten the old woman sitting there watching. She had forgotten everything but the huge black cock pleasuring her. Tears of humiliation leaked out from between her closed lids. How could she have behaved like that?

‘Now,' Mrs Wilkes went on briskly. ‘I'm sure we can forget all about this little incident and get on with things. I take it we are agreed?'

Biting back more tears, Maggie shook her head.

‘My, what a stubborn girl you are,' Mrs Wilkes said regretfully. ‘I see that we shall have to continue the lesson until we are. Perhaps Arthur can school you better.' She nodded to the other man, who gave her a lecherous wink.