Tales from the Neighbourhood, Part Two
By Frank
The d’Aubergé’s house lay very remotely in the British countryside, with a gigantic garden encircling it, akin to a maze. The two d’Aubergé daughters loved playing in this garden in summer time, and one of my duties as a maid was, of course, to clean up after them. For although the two girls were old enough to be tidy themselves – one was 17, the other 19 – they took great pleasure in making me run after them, laughing mischievously at me falling over in my high heels in the soft grass. In fact, the girls were quite the villainous types, and the following tale is but one example of how they played with and tormented me.
It was one bright summer afternoon, and Madame d’Aubergé called her daughters out into the garden for tea. Because I had carelessly spilled some soup in the morning, Madame had made me wear iron manacles on my feet for the rest of the day. This, coupled with the heels and the grass, made my walk extremely awkward, so I proceeded with great care. Carrying out the tray with the tea, I watched the two girls, lying on a white blanket on the grass, making jokes about me. My predicament saddened me, but one thing comforted me, and that was Madame’s impartial discipline. For while I was manacled, the girls were wearing white corsets, laced up very tightly. Madame wanted to make sure that they learned how to move and sit gracefully in the open nature.
Madame was wearing a similar corset herself, with her luscious long skirt sprouting forth from underneath it like a beautiful flower. How beautiful and graceful Madame looks, I mused.
At first the afternoon went normally, with Madame enjoying some of the sun and the quietness of the countryside, while the girls ran about in the garden, strolling from tree to tree like they used to do as small children. They looked a lot like small children right now, I thought. I was watching them from a distance, but then suddenly they motioned for me to go hither and called for me. Fearing that they were up to no good I hesitated, but then proceeded, fearing punishment for disobedience.
With what little leeway the chain gave me, I hobbled over to the trees where they were waiting, giggling. As I approached, they moved further into the woods, waving at me. I continued after them, now disappearing out of Madame’s sight. I followed them several tens of yards into the woods, before they finally stopped and let me catch up. “What is this nonsense,” I demanded. – “We want to show you something,” they said, and one of them began looking for something behind a tree. I leant against a tree myself, exhausted from running in manacled and heeled feet. Then suddenly one of the girls (who had silently crept behind me) grabbed my arms and pulled them behind the tree, while the other held up what she had been looking for – a long white rope! With a wicked grin on her face she moved towards me, readying the rope into a loop. I struggled and tried to free my arms, but the girls had quite a bit of muscle in them, and with the second one helping out now, I had no chance.
They bound my wrists behind the tree with much skill, then proceeded to wind the rope around my waist and spiralled down, pulling the satin of my skirt tight against my legs. They ran the end of the rope around my already manacled ankles and fastened it to the trunk of the tree. I tried to scream out for Madame, but a strong but gentle hand over my mouth muffled any sounds. It was then that the older of the girls stood in front of me, lifting up her skirt high, displaying the full length of her slender leg. She undid the straps holding her stocking and slowly rolled it down, always making sure that I was watching. Not that I could have done anything else anyway, but I was watching closely, although I wasn’t sure whether I was more jealous of the beauty of her leg or her cunning seduction skill. When she had removed the stocking she rolled it into a small ball and stuffed it deep into my mouth. I tried to spew it out but it was hard because it expanded inside my mouth and before I had made any progress, she had removed her second stocking and bound it around my mouth and head, making any such action impossible. My gag sat tight and I was truly silenced.
As if I wasn’t in enough peril already, they produced a second rope and wound it around my shoulders, just above my breasts and then once more below, so that the rope exerted subtle pressure on them. The older girl then stood in front of me and whispered into my ear: “You know, you really have beautiful breasts.” Then they ran off into the distance, leaving me tied to the tree, tightly bound and gagged, helplessly struggling against my bonds.
After what must have been an hour of pointless struggle, I resigned myself to the fact that I was dependent on somebody else to rescue me. I hoped somebody would come soon, for the rope was cutting into my young flesh. I tried to scream with all my might but only a meagre moan left my mouth. On my tongue I felt the soft nylon of the d’Aubergé daughter’s stocking. When I tasted it – it happened inadvertently, I swear! – it reminded me so much of that beautiful leg of hers that was displayed in front of me. By then it must have been a few hours since they tied me to this tree. But the taste of the stocking did not only rouse my memories, but – and I am very ashamed to admit this – it also stimulated my imagination. I wondered what the rest of her body would taste like. In my mind I felt my tongue running all over her wonderful body, from the shoulder to her ear, from her chin to her belly… from her feet to her thighs. Then my face disappeared while hers was thrown back and a brisk moan escaped her moist lips. Her hands ran through my hair in a soft circular fashion, interrupted at times when she clenched her fingers into fists, pulling my hair. The pain on my scalp was tingling but soon ceased as she released her grasp and continued stroking my neck, then shoulders. Her hands then turned into claws, rubbing across my back, digging deeper and deeper into my skin until both her and I cried out in an amalgam of pain and pleasure.
She then grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up towards her until her lips were level with mine. Her hands wandered down my back and she reached for my hips and pressed my body against hers. Her curly hair was tickling parts of my body, but soon I felt the warmth of her lips against mine and the soft strokes of her tongue caressed the inside of my mouth. I wanted her tongue to explore every part of my body, all of my inside – I wanted to absorb her, to swallow her whole, when I heard the words “Now look at you”, from what seemed a different world.
It was then that I opened my eyes and realised that I was still tied to the tree, gagged and helpless. By now the sun had set, and Madame d’Aubergé was standing in front of me, with an expression on her face that could not quite decide whether it wanted to be anger or laughter. She removed my gag and untied me and I started spilling out the whole story. Before I could get very far however, Madame put her finger on my lips to silence me and we walked back to the house.
“I will have to teach you a lesson, it appears. All of you.”
I entered the house with a multitude of feelings racing through my body – anticipation, anger, even euphoria, and shame. But first I would have to go to the bathroom!