With a deep sigh Madame Vaudrez' head fell back onto the pillow and she did not even answer when her sister embraced her with passionate kisses saying, “Well now, look… don't fall asleep, my dear little egotist!”
But no matter how hard she needled her sister, Florentine did not react and remained limply on the couch. Julia was torn between two different feelings. She was worried about her sister's odd behavior, and she also wanted a release from her own pent-up feelings. She began to shudder and wanted to get up. But she could not. Two strong hands had taken a hold of her hips and she felt a caressing tongue trying to worm into her crotch.
“Oh, my God… who's that!”
“Please, dear lady, don't move,” answered a familiar voice. “It's only me… Dorothy, your maid… ooh, I cannot tell you how badly I have always wanted to do this… only I never dared…”
“It seems to me that you have finally made your mind… and since you have gotten off to such a good start, it would be a terrible shame to have to tell you to stop,” said Julia, bending over her sister's charming breasts, at the same time giving Dorothy an opportunity to admire her firm, well developed buttocks.
Dorothy, no longer afraid of her mistress, began to try and excite Julia with the mastery of her agile tongue. It did not take long for her to succeed.
Her tongue seemed to be all over. Now here, now there, once soft and tickling, another time strong and firm. She played the crotch and crack of her mistress as if they were musical instruments. And it must be said that Dorothy was a virtuoso. And her fingers, too, did not remain idle.
Such a beginning was bound to have an effect. And indeed, Julia began to squirm and groan. Florentine was staring at this strange scene which developed before her eyes. Suddenly Dorothy played her big trump. She lifted her skirts and produced a marvelous male member of fantastic proportions.
It seems that she was very well acquainted with its use, because suddenly she introduced it into Julia's dripping fleece. The whole thing disappeared while Julia let out a scream of pleasure and surprise. Dorothy really knew how to imitate the natural movements of a powerful prick with her giant dildo.
“Oooh… aaah!” Julia exclaimed, seconding every movement. “It's killing me… I'm dying of happiness… what heavenly delight… who is flooding me with this warm jism? He's killing me, but I love every moment of it… aah… eeeek!”
Dorothy saw that her work had reached its completion and dropped her skirt. Then she caught her mistress just in time and bedded her down, next to Florentine, on the couch.
One could have heard a pin drop in that room. The three women used this moment of silence to regain their composure. Then they looked at one another…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I hope that my lady will forgive me, if I have done the wrong thing.” Dorothy broke the shocked silence respectfully. But her behavior made it all too plain that she did not expect any punishment for what she had just done.
Dorothy was Julia's devoted chambermaid and constant companion. She had been the favorite prostitute of Count Gaston Saski who had hired her to serve Julia when he took the latter as his mistress. When Count Saski was forced to marry, as we have seen, and Julia subsequently married Don Jose de Corriero soon thereafter, she had kept Dorothy, who was the best housekeeper anyone could wish. Julia was always full of praise for her dear companion.
But this was something new! Dorothy had always been very discreet. As any good chambermaid, she was fully aware of her lady's private life. Obviously, she would never tell anyone about it, especially since Julia paid her handsomely.
“Now, Dorothy, would you please explain how you managed to get in here,” Julia asked. “In the first place, I thought that you were on your way to Paris, and in the second place, I am sure that I bolted the door of Madame Vaudrez' bedroom.”
“My business was taken care of sooner than I expected, and when I found the door bolted, and I heard the ladies having a good time, so to speak, I took the liberty of using the little secret door through the backstairs.”
“Oh, you little minx!”
Dorothy smiled.
“It happens to the best of us. It was pure coincidence that my affairs in Paris were settled so quickly, and I had honestly no intention of sneaking in the room. But I went, as I said, through the back door and, as Madame knows, in my profession I have to be able to be silent. And what I saw was so charming and attractive that I could not find the courage to leave discreetly. I watched the marvelous relationship between you and your sister but I also knew, from experience, that you, dear Madame were going to be left high and dry. Madame Vaudrez had spent so copiously and had come so often that I was afraid that she could not repay you for your services with similar passion. And therefore I decided that I would do it to you in her place.”
“My dear, I am very grateful for that,” said Julia, “but how could you do to me what you did? I am positive that I felt something penetrate inside me and it was definitely nothing female. I don't understand it.”
“It would be a pleasure if I could show the ladies the means I use to achieve my goals.”
“Oh, please… yes, do,” the two ladies exclaimed vivaciously.
Dorothy did not have to be told twice. She lifted her skirts high, up to her big breasts, and showed a gorgeous and firm belly. Around it was a corset which was held firmly in place with two straps around her huge white thighs. But most amazing was the contraption fixed to the corset. It was made out of resilient rubber and resembled a huge male member in a state of gorgeous erection.
“Ooh, how funny!” the ladies exclaimed.
“Wait a moment,” Julia said, “I distinctly felt a warm fluid squirting into me. The could not possibly have been produced by this lifeless instrument.”
“If Madame permits,” Dorothy continued, “may I point out these two containers. They resemble the balls of a man and can be filled with warm milk. When I feel that you are approaching a climax, I simply squeeze them, and squirt the warm milk into your belly. That way it produces a complete climax just as if it were a sex act between a man and a woman.”
“We forgive you for the intrusion, Dorothy,” Julia said.
“Madame is too good, and I swear that you can count upon my complete discretion. But if the ladies permit me to say something… I cannot understand for the life of me that when a woman young, beautiful, rich and free, she wastes her time with artificial means. Actually I think that it is bad for one's health. And why should two ladies like you use such a last resort? Especially since it is so easy to get the real thing.”
“Please, Dorothy, you seem to forget completely that remarriage is a very serious business.”
“Marriage? Who said anything about marriage? My God, I would not dream of suggesting such a thing. No, no! No chains. Take a lover. Take a man to whom you can give yourself with body and soul as long as he pleases you and as long as he is charming!”
“But what would people say of such a steady stream of changing partners? They will excuse a more or less steady affair which looks like a marriage. I must admit that Count Saski was right; in proper society nobody is so indiscreet as to ask for a marriage certificate.”
“But what if you meet someone, and you believe you are in love with him, he gives you physical satisfaction, and it is pleasant to be near him. What if he turns out to be an unappetizing lout the next morning, or-even worse, what if he cannot physically live up to the promises he implies? Then you have to let him go, you are compromised in the eyes of your acquaintances, and all this because a lover did not live up to his expectations! These unpleasant situations can easily be avoided.”
“Dearest Dorothy, if you have found a remedy, please let me know about it. Because I must admit that I prefer the passionate embraces of a male above all the contrivances and fantasies we can think of.”
“And I,” interrupted Florentine, who was still enjoying her climax, have never found such tremendous ecstasy, not even in the arms of my beloved Cherub!”
“What?” Julia asked, surprised. “In the arm of Cherub?”
“Yes, yes,” Florentine answered, mad at herself for the slip of the tongue she had just made.
“But he is only three years old!”
