Chapter 3 - Full Womanhood
Mini simply did not know where to look. Along with the almost immediate softening of his member, there became a softening of the Master’s tone. ‘There’s a good girl. I’ll see ye right, but this has to be our little secret’. He reached over for the embroidered chair back and began wiping, first his glistening Percy, then her hand. He held it for a while and he suddenly seemed less fearsome. The operation had not been painful, well, except for the bruise she felt bound she would have on her ample, and previously unspoilt, rump. It had not lasted more than seconds. There was part of it she actually enjoyed and years of living with her father’s worldly ways had taught her that situations could often be turned to one’s advantage. Was there just a glimpse of nice things to come, just for keeping a little secret.
‘Will that be all, Sir?’ she asked in a quiet voice.
‘Harold! Harold!’ screamed a voice from upstairs. ‘What in the name of all that’s holy is going on? I was in the bathroom when I heard all of the commotion. I came out as soon as I was decent and what do I find? There’s a dreadful smell of burning, the landing curtains are scorched and there’s water all over the floor.’
Heavy footsteps could be heard lumbering down the stairs. Sybil then appeared in the doorway. Her ample lumpiness, normally carefully packaged in corsets, bulged beneath her calico nightdress. Her heavy, woollen dressing gown hung open and her corned feet poked pinkly from under the hem of her nightshirt. Her normally carefully curled hair hung in an untidy mass on her shoulders. She had obviously been interrupted mid-toilet.
‘Oh, you’re still here, girl. Fetch a cloth and bucket right now. There’s plenty o’ mopping up to be done’.
Harold gave a slight start and shot a glance at his own crotch.
‘And you, Harold, spill the beans on what has been happening. You’re looking shifty.’
‘Nothing to report, really, Dearest. Just a little excitement, but it’s all over now. You run along and do as you’ve been told, Mini. I’ll take care of things from this end.’
Mini, as naïve as she was, sensed that she had just been treated with raw and brutal abandon; not only had the Master abused his power by using her for his own wanton gratification, he had then attempted, quite despicably, to shield the whole sordid business by removing her from the post-coital ‘investigation’ by his ever-weary wife. She now hated herself. She has frittered away her most valuable asset: her pureness. Gone was her sweet innocence and it was now replaced by a distinctly itchy and soggy feeling in her nether regions. Had the Master left her an unwanted gift?
Suddenly, Mini felt an almost uncontrollable and animalistic desire to scratch her womanhood, rather like a mangy old stud dog might claw its testicles, after a night out on the tiles; she wondered what on earth had come over her, but the ‘fire below’ had to be quenched without further delay and action had to now be taken through necessity.
Mini peered around the huge kitchen urgently, for a suitable implement to address her needs; as her beautiful green marbled eyes quickly darted and spanned the width and length of room, her attention was drawn to one of the long hanging, metallic items, suspended from Mrs Fotheringay’s extensive range of chef apparatus, hung from a high roof pelmet in the central area of the kitchen.
She rapidly recognised the piece as a chrome turkey stuffer, which last saw vigorous action during the preparation for the grand feast, at the Master’s Xmas ball party: this was surely the answer – it could both pump in and suck out of a cavity and represented almost everything a young girl could ever want in the way of assistance, when venturing out on a lone mission of internal discovery!
There was nothing else for it; after checking that the coast was clear, in a mighty and determined upward pounce, Mini grasped the long shank handle of the implement and jerked it free from its thick metal hook aloft. Without wasting a further second, she gathered up the huge folds of her maid’s skirt, then quite unceremoniously yanked down her thick taffeta and cotton chocolate brown knickers and then lowered herself, chest down, over the waist-height draining board. Had the Master been in attendance himself, it would have – indeed – been quite a sight for him to have beheld.
Quick as a whippet on the moor, Mini took a sudden inward gasp of air to prepare herself for the impending self-violation of the tool, then thrust the long, shiny instrument right up into herself from the rear. Oddly, Mini found that the experience was no worse than the Master’s recent insertion, if not even a little more welcome, with the principle difference being that the Master was warm and the implement was cold… both had thrilled her, but with very different kinds of sensation!
Aware that she was now rather moist and keen, she repeated the motion several times, increasing speed: the sensation appeared to becoming more and more pleasurable and seemed most closely allied and linked to the speed of the inward thrusting motion.
She, almost guiltily, let slip a faint moan of pure, sensual pleasure, as she gently mopped away a thin film of sweet smelling sweat from her forehead.
Mini realised that she was now clinging on to the huge magnolia-steel sink edge with such power of grip that the whites of her knuckles were now almost glowing in the half-light of the dimly lit kitchen. She moaned out slightly louder this time, as she felt almost a metallic-electric shock run through her body. In her state of now keen arousal – although Mini would not have recognised it as this – she wobbled backwards in the poor light, slightly disorientated and feeling light-headed and a little giddy.
The point of boiling climax was now tantalising close for Mini and normal, calm rationale had deserted her; she was a woman on the edge of heaven and far beyond the point of normal return. She staggered further backwards and then found herself lurching sideways … still furiously thrusting back and forth and jerking around with the implement and refusing to stop, she now completely lost her balance and went over.
Her fall was cushioned by landing in a soft, warm and mushy substance, which had been placed on a lower table. Following further investigation, this turned out to be a large vat of the Master’s special pre-soaked mushy peas.
Despite impact with this delicacy, Mini did not stop and completed the business in style, by experiencing a whole-body quiver and then unleashing the full flood gates of emotion. The gurgling of mushy peas all around her did nothing to stop her pleasure.. if anything, it heightened the whole experience.
Moments later, she climbed quietly out of the vat, stripped herself naked and then wiped herself down with a wet cloth. Just for an instant, she sensed that somebody was watching her from the garden window, but Mini had now lost her shyness, so did not care if another was observing.
Gone now was the terrible itching that the Master had bestowed upon. Liberation was entirely at hand. No, the itch had been truly scratched now and tonight Mini had crossed the threshold to full womanhood.. mushy peas and all… ‘Aye, life’s grand’ she whispered to herself, as she pulled back on her stockings with a broad grin fixed firmly on her now womanly face.
© Copyright 2016 stevegrinner. All rights reserved.
Book / Humor
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