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But the silence was broken again – shattered by a piercing scream, harsh and terrifying. It lasted for a second and then was stifled.
Mistress P leapt to her feet and was about to run towards the source of that heart-rending cry of pain but something stopped her and she stood looking out into the garden and tried to compose herself. She was now close to tears herself.
Eventually she heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor and Miss Lambourne reappeared drying her hands on a towel. Her hair was a little disarrayed and she patted it back into shape. Suzy returned a few moments later.
Her mistress turned to her. The poor girl’s sweat-soaked skin had a waxen look. She stared at the ground and her whole naked body was shaking uncontrollably.
“Take her Pam.” Was all the old lady said as the mistress gathered the girl to her and they settled together in the armchair, Suzy buried her face in her owner’s shoulder and wept and wept as her mistress gently rocked her back and forth and stroked her wet hair.
Pam could feel Suzy’s heart pounding as she held her against her breast and so she whispered the secret and private words of love and kindness to the sobbing girl. The sweat and saliva that had run down between Suzy’s breasts collected on her tummy as she sat curled in and almost foetal position. Mistress P could feel the dampness on her own legs, soaking though her jeans as Suzy’s nectar dribbled from her vagina.
Over an hour passed before the two lovers began to stir from their position. Suzy, still clinging to her mistress’s neck looked around and with red rimmed eyes and watched as Betty Lambourne cleared ornament and fruit bowls from the long refectory table by the window.
Suzy’s mistress knew what was going to happen next and she helped the girl to sit on the table and then she herself sat behind her so that she could supported the girl’s shoulders as Miss Lambourne positioned Suzy’s feet so that her heels were right up by her bottom.
Next, Miss Lambourne placed a cushion on the floor just below where Suzy was perched and, kneeling down, she put her hands around the girl’s bottom, drew her closer to her and began to lick.
The girl lay still, utterly subjugated by her experiences. As the woman’s tongue and lips did their work, the girl stared at the ceiling praying that there would be no more pain. The silence of the room oppressed her. Just the liquid sounds from between her thighs and her own breathing. The first pulse came quickly and unexpectedly and with it that wonderful concentration of feelings at her centre. Now she was the helpless slave of her own desire. It gathered fast. Now the pulses come more frequently, and Suzy could feel her insides move, position themselves for the climax. When she felt this way she knew she would come violently, the pleasure would be torn from deep within her pelvis.
For a brief moment she melted, Miss Lambourne was unrelenting and the girl felt as if she was falling from a great height. Her spasms came, stronger that she had ever experienced. Her cry was that of a women whose flesh had been pierced by arrows of the most exquisite pleasure.
The spasms subsided and her tormentor withdrew and stood looking down as the sweat-soaked form that lay trembling on the table. The room seemed to grow dark and Suzy would not remember how she was helped into bed or how she fell into a deep and hopefully dreamless sleep.
Mistress P returned to the living room where Miss Lambourne was pouring tea. The sun was now low on the horizon and a soft warm light shone through the small windows of Honeysuckle cottage. Turning towards her guest with a wistful smile, the old lady spoke slowly and deliberately.
“So, Mistress Pam Spencer, shall we make a start?”
Pam Spencer lowered her eyes modestly and began to slowly unbutton her shirt.