don’t know just what to do, nor what you wish.”
“Calmly, calmly now, Annie!” Father remonstrated. “You will see, you will see. We shall discover all that together in a moment. For now, just do as I tell you. Take the pins out of your hair-the cap off first, then let your hair down.” His voice was still sophisticated and debonair, but now there was an unmistakable tone of authority in it.
Annie flushed pink under her freckles. She stood straight before him hesitating, seeming to be confused by these strange requests of Father’s, torn, it seemed to me, between her shy embarrassment and her duty as a servant.
“Well?” Father demanded, raising his eyebrows slightly and looking up at her.
“Y-yes. sir.” Annie lowered her eyes, took off her cap and hesitated again.
“Come, come; my lovely, the hairpins now. I want to see that wealth of yours spread flaming red in the light-not pinned and pushed away out of an ardent admirer’s sight. Take it down, my dear!”
Again Annie looked confused. Then she slowly (and was it a little demurely?) began to remove the coral- colored hairpins from her flaming hair, which gradually began to fall in ringlets on her shoulders. Father, meantime, continued to observe her with a rapt expression.
Finally he said, “Annie! How beautiful! How incredible is your hair!” It was all down the back now and over her shoulders in a thousand tiny ringlets and Father had stood up and was running it through his fingers, holding it to the light.
“Really, my dear, your hair is titian, the true color of Venetian glass! Here, stand more in the light. There!” In a lower, more intense tone, “You are gorgeous! That hair is a flame of the devil. It turns men to devils for you, doesn’t it, Annie?” He took her chin and tilted her face up to him. As he caught her eye and held it, he smiled broadly, released her and sat down. Annie remained standing, staring at him, petrified before him.
“I-I don’t know what you mean, sir, I just don’t! I…”
“Yes, you know, Annie, my love. Yes, you know! You know what fools you make of us with your red hair long and flaming for us-how we react when it touches us, falls across our faces or along our arms, or heaven of miracles, when you have it on our chests, our stomachs, or just running deliriously over our thighs and pelvis. Can you imagine, Annie, the thought of driving a man mad with just your hair? Of drawing it softly across the best of him ’til he screams for you! His cock growing hard and red and hungry for you- red as your hair and tangled in it and maybe finally being so overpowered that he comes in it! Can you imagine, Annie and desire?” Father’s voice had become insinuating as he talked of these things I didn’t understand, but which Annie was obviously disturbed by.
“That is the power of your hair, Annie, and you do know it.” Kindness entered his voice now of an almost fatherly benevolence. “But, darling, I will teach you about it-you can be sure of me and trust me. You can’t be allowed to go on without knowing your own power.”
“Sir, please, sir, don’t go on like this-saying those things to me. It isn’t right, sir, that you should talk of these things to me. You know, sir, you shouldn’t!”
“But, Annie, I certainly should. Every girl has a right to know how attractive and bewitching she is, what her special power is.” He lit a cigarette and continued in this debonair manner while punctuating his remarks with the cigarette.
“Now, let us see more of your skin with the hair over it. Unbutton your blouse a little and shift a bit more to the light. Please, just open it a little, now Annie. I must see the red on that soft flesh above your breasts.”
“Please, sir!” Annie interrupted. “Don’t say any more. You know how strange I get and that I can’t control it. Please, sir, help me!” The girl was near to tears. Her body twitched strangely now and her face kept changing colors. She seemed to be caught in a struggle that was beyond her strength.
“Come, dear, just a button or two so that I can see your two treasures together-the hair and the skin of your breast. Please, Annie!” His voice managed to gain a cooing note without ever losing its air of command. Annie hesitated a moment more, then unbuttoned the top button.
“There you are, sir,” she gasped out. “Please let this be enough, though! You know how I get, sir, so please say no more!” But even as she said this, I noticed that she, perhaps unconsciously, opened another button. Her breath was coming fast.
’That’s my nice girl,” Father was saying. “Now pull your blouse open a bit more. Ah! That skin dusted with love! Pull the hair over it! Do as I tell you, love! Now open some more, open I say! There, my luscious angel; more now; more!”
Annie had lost all control of her propriety and seemed to melt before his teasing. Her face went completely pale and she hypnotically unbuttoned the blouse of her uniform.
“Come now, my sexy; let me see more of them! Open your blouse and expose them to me in their beauty. Yes-that’s it -now with the hair on them, Annie. Stroke them with the hair for me!”
Annie’s face had an almost religious expression on it as she took her longest rings of hair and complied with his wishes. Her breasts were fully exposed now. They were paler than Gunilla’s and with a dust of freckles like her face. But unlike the younger girl’s, they were pendent, hanging like two ripe melons, yet curving up a bit at the end into two large red buttons which were standing up hard. Annie was running the locks of hair down the sides of them and brushing the tips and her breath was coming faster and faster. She began to gyrate her body and wiggle before him.
“Annie, my dear, you need not go quite so far. Your lovely hair burning on your breasts-that is what I wanted. But what breasts you do have, Annie! Just take the inside of your hands-the palms, that’s it-and rotate them on your nipples with the hair wrapped around them. Stroke them, Annie-love them for the world, though it should be the world that loved them.”
This, too, Annie did, but her face now changed to a look of wild pleading, even while her body made strange postures.
“Don’t resist so much, Annie,” Father went on as I peered around the corner of my chair. “You know it won’t do any good! And I know the things you want to do to me!… Come now, Annie, why not just admit you aren’t really a proper little prude-admit you really want to be natural and… ah… maybe a little… ah… lewd. Eh?” He paused, tilting the champagne glass between his fingertips. Annie stared at him like a bird at a snake, trembling spasmodically.
“You want to show yourself to me, luscious, so why should we pretend, you and I? We know the truth, Annie dear-we know you wanted to show those tits to me, all delightful and dewy with the sheen of sweat on them-the fruit of fear, Annie! We know you want to slowly, copiously, reveal everything to me, to wind your curls around them and then take off your skirt, let me put my hand inside your pants and love you-and then to come to me, to get at me-put your hands and then your delicious tongue on me, to slide your hands inside my trousers, get you hands on it, take it out and play with it between your hands-then stroke my balls over and over like you do the cat. Oh, yes, I’ve watched you with the cat, Annie my love, how you stroke it and get at his belly and then his nuts till his little cock rises up and you go wild. I know you, Annie, better than you know yourself- how you want to do me like the cat, to be pulling it out with the first drops of moist hotness for you dripping from the end -how you want to be licking at me, stroking them off with your tongue! To be sucking me-sucking and sucking me till I can’t stand it any more and get as wild as you are-and then my having you. I know how you want me to be fucking you over and over and over with my lips on your tits and my finger stroking you in your ass till you just want to die of it!… Yes, indeed; we know, Annie, don’t we?”
Annie was in a trance, moaning with his words, gesturing and undulating before him. I was shaken almost as much, impaled by things beyond me but which held me slave in their mounting power.
Annie was whining and pleading, “You mustn’t say these things to me, sir-mustn’t-can’t help-want to…” She gasped for air. “Please, sir-let me go! Let me go! What have I done to you? Please, please just take-I mean-let me go- take-free me; help! Oh, please, sir, help me! Aiii!”
Annie seemed lost to control now. She took off her skirt and dropped it to the floor and even as she begged Father to let her go, she was gently rubbing her fingers across her underpants and rotating her torso toward him in a manner which was completely opposite to her entreaties.
Father was leaning back watching her with strange fascination, occasionally flicking his tongue across his lips.
“Exquisite, Annie! Absolutely exquisite!” he uttered suavely and appreciatively. “You are lovely, really lovely! Come here!” His hands reached out for her.
Annie appeared nearly helpless, yet she only partially obeyed. Still moving in this off, distorted way, she came
