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From: "Taoman" <thomhobs@NOSPAMhotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Lisa, My Uncle's Maid 06/10
Date: Wed, 19 Sep 2001 17:10:03 -0400
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Lisa, My Uncle's Maid by Taoman

Chapter Six

Lisa, My Uncle's Maid copyright @2001 Taoman. The right of Taoman to
be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in
accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act
1988

The following material is intended for adults only

Previous chapters can be located at storiesonline.net a free non-
commercial site. Big thanks for editorial assistance from Bill Morgan


Michael Forsyth leaned against the balcony rail and hoisted a pair
of neck-suspended binoculars. He focused on an ancient freighter tied
among non-descript freighters in the busy Hong Kong harbor below. It
was the sixth time in the past half hour he had examined the
shipboard activity on that particular vessel. Dropping the glasses he
inhaled on a cigarette he held pinched between his fingers and then
flipped it out into the street six blocks below. 
He was known as Michael Forsyth in the Orient. That was one of many
names he used here and in Europe. The name recorded on his birth
certificate back in the States had no relevance to the business he
was involved in.

Again lifting the glasses he slowly panned down the length of the
vessel. He lowered the glasses to light another cigarette. His chain
smoking was the only expression of pressure he ever exhibited.

Within the hold of that ship, packed in boxes labeled "construction
equipment" was a large quantity of armaments meant for the
Nationalist Chinese forces. The current political situation had
created a shortage in the market and Forsyth had made a fortune in
just such opportunities.

When the British Customs were off the ship and he could transport
the cargo to his warehouse then he would consider the job done. He
had reviewed and considered every possible contingently. The British
bureaucrats were paid off and these final steps should be simple
routine. But, Forsyth never trusted "routine".
 
He stood upright and turned away from the harbor activity. He
exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled. He had developed the ability to
handle stressful times by emptying his mind of pending concerns and
refocusing on other matters. He was thinking about his nephew.
He wondered if John had discovered the trap he had left for him.
Forsyth manipulated people; it was one of his fascinations. Leaving
the youth in his home without a challenge would be too much like
leaving him with the keys to a brothel. He wanted to see what John
was truly made of. 

Forsyth knew John's all-American boy personality and Ingrid would
invariably clash. Like oil and water the two would never mix. 

He had known Ingrid for many years, but other another name. Forsyth
had a very unique ability to quickly pickup new languages and
assimilate himself seamlessly into foreign cultures.  He had been
working with the American Foreign Service off and on since the mid-
thirties. He first met "Ingrid" in the late thirties when she was
with her father, the German ambassador to France. Then in the closing
days of the war he had seen her name on a very secret SS document.  
. 
During the war he had been in France as liaison between the Allies
and the French resistance.   He had been with that group when the
contact had been made from Germany. A cadre of highly placed Nazi
Government officials wanted asylum and were ready to pay gold for it.
He had arranged for her escape to Venezuela. Several years later he
had arranged a new identity for her and brought her to the States. 
Her eccentricities amused him and he found her company a refreshing
shift from the postwar blandness of America

Lisa had also come into his life during that period. He had been in
Rome during the peacetime Allied occupation.  His ability to speak
Italian had placed him in a position of negotiations during the
restructuring of a new government. He had met secretly with several
Mafioso who wanted to deal. 

The meeting had reached an impasse and Forsyth had stood, turned his
back on the men and walked to an open window. Looking out into the
bustling street below he had seen a nun leading a group of uniformed
girls across the square. Lisa had stood out from the group like a
beacon. That the cool American had seen something causing his head to
turn alerted the old Don who stood and looked out the window. The old
criminal smiled when he saw the object of Forsyth's attention.  

Lisa had been the "sweet" added to the deal that was finally
completed. Forsyth left Rome with 
her and a telegraph from Geneva stating that a large deposit had
been made to his account. 
  
The Mafia was given access to the new government. 

Forsyth's reverie was broken by the approach of soft footsteps. A
naked Chinese girl knelt at his feet and held up a saucer and cup of
tea to him. "Tea, Master?" she asked softly in Cantonese. She was
very young and beautiful. She had been a gift from a local warlord
for Forsyth's influence with an American Oil firm. 

"Thank you sweet flower,' he replied in flawless Cantonese.  

**********************************************************


My lounge chair jerked and disturbed my nap. I opened my eyes and
reoriented myself.  I was laid out naked in the penthouse's solarium
on the roof of the building. It was a warmly brilliant afternoon,
seemingly meant for nothing but complete relaxation.

I looked down between my outstretched legs to determine what had
disturbed my repose. The naked Lisa was on her knees was at the end a
silver linked leash, which ran from her neck collar to a clip on the
arm of my chair. The chair again jerked slightly as she attempted to
reach a massive law book which just beyond her fingertips.

Other such books surrounded her. Some books where stacked and others
were opened to whatever she was researching.  She caught the edge of
the out-of-reach book with her fingernails and pulled it to her. With
a satisfied smile she sat back on her heels and hoisted the book onto
her lap. She turned her head to me, sensing my attention and gave me
a lovely smile. 
She used a pair of reading glasses for the fine print in the texts.
The glasses were perched on the end of her nose and she looked at me
over the rims. She had her long hair tied in a very loose bun on top
of her head. Several loose strands curled on her forehead. She had
rubbed oil over herself and she gleamed in the sun. I noticed several
beads of perspiration clung to her large outthrust breasts. 

"I thought you would never wake up," she said brightly, "Look what I
have found." She ran a finger across a page leaving a slight oil
smudge on the paper. She then began a legal discourse worthy of a
practicing attorney.  I lay my head back and immediately lost
interest. This particular argument, which dealt with an obscure facet
of the law, had been ongoing for days now. I was on vacation I told
myself. I had planned to take the bar exam next winter and considered
myself on summer break. I had found the past weeks every bit as
challenging as the final year of law school. 

I had come to realize that Lisa had a quick-minded genius coupled
with a boundless energy. She would focus on a problem until she had
worked it out. My uncle had not left me in this situation simply for
my youthful stud services. Although I would concede the time we spent
on law was balanced by our sexual escapades.  Lisa could focus her
entire attention on what she enjoyed.

The past few weeks had been wonderful. Lisa and I had become very
close. I had to discipline my heart. I had never been in romantic
love before and this relationship with her was like being perched at
the edge of a bottomless chasm. I had to concentrate on maintaining
an emotional detachment from her. 

Her insistent voice intruded on my thoughts. "See right here.in
1949.Smith vs. Smith. the court decided." I reached down and tugged
her leash pulling her to me. She looked up briefly then scooted on
her knees between my spread legs.  Holding the book she continued
reading out loud.

She would order these books by phone and a very extensive law
library would deliver them the next day. Her tutored classes had a
scholarship level and I thought she could compete at any Ivy League
school. I received a shock one day when I noticed one of her teachers
leaving. I had seen his picture before as author of one of the more
highly regarded texts of the day.
She walked her fingers up my leg stopping to squeeze my thigh as she
emphasized the point she was making. I felt my groin stir. 

She stopped reading and looked at me. "See?  It is as exactly as I
said!" she told me, delighted with herself. She began reading out
load again to me.

I tugged the leash again, taking in the slack so she was pulled
toward my crotch. She looked up and noticed my semi-erect cock
bobbing before her. "Oh," she said. She pushed her glasses up her
nose and leaned forward to take the head of my cock in her mouth.  I
spread my thighs, smiled and laid my head back. After a moment I felt
the hot suction leave my penis and heard a wet "pop" as her lips left
the gland. "But, listen to this," she said.  Holding the book in one
hand she slowly stroked my cock with the other. She began reading
where she had left off.
I abruptly interrupted her discourse. "You know that birch switch
that hangs by itself on the wall in the punishment room?  Do you
think that would leave blister-welts on someone?" I stared up into
the clouds as if in deep thought. 

She stopped reading. I could feel her stare. Although our
relationship had developed a closeness that permitted much play and
back and forth foolish interaction, she was aware of a cruel side in
me that kept her watchful.

"I would not know, but I think someone would have to be particularly
sadistic to use that," she said primly. But she set aside the book
then ran her hands up around my hips. She slid forward rubbing her
full, oiled, firm breasts against my inner thighs. She grasped my
rising cock and pulled it to her lips. She slowly lowered her mouth
until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. We had practiced in the
past weeks until she was able to take all of me. 

I thought to myself that life was grand. I reclined further in the
chair so my hips were at the edge of the chair. 

"Lower little slave," I said. "Go way down"

She slowly brought her mouth up my penis, stopping at the end to
slowly bob her head. I brought my head up and watched her. She looked
delightful with her beautiful face, reading glasses and my large cock
stretching her puckered lips. Sliding her hand across me she grasped
the cock and gently let me slide from her lips as she rolled her
tongue around the mushroom head. We exchanged glances as if she was
going to test my resolve, and then she rolled her eyes. She took off
her glasses and set them aside. Then she slowly lowered her head,
tongue-lapping the full length of my penis to my testicles. I felt
her gently kissing and rolling my balls in her mouth.

"Lower, Lisa," I repeated. "Go `round the world." I slid forward a
bit and spread my legs wide. I felt her breath tickle my scrotum and
then a kiss. There was a searching flick and then the probing at my
anus. She slowly drilled her tongue into my depths. 

I was totally relaxed. "Good girl!" I said

Smiling in satisfied contentment and secure power I thought about
the next two months and the promise of continued good times ahead.

The next day I had to return to Cambridge to settle up my affairs at
Harvard. While there I spent two nights at my old fraternity. Several
brothers were around for the summer and it was like a reunion. I had
invited three of my old friends to come down to the city and visit me.
On my return to New York and the penthouse I found there had been
some problems. Lisa tearfully confided to me that Ingrid had abused
her in my absence. Lisa said Ingrid had beaten her and forced her to
perform oral sex.  Lisa showed me her lovely bottom, which was criss-
crossed with ugly welts. I was upset by this but uncertain of my next
step. I was not sure of Ingrid's status in this household. She seemed
to come and go as she pleased and did not seem to be in my uncle's
employ.  I certainly did not want to contact my uncle and appear as
if I couldn't properly handle this responsibility. But, the real fact
I was facing was that I was a bit intimidated by the German bitch
myself. 

I had purposefully avoided Ingrid in the past weeks. It seemed the
easiest course of action. But, on this day I showed up at the
gymnasium during Lisa's training session. I began my own workout with
some weights and a jumping rope.  My presence in what Ingrid viewed
as her kingdom seemed to annoy her. She seemed particularly strident
with Lisa and her screaming was shrill and unpleasant.  I was in a
foul mood myself and really didn't care what she thought. I actually
took a degree of pleasure in her petty displays of displeasure.

I started using the ceiling-mounted speed bag. I kept it in a
constant blur of motion as I set a rhythm of exchanging left and
right punches. I quickly noticed that the steady slapping thudding
pattern of the speed bag was getting under Ingrid's skin. The close
low ceiling would reverberate the sound until it was nearly all
encompassing.  I adapted the habit of increasing my tempo and raising
the sound level when Ingrid was giving Lisa instructions. 

Ingrid's mood became progressively worse. I had gotten good at
adjusting my pace to the rise and fall of her voice. She had been
sternly lecturing Lisa and was forced to raise her voice above the
mounting roar of my corresponding workout. Her voice had reached a
screaming crescendo then she abruptly became quiet. I had my back to
the two and I became aware Ingrid had come up behind me. I slowed my
pounding, reached up to stop the swinging bag and turned to face her.
Her face was red with fury.

"Well hello, Ingrid," I said pleasantly. "You want to try it?" I
indicated the speed bag.
She visibly composed herself and smiled icily. "No, I am expert in
other means of combat," she answered, then added. "We should match
our talents. It would prove interesting to see who is the true master
of their art."

"Well sure," I replied with a smirk. I never turned down a
challenge. "Anytime you say. Let me know."

She smiled again. Then backed away from me several steps and went
into a loose crouch, "Let us see NOW!"

I shrugged. I had boxed light heavyweight in the Golden Gloves back
at school. I was very sure I could knock her head from her shoulders
with one good right hand. I went into a classic pugilistic stance and
feinted toward her. She shifted to my side, causing me to turn to
follow her, and then in a blur of motion she twisted again, rose to
her toes and kicked up between my fists to clip my jaw. I was
staggered back. In rapid succession she whirled and kicked me twice
more. The second kick caught me in the solar plexus and I dropped my
hands. The third kick was against the side of my now unprotected
head. Close to dropping I fell back against the wall. 

She halted, returned to her initial stance and appeared to be
measuring me up for another attack. She was smiling in an infuriating
manner. I had seen this type of fighting before.  I had an assistant
coach who had been a Marine during the War. He had served in the
Pacific and had been impressed with this Japanese style of combat. He
had called it karate. During the later occupation of Japan he had
trained in the art. He had convinced me the discipline would broaden
my own fighting talents and I had done some extensive training under
his tutelage. I was no adept, but I understood the basic concepts

I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and went into a matching stance
as she approached and flowing with her motion threw out my elbow and
cracked her upper arm at the junction of her shoulder. It was her
turn to reel backwards, but she immediately rolled and came back at
me. I was still dazed from the first series of blows. In defense I
did hold my own and we circled each other weaving and probing. 

The next few minutes were an intense fury of combat. It was a close
match between my strength and her speed. I realized immediately
Ingrid was fighting in deadly earnest. This was a battle for who
would rule this world, with Lisa as the prize. 

I was in good condition; but found quickly my size could be a
hindrance. I was fighting her fight and I was simply a bigger target
for her kicks and chopping hands. My body ached and I was badly
winded. She was cutting me down slowly like a big tree. 

I realized my last chance would have to be a ruse. Using an old
trick from my boxing days I gave her a classic opening to my jaw. She
took it, jumping and in mid air kicking her foot out. It would have
broken my jaw if it connected, but I was twisting with her. I had a
clear shot at the side of her head and I hit her with a full right-
handed fist between her ear and temple. 
She hit the floor rolling and came back to her feet, then crumpled
to her knees in a wall-eyed daze. I walked behind her and pushed her
forward. I placed a knee to the middle of her back resting my bulk on
her, solidly pinning her to the floor. 

"I win, Ingrid, concede to me," I told her.

She squirmed beneath me, gasping under my weight. I felt her scratch
my bare upper thigh with her hand. In response I grabbed a hand of
her hair and prepared to thump her head against the floor when my leg
cramped in sudden searing agony. I yelled and doubled falling to the
floor. In sickening pain I attempted to straighten and loose the
knotting muscles with my hands. The now free Ingrid regained her
feet.  I looked up at her. She held out the back of her hand and I
noticed a sharp-edged ring with blood on it. 

"A little memento I keep from the old days," she said. "The chemical
causes a bad muscle reaction, doesn't it?

She walked over to the rack of dumbbells and hefted one. Bringing
the weight up she calmly walked back toward me.  I realized her
intention at the last moment and barely blocked her swing. The weight
would have smashed my face but instead it glanced off my forehead.  I
went into a black unconscious void. 

When I awoke the world was all wrong and full of pain. My throbbing
headache was compounded by the fact that my head was hanging down. I
attempted to move and realized I couldn't. Reality slowly dawned and
I concluded I was in a very bad way.

I was in the punishment room secured in the same manner I had once
done to Lisa. My legs were spread wide and my rectum was thrust in
the air. Frightened I briefly struggled in my binds.  My exertion
only increased the pounding in my head. Feeling nauseous I hung limp.
The clanking of the chains had alerted Ingrid and she entered my
vision. She had changed. She wore a pair of black jodhpurs and knee-
high boots. She was also topless but I was in no condition to ogle.
She reached down, grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head up.
She crouched so we were eye to eye. 

"It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of breaking
an American swine." She confided. "We shall do this in a slow manner
and enjoy ourselves."

I had no reply and she dropped my head. I heard her making sounds
and I raised my head. She had attached a belt device around her
waist. An enormous black phallus jutted from between her thighs. She
smiled at me and grasped the dildo in her fist. 

"When I am done with you.you shall be as tamed and obedient as a
puppy dog," she said lightly.

She walked behind me and I threatened her, telling her my uncle
would not approve of this and she would be out of a job. She answered
and said when he returned I would be so docile that I would never
tell. I felt her between my thighs and I tried to bargain with her,
telling her I had money and a car. She said in a few days I would
gladly give them to her as a gift and I felt mounting pressure on my
anus. Jerking away from the intrusion I began to whine and plead.
She thrust forward and I heard a wailing scream. For a moment I did
not recognize the sound coming from my own throat. 

To be continued.








   

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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