Martha Bell: Breakfast With the Devil

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Booze when one isn’t used to it can prove to be a short time source of hilarity. However when the initial effect retreats, the drink leaves a person at the mercy of varying levels and stages of withdrawal, some irksome, and some very unpleasant. The final stage of hangover would kill any romantic gesture stone dead.

Those erogenous urges that had swamped Martha’s immature libido, vanished with the receding tide of alcohol. The zealous intention, the wild ideas, and the let’s tell about my inner mucky wants and desires, were shredded by cold hard neurological pain, the rise and swell of her stomach contents forcing her to seek seclusion.

Vaiman was there. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “Must have been something I ate.”

“Yes,” agreed Vaiman. “Most likely the Bordeaux.”

“You think so?”

“Hmmm. Two bottles is quite likely to make one feel sick.”

“You’re taking the piss,” she accused.

“And you deserve it.”

They approached a bedroom door where Martha would be spending the night.

“I deserve a slapped bum,” she slurred.

“Really?” he asked amused.

“A bloody good spanking as my old man would have said, if I had one.”

“I think perhaps we should let the body get over this hurdle before you torture it with anything else.”

Five minutes later Martha lay face down on a double bed, her butt, still held teasingly by the tight dress, thrust provocatively in the air. Vaiman stood over the woman not quite sure what to do with her.

Fred advised him, the man having come to check on his ‘assistant’. “Best leave her Stef. You can’t do much else without risking a whole lot of bother.”

He joined Vaiman. “She certainly has it in the right places doesn’t she? Nicely stacked and in perfectly rounded proportions. I wonder if she realises just how bloody sexy she is.”

Vaiman turned, faced Fred. “She has no man then?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“She felt guilty about getting drunk. There was the suggestion of a damn good spanking. The workings of a drunken mind I presume. But,” he paused for breath. “The temptation to slap that delightful butt proved almost too much. She should be careful making such suggestions. They could lead her into a whole load of trouble. Drunk or not.”

Fred McCall chortled. “She won’t think that way when she comes round. That I can assure you.”

An eyelid lifted slightly as the two men left, the bedroom door closing quietly. A faint smile played on red waxed lips.

Martha arrived at the breakfast table seemingly fine. She sat and took in the array of crockery, cutlery and food.

“Coffee?” Vaiman asked.

“Tea if I may,” the woman replied perky.

“And how are you this morning?” he enquired pouring her beverage.

“Tickety-boo,” she answered grinning. “Disappointed?”

“There is little to find enjoyable about a lady with her head down the pan, throwing up the last few hours intake. Toast?”

“Is that how it was?”

“Very much so.”

“I see. For that I must apologise.”

“Accepted.”

“Was there nothing else?” She sipped her tea. “Two slices please. Heavy on the butter.”

“I left you in a somewhat indecorous position with your butt thrust in the air. But yes that was about it.”

The toast crunched loudly. “Did I say anything I might regret today?”

“That suggestion. And I think we both know what it was, would lead to consequences that neither of us would walk away from dispassionately.”

Stef continued. “In fact it was unacceptable considering the circumstances, though uttered while incapacitated and beyond sensibility. I’m surprised you even remember.”

“Maybe all the more reason to execute a penalty and my bottom good sir; if only to placate my guilt and allow me to continue the day properly chastised and with an easy mind?” She stared provocatively, a light smile playing on full undecorated lips. “Don’t you think so Guv?”

“For me it can only be s****l. And for you, extremely painful. That I will assure you.”

“It should be so. Painful that is. And any s****l gratification gained is par for the course, don’t you think. Why shouldn’t you enjoy it? It is I that has erred.”

“I will be nineteen soon Stef. So far the world of erotic pleasure has ignored me. Whilst I am not yet ready, and also feel that full on s*x is something to be indulged in only after betrothal, a little play would be acceptable and satisfying.”

He leant toward her. “And if I was to lift your skirt and pull down your pants, would that be calming do you think?”

He noted her breathing change. “I would expect that. Natural progression. Much as I would expect a husband to take gratification after.”

“This is a huge step for me Stef. I have had these unusual thoughts and urges for a long time now.”

“So it’s not really about crime and punishment?”

“Am I embarrassing myself?”

“Not at all.” The devil has come to breakfast and damn it I am trying to do the right thing.”

“Yes I was drunk last night. I remember what I said this morning and felt so bloody mortified. But then I thought that request came from an inner honesty, unclouded by confusing feelings of what is right and what is not. I wanted that last night, and I still want it this bloody morning.”

Martha sucked a breath, eyes lifted. “f**k. I don’t understand it any more than you probably do. But there it is. I have to find out if it’s just fancy. I have to know how I will react. I want to know if I will regret it ten seconds after it begins. Six year ago I went through puberty. That’s when the haunting began. Summer’s the worst. Sleepless nights are lengthened. Impulses are heightened beyond reason. It can be hell in this skin.”

“Okay,” Stef threw his hands in the air. “Okay. But Fred is in the house. He will hear something. Surely you will want to keep this quiet?”

“It’s insane isn’t it? How can anyone lust for this? But you are right. He mustn’t know. Forget what I said. I will take a shower and get ready for the catwalk.”

Vaiman watched her leave, the wiggle and slight bounce of hips. His hand nursed a huge stiff threatening to break free from his trousers. “Oh Martha,” he whispered.

Ten minutes later Fred joined Vaiman. “What no Martha?” he asked. “Not suffering is she?”

“No not at all. She has been down bright and breezy and returned to her room for a shower.”

“And what she said last night?”

“Forgotten I would guess. The drink can make fools of all of us. Don’t you agree?”

Fred didn’t answer, his pre-ordered fried breakfast had arrived.

Martha peeled the black rayon from a resilient pale skin, smooth flesh springing free. Cloth slipped from the thrust of full breasts, pink teats, erect, high on the orbs. The thin cloth fell, danced past a full firm bottom, over the valley of hirsute groin between strong but feminine thighs. Heaped it lay scattered about her feet.

She bent, the fall of bosom negligible, and picked up the garment, before sliding skimp cotton panties across the smooth soft knolls of her bottom. She stretched, arms reaching above the torso, before noticing her reflection in a full length mirror. Martha twirled, eyes roaming her body, scrutinizing what men found so intoxicating. To her it was just a body. One she had looked after, but never to extremes. Okay, she was tall, leggy and shaped well. But there was better. She had seen better.

What she didn’t perceive was her femininity, a sweet naive vulnerability. She failed to recognise her facial beauty. She skipped past her natural humour, an inner strength, and a lack of pomposity.

Hot water gushed from the en-suite head, sprayed a stinging jet, her body rising to meet the fusillade. That searing heat, striking her torso provoked a complex chain, guilty indulgence, dampened by inherent guilt.

The soap glided over luscious curves, resilient knolls and intriguing valleys. Suds smeared and covered soft breasts, the flesh trembling sensuously with the effort. Hand and bar moved ever downward, creaming the flats of her belly to the hirsute vee, and there it lingered, dallied while Martha climbed between Vaiman’s silk sheets. Her back rested against a tiled wall, thoughts focussed, Stef’s member huge, touching her vaginal lips, there, the merest kiss.

She sighed, the sound almost a whimper as electric pulsations jabbed at her groin. The bar of soap sank between soft lips, rubbing cautiously against the c******s. Her teeth, pearly white nipped her lips, mouth trembling with the coming furore.

The soap entered. Slid into the vaginal cavity, finger nails biting into its slippery surface. c**k rammed home, the soap sliding out, Martha crying out to an orgasmic burst.

She sank to her knees, soap bar laying used in the shower tray. Hands clasped to her pubis she gasped with the intensity, to the sheer potency of that abdominal violence.

“Oh sweet f**k,” she whispered. “What the hell would this be with a c**k in me?”

Dressed she returned and placing an arm about Vaiman’s neck kissed him lightly in the cheek. “Happy birthday,” she told him. “Ignore your guests and come with me and I will give you a present you won’t forget.”

He put his arm about her waist, her firm body a treat to hold. “You know I can’t,” he said letting his hand slip to her bottom. “Though I really am tempted.”

“Do you often have a party in the afternoon?”

“Why not?” he chuckled. “Mother insists on attending and going home after. So it has to be afternoon. Ah speak of the devil.”

Vaiman introduced the elderly lady. “This is Hester, my mother. And this is a very promising young woman and a friend of Fred McCall’s. Martha Bell.”

The lady offered a lightly gloved hand and gently shook Martha’s. “Exquisite,” she announced. “A beautiful young woman indeed. But please Stef do refrain from mishandling the goods, especially in such distinguished company. Nice to have met you Martha.” She moved on.

“In other words,” Stef enlightened though Martha didn’t need it. “Keep your hands off the young lady’s bottom.”

“I don’t think she had lady in mind.”

Under the circumstances and his error of judgement and learning of the risqué lingerie Fred had brought, Stef moved the catwalk to his study, where he and Martha ‘discussed’ the range. Stef promised not to look while Martha changed and then tried while very hot under the collar to be productive. But they kept their hands off each other.

Martha noted how hot and bothered the two men seemed on a none too warm September evening. And she understood the reason. Setting sun on her face she looked across the lawns to the main road. She had conquered the first step of her delinquency. Like the alcoholic she had admitted to another trouble. Stef declined because he was a gent. Not all men were so.

“Thank you Martha,” Stef placed an arm about her waist. “Your designs are good. Not quite there. But with a little more work. When we meet next spring we can discuss that other matter in more depth perhaps.”

Churlish she replied. “I might have found the answer by then.”

“I will be sad to have missed such an opportunity. But let us see what happens. Whatever though, I will not forget you.” He leaned to her ear. “Or your delightful rump.”

Martha riposted. “And I might discover if that flagstaff is as mighty as it often appears. Maybe you should get a woman Stef.”

Cheeks reddening, Stef laughed then watched her leave, not knowing if he would ever clap eyes on her again.

She stopped short of the car turning to gaze at Vaiman. “Fred would it be possible to come back for me later?”

“How much later?”

“Oh about six weeks.”

“I can stop over ‘til the morning. There’s a pub that does bed and breakfast nearby.” He glanced up at a curious Vaiman, the man wondering what the delay was.

“That will do nicely.”

Leaving Martha stood on the grass he pulled away muttering. “Bloody lucky bastard.”

Stef strolled down to meet Martha a question on his face.

“You don’t mind me staying the night do you?”

“It would seem you have no choice in the matter. Your chauffeur has left.”