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Subject: {ASSM} Misbehavin Maid/Frances LaGatta/MF/Ds/oral/anal/spank
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{ASSM} Misbehavin' Maid (by Frances LaGatta) MF/Ds/oral/anal/spank
<1st attachment, "Misbehaving Maid by Frances LaGatta.doc" begin>
{ASSM} Misbehavin' Maid/Frances LaGatta/MF/Ds/oral/anal/spank
Misbehavin' Maid
by Frances LaGatta
If Roberta had spoiled what should've been a happy occasion in
their lives---a cause for celebration--she had no one to blame
but herself. Well, the only woman without a past was Eve, Gabe
told himself, remembering how his wife had managed to con her
way out of that first confrontation. Phoning him at work, she
had used her most effectively seductive voice when she invited
him to meet her later that night with the promise of 'the best
sex he would ever have.' She needed him in bed. Ready, willing,
and stark naked. BEFORE she arrived. And the second he heard
that bedroom door open, he was to spread his legs wide. By his
long pause and heavy breathing, Roberta knew his brain had fogged
over with lust. Begging off with a quick excuse, she hung up,
satisfied that the remainder of his day would be spent
anticipating what every red-blooded male craved and considered
their favorite sexual pastime. Concentration? Work? The hands
on the clock could'nt move fast enough to suit him.
Gabe's mind burned and his blood soared with unbidden memories.
When Bobbi opened the bedroom door that evening, before he could
so much as blink, she had ripped the snaps open to her baggy
black work smock, revealing a sexy French maid's uniform. Her
ruffled loincloth of a black apron barely concealed the garter
bands to her smoky silk stockings. And the frilly white blouse.
. . it exposed the half moon tops of her voluptuous cocoa brown
nipples. Staring coyly at the ceiling, she proceeded to pin a
white cap atop her dark head, making that mouth-watering dcollet
jiggle enticingly.
She reached for the wall switch, and then suddenly all went
black. A long matchstick was struck, illuminating her lovely
Italian features in the shadows. With a slow sensual sashay
about the room, she lighted musk scented candles until she
became bathed in soft, flickering glows. Finished with that, she
suggestively licked her hell-red lips, which brought her phone
conversation to mind . . . the one that had him fantasizing and
sporting a hard-on, at work, yet. With a deep, bosom-expanding
inhalation, Bobbi's blew out the flame and his thighs fell apart
as if in answer to her fondest wish.
Her sultry gaze dropped from his expectant face to scrutinize his
proud manhood. When she magically produced a pink feather duster
from behind her back, his respiration rose and his pulse picked
up its pace. Shamelessly, she tickled his testicles. Playfully
dusting at his erection, he quickly grasped her torturous wrist
to stay her. Laughing, he was about to haul his prick teaser of
a wife into bed and fuck her silly. . . but she slipped from
his grasp and scurried out of reach. Lively brown eyes sparkled
with the love of mischief while she waggled her finger and
tisk-tisked him with her tiny white teeth. The only thing that
kept him from bounding off the bed after her was the site of
those dainty French manicured fingernails unbuttoning her
blouse, and then each ruffled cuff. Why, he could almost hear a
blowsy burlesque tune playing in the background while she boldly
shrugged out of one half, and then the other. She stretched out
a tanned arm, and the blouse fell from her fingertip, fluttering
to the floor like a wings of a dove. Then her hand swooped to
between the cups of her gold satin demi bra. With one deft flick
of her wrist, the shiny fabric flew askew, and her bountiful
breasts sprang free, stealing the breath from his lungs. When
she spun on her high-heeled, black pumps, depriving him of that
delectable view, his lids slammed shut with a savoring groan.
Upon opening his eyes, his saw that his lil' maid was bent over
the dresser, busy fussing with a silver service tray. Black
seams ran straight up her shapely ankles and long legs, aiming at
a nude derrire that wiggled sassily below the apron's big black
bow. Beneath her robust bottom cheeks, her soft brown tail
feathers were dewy with arousal. Any thoughts of ever punishing
that heart-shaped handful evaporated in a steamy cloud of boiling
male lust. All he wanted to do was plow into that warm, moist
sheath. . . that is until Bobbi spun to face him again.
Hoisting that tray baring a solitary orange, she pointed it out.
Eating fruit was the last thing on his mind! All he wanted to
do now was devour those delectable nipples . . . but he'd be
damned if he'd steal the lead scene during her curious show.
Especially with visions of her hell red lips closing over his
cock still dancing in his head. But her generous hips. . . they
swayed so suasily as she made her way toward him, and as curious
as he was as to what she was about to do next, he wondered how
much longer he could restrain himself; remain passive.
Perched on the bed now, she thrust her pretty face, inches away
from his from his own. Her dark eyes smoldered with a flame
that's intensity startled him. But before he could discern what
her crazed look was about, his wife pulled out a long knife.
Without warning, it swooped down, the sharp edge placed
dangerously and directly against his erection. Was she possessed
by Elaina Bobbit! He nearly went into cardiac arrest, and he
scrambled back against the headboard, shielding his rapidly
shriveling manhood and family jewels with both hands. Shocked
spit-less, he half-recalled their last big argument. The one in
which HE had been guilty as charged.
Ignoring his reaction, Roberta shook her dark mane wildly about
her shoulders and gave him a sexy growl totally at odds with her
subservient get-up. In fact, her entire demeanor reminded him
of a dominatrix, which she wasn't. Still wielding that
wicked-looking knife, he watched in silent fascination as she
made a slow, deliberate show of side-slicing and then coring that
orange. And he could'nt believe the words coming out of his
normally shy wife's mouth while she licked juice from her
dripping fingers; "Are you going to be a good boy while I suck
your cock dry?" she purred and smacked her lips.
Not about to argue with her, his traitorous cock had risen again
like Lazarus brought forth from the dead. Topless, and still
dressed in her ass-revealing apron and sexily gartered, seamed
stockings and pumps, she climbed up between his legs, fully ready
to service him. Wild spiral hair thrashed at his torso and
manhood. And then suddenly she held herself motionless. Her
tantalizing tits dangled, swaying slightly above his iron rod.
She enveloped his shaft in that soft, velvety warmth, squeezed
her mounds together, and began rocking to and fro with a gentle
rhythm and wistful expression, utterly lost in the act of
pleasuring her man. The crown of his cock vanished and
reappeared at the apex of her dcollet. While his knob knocked
under her chin with increasing speed, the tiny red slit of his
penis was pulled open and closed from the action and a pearly
droplet of cum soon smeared her skin. When her breasts came away
with a sudden rush of cool air, robbing him of a powerful climax,
he moaned in frustrated delirium.
Yet when she hastily pushed a pillow beneath his butt, he raised
his grateful hips in silent, more-than-willing compliance.
Gripping his thighs tight, she forced them as wide as they would
go. And then she deftly fit and adjusted the side-sliced, semi
cored Sunkist around his erection, nearly turning his family
jewels blue with need. She began a tortuously slow ride with
that tight, succulent fruit, up and then down the length, all the
while licking and slurping the oozing fruit drink from her
clenched hand, and where it coolly trickled down his overheated
shaft, leisurely laving his thoroughly drenched balls. He
didn't think it got any better than this. . . until she
burrowed her cap lower. Her tongue dabbled along his perineum,
and then suddenly it darted around and then directly into his
anal bud like a live wire down and dancing dirty on a rain slick
road. The electric shocks almost sent him careening over the
cliff. Sensing he was about to lose control, she quickly gripped
the base of his stick and back-shifted, squeezing it tight.
Nearly insane, he demanded acceleration and release.
Pistoning the now mushy pulp, gripping the firm rind tighter, she
increased the rhythm of her hand, faster and faster, greedily
lapping the length of his rod, slurping the puddle at his thatch
with her talented tongue. The moment she maneuvered her
yawning, warm mouth over him, her generous lips shielding her
tiny, keyboard teeth, suckling the now throbbing crown of his
cock, the entire act felt. . . incredibly. . . as if two women
were working him over. Simultaneous felletto AND fucking!
She gently cradled his balls, rolling the nestled nuggets between
her sticky fingers. Her throaty hums at the crown sent zinging
vibrations coursing down every engorged vein and nerve to his
swollen left sac. His hips arched off the sodden pillow. His
thighs were straining , and butt muscles flexed, his whole body a
tightly strung bow. She gave the orange a furiously fast, final
tug, and he hurtled into a fevered oblivion, shooting jet after
exquisite jet, and like a purring cat, she lapped and swallowed
every bit of his sweet sexual cream combined with citrus and pulp
in the most intense orgasm he ever experienced.
The mere memory of that night had the power to tent his
trousers. . . .
But that was then, and this was now, and Gabe also remembered
that his wife had thoroughly and effectively used this amazing
little trick on him to remove any and all notions he had of
taking her to task. He made a mental note to somehow use an
orange on her. . . but not in the same manner.
* * * *
Opening the bedroom door, he reached for her wrist and swung her
inside like so much fluff. Roberta staggered back into the
bed, and her shapely bum landed with a decided bounce. "Now."
He shut and locked the door. "Take off your clothes," he ordered
in a no nonsense tone, and he tossed the wide paddled hairbrush
on the blue chintz bedspread.
A thrill of frightened apprehension and odd anticipation coursed
through her and it was impossible to steady her erratic pulse.
"Gabe," she wheedled in a shaky voice. "I think maybe you're
over re-act "
"Do it!" he bellowed, boldly intimidating as he stood
motionless in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips.
"Or I'll give you a session with my belt to go along with that
brush."
Bobbi flinched at his tone and lowered her lashes, escaping his
unyielding stare. Accustomed to having the upper hand with her
husband, this new Gabe was strange and disquieting and somehow
wildly exciting. But feeling weak and vulnerable in the face of
his dominance made her angry. Abandoning common sense, she
looked up at him with fire flashing in her dark, carelessly
defiant, cat eyes. "You wouldn't dare," she said leaning
causally back on her elbows as if immune to his feeble threats.
In a lightening fast motion, Gabe unbuckled his belt, ripped the
white strap free from the loops, folded the leather in half, and
gave it a loud snap that made her spine shoot up straight. The
second he took and abrupt step towards her, her eyes flew wide
and she ripped open the snaps to her nylon work smock. He
stepped back while she quickly shucked it off her shoulders.
"I thought you'd see reason." He tossed the belt on the bed
beside her as a further warning "Now the rest. "
Petulant lips pursed in a pout, Roberta inched the hem of her
pale pink cashmere turtleneck up her olive skinned torso. Her
weirdly aroused, flushed cheeks deepen to crimson, humiliatingly
conscious of his scrutiny as he stood there, tall, and angry and
waiting. Her emotions whirled. The mere thought of him whipping
her bum with that belt scared her, made her shiver, but it also
set off a ripple of warm excitement, damping her core with a
confusing need that froze her fingers.
"What's the matter?" he chuckled nastily. "You didn't have a
problem stripping for me the other night."
At that, Bobbi jerked the tight turtleneck off her hot-tempered
head, freeing her dark curls, which cascaded over her heaving bra
cups. Glaring at him with a look that could wilt lettuce, she
toed off her black flats, ripped her trouser socks off her feet
and threw them across the room. She pushed herself into a
standing position, roughly unzipped her charcoal-gray raw silk
slacks, wiggled them down her hips, and then kicked them away.
"Oh this is ridiculous!" She jutted her chin, on the verge of a
tantrum. "I will NOT let you spank me!"
Gabe turned his unruffled back on her, and opening a dresser
drawer beneath the mirror, he rummaged inside. "You better have
those bra and panties off by the time I turn around," his low
voice was one used to warn a headstrong child.
"Okaaay," he heard her whine. "What I did was thoughtless," she
admitted. . . begrudgingly. "And, and, you could have lost your
job over it. Yes. I was a mala feminia. A bad girl when I lied
to you, but--"
"Not once, but three times," he reminded, holding up stockings
that were more holy than a church.
"But can't we just forget the whole dumb mess? I mean, angelo. .
. just think. We no longer have to hide the fact that we're
married as if it's some patzo secret," she reasoned as if it were
the solution to all their problems. "We should be celebrating
with champagne. We should be making armoire , Gabriel."
"I couldn't agree more. I'd rather be lighting candles and
making love. But unfortunately you spoiled it."
"I have a present for you," she sang in her most effectively
seductive phone voice, and he looked up from his hunt, and eyed
warily her through the mirror. Satisfied that she had his
attention, she popped open the front catch on her pink satin
bra, freeing her big breasts, hefting them as if in offering
with a sexy smile that could tempt Adam. . . along with the
snake. "Uhm," she purred, shimmying her satin panties down her
curvaceous thighs and legs and then toeing them aside. "How I'd
love to lick every inch of that lean, hard body of yours. Dio,
Gabe." She toyed with her burgeoning brown nipples. "Your
machismo made me so. . . tingly. So. . ." Clasping her wispy
brown mons, she sank a finger deep. "Wet. "
He raised his brows. "Did it now?"
With an impish expression, Roberta withdrew her dewy finger and
licked salaciously. "After I ride you on the bed, we can take a
shower together. I'll soap you all up. . . from on my knees.
And you will be a good boy while I suck your cock dry," she used
the same uncharacteristic, dominating words during her maid's
performance, he recalled, bristling at her audacity. The only
thing missing was the wicked looking knife.
He swung around to face her directly and he dumped his chosen
heap of laundry into her lap. "That sexy maid's uniform will
serve up your bare derrire quit nicely when I spank it ," he
clarified, watching her seductive expression crash. "Which is
exactly what I should have done before you changed my mind with
your cute little orange trick." He fished inside his pocket and
produced an orange, a much smaller one, which he lobbed in the
air and caught.
"W-what're you gonna do with "
"Well," he interjected snidely, setting the orange on the
nightstand. "I guess it's my turn to spring a few surprises on
you." He hauled her to her feet. "Much like me the other
night. . . " He sat on edge of the king-sized bed, settled his
back comfortably against the blue tufted headboard, and stretched
out his long legs. "You're going to play a passive part."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning if you don't do as you're told and shut up about it,
I'll increase your punishment from one hour--" he turned the
bedside alarm clock towards her. "--to two."
"You can't be serious." Panic rioted within in her along with a
jangling surge of potent arousal.
"You just added another hour onto you your sentence ." He picked
up the hairbrush. "And now you've less than five minutes to get
into that costume. Or I'll use the belt too."
The whole while she dressed, he increased her dread and
embarrassment and fear. He demanded to know 'why she was not at
all thrilled this go round at the way the frilly white blouse
exposed the tops of her nipples.' Reduced to a naughty girl, she
was too humiliated and scared to reply. While she accordioned
her stockings, slipped each over her polished red toes, pulled
them up with shaky fingers and hooked the garters, he
repeatedly inquired whether her pussy was becoming wetter. When
she hid her guilty mons with the scanty black apron, he asked
her if her clitoris was pulsing as fast as her heart. As she
reached behind her to tie the big black bow, he made a point of
reminding her how she had bent over for her man, granting him
more than an eyeful of her pleasantly plump derriere.
'Turn around and bend over!" he yelled, cracking her thigh with
the brush.
"Yeow!" she gasped at the sting and quickly spun, protecting
her ass cheeks with her shaking hands, and gripping her knees.
Dear God. She felt more naked and exposed than she did without
a stitch on.
"Take those hands away and wiggle that ass for me like you did
the other night. Now!" He cracked her other thigh. "That's
right! I imagine you're wishing for panties right about now.
Anything to hide that pretty pussy and bottom. And you won't
be using your hands when you lay across my lap for a spanking.
Now will you, Roberta?"
She turned, and her tearful eyes suddenly smoked. "You've gone
too far. I've had just about enough of your bossiness Gabriel
Faulkner!" Ready to tell him to fuck off and stomp away, the
words died in her throat when he hauled her unceremoniously
across his widely spread thighs. Her breasts pressed into one
thigh, her mons mashed into the other, and her legs angled down
with her toes touching the carpet.
She wanted to die at how the maid's costume completely bared her
bottom to his probing stare. In the mirror, was that her pouty
expression fearfully resigned to this fate? And the ridiculous
bow above her cleft. . . she buried her blushing face into the
pillow with a mortified groan. It showcased her bottom like two
meaty peach melons at market. She felt, rather than saw him
raised the dreaded brush on high. Anticipating the first blow,
she squeezed her buttocks, bracing herself for the worst. His
slow sensual massage to her mounds was an unexpected surprise. .
. .
Gabe loosened her cringing skin up with his hands, and she
sighed, as her juices began to stir. He played with her bottom
for such a long time, he knew she wondered if he had changed his
mind about spanking her in favor of sex, and sure enough, her
thighs fell wide open, inviting him to sink his tormenting
fingers inside the recesses of her drench, warm cavern. His own
crotch was warm and his cock throbbed against her hip,
threatening to uncoil in his trousers. Tamping down desire, he
concentrated on the task at hand. Holding her around the waist,
he brushed the bristles over her fearfully clenched cheeks. "Do
you remember how you pulled a knife out as if to un-man me?"
"Yes," she mewed with shameful trepidation. And suddenly, the
pink duster appeared beneath her nose. He then splayed her ass
cheeks with one hand, and he began to tickle her anal rose until
she thought she's go mad. . . the pleasure was so intense.
Skimming the handle down her outer labia and straight up the
furry hood, he began a furiously fast jiggle to her clitoris.
Her cries of delight rose in octaves, building higher and higher.
Feathers then tickled her pussy, and on the verge of tumbling
into oblivion, the exquisite torment vanished-- robbing her of
an explosive climax. The moment she bucked her hips up in
frustration, the hairbrush descended with a lighting force and
thunderous crack, searing her skin with a spreading wave of pain.
"Yeeeoch!" she shrilled, legs shooting straight out behind her.
The hated brush smacked down again and again, left cheek, right
cheek, he repeated blows, each one gaining in strength and speed.
Bobbi kicked up her heels and he locked her against his middle
and imprisoned her flaying wrists. When he delivered two dozen
more swats on the same tender hot spots, her lingering arousal
vanished, replaced by unfretted agony.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! On and on it went, only
slower. Was it more than an hour ? Like the monotonous beat
of a metronome, strong, persistent, and oh-so embarrassing,
her bottom cheeks, bounced and swelled throughout his scorching
punishment. Even worse. . . he lectured, listing and
punctuating each of her sins with a hash smack; as if to drive
his point home.
"Owh! Owh! Oh! Ahh! Damn you stop!" she wailed, incensed. One
fierce crack was applied to another and she feared he would not
stop until her bottom was hotter than hell fire. In the mirror,
she saw that her bum was as bright as two ripe tomatoes. He
covered every inch of her rear flesh, from the summit to the
valleys, to between her thighs until her skin began burn hotter
than a Bunsen burner. "Owhhh! No! No Moooore! " she shrieked,
babbling in Italian as her fleshy hillocks jiggled and swelled
with deeper, bruising aches. Alternately begging him to stop,
promising him she would behave, apologizing to no avail, the
forceful smacks that continued were unbearable. She wiggled like
an insane eel. Her voice grew even more in volume, if that was
possible, and she cussed him again.
"Watch your mouth!" he growled, but she could help it, her ass
was on fire!
When he stopped, Bobbi caught her breath, dragging in deep
breaths as if she had run a marathon. But when she saw Gabe
reach for the bedside clock, and then set the blasted alarm for
another hour, she screamed; "Please I can't take any more!"
With her lips wide open for another full blown, air raid-like
wail, he stuffed the orange into her mouth, immediately muffling
her caterwauling and making her eyes bug wide.
"This will remind you that you will never again resort to sexual
manipulation in order to finagle your way out of future
punishments. And starting today? There WILL be further
punishments whenever you either misbehave, or disobey me."
Taking up the brush again, he cracked her cheeks dead center,
and she bit down, juice dripping down her chin onto the bed
spread. Mortified, she thrashed her hair and
grunted her protests around the humiliating gag.
He began a harder, faster series of skin scorching smacks that
sounded out like rifle shot at a shooting range. If only the
hands on the clock would move as fast as his! Her poor bottom
was raw! Smack! Smack! Smack! She bounded up and down in his lap
to the rhythm of his wrist, her keening muffled. The plastic
paddle end of the wide brush splattered her blubbery bum until
her eyes watered.
And then mercifully, finally, the bedside alarm went off, and
the spanking stopped. Gabe smacked the button off. And
without warning, she felt him peel apart her ass cheeks, felt
him sink his index finger into her vagina, wetting his finger
with her guilty juices. He then placed the tip of his finger to
her anal bud and slowly rimmed her cringing rectum. He inserted
his digit to the knuckle, right before the sphincter ring, making
the muscle twitch uncontrollably, reflexively trying to expel the
uncomfortable intruder. With his other hand, he began a fierce
tirade, smacking her lower orbs like a man possessed.
The fight drained from her body, and she relaxed her cheeks. She
endured and accepted the nasty stings, and while the queer
sensation of his finger inside her bottom hole set off
electrifying sensations to her very core, it barely overrode the
meted pain. And like the orange in her mouth, it did nothing
to assuage her embarrassment. Which was considerable. His
lecture, his dominance, the orange and his persistent finger,
all of it combined toppled the walls of her will. He stabbed his
masculine finger deep inside her rectum, just once, before he
withdrew it completely. Suddenly the flood gates burst open, and
Bobbi began to cry, silent, chocking tears. The next thing she
knew. . . the orange was gently wiggled from her teeth and free
of her mouth, and she yielded to the compulsive sobs that shook
her insides.
"I was wondering when I would get through that stubborn Italian
hide yours," Gabe comforted, and he then gathered her up into
her arms. Seated in his lap, Roberta buried her face into his
shoulder, soaking it with remorseful tears while he soothed the
sting and burn on her bottom, rubbing her hot flesh gently.
Her damp lips rained hungry kisses over his neck and ears and
cheek. And then her mouth found his, and her citrus flavored
tongue danced over his own.
Tasting the fruit of his wife's submissively sweet surrender,
Gabe's hand skimmed between her thighs, his feathering fingers
searching and finding the center of her pleasure. But Roberta
removed his hand, slid off his lap, and scrambled on her knees to
the foot of the bed. His rock hard cock strained in his
trousers while watched her lower her forehead and scoot her knees
up, arching her lovely back and raising her red hot bottom on
high.
A willing slave to his every passionate desire, his misbehaving
maid then reached behind with faltering fingers, splaying open
her fiery cheeks, exposing her anal rose in an unmistakably,
subservient appeal.
Misbehaving Maid/Copyright/2003/Frances LaGatta
Feedback is welcome: <lori111c@worldnet.att.net>
Other stories by this author can be found at:
www.wickedvelvet.com
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