Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 05

Chapter Five

Mrs. Taylor Reads a Book

Mrs. Taylor woke up feeling very good. She usually did after a weekend like the one she had just experienced. Mr. Rowling screwed in more ways than one, Michelle's ass reamed for her first time, the Goth Girl at the sex shop ass fucked until unconscious, then robbed and finally Greg given a serious dose of his own medicine. 'Not bad for only two days work,' she thought. 'I might even take today off.'

It was Sunday, not that Mrs. Taylor had any religious tendencies. For her, Sunday wasn't a day of rest, unless she wanted it to be. There had been plenty of her husband's clients to screw, sexually and financially on that day of the week. But today, Mr. Taylor was still out of town doing his thing. Mrs. Taylor took a long shower and then fixed herself some breakfast.

She spent the morning doing some household chores including mowing the lawns. Both she and her husband were careful to keep up an image of a respectable, every day couple. As she was outside, several neighbours wandered by, some stopping for a short chat. Mrs. Taylor always wore conservative clothes around home. She spoke with not a trace of profanity, never said anything untoward and generally made herself look like a simple housewife. As far as the neighbours were concerned, Mr. Taylor travelled a lot on his business of selling insurance.

After a small lunch, Mrs. Taylor took out a book from their personal library of sexual fiction and instruction. The library also contained a high end collection of erotic photography. This library was upstairs, away from any prying eyes of a neighbour who might have come into the house for some reason. Downstairs on display was a collection of popular but respectable fiction and also some general books on such boring subjects as bird watching and nature.

The book Mrs. Taylor had chosen was one of her favourites. Produced in Germany, it was a collection of very well done photographs of bondage and discipline, along with the English translations of short stories of the same genre. Having gone through the book at least a dozen times, Mrs. Taylor never got bored with it. Some of the photographs had been taken with female models that looked to be very young. Some appeared barely pubescent. The book wasn't sold in any bookstore in the country. Perhaps it was illegal. It had been taken from a wealthy connoisseur of such material, along with other books that now graced the Taylor library. The man had fallen victim to one of her husband's ploys and gladly had given the books, along with a generous amount of cash in return for silence.

Mrs. Taylor sat in a comfortable easy chair in the library, admiring the images and reading the stories. She often got inspiration from the collection of material that surrounded her. As she reread a favourite story about a young housemaid in the seventeenth century, who turns the tables on her wealthy and sexually deviant mistress, she toyed with herself. She was good at drawing out the pleasure, stroking softly and slowly, keeping herself in a state of high but not intense sexual arousal. As the story ending drew closer with the young girl anally abusing her mistress, as she had been abused, she let her climax build and build. With a lot of practice she had perfected the art of not coming until the main character in the book was doing just that.

Frieda could only imagine what her mistress was thinking. After many penetrations to her womanly place, she had gone silent, no longer calling down death and Damnation upon her housemaid. The thick rod in Frieda's hand was wet with her mistress's drippings, as if the prolonged assault on her woman's place was welcome. Frieda's anger could only grow hotter as she considered that the woman tied down over the bench was actually revelling in the misuse of her most private place. How many others had also thrust this rod into that wet, dripping place of fornication, she wondered. How many men had rutted there until the seed of Damnation issued forth into the receptacle of her unnatural lust? How many times had she cuckolded her lawful husband, with another man's agent of Sin thrusting and thrusting, until it gushed out the hot, white wine of fornication to mix with her mistress's depraved flow?

Mrs. Taylor wasn't at all put off by the simple and dated fiction. She was more interested in the emotions than the writing.

Frieda's blue eyes narrowed as she considered her further revenge. The dripping rod in her hand, thick and smooth, so well used by her mistress on her own young and once innocent Venus entrance, seemed not thick enough to make her mistress scream. Frieda ached to her the woman give out the cries she herself had given out when the rod first overcame her virginity. Also she ached to hear the cries of anger and rage that she had given out so many times as was she tied down over the bench for her mistress's friend's amusement. Fine ladies of Stuttgart...laughing and cackling as they played with the young and tender place where only her future husband should have gone. Fine ladies who rubbed their privates until they moaned with pleasure as they drooled their spittle in excitement at the debasing of the prostrate and bound young maiden.

'I bet they were drooling,' thought Mrs. Taylor, not blaming them one bit.

How many times had the young housemaid felt their evil fingers exploring and penetrating every part of her? How many hands had fondled her bosoms and traced the curvatures of her lithe young hips? Frieda cringed at the memories of fine ladies' fingers touching and pressing to her most unchristian place, her bodily orifice of excrement. Her very bowels heaved as she remembered fingers pushing and pushing...until her dark orifice was overcome and entered. How she had loathed the high pitched cackles of mirth as she protested this most ungenerous treatment. How many times had she endured the results of her mistress's encouragements to her fine lady friends, to debase and misuse the girl laid out for their perverse and sinister pleasures.

'I've had my fair share of laid out girls myself,' thought Mrs. Taylor, 'and then some.'

Frieda looked again upon her mistress's body. Clad only in the thin, gossamer shift that she usually wore during her abased penetrations of Frieda's body, her buttocks were clearly visible and so was the mound of dark curls covering her overused Mound of Venus. Large and pendulent bosoms hung aside the narrow bench and Frieda envisioned them fondled and used by men who were not to be there. With a dark and deep fury, Frieda took hold of the shift and tore it open in one pull. Lifting it away, she left her mistress almost as naked as she had been laid naked so many, many times. With her eyes filling with the tears of the sadness of her lost innocence, Frieda took her revenge upon those buttocks, smiting them with the rod, as if the force of her blows could drive out the demons of unnatural lust inside the perverse and debased body in front of her.

'Good on you, girl. Now you're cooking with gas.'

Her mistress shrieked out her rage and fairly spat, she was so indignant. "Hold, you verminous piece of maggot meat! I'll have your very bowels feel the sting of that rod, thrust up your filthy cunt so hard it bursts! I'll see it disappear in your very ass, you unthankful child of Sin. Where would you be if I hadn't taken you in? Spreading your legs nightly at every tavern in Stuttgart, I'll wager. Release me or I swear by Satan's hairy balls, I'll drag you to one this very night! And I'll supply the piece of copper that will be the price of your fucking! I'll take one hundred of them, I will! Now, release me!

'Don't do it girl, don't do it. She'll just see you fucked one hundred times anyway...'

"Nay, I won't! I won't! You are but a harlot and a slut. You are but a scandalous adulteress, rutting and grunting with any man who cares to taste the vileness of your...your...wicked, wicked...cunt! There! I said it! To these depths of inequity have you driven me. You and your fancy harlot lady friends, your evil partners in depravity and blasphemous sin. How many men have...have...fucked you and for only the price of asking? How many need not ask, knowing full well your debased penchant for cuckolding your husband? Call me a piece of maggot meat will you? Take that! And that! And that!"

Frieda laid on with a will. Again and again, the very rod that had so cruelly penetrated her very femininity endless times came down upon the buttocks of her mistress. With her legs tied down over the side of the bench, Frieda could see the very orifice of her that was so recently foully threatened of her own body. Her mistress's dark orifice was there in front of her. Even darker thoughts were coursing through her fevered head.

'Do it, Frieda, stick that rod right up there. Fill that 'dark orifice. No mercy now, Frieda'

"Now you will feel the vile touching that I have endured these past two years. Now you will be debased lower than any of your filthy lovers has ever done to you." Frieda knew that what she was about to do was punishable by the most vile and devilishly depraved instruments that the town execution had in his terrible dungeon. She had heard stories of what happened to woman who ran afoul of the town council. And she knew that her mistress would be only to pleased to see Frieda sent into those dark and terrible walls. But the anger in her burned hotter than any fear of retribution. With eyes set narrow with both hate and the expectation of long sought revenge, she put a fingertip to her mistress's forbidden place.

"Frieda!" screamed out her mistress. "No! For the love of God and for all the Angels, no! Touch not that place! Any other, but not that. It would be most unbecoming of a lady such as myself to be violated in that place! Do not touch again and all will be forgiven. You may stay in my employment, unpunished and unharmed...but you mustn't do this to me!"

'Fuck that noise, girl...ram that rod! Right up the bitch's unbecoming place...'

"Nay will I listen to your false promises of hope. I know you well, mistress. Having released you from these bonds, I would be in the town dungeon this very night, perhaps never to be seen again, dead after the most wicked tortures and renderings of my body. Dead after being the lust object of every scoundrel in Stuttgart with a single copper piece to pay the executioner. Nay, mistress. You'll have no release or succour from me!"

With those excoriating words, Frieda thrust her finger forward but gained no advance. Then she remembered the hands of those cronies, preparing her dark orifice for its unnatural uses. Yes! There it was! A pot on unguent, prepared from the rendered fat of a suckling pig. There to ease the task the cronies' fingers in their most inhuman debasement of her body and her very soul. Now it was her mistress's turn to feel the most unnatural of the sensations, the penetration of that which should never be penetrated.

'Not so unnatural in my book, Frieda, but it's your story...'

Taking the small pot, Frieda removed its cover and dipped her forefinger into it. With cold and heartless eyes, she glared at the orifice of her mistress, that which had been so many times penetrated of her own body. With a steady hand, she touched her anointed finger to that most dark and forbidden of humanly places. "Noooo!" intoned her mistress. "Please...I beg of you...spare me this most cruel of insults, this most wretched assault on my dignity...the dignity of a lady and your cherished protector."

"Nay, you most unladylike and unchristian of mistresses. Nay will I grant to you the reprieve I so desperately beseeched you for myself, only to be cruelly mocked and penetrated so many, many times as you and your verminous friends indulged your base desires upon my most tender of places. You, who so cruelly mocked the most...are going to feel this darkest and most horrible of penetrations...Now!" and Frieda pushed with the strength of deepest hatred, howling with dark delight as she saw her finger impale the orifice.

"See! See how my finger most deeply debases you, mistress. Feel the touch where no touch should be felt! Taste the bitterest of biles as your very soul rebels at this most wanton of penetrations. And fear not! This has only begun! My blood runs cold and I will not stop your punishments until the heat of my labours leaves me finished!"

'You tell her, girl. Warm that blood of yours...but not too quickly...'

Frieda felt a wave overcome her. A wave of emotion she had never felt before; never even suspected of being possible in a good Christian girl. She felt a dark and demonly lust. She felt an implacable urge to debase herself while debasing her mistress. She felt the urge to rub her privates as her finger twisted and turned in her mistress's penetrated orifice, twisting and turning as she had felt the fingers in her deepest place being used. With a gasp of surprise and horror she felt her hand already at her privates and saw it moving, one finger already poised at the entrance to her most womanly of places.

'Mother Mary, mother of our most beneficent Lord Jesus...forgive me...' she prayed silently...and then gently pushed her sinful fingertip into her strangely moist womanly place. She gasped, both at her depravity and at the wave of forbidden pleasure that flowed from her warm and sinfully inviting sex. With increasing lust, she probed deeper...deeper until she stared in shock at her finger, impaled into her own body. With a shudder of revulsion and of heated passion, she withdrew her most debased of fingers and saw it glisten with the fluid of her own Damnations.

'Trust me, girl, you'll still be there tomorrow. Ain't no Mother Mary needed here. More fingers, but Mother Mary can go fuck herself...and you can too..."

Frieda moved her gaze to the cruel mistress tied over the bench. Her dark orifice was still penetrated by her wayward housemaid's finger. Frieda felt a new wave of dark and bitter rage well up in her heart as she realized that the depravities of her mistress and her fine lady friends had driven her to this demonic releasing of her Original Sin.

"Now my most depraved and sinful mistress...you shall feel the anguishes I felt as you and your most sinful lady friends assaulted me in the darkest and most unchristian ways. Now you shall be the provider of my lustful desires and my most horrid of pleasures."

"Nay, sweet child. Follow not in the ways I followed. It was the Pastor's wife who misled us into darkest temptations. It was she who counselled us in the Dark Arts of debauchery. Spare me your revenge and I shall summon her forth...for you to have your way with her...and all we be most certainly forgiven. I swear on my most Christian of hearts!"

"You play me for a fool, my mistress! Upon your summons, the Pastor's wife would return with a dozen of the most vile of the city guard and it would be me who suffered her revenge, as you watched and called upon the guards to greater and greater efforts in their despoilment of my bodily orifices! Nay shall I submit to your wicked entreaties! Your words are but pale reflections of the wickedness in your heart!"

'Kudos, Frieda. Trust no one. Especially a bitch with one of your fingers up her ass.'

"Then you shall suffer, you vilest of ungrateful girls! I shall she you raped by every poxed soldier in the King's army! I shall see you tied naked to the pillory and I myself shall hang the sign around your wretched neck. Have Your Way Good Men of Stuttgart shall be my instruction. And I shall sit upon my sedan and take my merriment as each man in turn thrusts his manhood again and again into your wretched cunt! And the most grievously thick manly organs this city can offer are to be reserved for the hole of your ass! It will take weeks before the men tire of your debasements. Think upon that, you spawn of Satan's lust!"

Frieda felt the sting of that insult cut to her very soul. She had never known her father, cut down in battle, defending against the French. But her mother had often spoken of his admirable qualities and of his love for his only child. When the fever took her mother and left her an orphan, there was no one who would take her in. The pastor's only sympathies were to have her indentured to the woman who had made that most grievous of insults about her parentage.

"Your foolish and poisoned tongue has added but one more grievance to my list, mistress but it is the heaviest grievance of all." Frieda's voice was as cold as a witch's tit and she felt her heart grow colder still. With dispassionate eyes she took in her mistress's dark orifice. 'One vengeful finger seems a poor bargain' she mused. 'If I'm to be damned for my actions here, I may as well be dammed for a Thaler as a Pfenning.'

With cold laughter, Frieda withdrew her one finger and put two in its place.

'Two's a good step, Frieda. It's what precedes three, four and five.'

"What devilment is this?' cried out her mistress. "You've debased my darkest place and you go further? Stop! No more lest I prefer to see you burned at the stake as the witch that you surely are!"

"Nay, mistress, for if I am a witch then how much more so are you. You, whom pleasured yourself so frequently at the very place I now seek my revenge. And what of the other most foul pleasures that you did extract from my protesting self? How many times did you place your womanhood to my mouth as I lay trussed and hapless in this very way that you now find so unpleasant? How many times did you urge your lady friends to also take their pleasures in that way? What was I to you but a vessel to drink your vile and putrid intoxications from? What was I but an innocent to be corrupted again and again. Nay will I stop until you have had more than your fill of your own debasements that you so merrily forced upon me. Not until I've drenched my growing dark passions shall you be left to whimper away your hurt and crushed womanly feelings as you so often left me to do the same."

Frieda paused once more to seek the gentle intervention of the Mother. 'Please. Please. Please. Most compassionate and pure of women, mother of our Lord and heavenly protector of earthly sinners....take from me this most impure of dark feelings...this unnatural desire to...fill what shouldn't be filled...and to satisfy what should forever be left unsatisfied...take from me these darkest and most depraved of lusts and deliver me from my road to Damnation...Amen...'

Frieda waited and urged the Mother to release her from her base desires but there was no heavenly intervention forthcoming. 'Then I go willingly where my natures take me,' she said silently. 'Even to the very gates of Hell itself I will walk this road of demonical pleasures.'

'Do that, Frieda, and I promise you that you'll never regret it. At least I never have.'

Frieda abandoned her quest for release and with a growing sense of dark and powerful urges, she set upon her mistress. Two years of pent up rage and hate seemed to well up and overcome her soul. With but one night to satisfy her revenge for two years of the vilest of sexual debasements, she lost none of it in her new quest to reduce her mistress to the very deepest depths of defilement.

Her two fingers sought to torture her mistress's rectal opening and she felt herself twisting and clawing inside it, as it to open it forever.

"Noooo!" screamed out her thrashing mistress, only to be held by her bonds. "Stop! Stop this at once! It hurts so! It hurts too much! Nay can I live with such unnatural pains and treatments! Stop! I pray you! Stop!"

Frieda was no longer in a mood to be entreatied. "How many times did your ears hear these very sentiments? How many times did you cackle and crow as you continued in your pleasures at the expense of my Christian soul? Nay, mistress, you'll receive no quarter from me for I received none from you!"