Chapter 11

Doris started to perform her duties at Romily Manor soon after she'd finished her leisurely brunch.

Mrs. Wynton was still in her room, Mabel informed Doris as she served her grilled ham, fried tomatoes and omelet; the low-browed Willis was nowhere to be seen.

Doris was sipping her second cup of coffee when Mildred came into the dining room. "Good morning, Doris," she said quietly, smiling. "I hope you slept well."

Doris looked up at her employer; Mildred was neatly dressed in a country-tweed suit, hair carefully brushed and face lightly made up. It was hard to connect this well-dressed, well-bred woman with the erotically sadistic female who had performed perverse acts upon the hapless bodies of her servants in her bedroom the night before.

"Good morning, Mildred," said Doris. "You look very well, very attractive."

"Thank you," Mildred laughed. "I've been lying in my tub for almost an hour; that always relaxes my body."

Doris smiled; there was no reason to tell Mildred what method she had used to obtain complete relaxation.

"You look as fresh and pretty as ever," Mildred sighed, enviously. "Are you ready to start work this afternoon?"

Doris laughed, finished her coffee. "I think it's about time."

Mildred rang the bell for Mabel, seated herself at the table. "I'll see you in the office at two," she told Doris, picking up her morning mail which Mabel had left on the table.

"And this is a list of the tenants," said Mildred, "with their address and monthly rent."

Doris peered over Mildred's shoulder at the hand-written list of names. "Their houses all have names, not numbers," she murmured.

Mildred laughed. "This is Maine countryside, dear. The houses and cottages are scattered all over--not neatly laid out in streets like in the city."

"How do they pay their rent, by check?"

"Some of them, but others are so old-fashioned that they like to pay in cash."

"Do they come to the manor?" Doris asked.

Mildred shook her head firmly. "Never. We collect from them in person."

"You?" Doris looked at Mildred in surprise; she couldn't imagine this aloof woman knocking at cottage doors and collecting rents.

"Usually," said Mildred, "I used to send Willis sometimes, but--" her eyes became vacant, "the dear boy always seemed to have problems..." she broke off, looked at Doris. "Where is he, by the way?"

"I haven't seen him at all today," said Doris, feeling her face blush as she remembered the sensuous episode in her bedroom the night before.

"Probably walking about the grounds," she sighed. "He loves the outdoors." She looked at the list of names again: "Well, Doris, it'll be your job to collect rents now--that's one of your duties here. Let me see," she scanned the list, "you can walk over to Mister Macallister's this afternoon; he always pays in cash and his rent's due right now."

Doris looked at the address. "Three Hills Cottage," she read. "Where in the world is that?"

Mildred got to her feet, strolled to the window. "Look!" She pointed to the end of the grounds; there was a gap in the line of trees and three small hillocks were visible. "It's on the slope of the middle hillock," Mildred explained. "You can't see it from here; it's a small stone cottage."

"What's he like?"

Mildred looked at Doris. "Barney Macallister?" she laughed. "He's an elderly eccentric--lived at Three Hills for as long as I can remember."

"He lives alone?"

"Mostly," said Mildred, thoughtfully. "He has relatives and friends staying with him from time to time. Well," her tone became brisk, "you can walk over there, Doris; take this small receipt book, collect his rent, in cash, then come back." She smiled. "That'll be your work for today."

Doris smiled at her employer; it didn't sound like a big day's work.

The cottage was a thirty-minute walk from the manor, and Doris was glad that she was wearing low-heeled shoes, even though they looked out of place with her tiny mini-skirt and nylon blouse, which was all she needed on this pleasant, balmy day.

She approached the heavy oaken door, looked vainly for a bellpush, then rapped on the wood.

Instead of the door opening, a voice called out loudly: "Who is it?"

" I--I'm from the manor," Doris called, nervously. "I've come for the rent."

"Then come in," the man's voice shouted. "The door's not locked!"

She turned the big handle, pushed, and the door swung open, soundlessly. Doris stepped inside, staring about her, nervously and curiously. The cottage was well-furnished in a massive, old-fashioned way. The front door opened onto the main room, and in the center of the floor, a frail, elderly man was sitting behind a large desk.

He fixed his eyes on Doris with a piercing stare. "You're someone new; I haven't seen you before!"

Doris approached him, diffidently. "I--I've just started working for Mrs. Wynton; I'm going to be looking after the rents and things."

He smiled. "Well now, you're a change from Mildred!" He drank her in with his eyes. "Pretty as a picture and soft as honey and cream," he murmured.

Doris smiled, flushed at the compliment.

He slid open a drawer, took out a small pile of bills, counted some off and put on the desk-top. "Here's the rent, Miss--" he paused, "you didn't tell me your name."

"Dainton," she said, "Doris Dainton."

He nodded, "You've got a nice name, too." He waited, then: "You'll have to come and get the money, you see, I'm paralyzed."

Doris drew in her breath, noticed the crutches beside his desk for the first time. "I--I'm sorry," she mumbled, moving forward, "I didn't know!" She picked up the money, counted it, pushed it into her small purse. "I'll give you a receipt."

"Don't be sorry," he said, "it's just my legs the rest of me's all right." He laughed. "I get around; you'd be surprised how I get around."

Doris moved beside him, bent over his desk to make out the receipt then felt his hand on the bare flesh of her leg at the back. She flushed, squirmed herself, slightly, but went on filling in the amount on the receipt.

"Nice, soft young flesh," the old man murmured, stroking the roll of flesh on her inner thigh.

Doris squeezed her legs together. "Mister Macallister--please!"

His hand went on moving, slid up to her silken pantyleg. "Barney," he said, "everyone calls me Barney!" His finger moved inside the tight pantyleg and he stroked the crevice of flesh where the swell of her buttock met the top of her thigh.

"Don't," Doris whispered. "That's not right!"

The drawer in his desk was still open; he reached in with his free hand, took out a bill, pushed it across the desk to Doris. "A small gift for you," he said, softly. "Does that make it right?"

A fresh flood of color suffused Doris's face; she stared at the bill, it was a ten!

His hand was on the back of her panties, where they stretched so tightly across her bottom. He drew his finger up the silk-covered cleft. "Take them off," he whispered. "I just want to stroke it, caress and feel it!"

Doris stood very still, staring at the bill and trying to think straight. He isn't hurting me! But...

"I'm just an old man," murmured Barney Macallister. "I'm here by myself most of the time--I don't get much fun!"

His hand was high under her mini-skirt, pulling at the waistband of her briefs, sliding them down her legs.

Doris squeezed the cheeks of her bottom tightly together to impede him. He felt the muscular contraction. "Don't do that," he pleaded. He reached in the drawer again, took out another bill, placed it with the other.

Another ten, Doris saw. Her buttocks relaxed and her panties slid down to her ankles.

He squeezed the soft flesh with lecherous pleasure. "Sweet little bottom," he mumbled, "as nice as I've ever felt!" His finger slithered through the cleft, touching the small anal orifice, lingering a moment then moving on. "Lean over the desk," he murmured, his voice shaky. "I want to see it as well as touch it. Bend forward, Doris, let me look at your soft little ass!"

Her face was burning but Doris leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands as she leaned over the wide desk, letting her bare, rounded bottom project just inches from the old man's face.

He stroked the soft flesh lasciviously, making drooling sounds of pleasure. He squeezed the pliable rolls on either side of the cleft with jerky, excited movements. His hand slid lower, touched the crevice at the top of her thigh--then moved inward.

"No!" Doris tensed herself. "Not there--you didn't say you'd touch me there!"

His fingertip found the wet lips of her pussy, tried to slide in. Doris tightened the cheeks of her bottom; squeezed her thighs together and his finger was trapped.

"Let me!" he panted, struggling to move his finger. "Let me feel inside your cunt!"

"No!" Doris moaned, gritting her teeth, jamming her buttocks together. "Just--just my bummie--you said you wanted to touch my bummie--not my pussy!"

"Here," he gasped, breathlessly, "have this--and this--and this!" His hand shook as he reached in the desk-drawer, took out bills and added them to the two in front of Doris.

She twisted her head down, watched in wonder. One, two, three, four, five... She gasped; there must be seven or eight bills by now--and all tens!

She relaxed her buttocks, parted her thighs, waited breathlessly for his reaction.

His hand had moved off her flesh; he was doing something that she couldn't see, in his lap. She could hear the rustle of clothing, then he spoke. "Now do what I want--any goddamned thing I want!"

Doris screwed shut her eyes. He's paid me! "But don't hurt me!" she pleaded.

"I won't hurt," he promised. "Stand up and turn around!"

Startled, Doris did as he asked, then stifled the sob in her throat. He had unfastened his pants at the front; now a long, slim penis projected straight up as he slouched back in his armless chair.

He grinned at her expression. "Squeeze your wet cunt onto that!"

Doris felt a crazy blend of fear and fascination.

The old man reached to her skirt, dragged it up at the front, stared at her pubic thatch.

"Brunette," he mumbled. "I like brunette hairs round a young, juicy cunt!" He licked at his lips, then mumbled, "My granddaughter's brunette!"

"Your granddaughter!" Doris's voice was shocked.

He nodded. "As pretty a little sixteen-year-old as you ever saw."

Doris's mouth sagged. "You--you do this to your granddaughter?"

He gave a cackling laugh. "Every month when she comes to see her poor old grandfather." He wet his lips, "She's got the tightest little cunt I ever fucked!" His penis twitched as he spoke.

Doris stared at him in horror. "You monster!" Her eyes were round, angry. "Doing that to a little girl--you awful creature!"

He cackled again, then made his voice wheedling. "What else can a lonely old man do?"

"You--you--" Doris broke off, sighed. He's a lecherous old man; taking advantage of a young innocent girl and now, trying to do the same thing to me! She moved her lips, indignantly, then had a crazy impulse to smile. He pretended to be so helpless, sitting paralyzed in his chair, but he'd managed to find a way to get his erotic thrills by doing awful sensuous things to young girl juicy young girls, he said! She sighed again. He has some kind of courage--and determination... and, he's paid for his fun!

"Now, take your skirt off," he said, impatiently. "Step out of those cute little panties and straddle me with your sexy young thighs--I wanna fuck!" He gripped his penis at the base, and Doris saw the head swell. "My cock's all ready," he mumbled; he met Doris's eyes, added: "I've paid for it!"

Slowly, averting her eyes, Doris unclasped her skirt, dropped it on the desk-top; daintily, she stepped out of her panties and took a nervous step toward the old man in the chair.

He stared at her belly and thighs as she got closer to him; there was a sheen of sweat on her skin, making it glisten, appear more sensuous, erotic, desirable.

He wet his lips, reached forward, gripped her round the buttocks and pulled her closer. "You'll have to do it all," he told her. "Like I said--I'm paralyzed." He watched the ripples run across her belly and the thick pubic hairs seemed to bristle with electricity.

Doris felt herself trembling; more with anticipation than fear. The things that had been done to her--that had happened to her--in the last few days were keeping her body in a constant state of sexual arousal. Just the sight of the slim cock waiting to penetrate her pussy was exciting her anew.

"Stand with your legs on either side of me," he instructed, his voice hoarse with excitement. "Then lower your bottom until your cunt's over my cock, and then--" he took a rasping breath, "jam it down all the way down on my cock!"

Doris shivered as she took a jerky step into position; moving awkwardly, with her feet apart, inching herself forward, one leg on either side of his. He moved his hand down, under her crotch, felt at her wet vaginal lips. She jerked, made a low sound and felt the muscles in her thighs aching as she held them in the unnatural position.

"Now, let your cunt slide down!" he panted.

She bent her knees, feeling her legs trembling, lowering herself slowly. He gripped her buttocks, guided her until she was over his cock. Her pussy felt stretched open, her belly stiff and strained as her body went down.

"Aaaaah!" The long sob oozed from his lips as her vaginal lips opened on the head of his cock, let the organ slide inside. "Press down," he groaned.

She relaxed her legs; her cunt slid lower, enveloping the stiff, straight and slim cock completely. "Aaaah, that's good," he sighed. "Now, you'll have to move up and down--I--I can't help you, Doris; you'll have to glide your cunt on and off my cock. Just bend then straighten your legs!"

The breath panted from Doris's lips as she started to do as he asked. It was new and strangely delicious feeling to be able to grip his stiff cock with her pussy, move it as fast or as slowly as she liked. She rotated her bottom gently, squirming her pussy from side to side, letting the slim cock touch all the special spots inside her bubbling cunt. "Oooth," she groaned, "oh, ooth!"

He lay back in his chair with his eyes closed and a tense, excited expression on his face. He let a smile cross his lips when he heard Doris softly groan. "You like it," he whispered. "It's different, isn't it, Doris--it's nice!"

"Ooth," she moaned, raising herself slowly, feeling the cock sliding against the sides of her sucking pussy, "so new!"

Next time she pressed herself down, Doris leaned forward, her face moving close to the old man in the chair, as she forced her clitoris to make contact with his stiff, throbbing but unmoving cock; the erotic friction raised her to a new height of excitement.