Taming Maria (20 page)

She knew this.
Tears filled her eyes again and she gathered herself together,
shoulders sagging. 'I guess this is goodbye, Charlie?' she
whispered.

'I'm going
away for a while, but will leave money with Mrs Pritchard and ask
her to speak to the butcher on your behalf. Be happy, Sally.' He
did not know what else to say, wanting nothing more than to see the
back of her.

'Where is Mrs
Jenkins?' Maria demanded when escorted back to her room by Agatha.
She was furious because of the ignominious way she had been
dismissed from the junketing, made to feel like a silly child in
front of the huntsmen and their women.

Agatha stood
with her hands folded at the waist of her plain black dress. 'The
master has ordered me to attend you,' she replied in her harsh,
aggressive voice.

'And Emily?'
Maria had rarely been so angry, or so lonely and afraid.

'Only myself,
Liza and the hairdresser have been given instructions regarding
your toilette.'

'Why wasn't I
consulted?' Maria felt like a prisoner.

'Never fear,
my lady. The viscount has your welfare at heart. He knows what is
best for you. Now, let me help you to bathe.' Agatha clapped her
hands and a line of footmen entered through the door, each carrying
a pail of steaming water. These were conveyed into the annex that
contained a tub.

When they had
finished and marched out Maria was unable to prevent Agatha and the
maid, Liza, whom she recognised as the one she had seen being
beaten, divesting her of her garments and enfolding her in a white
towel. The good-looking coiffeur was too busy admiring himself in
the pier-glass to take much heed of her nudity. The bathroom walls
were covered in Islamic tiles, and the tub itself was large,
squatting centre-stage on four clawed feet. It was three-quarters
full of warm, scented water and Maria would have enjoyed it were it
not for Agatha's intrusion.

What right had
Damien to send Sarah and Emily away, even for a short while? She
was appalled at the audacity of the man! None of her protests made
a scrap of difference as she was soaped all over and her hair
washed, then pinned to the top of her head. Helped out of the bath,
the towel was wrapped around her once more and she was taken back
to the bedroom. There it was removed and perfumed lotion applied
all over her skin, including her breasts and bottom. It was very
apparent that Agatha enjoyed this, lingering over Maria's nipples,
crack and clitoris.

Liza rubbed
her hair, removing most of the moisture, and then Agatha said, 'The
master has decided you shall be shaved. It is his wish to view you
without your pubic hair.'

'What?' Maria,
who had started to relax, shot to her feet. 'I don't want this
done. Go away.'

Agatha
produced a slender cane, very much like the one Mrs Rossiter had
used at school. 'I hope you aren't going to be defiant,' she said
softly. 'I have been told I can take what measures I think fit in
order to make you obey.' The tip of the cane brushed across Maria's
bare thigh, making her jump.

'How dare
you?' she shouted. 'You're nothing but a servant!'

'I follow his
lordship's instructions, and they are explicit. Join us, Russell.'
Agatha gestured to the mincing young man.

He was
exquisitely dressed in the very latest fashion, his plum-coloured
jacket having a nipped-in waist, the sleeves straight with wide
turned-back cuffs, and his lace jabot extra large. His breeches
were exceedingly tight, his boots of the softest leather. He
removed his coat, folded it fastidiously, rolled up his sleeves and
donned a white apron. Maria had seen him before. He sometimes
attended Arabella, a mine of gossipy information as he worked his
magic with comb and scissors and razor.

Liza brought
over a basin of warm water and a tray containing implements.

'Lie down,
Lady Maria,' Agatha instructed, her bony hands gripping her by the
shoulders and forcing her onto her back, the towel spread out
beneath her.

The chill air
made her nipples crimp, and she could do nothing but slither to the
foot of the bed, her legs dangling over the edge and her pubis
raised. Russell positioned himself between her thighs, lathered a
brush with shaving soap and applied it to her mound. The sensation
was far from unpleasant. She squirmed, but Liza and Agatha held her
down. Her bush was coated with perfumed suds and Russell stropped
his blade on a strip of oiled leather, and then used his left hand
to hold back her pubis and apply his cutthroat razor to her
foxy-hued floss.

He was deft,
used to shaving the faces of tetchy gentlemen or the private parts
of fussy ladies who wanted their pudendum swept clean. The
experience was not painful, but strange nonetheless, and Maria
stopped struggling, giving herself into his skilled hands. At first
she was embarrassed because she was lying there with her sexual
organs in full view. Then she realised he was not viewing her as a
woman, only as a piece of flesh he had been instructed to improve.
By his mannerisms and speech she guessed him to be more interested
in members of his own sex. This brought a modicum of comfort,
though the cooling water, the sharp razor and the removal of the
hair made her feel vulnerable.

Russell worked
quickly, his busy fingers parting her crack, opening the outer
labia and making sure there were no wisps left around her arsehole.
'There, smooth as a baby,' he said proudly, dabbing her dry.

'You've made a
fine job of it,' Agatha said, staring at the pink flesh where the
slit was no longer hidden.

She flicked a
finger over Maria's nubbin and it stirred. Oh God, Maria thought,
it's even more sensitive! She stared down her body to where her
mons veneris rose, smooth and hairless. She had not seen it like
that for years!

'But it will
grow again, be stubbly and itchy,' she grumbled, sitting up. 'Now
will you all kindly leave? I've had enough.'

Agatha shook
her grey-streaked head. 'I've not yet finished, but Russell can go.
He will attend you regularly, my lady, in order to keep you
clean-shaven.'

Maria was lost
for words. What other indignities were about to be heaped on
her?

Agatha had
brought a carved box with her. This she now opened, revealing
objects of various size, made of wood or ivory. Maria had never
seen the like, though they were replicas of the penis. 'Lie on your
side,' Agatha instructed, taking one of the smallest from its nest
of red satin and applying lubricant to the tip.

'What are you
going to do?' Maria asked, Damien's words coming back to her. He
had spoken of butt-plugs to stretch her anus.

'The viscount
wants the pathway made easier for him. This will help.' At a signal
Liza restrained Maria, while Agatha inserted the slippery dildo
into her cringing arse.

'Oh... that
hurts!' Maria cried, but Agatha did not stop pushing it in.

'Don't
struggle, my lady. It will be better if you don't. Let your muscle
soften and accept it. This is a small dildo, but later I shall use
larger ones.'

'How long do I
have to keep it there?' The sensation reminded Maria of Damien's
act of sodomy. She had not liked it then and certainly did not
welcome such an impersonal tool, but tried to follow Agatha's
advice and make it easier for herself.

'As long as it
takes,' was the cryptic reply.

'You can't
expect me to retain it for hours, surely?' Maria objected, hating
the woman who was nothing more than Damien's creature, following
his orders for gain and her own perverted satisfaction.

'We will try
several.' Agatha selected more from the padded box. 'Thirty minutes
each should suffice to begin with.'

'But this will
take ages!'

'The time will
quickly pass. If you need to void your bowels, then I will remove
them temporarily.'

'This is
degrading! What kind of a person are you to carry out his
commands?'

Agatha
shrugged, placing the mock phalli in a neat row on the nightstand.
'It takes all sorts,' she answered, a cynical smile lifting her
narrow lips. 'One day you will thank me for showing you a different
means of pleasure.'

'I don't think
so. My arse is aching. Can't you take the thing out?'

Agatha looked
at the ormolu clock standing between a dainty porcelain shepherd
and shepherdess on the mantle-piece. 'Not for half an hour,' she
pronounced.

'How am I
expected to sleep?' Maria envisaged a night of cruel
discomfort.

'I shall be
finished with you before bedtime. We'll try again tomorrow.'

'Where is the
viscount? Will he be visiting me?'

'Maybe. He is
occupied with his guests.'

Nothing that
man does appears to shock his staff, Maria fumed. They are either
brow-beaten, well-trained, well-paid or as perverted as he! She
decided on the latter. 'And Lady Arabella? Is she aware of this
shameful treatment?' Oh, where are Charles and Jane? Maria mourned.
There is no one to help me.

'No doubt
milady has her own pleasures to pursue,' Agatha said briskly,
covering her with the quilt and then tidying up. 'I shall leave you
for a while.'

Maria heard
her rustling about and the door closing behind her. Then the room
fell into silence, apart from the logs settling in the grate. The
evening was warm, but fires were maintained for the comfort of
those in the bedchambers. It was too early to sleep and Maria moved
uneasily, afraid to dislodge the butt-plug. She was tempted to
release it from her rectum, but thought she might cause an injury.
There was nothing she could do but await Agatha's return. The
minutes dragged, and she could not see the clock from her
position.

The plug was
becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She considered reaching for
the hand-bell and ringing it, but had the feeling that Agatha would
not answer, determined to make her suffer. Then the outer door
swung open and a crowd of drunken huntsmen followed Damien into the
room. Maria propped herself up on one elbow and clutched the quilt
around her.

'There she
is!' Damien shouted, and his eyes had such a powerful glitter that
she wondered if he had been mixing opium with his wine again.
'Isn't she a picture, gentlemen? My ward, completely in my
charge.'

'You lucky
dog!' shouted a beefy, red-faced squire. He had slopped ale down
his shirt-front and there was a dark patch staining his breeches,
as if he had lost control of his bladder.

'You are
indeed, Strafford,' chorused the rest, leaning on each other's
shoulders and ogling Maria. 'Always were and always will be! Let's
have a look at her.'

Damien stepped
forward and tugged at the quilt, but Maria hung on to it like grim
death. 'No! No! Get away from me! Get off!' she yelled, unable to
sit properly because of the dildo, and mortified that he wanted to
show her to his drunken cronies.

This amused
them hugely. 'A spitfire! What sport to tame her, eh, chaps? Come
on, darling, don't be shy. Show us your pretty little minge!'

Damien gave an
extra hard tug, wrenching the quilt from her hands. She wrapped her
arms around her breasts and kept her legs close together, her every
movement painful. He stared down at her, a satisfied smile lifting
his lips. 'So... Agatha has followed my commands. How do you find
the butt-plug? Is it to your liking or shall I insert a larger one?
Maybe I'll remove it altogether and use my todger instead, eh?'

His friends
almost collapsed with mirth at this witticism. 'Give me a go at
her,' begged the fat huntsman, bending over and blowing his sour
breath into her face.

Damien's mood
changed like lightning. He thrust the man aside, glaring at him.
'Lay one dirty paw on her and I'll hang you up by your balls.' His
voice was quiet, but held deadly menace.

'Beg pardon,
old boy, but I thought you brought us here for sport,' his guest
spluttered.

'I did. For my
sport. The chit is wilful and needs correction, but I choose what
form this takes.'

Maria,
listening, was completely baffled. Was he protecting her? Had he
brought them there to prove his supremacy? Whatever it was, it gave
her breathing space. She was not to be turned over to these crude
individuals, handled, abused and shamed. For this she could be
grateful, though not for long.

Damien parted
her bottom cheeks and pulled out the plug. She gasped and relief
flooded her. She reached for the covering, but he stopped her. 'Ah,
no, my dear. I'm about to test you.'

His companions
edged closer. She breathed in the sweat of the chase, the alcohol
they had consumed and their rampant lust. Damien tied a scarf
around her eyes, whispering, 'You will be reduced to touch, sound
and smell, and won't know which of us is pushing his cock into your
hand or mouth.'

'But you
said...'

'Don't worry.
No man will enter you except myself.'

She felt hands
on her arse. Damien's?

There were
others cupping her breasts and pulling at the nipples. She heard
the harsh breathing and inhaled the odour of lascivious males, and
took a cock in each hand, closing her palm over the heated, wet
members and hearing their owners groan. Damien was right. Denied
sight her other senses sharpened. No one was hurting her, in fact
the attention given to her breasts and delta was arousing.
Responsibility for her actions had been taken from her. She was
being encouraged to behave like a strumpet. There was no one to say
her nay. It was her guardian's wish that she pleasured his friends
and, in so doing, reached a climax herself. The fact that he was
there, watching, excited her above all else and she wriggled her
clit on playful fingers and moaned as others tweaked her
nipples.

She felt hot
come exploding over her right hand, while the penis in her left was
jerking and starting to spew. Another moved against her mouth,
prising her lips apart. It was large and tasted cheesy, making her
gorge rise, but she could not move away. Someone was holding her
head steady. The huge member worked in and out, its owner's large
belly flopping against her face, nearly suffocating her. She felt
spunk creaming her chin, her hands and buttocks and was
floundering, trying to escape.