erotic book - House Of Evil by Robert Desmond

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erotic book - House Of Evil by Robert Desmond

Unread post by admin » 19 Feb 2016 11:55

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.

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Re: erotic book - House Of Evil by Robert Desmond

Unread post by admin » 19 Feb 2016 11:56

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....

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Re: erotic book - House Of Evil by Robert Desmond

Unread post by admin » 19 Feb 2016 11:58

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.

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