The Maids Adventures chapter 6 part 5

The Maids Adventures chapter 6 part 5

After several long silent minutes Patrick went into the tent with the Princess and his men. Garrett muttered something under his breath and then came over to where she was preparing their food. Bridget considered trying to stab him and run, but there was no way she could do it silently. And she wasn't entirely sure that she could bring herself to stab him either. Damn him.

To her surprise he reached out and took the knife from her and put it down before taking her hands in his and bringing her wrists up to inspect. There was still plenty of daylight for him to see the red marks, which were a little sore but didn't truly hurt.

Anything else he asked his voice harsh.

Bridget jerked, trying to pull her hands away but his grip tightened. "What do you care?" she riposted, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Worried that he'll damage the goods and you three won't be able to play?

She looked him directly in the eye, not sure why she was pushing him or what she wanted him to say, but she hadn't been able to hold it back.

For a long moment Garrett's dark eyes stared back stormily at her, looking almost black.

Of course, he said in an even voice, devoid of any emotion. "Now strip."

Fighting back tears at his sudden indifference to her, reminding her forcibly of Blaine's treatment of her, Bridget pulled the shirt up and off. Bowing her head, she stared at the ground with her hands fisted at her sides, so that she didn't have to look at him and he wouldn't see the anger and gleam of tears in her eyes. She had only herself to blame, of course, what else had she expected him to say?

The growling noise he made deep in his throat startled her into looking at him, but all of his attention was on her breasts. She looked down and realized that he was staring at the mark Patrick had left on her creamy skin. It was so dark red it was almost purple, standing out clear and stark on her pale skin like a brand. Garrett circled around her quickly, inspecting her, and she watched him warily from the corner of his eye. There was violence to his movements that hadn't been there before.

Suddenly he was pulling her hard against him and her head snapped back to stare up at him in surprise and his mouth came down hard on hers. It was a brutally demanding kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth before she could even think of closing it against him. He pulled at her, as if he could meld their bodies together, and she moaned into his mouth, shocked by the sudden rush of desire that his touch and lips caused. The taste of him in her mouth was like a powerful aphrodisiac, her bare skin tingling everywhere he touched her as his hands swept over her back and buttocks, reaching down to grip the fleshy mounds and pull her lower body into his erection, grinding it into her. She found herself pushing back against him, her hands curling into his shirt and pulling herself up and into the kiss, before she realized what she was doing.

Whimpering she pushed at him, but he just clasped her tighter, his kiss gentling as if he realized he was being too rough with her. He tasted spicy and masculine, the hard press of his body against hers made her want to moan as tendrils of need unfurled, like a flower peeling back its petals and turning into the sun. The sweeping seduction of his lips and clever tongue coaxed her, his hands rubbing soothing patterns on her bottom, and she shuddered against him as her nipples hardened of their own accord, the wetness between her legs growing.

Garrett.

Patrick's voice broke through the moment and Bridget pushed again. This time Garrett let her go. Standing outside of the tent, watching them, was Patrick. His voice had sounded hard but the expression on his face was one almost of amusement. The two men glared at each other as Bridget snatched Patrick's shirt back up and put it on, not caring that it was a little dirty.

"If you need some relief, the Princess is available to you this evening," Patrick said blandly as Bridget bent back to her task.

I'm sure I'll use her services later, growled Garrett, sounding and looking almost as relaxed as Patrick the two men stared at each other for another moment and then Garrett ambled over to the side camp, Patrick walking just as nonchalantly to the same place. Whatever they had to say to her, they didn't want Bridget to hear.

She was caught somewhere between mortification and anger. Fury at Garrett dominated, not just for that earth-shattering kiss, but also for talking of using the Princess' 'services' almost immediately after! Her rage at Garrett was subsumed by her anger at herself as she realized that she was acting out of some kind of strange jealousy. Again, her expectations had snuck up on her and in her head she had built Garrett up into something that he wasn't. Just because the man kissed her and occasionally acted like he cared didn't mean that he did, and even IF he did he was still part of this wretched situation! Perhaps if she had a choice she might choose a man like Garrett. But it all boiled down to the stark fact that she did not have a choice and Garrett couldn't care less what female lay in his bed.

But what had motivated that kiss? It almost seemed as though he'd been jealous over the mark on her breast.

That thought just made her feel slightly hopeful, which only made her angrier at herself. She bent her head to her task, knowing that dinner was going to be important. Going by her knowledge of men, which was growing daily, she felt quite sure that Patrick was going to take her again before bed.

Dinner was a more awkward event than usual. Patrick and Garrett sat on opposite sides of the fire, glowering at each other. Whatever they'd discussed it didn't seem to have gone well. The Princess had finally been allowed out of the tent, just long enough to eat some food before she stumbled back to rest, looking completely exhausted. She'd seemed rather subdued, the first time Bridget had ever seen her in such a state going by the comments that the men were making, mostly Samuel and Blaine although with a few interjections from Patrick, they had been keeping her quite... busy.

Despite the fact that he had to have been satiated by his time with the Princess, Samuel kept leering at Bridget's legs, making her feel even more exposed. As the evening darkened, her form was beginning to show through the light fabric of the shirt whenever the fire was behind her. Blaine, as usual, remained fairly indifferent, although he did occasionally eye her legs appreciatively. They all seemed to enjoy looking at her, even though she was nominally covered and they had all seen her bare before. It was as if just barely hiding her attributes made her all the more desirable.

Unsurprisingly it was not a feeling she relished. It only made her feel more vulnerable and afraid to have all four men's eyes following her. Especially after she'd seen the way in which three men could use a woman at one time.

Come little maid, Patrick said as he stood up, his eyes glittering brightly in the campfire. The orange glow highlighted Garrett's face as well, making it looked eerily shadowed. She turned her head away, not wanting to look at him and see anything more that might confuse her. I find I'm still... hungry.

Patrick walked beside her, his hand sliding down her back and cupping her buttocks as they walked away, to Samuel's loud jokes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Garrett heading into the tent where the Princess was. Fiercely she told herself that she should have expected no less.

Once in the tent Patrick tugged his shirt off of her and tossed it aside. There was no bulge in his breeches. Considering his penchant for fear and pain, Bridget found herself trembling again. She had hoped that she was beyond her capacity to feel any anxiety, but wondering what Patrick might do to her to arouse himself had her feeling slightly panicked again. Already her experiences with him had been far beyond anything she had ever imagined might arouse a man.

On your hands and knees, he ordered, pointing at his bedroll. Bridget knelt and leaned forward, placing her hands on the cushion of the bedroll and awaiting her fate. Patrick stepped around her, observing this position from every angle, from her swaying breasts to her upturned rump and her vulnerable sex. She lowered her head, tension in every line of her body as he dropped to his knees beside her, his hand smoothing down her back and over her bottom. You have a very pretty ass, little maid. But it'd be prettier if it were pink.

And then he slapped her. Bridget yelped, more in surprise than true pain. Although the slap had stung, it was its unexpectedness that caused her exclamation. Patrick just laughed and then spanked her again. His hand began to pepper her bottom with stinging slaps, just enough to make her squirm. Reaching under her body with his free hand, he began to cup and play with her breasts, pulling on her hanging nipples with enough force to elicit some moans for her. As he pulled on her nipples she arched her back to follow the pull, which pushed her ass up further as his hand came down.

The combination of him pulling her nipples and slapping her buttocks to a rosy hue was more arousing than she would have warranted. Her fear receded as none of his hits were particularly hard, although her bottom was becoming sore from the repeated impacts even if they weren't brutal. She dared to glance at his face and saw an expression of enjoyment, although not the same kind of lust as when he'd been toying with her and his knife. Perhaps Garrett's protection ran further than she had thought. Not that she was going to feel grateful for it right now. She refused.

When her entire bottom was pinked and sore her unprotected pussy feeling rather swollen beneath her rosy cheeks, Patrick released her nipple and stood, walking back over to the saddle bags. When he returned he reached for her right hand and spread a liberal amount of oil from the bottle he'd brought out over her fingers. Bridget stared up at him, wondering what the oil was for.

The wicked grin on his face was not encouraging.

Time to oil up your ass little made, unless you want me to stuff my cock in there dry, he said, nodding at her oily fingers to indicate that she was going to be taking care of the preparations herself. Bridget was horrified, but the idea of him shoving his rod into her tight hole without any kind of help was much worse than using her own fingers to do the deed.

Hesitantly, her face flaming redder than her beaten bottom in humiliation, Bridget reached around her body and put one finger to her tight hole. It felt crinkly and dry beneath her touch, and incredibly lewdly wrong. Patrick's lascivious gaze on her hand and its target only made her feel worse.

Please, she said, begging. Can't you do it?

Of course I could, but I don't want to. I want to watch you do it. So it's you or nothing.

The pleased expression on his face said that he enjoyed her begging and her humiliation as much as he had enjoyed her fear earlier. Somehow Bridget thought that fear and pleas were not fare that he received from the Princess with any kind of regularity.

Taking a deep breath, Bridget looked away from him so that she wouldn't have to see his face as he watched her and she began to push her finger into her tight rear entry. She could hear the rustling movement as Patrick slid to a better position to watch her finger parting her rosy cheeks, rudely pushing into her posterior. Eased by the oil, she could still feel the tight ring of muscle squeezing her digit as she pushed past it into the hot recesses of her ass. One knuckle.... Two... and then her finger slid in all the way to the knuckles on her hand.

"That's it," Patrick said, his voice much more lustful than it had been before. "Now pump it back and forth. I want to watch you, finger your ass."

Her humiliation knew no bounds. Having any kind of audience for the lewd behavior was terrible, no wonder the Princess hadn't wanted to be watched earlier. Bridget could only be thankful that her audience only had one member. Dragging her finger back out of her backside almost all the way, Bridget pushed it back in as she let out her breath. The movement burned slightly even with the oil, even with her slim fingers. Since Garrett had not penetrated her this way the night before her hole had closed up to its original proportions, before the men had started using it for their base pleasures.

To be continued