Sinful Seduction (13 page)

‘I'll lay more than a finger on you,' he sneered, tugging at his breeches until his cock sprang free, its swollen head purple and shiny, a bead of clear liquid welling from its blind eye. ‘I'm going to shove this so far up you, you'll choke.'

Her hands fumbled along the shelves frantically seeking for something to use against him, but nothing but the soft folds of linen met her seeking fingers, until... they closed gratefully round a pair of heavy scissors left behind forgotten from some long-ago sewing session. She whipped them from behind her back and lunged at him. He stopped short, the colour draining from his face as the wicked blades snipped closed barely an inch from the end of his prick. ‘Come near me and it'll be the last time you'll want any woman,' she hissed, snapping the shears open and closed again.

His cock wilted rapidly and he hastily tucked it back in his breeches out of harms way. She made another lunge and grinned as he shrieked girlishly and fumbled for the door handle.

He paused on the threshold, his eyes full of hate and thwarted lust. ‘That's the last time you play me for a fool,' he snarled. ‘I'll get you for this, just you wait and see.' The door banged shut and she was alone.

Shaking with reaction, Maggie began to giggle hysterically. Neither Thomas - nor his John Thomas, for that matter - would be bothering her again in a hurry, if she was any judge. The mental picture of his menacing weapon shrivelling to the size of a whelk set her off into a fresh peel of amusement. She'd have needed a pin to winkle it out again!

Wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes she tidied the shelves and tucked the scissors away beneath the sheets - just to be on the safe side. She just hoped she'd be able to keep her face straight when she next saw Thomas in the servants' hall. She was still smiling as she entered the kitchen.

‘For heaven's sake, lassie!' exclaimed Mrs McAlister, looking up, hot and flustered from stirring a pot on the range. ‘You were only putting the sheets away! Where have you been till this time? Mrs Hardcastle's been up to high doh shouting for you.'

‘Sorry,' Maggie apologised meekly, and began to clear the table to help make up for her remissness. ‘I had to tidy the shelves and it took longer than I thought. Did she say what she wanted?'

‘Oh, it's not her that wants you,' said Mrs McAlister. ‘It's the master.'

The pot Maggie was carrying slipped from her fingers and rolled with a clatter beneath the table.

‘Now look what you've done,' tutted Mrs McAlister. ‘If that had been one of the soup tureens you'd have had it taken out of your wages for months.' She stared at Maggie's white face in surprise. ‘Och, don't take on so - it's no' the end of the world. It's just an old pot.' She stooped and picked it up, panting with the effort. ‘See? It's no' even dented.'

Maggie's lips were stiff with the effort to stop them trembling. ‘What... what does the master want?' she managed.

‘I don't know, I'm sure,' Mrs McAlister said. ‘He's not going to tell the likes of me, is he?' She smiled to take the sting out of her words. ‘Maybe he's trying to take a hand in the running of the house since the mistress isn't here?' she suggested vaguely. ‘Though heaven knows why, when there's Mrs H and Mr Harris to keep things ticking over. But it's not really proper now, is it?'

She shrugged helplessly. ‘Still, look at Lord Wilcott, f'rinstance. Insists on tending his own horse even though he's got a whole staff of stable lads to do it for him. Who knows what gets into their heads sometimes?'

Maggie shuddered. She knew exactly what had got into his head. The sound of a throat being cleared made her look up. Thomas was lounging against the door, leering at her. The expression on his face made her feel sick. He sauntered in, stuck a finger in a bowl of cream and licked it slowly off, never taking his eyes from hers.

‘‘Spect he wants to see me as well,' he said smugly.

‘You?' snapped Mrs McAlister. ‘You flatter yourself! Why should he want to see you?' She slapped his hand and moved the bowl smartly out of his reach. ‘And I'll thank you to keep your dirty fingers to yourself, young man. Other people have to eat that.'

The look of disappointment on his face would have been comical under other circumstances, but Maggie didn't feel like laughing. Even though the master had excluded Thomas from whatever perverted performance he had in mind today, the thought of his podgy fingers exploring her secret places and his gross body forcing itself on hers were enough to wipe any trace of amusement from her mind. But dully, she resigned herself to the inevitable.

‘Ah, there you are, Maggie,' said Mrs Hardcastle, bustling in. ‘I've been hunting high and low for you. Did Mrs McAlister tell you Lord Edward wishes to speak to you again?' She smiled her reassurance. ‘Now you're not to worry. You aren't in trouble. With the mistress away he seems to be taking an interest in the younger staff. Isn't that kind of him?'

Maggie's lips twisted. Little did Mrs H know that she was in more trouble than she'd ever imagined possible. As for ‘taking an interest' - he was doing that all right, the randy old bastard!

Mrs Hardcastle stared at her, surprised that she wasn't flattered and delighted by her employer's concern for her welfare. ‘Well,' she demanded, raising her eyebrows. ‘What are you standing there for, girl? Off you go. Don't keep his lordship waiting.'

‘Yes m'm,' muttered Maggie, and with leaden feet she turned and walked towards the door.

‘Slut!' Thomas hissed malevolently under his breath as she passed. ‘I hope the fat old whoremonger gives you the pox!'

Maggie barely heard him; the nightmare to come filled her head, shutting out everything else. She walked up the stairs and along the hall to the library as if she was in a trance.

He was waiting for her. Her gorge rose as she looked at him, sitting in his armchair like some dreadful bloated toad, lying in wait for an unsuspecting fly.

‘You wished to see me, sir,' she muttered from between frozen lips.

‘Close the door,' he ordered, and like an automaton she did so. ‘Good, good,' he purred. ‘Now take off your clothes.'

There was no point in resisting. If she did he would merely take a wicked pleasure in forcing her, possibly chastising her for being impudent. Her only hope was to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible, so, feeling numb, she began to undo the buttons on her dress, her fingers stiff and clumsy with foreboding.

‘Get a move on, you little bitch,' he snarled. ‘I'm waiting.'

The last button came free and the heavy dress slipped from her shoulders and down over her hips. She fumbled with the laces on her camisole and it joined the dress on the floor. Finally she stepped out of her pantaloons and stood before him in nothing but her black stockings and her high-buttoned boots.

He drew in a rasping breath as his eyes roamed over her, taking in her firm breasts, her narrow waist and the smooth curve of her hips, lingering lasciviously on the soft pink nipples, hardening in the cold air, then crawling down to the soft downy V between her slender thighs. She shuddered as his eyes glazed with lust and his thick tongue flopped out to lick his slack purple lips.

‘Turn around,' he said hoarsely. Stiffly she did so, and he licked his lips again as the luscious globes of her buttocks quivered tightly as she moved. ‘Now bend over,' he ordered, and puppet-like she obeyed, and his breath came quicker and more hoarse in his throat.

He smiled wolfishly. ‘Sit down there,' he told her, pointing to the chair opposite his own, and fixing her gaze on a point over his shoulder so that she did not have to endure the expression of gloating lust on his face, Maggie did so. He licked his lips again. ‘And spread your legs.' A wave of humiliation washed over her as she parted her thighs to display the secret places of her body to him. She felt like a piece of meat on a butcher's slab.

‘Now play with your titties,' he croaked, his hand stroking the bulge in his trousers. ‘And finger yourself.'

Reluctantly, Maggie raised one hand and began to caress the tight pink buds of her nipples, and he watched greedily as they rose to meet her touch. Closing her eyes to shut out the picture of his fat red face, she concentrated on the sensations in her body, imagining it was Jeremy's lips and fingers that caused them. Her breath caught in her throat and her other hand strayed lower, parting the downy lips of her vulva to reveal the hidden place beneath, pink and glistening, as sweetly inviting as a succulent fruit. Lord Edward grunted in animal satisfaction, but lost in her own world, she did not even hear him.

Maggie sighed as she delicately teased her swelling clitoris, then slipped first one finger, then two inside her hot, wet cleft. She began to move them, slowly at first, then faster as her need mounted, her hips squirming.

It was all too much for Lord Edward. In two steps he was looming over her, fumbling at the buttons on his trousers... and it was then that the door swung open and Lady Georgina walked in.

‘I'm home, dear, I'm...' Her mouth dropped open at the sight of her husband standing over a naked girl. For a few seconds she was stunned into silence, then her face turned as red as a turkey cock.

‘What is going on here?' she shrieked as Maggie leapt to her feet and scrabbled for her discarded clothing in a vain attempt to cover her nakedness. ‘What is this slut doing in my house?' She finally recognised Maggie. ‘You!' she hissed venomously. ‘I might have known!'

‘Um, thank goodness you're home, my dear,' blustered Lord Edward. ‘I walked into the library to find this... this... creature disporting herself in this appalling manner.' He waved a disgusted hand in Maggie's direction as she stared up at him in horror. ‘Then when I told her to make herself decent, she attempted to seduce me into joining her filthy games.'

‘It wasn't like that!' Maggie protested desperately. ‘He forced me to do it!'

Lady Georgina's mouth twisted as if she'd bitten into something vile. ‘You lying young trollop!' she snarled. ‘As if Lord Edward would look twice at a common little guttersnipe like you! How dare you even suggest such a thing?'

She looked round wildly and her eye fell on a sturdy wooden ruler lying on the library table. Seizing it, she advanced on Maggie, arm flailing. Whimpering, Maggie tried to avoid the rain of blows, but it was useless. Grinning salaciously, Lord Edward seized and held her as his outraged wife beat her unmercifully, raising red weals on her lily-white skin, taking the opportunity to rub his tented trousers between the poor girl's writhing buttocks.

‘Quite right, my dear; chastise her! “Spare the rod and spoil the child”, the Good Book says,' he intoned piously as Maggie squealed in pain and squirmed helplessly against him. By God, he hadn't had this much fun in a long time. It almost made up for being interrupted before he'd had a chance to fuck the little bitch!

Finally Lady Georgina panted to a halt and Lord Edward flung the sobbing girl to the floor.

‘Now get out of my house and never darken my door again,' snarled Lady Georgina. ‘Get back to the gutter where you belong.'

Still sobbing, Maggie slipped into her dress, gathered her underclothes and fled along the corridor, barely noticing Thomas grinning in the shadows until he stepped out in front of her, barring her way. ‘Not so smart now, are you?' he sneered.

She stared at him in horror. You... you brought Lady Georgina to the library,' she gasped as the penny dropped. ‘Even though you knew what he'd be doing to me?'

‘Course I did.' He smirked in malicious triumph. ‘Told you I'd get even.'

‘But how could you?' she wailed. ‘I've been flung out without a reference. I'll never get another position now, anywhere.'

‘Course you will.' He laughed coarsely. ‘On your back with your legs open!' He pushed her against the wall and grinned down at her. ‘And when you're walking the streets with the other whores, you'll be glad of my custom.' He squeezed her breasts viciously. ‘In fact, you'll do whatever I want.' Laughing, he sauntered off, leaving her life in ruins.

Maggie stared after him in horror. Oh God, he was right!

 

 

 

Her few pitiful belongings didn't take long to pack. The last six years of her life fitted neatly into a Gladstone bag, with room to spare. Defiantly she put on her best lilac frock and stood in front of the cracked mirror for the last time as she adjusted her straw hat with the matching ribbon.

It was only then that she broke down. She had bought that hat the day she and Jeremy met. The day that had been so happy and yet had brought her to this. She would never see him again now. How would he find her - even if he wanted to - when even she had no idea what was to become of her? Careless of her finery, she flung herself on the bed and sobbed hopelessly.

Eventually the storm of weeping passed. She sat up and wiped the tears from her face. Damn them! She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to this. She'd show them! She'd walk out of this house with her head held high and a contemptuous smile on her face if it bloody killed her!