Read Online The Diary of Cozette by Amanda McIntyre - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amanda McIntyre
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then?”
Betsy nodded and we stared together as the giant of a man lumbered onto the mattress, caving in the center with his girth. He flopped to his back and lay sprawled and glassy-eyed staring at the ceiling. It was my fervent hope that at last, he’d been overcome in his inebriated state. However, his eyes popped open and his scalding blue gaze darted to mine. I took a step back, my legs bumping against the chair.
His erection pointed straight toward the ceiling and I could not keep my eyes from his enormous size. I thought it a ludicrous story that I would need to consider carefully before telling Ernest one day.
Betsy squeezed my arm and moved to retrieve the whiskey from the table. She lifted it to her pink lips and I watched her take a long swallow. Tears stung the corner of my eyes remembering the scalding burn as she withdrew the bottle in a fit of coughing. She held it out to me and I declined her silent invitation. One swig from that bottle was enough to dim my senses, and I would need all of them intact, if Betsy’s plan did not work.
My gaze was drawn to the man as he watched Betsy remove her robe. He tried to sit up, but thought better of his balance and collapsed on the bed. As if partaking in a craft in her parlor, she went about tearing her thin robe into long strips, putting three of them together to make a sturdy length of binding. She jerked them between her hands to test their strength and offered me a smile as she approached the bed.
I watched in curious fascination, still quite unsure of her plan, but standing ready to help at a moment’s notice. Yet I admit it was a happy thought indeed to see him harnessed to the bedposts.
“You must relax, now and let us do all the work.”
“While I get all the pleasure, eh?” He spoke, trying to lift his head from the mattress.
She handed me the long braided strips knotted together at one end.
“Take his hand and tie it to the bed rail.”
I moved with caution toward the man, grateful his gaze was focused on Betsy’s bare breast dangling in front of his nose. He shifted suddenly and I had to hold his wrist in place with my knee to finish tying him.
He jerked against the binding and it only tightened the knotting further. I moved to his feet then and followed suit, until all four appendages were properly bound. Betsy and I stood at the end of the bed and beheld our work.
His gaze darted uncertainly between my accomplice and me. I admit I was far more courageous seeing his feet and hands bound, though I shudder to think what might have happened if we’d brought out his temper.
“Well, I can say that I’ve never had it done this way before,” he slurred sleepily. “This is a mite odd, but not altogether unlike riding a horse, eh, ladies?”
He chuckled deep and I glanced at Betsy with a questioning look. She surely had a better plan than the one he suggested.
She came to my side and leaned near to whisper in my ear.
“What I’m about to do I was taught in the woodshed by Frank. He said it was a way to relieve him of his tensions and I retain my virtue. I swear to you, I never thought I would practice this on anyone other than Frank.”
My gaze darted to the man, seemingly comfortable in his state. His eyes would slowly drift shut from time to time and then pop open as if he wanted to be sure he didn’t miss the show. I had to admit, Betsy was a most resourceful woman.
“I need you to stand over him and open your shirt.”
“My shirt?”
“Men like to look at a woman’s breasts. They would rather touch them, for it aids them to a state of arousal.”
I glanced at his cock, which appeared most alert. “It would appear that your client is fully arrived in that state.”
“Not yet, trust me. You will know.”
She paraded in her near naked state, except for her drawers, to the other side of the bed. With a subtle nod to take my position, she grabbed the whiskey, doused a piece of her robe with it, and knelt between his
Betsy nodded and we stared together as the giant of a man lumbered onto the mattress, caving in the center with his girth. He flopped to his back and lay sprawled and glassy-eyed staring at the ceiling. It was my fervent hope that at last, he’d been overcome in his inebriated state. However, his eyes popped open and his scalding blue gaze darted to mine. I took a step back, my legs bumping against the chair.
His erection pointed straight toward the ceiling and I could not keep my eyes from his enormous size. I thought it a ludicrous story that I would need to consider carefully before telling Ernest one day.
Betsy squeezed my arm and moved to retrieve the whiskey from the table. She lifted it to her pink lips and I watched her take a long swallow. Tears stung the corner of my eyes remembering the scalding burn as she withdrew the bottle in a fit of coughing. She held it out to me and I declined her silent invitation. One swig from that bottle was enough to dim my senses, and I would need all of them intact, if Betsy’s plan did not work.
My gaze was drawn to the man as he watched Betsy remove her robe. He tried to sit up, but thought better of his balance and collapsed on the bed. As if partaking in a craft in her parlor, she went about tearing her thin robe into long strips, putting three of them together to make a sturdy length of binding. She jerked them between her hands to test their strength and offered me a smile as she approached the bed.
I watched in curious fascination, still quite unsure of her plan, but standing ready to help at a moment’s notice. Yet I admit it was a happy thought indeed to see him harnessed to the bedposts.
“You must relax, now and let us do all the work.”
“While I get all the pleasure, eh?” He spoke, trying to lift his head from the mattress.
She handed me the long braided strips knotted together at one end.
“Take his hand and tie it to the bed rail.”
I moved with caution toward the man, grateful his gaze was focused on Betsy’s bare breast dangling in front of his nose. He shifted suddenly and I had to hold his wrist in place with my knee to finish tying him.
He jerked against the binding and it only tightened the knotting further. I moved to his feet then and followed suit, until all four appendages were properly bound. Betsy and I stood at the end of the bed and beheld our work.
His gaze darted uncertainly between my accomplice and me. I admit I was far more courageous seeing his feet and hands bound, though I shudder to think what might have happened if we’d brought out his temper.
“Well, I can say that I’ve never had it done this way before,” he slurred sleepily. “This is a mite odd, but not altogether unlike riding a horse, eh, ladies?”
He chuckled deep and I glanced at Betsy with a questioning look. She surely had a better plan than the one he suggested.
She came to my side and leaned near to whisper in my ear.
“What I’m about to do I was taught in the woodshed by Frank. He said it was a way to relieve him of his tensions and I retain my virtue. I swear to you, I never thought I would practice this on anyone other than Frank.”
My gaze darted to the man, seemingly comfortable in his state. His eyes would slowly drift shut from time to time and then pop open as if he wanted to be sure he didn’t miss the show. I had to admit, Betsy was a most resourceful woman.
“I need you to stand over him and open your shirt.”
“My shirt?”
“Men like to look at a woman’s breasts. They would rather touch them, for it aids them to a state of arousal.”
I glanced at his cock, which appeared most alert. “It would appear that your client is fully arrived in that state.”
“Not yet, trust me. You will know.”
She paraded in her near naked state, except for her drawers, to the other side of the bed. With a subtle nod to take my position, she grabbed the whiskey, doused a piece of her robe with it, and knelt between his
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