The Willing Mrs. Talbot

Unknown

Chapter 1

They would not be received until eight o'clock. That was typical, she thought. She lay on the bed, gazing at the ornate ceiling above her head, wondering, idly, when the old bastard would install mirrors over the bed.

She knew the son of a bitch peeked in on his guests now and then, for she had discovered, on their last visit, the small hole beside the portrait on the far wall. It had amused her then, but she was growing more irritated, these days.

She sighed and shifted her position, impatiently, on the huge, soft mattress. She could dream of putting it to good use, but knew, grimly, that such an enticing experience as she might imagine was more than likely not to come about.

She could hear the water running in the shower, where her husband was bathing himself, and she wondered for perhaps the hundredth time, why she could not talk him out of skipping this weekend with the clan.

God, she thought, it's going to be unendurable. It was bad enough to have married into the Talbot family, but to have to put up with them over a long weekend, was just to much to ask of a woman.

She smiled to herself, crookedly, then, shaking her head. Now, Maggie, she scolded herself, you didn't try all that hard to talk him out of it, did you? She knew, in her heart, that she hadn't.

Big things were happening, not the least of which, was the fact that E.G. was drawing up his will. She wasn't all that greedy, and could depend on her own wealth if she had to, but she was determined that Dash wasn't going to get cut out of the will by his brother and her scheming sister-in-law.

E.G. looked fondly upon her, she knew. Hell, a lot more than just fondly, she thought with an inner chuckle. The old bastard would like to get into my pants, if he could. Would probably like to do more than that, she added to herself, with a cold shudder.

She was suddenly remembering the dark stories that Dash hinted at now and then. He would not tell her anything more than the fact that the old man had been a harsh disciplinarian.

"He didn't believe in sparing the rod," Dash had told her grimly. "That was about the only thing he didn't believe in."

She had seen the faint traces of scars on his back, shoulders and buttocks, and the long, thin line that ran down his cheek, and often wondered where they had come from. Whenever she mentioned them, he would refuse to talk about it, and that scared her just a little more.

"Let's just say, I had a rocky time growing up," he would tell her, by the torte of his voice, signaling that he wished to cut off all conversation concerning his childhood at that point.

She had met him at a party the Talbot's had given in honor of his first starring role on Broadway. Dashiell Talbot was their second son, tall, dark and wiry, unlike the massive presence his father presented.

She had been impressed with the family, then. For the Talbot's were known the world over as the First Family of the stage. Even then, she had been wary around the father, huge, overpowering Edmund Gorey Talbot, known as E.G.

The man was fierce in his presence, and easily dominated any sphere or circle he entered. His wife Laurel was small and compact, but equally as powerful, in a more subtle fashion. She seemed to be able to temper his force, though of course, bowing to it, always.

As for Talbot's older son, he resembled the father in bulk and features, but not in power. Winston Talbot was a weaker man, and known mainly for the character roles he played in movies and on television. That he was jealous of his younger brother's success and talent was evident to Maggie from the first.

Maggie Bishop had been a struggling young actress then, fighting for the meager parts she was able to get, while trying to keep her legs crossed in the process. She couldn't be had just for the promise of a walk-on, and that gave her a reputation of being a bitch.

But she had been determined not to lay her way to the top, but get there on merit and achievement and had bristled when the rumors flew about why she married young Dashiell Talbot. It seemed that the press and public would believe everything said about her but the truth.

Dash had charmed her from the beginning, never coming on very strong with her, never trying to use her as a toy on his climb to the top. He had treated her with dignity and respect, and she had fallen in love with him for it.

Though he projected an image of daring and power, of sexual fury that could explode at any moment, in reality, she had found him quite shy. He was almost old-fashioned in the way he treated her, never once attempting a pass whatsoever.

They dated in a formal manner that she hadn't observed since she was a girl in high school. Maggie Bishop was no prude, nor a virgin either, but Dashiell Talbot treated her as if she were made of delicate china.

They had finally married just a year ago, and this was their third visit to Talbot Manor. The first two had been uneventful, for E.G. and his wife were starring in a play at that time, leaving she and Dash alone for the better part of the visits.

She could mark her husband's failing passion from the first visit, and it seemed to increase with the, second. Now, as she lay on the bed, her third time in the huge, massive mansion the elder Talbot's called home, she wondered when and if Dash would ever find her attractive again.

Something about returning to this house seemed to cast a pall over her handsome husband. Seemed to make his soul go as cold as ice, his passion wither like a vine in the midst of winter.

She was determined to find the cause of his dwindling of romantic lust. She had no intention of losing his passion for her, any more than giving up his rightful place in E.G.'s will.

The shower suddenly ceased in the bathroom and she sat up on the bed, not bothering to close the robe she was wearing, against her naked body beneath it. At twenty-seven, she had a perfect figure, full-bodied and firm, and she loved to entice her husband with it, whenever she could.

Already, a bit of excitement was trembling in her loins. She wondered if E.G. was spying on them right now, wondered if the old man was gazing through his little peep hole at her ripe, up-lifted breasts. Casually she ran the soft palm of her hand back and forth across her nipples, bringing them to a stiff, taut erection.

She allowed the robe to fall open a little more, and dropped her free hand to her lap. Her mound was covered with the same thick, silken strands of rich, black hair that crowned her head, and she roamed the tips of her fingers idly through the damp thatch of hair, now.

She shivered as she rubbed her fingers against her trembling vaginal lips. The luscious warmth rippled through her loins suddenly, and she groaned as she playfully toyed with the smooth, warm lips.

She leaned against the back of the bed, imagining her fingers to be her husband's hand, and kneaded her pussy mound anxiously, now. She squeezed her big, round breasts with her other hand, and slithered two fingers into her pit, now turning them lovingly against her inner walls.

"Ohh, Dash, Dash, my strong darling," she murmured softly to herself. Her eyes were shut tightly, now and she was trembling with increasing violence. "Umm, yes, my love, ohh, yes, it's so good!"

Her fingers danced in and out of her quivering tunnel, now slicing back and forth against her inner walls with a teasing, passionate force. She had always loved sex when it was good and right for her, and even just the dream of her husband was enough to send the powerful, surging pleasure tearing through her, wildly.

"What the hell are you doing, Maggie?" came a half snarl from in front of her.

She opened her eyes, lazily and smiled, not pausing for a moment in her caressing of her aching pit. "Ummm, just dreaming of you, Dash," she whispered sensuously.

The young man staring at her twisted his face up into a mask of distaste. "Well, for God's sake, knock it off," he said impatiently. "You don't have time to play with yourself, we have to get ready for the old man's party."

Maggie laughed, her voice rich and melodic, sending a stab of painful regret into her, husband's groin. She grinned at him, shaking her head and chuckling softly.

"Well, my dearest," she sighed contentedly. "If you would only give me a hand, here, I could take care of business so quickly!"

"Come on, Maggie," Dashiell Talbot groaned in weariness. "You know I don't like to mess around in this place."

He stepped over to where his wife lay and pulled her hand away from her trembling, enticing mound. He could see the glistening of the thick, creamy love juice that coated the hair of her hillock, and his prick trembled with agony behind his robe.

"Now stop it, baby, I mean it," he whispered in a husky voice. "Winston and Nola are right next door, they might hear you!"

"Ohh, Dash, let them listen," she moaned, reaching up and tugging on the belt to her husband's robe. "Who cares if they hear! They might learn something!"

"She could see her husband's cock, throbbing a bit between his hairy thighs and she giggled as she cupped his balls in her smooth, warm palm. "I can see I've aroused some interest, here," she laughed once more. "No matter what you pretend, my darling! These little nuggets don't lie!"

Growling, Dash pushed her away once more. "God damn it, Maggie, I mean it," he snarled again. "Now get in there and take your shower, I don't want to be late!"

"Ohh, the hell with the God damn party," she hissed back at him. She clutched at his thighs then, pulling her face to his groin. "I want you, Dash, and I need you, right now! What's more important to you, damn it?"

Dashiell Talbot felt his wife's lips against his balls, her sweet, pink tongue lathering the hairy sack, hungrily. He groaned thickly, the pleasure suddenly roaring through his flesh, making his cock grow thick and hard against her cheek.

"Damn you, damn all of you," he moaned, twisting to free himself from his wife's eager grip. "Why can't you leave me alone!"

"I won't leave you alone, darling," Maggie murmured, kissing and licking his shaft, greedily, now. "You are my only love, my true darling, I want you, more than anything else on earth!"

She tried to take his cock in her mouth, now, but he cocked his hand and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to one side. She gasped with the blow, the impact still stinging in her cheek as he glared down at her.

"I mean it, damn you," he hissed almost breathlessly. "I'm not in the mood for this. It's hard enough being here as it is, without having you pawing all over me!"

"What's the matter with you, Dash?" she growled back at him. "What has gotten into you, lately? Are you afraid of me or something?"

Dashiell Talbot laughed nervously, backing away from the bed, shaking his head. "Of course not, I just don't like being vulgar, that's all," he said, weakly. "I just think there's a time and place for everything."

Maggie Talbot climbed off the bed, now, her cheek warm and still ringing with the memory of his slap. She followed him as he backed away from her, almost as if he were in retreat from her passion.

"Time and place?" she laughed bitterly. "I wonder when that might be, since you haven't found either for the last three months! Ever since that last time we stayed here, you have been cold as ice, now tell me why?"

Dashiell Talbot turned his head to avoid her glaring, demanding gaze. He slipped quickly out of his robe and pulled a pair of under shorts over his hips. "I've been working hard, Maggie, you know that."

"Not that hard, Dash," she countered quickly. "And that's no reason anyway. I work just as hard as you do, and it seems it hasn't dulled my passion, any."

"I don't want to go into it right now, Maggie," he whispered coldly. "I have too much on my mind, damn it."

He reached for his trousers, but the young woman snatched them out of his grip and backed away with them, clutching them behind her back. "You're bullshitting me, Dash," she said coldly. "I want an answer, right now."

The young man was grim as he approached his wife. "Give me my pants, Maggie," he said, his voice full of icy warning. "I mean it, give them to me, now."

The young woman, her heart aching with confusion and lack of understanding as to why her husband ignored her advances, laughed bitterly. "Not until you tell me what's the matter," she said defiantly. "I want to know why you're so turned off to me these days!"

Dashiell Talbot lurched forward, grabbing for the trousers as he hissed at her. "Give them to me, God damn it, before I get mad," he snarled. His fingers merely grabbed the belt buckle and he pulled as she twisted away.

She giggled as the belt slithered loose from the loops of the trousers and dangled to the floor in his hand. "I'm a lot quicker than you are, darling," she whispered in a lush, sensual voice. "You're just going to have to make me happy, unless you want to attend the party in your underwear!"

Dashiell Talbot glared at his wife coldly. His eyes roamed up and down the length of her smooth, lithe frame, feasting on the pink firmness of her nipples trembling against the alabaster background of her luscious breasts. He saw the glistening dampness between her sleek, tapered thighs and the pain struck him once more in his groin.

He flexed his fingers against the belt buckle he held in his hand and lifted it up to the level of his waist. He shook it at her warningly. "I mean it, Maggie," he hissed softly. "Give me those pants or else!"

She laughed once more, the rich sweetness of her chuckle ringing in his ears as she spoke. "Are you threatening me, darling?" she giggled. "I don't believe you would dare do it, I truly don't!"

She spun on her heel and gazed at him, impishly, over one smooth, attractive shoulder. "I love you, my darling, but I'm not afraid of you," she told him, without any meanness in her voice. "You aren't capable of hurting me!"

Savagely, his arm shot back and then forward, cracking the thick, wide surface of his belt against her buttocks. The pain stung deep into the soft, spongy half moons and the force of the blow propelled her forward a few steps.

She gasped in pain, her eyes opening wide as he cocked his arm to hit her again. "Dash… Dash, darling, are you crazy?" she moaned, rubbing her bottom hesitantly with her hand. "That hurt, damn it!"

She screamed as she saw him lashing out with the belt once more, this time crashing the blow hard against her naked shoulders. Once more the pain tore into her flesh, this time hurting twice as badly.

"I'm going to teach you to mock me, damn it," Dashiell Talbot snarled. He advanced on the trembling young woman then, cracking the belt hard against her buttocks once more. "I'm going to show you who's boss around here!"

She had never seen him this wild before. His eyes were blazing with a fury she did not recognize, and his voice was thick and tight, twisted beyond anything she had ever heard from him.

He cracked the belt down hard against her shoulders for a second time, and the force of the blow made her crash against the dresser, screaming in pain. She put up her hand to stop him, but the belt lashed into the base of her spine, this time.

"Ohh, God, stop it, Dash, it hurts," she sobbed, quivering as he lashed at her ripe, trembling buttocks once more. "Jesus, Dash, that's enough, please, that's enough, now, darling!"

He grabbed her by the hair, then and threw her savagely to the floor. She could see his prick bulging against his shorts, making the white of the material undulate as it throbbed behind them.

"You little self-centered bitch," he snarled cruelly. "I'm going to teach you a lesson! I'm going to punish you for defying me, now, damn you!"

Once more he struck her on the shoulders and the pain seared her flesh as if it were the sting of a thousand tiny darts being driven into her. She screamed again and shuddered, twisting helplessly against his hand holding her long, thick hair between his fingers.

"Okay, ohh, Jesus, all right, Dash," she moaned, tossing his trousers at his feet. "You win, darling, really, you win!"

The young man ignored the wadded garment beside his naked foot and laughed cruelly as he twisted his wife's hair in his hand. "No, bitch, you've taunted me too much," he growled at her. "It's time I taught you who your master is, slut!"

He cracked the belt against her bottom once more and she writhed in pain, her poor, defenseless ass quaking with the burning hurt of the blow. She sobbed as he smacked her hard on the back with the belt once again, making her lurch forward under the impact of the blow.

"Don't… don't please, Dash," she moaned, gasping as the pain tore through her even worse than before. "Ohh, God, it hurts, Dash, it hurts too much!"

Dashiell Talbot laughed cruelly then his eyes wide with excitement. Savagely he twisted his wife's head around once more, forcing her to gaze up into his cold, blue eyes, alive with a grinning passion.

"That's right, bitch, it hurts," he cackled, lashing her hard on the shoulders for another time. "It's going to hurt a lot more, before I'm through punishing you!"

Maggie could not believe that her husband was doing this to her. Even as he cracked the belt into her back once more, driving the cruel, thick leather hard against her naked, defenseless flesh, a part of her did not want to believe he was beating her.

Even more so, she could not accept the fact that he seemed to be enjoying it. He laughed as he struck her bottom once more, cackling almost insanely as he brought the tip of the belt down in a ripping slash at the precious, quivering moons.

"Tell me what to do, will you," he snarled viciously, whirling the belt around his head and bringing it down hard against her shoulders. "I tell you what to do!"

He let go of her hair and the young woman tumbled forward onto her face, groaning and gasping as another blow struck. She sobbed with the brutal pain she received and squirmed helplessly on the rug.

"Crawl, you scum, crawl," he hissed at her coldly. "I want to see you crawl across the room to that bed, pig!"

Savagely he lashed into her flesh with the belt now. Each blow stung her to the point of agony, and she desperately made her way on her hands and knees toward the bed on the far side of the room.

Each time he landed a blow, her scream of pain was mingled with the harsh, breathless gasp of his effort He was breathing laboriously, now, his manly chest rising and falling rapidly as he struck the blows.

Maggie wailed in pain as she felt the cruel, thick leather of the belt caressing her tender bottom, and she could feel, already, the welts rising up on her flesh, as her husband methodically beat her, now.

Slowly she made her way across the floor. The belt rose and fell over her husband's head, each vicious stroke more painful than the last. The ugly welts and red lines were dotting her creamy flesh now, marking her unmarred skin in a cruel and horrible manner. He chuckled almost insanely, now, bringing the weapon down on her even harder, as if the visible evidence of his beating made his violent frenzy grow stronger.