Authors note: this story completes the tale of Mary, the maid. It follows on from my other stories 'The Maid's Tale' and 'Further Adventures of the Maid' and ties up a few loose ends. It will make more sense probably if the other stories are read first (this is an obvious ploy to get you to read them all!).
The Maid Returns
Chapter 1
Phillip looked over at the woman sleeping beside him, her long blonde hair drifting over her face like strands of silk. She lay on her side, her bare shoulders towards him, her breasts hidden from sight. He longed to wake her, but it was late, and he should return to the house and try to maintain the behaviour proper for the lord of the Manor.
Phillip had installed Mary in this small cottage on the estate several months ago. His wife knew about the cottage and its occupant but, as was her wont, she had refused to acknowledge the existence of her former housemaid as Phillip's new lover. Whether she knew of their familial relationship she kept to herself, but Philip believed that he had kept this secret: only Thomas, his sea-going friend knew that Mary was Phillip's illegitimate daughter by an almost forgotten housemaid from many years ago. Mary herself was unaware of this: she believed Phillip was her Master, and her lover, and obeyed his commands.
Phillip sighed, long and heavy. He thought that had never felt like this before about any woman. His wife, the Baroness, was alienated from him. She blamed him for the loss of their trueborn daughter, now a courtesan in London, seduced by the same Captain Thomas, although, truth be told, their marriage had failed a long time before this. His wife found pleasure only in the debasement of their maids, revelling in whipping them into submission. He had wondered at her activities, but had never had taken the opportunity to investigate, being occupied by deflowering and seducing as many women as came within in reach. Lying awake now, listening to the deep breathing of his daughter, he wondered if he should have taken more of an interest in his wife's desires. Maybe that would have led him from this sinful path.
But he knew that he wouldn't turn from this. Mary had told him about meeting Victoria in London. She hadn't known that this was her half-sister, and still didn't know, but at Phillip's urging, Mary had told him of the night they had spent together. In his minds eye he had seen the two girls exploring each other's body, fingers and tongues probing. He had seen Victoria pressing a finely carved dildo into Mary's dark tunnel, knowing the sounds that Mary would have made at this invasion. The thought of the two girls, his two girls, together had aroused him and he knew that, one day, he must see this for himself.
Mary turned in her sleep; her slim form moving gracefully as she sought, unconsciously, the warmth of her Master's body. Her head nuzzled close into his shoulder, and he felt her warm breath on his neck. His hand rose, almost of its own accord to caress her, sliding over her skin, dipping down to her narrow waist and easing over her full hips to cup her buttock, pushing gently to press her pubis against his outer thigh. She murmured in her sleep and he felt her awaken, her body reacting instinctively to his, her thigh rising to cover his and he could sense the heat rising from her.
'I must go,' he whispered, and tried to disentangle his arm from her, but Mary began to push her thigh against his and he groaned. Her leg was raised, her knee almost reaching his groin where his cock was beginning to rear, the bulbous tip engorging.
He could feel her womanly wetness slipping against his thigh, the heat of her searing his skin, branding him. She was irresistible, and he tried to push her away, to distance himself from the silk of her skin, the musky taste and scent of her, knowing that if he stayed he would be lost in her.
Mary, secure in the knowledge that her Master desired her, became more forward. Her right hand slid down his body and began to caress him, her nimble fingers curling around his cock, slowing stroking him and cupping his heavy scrotum, feeling the weight of his manhood. Still half asleep, she began to nuzzle at his neck, her smooth lips kissing and caressing, gently biting at his shoulder and biceps, enjoying the feel of the hard muscle underneath.
More awake now, she manoeuvred herself onto him, lifting her body to cover his, her arms falling to either side of his head, her mouth meeting his in a lazy kiss, tongues entwining as she slowly began to rub her body against his. Luxurious as a cat, she slithered against him, her thighs spread wide so that he could feel how much she wanted him, rubbing her pleasure bud against the firm muscle of his abdomen and down to cover his cock.
Helpless under her, his cock rearing, he gave in. He helped her mount him, moaning as the heat of her velvet-lined sex enveloped his manhood. Mary sat more upright, beginning to rotate her pelvis, pushing down on his tense scrotum, knowing that this would stimulate him. His hands held her hips as she swayed, and he watched in mounting excitement as her hands moved to cup her firm breasts, playing with her nipples, pulling gently at them until they stood erect and firm for his pleasure.
She fell slowly forward to push her breasts against him, and he felt them rub against his chest. They kissed again, a slow caress as his hands moved to touch her, not knowing where to stop: her breasts, full and ripe, her nipples, aching with need, her slim waist, her curvaceous hips. He began to touch her pleasure bud, that firm nubbin of tissue at the apex of her sex, knowing that this would bring her to fulfilment, wanting to catch the ecstasy in her expression as she came.
His thumb slid over her smooth belly, down through the fine tuft of blonde hair at her pubis and found its target, erect and rubbery. He began to massage, gently at first, but steadily, listening with pleasure to her breathing becoming more ragged. She threw her head back, still trying to stimulate his cock with her pulsating sex, but her senses were concentrating on the touch of his fingers. She lay forward once more, trapping his hand between their bodies and rubbed against him, forcing her clitoris firmly onto his rigid finger, riding his cock, her pelvis now thrusting lewdly. He heard her panting, her breath catching in her throat as she whimpered in excitement, and then a long drawn out moan of release as she reached her crisis.
He felt her muscles clamping around his rod, drawing him deeper into her body. Phillip thought that she had milked him dry earlier in the evening, but he could feel his seed eager for release, and lifting his hips from the bed, he thrust forcefully as his cock spurted milky fluid into her, mingling with her silken love juices.
Mary slid from him, slowly taking her place beside him again. Not a word was spoken, and she was soon deeply asleep once more. Phillip eased himself from her embrace and went to saddle his horse for the short ride back to the manor house where his cold bed awaited.
The next morning, Mary slept late, uncharacteristically for her. Since moving into her cottage, she had retained her housemaid's habit of rising early, and she found it difficult to lie abed, feeling slightly guilty about relaxing. Phillip had explained that she would want for nothing, offering her a maid of her own, providing money for the dressmakers so that she could dress to please him, enhancing her body with fine fabrics and stylish dresses. Fine jewels appeared often, rings to adorn her slim fingers, ornate necklaces to emphasise her firm, high breasts, and gems to sparkle in her earlobes. She had refused the maid, enjoying the novelty of looking after her own home, and had time to read and embroider, visit the local village, and sometimes, borrow the carriage from the Manor house to travel into town to look around the fine shops there.
