RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter 7:- The Nanny


 
 
  "So, what's she like, this nanny of yours?"
"Jacqui? No tits, you'll be sorry to hear. And she's mega hairy when she takes her clothes off." Maggie thought of saying something, but changed her mind and took a sip of coffee instead. Charlotte continued, in tones that rattled the windows. "But she's a little treasure. She looks after those two babies so well, I'd never know they were there if I didn't have to feed them myself. It's a pity she can't do that for me as well. Still, I'd need to find someone to drink all this milk." Charlotte touched the outside of one of her astounding breasts, and Maggie watched as the elephantine thing swayed and wobbled before her eyes.
"You saw Mrs Danby yesterday?"
"No, Tuesday. You should just see this bra she's made me. I had to go in again today to get it altered a bit. But it is so comfortable, you wouldn't believe. If only you could see it."
Maggie bit her lip. No chance here, in this restaurant, thronged with lunchtime crowds. Despite the tent-shaped dress Charlotte was wearing to disguise her shape, all eyes seemed to be on her. Maggie wanted so desperately to see the woman beneath that voluminous shift.
"Chief was wondering when you might be able to pose again," she ventured timidly.
"What, already? We only did those horrible ones with the babies a couple of days ago. Against my better judgement. How did they turn out?"
"It was more like two weeks than two days. They were great. You looked staggering."
"Literally staggering," Charlotte laughed ruefully. "I had trouble standing up, if I remember. At least..." she lowered her voice and the entire restaurant seemed to lean closer "...although you can't really tell, this new bra holds me in a bit more than the old one. Apart from the extra support it gives me, it actually disguises the girls a little." Charlotte patted the side of her left girl, setting it trembling. "Maybe you ought to take some pictures of me wearing it. I'm not the attraction any more. The bra would be the star! I wish I could show you, but if I took this bloody sack of a dress off in here, I'd cause a riot."
"We don't want another Cunis girl getting arrested!"
"Another?"
"You haven't heard about Kay?" Maggie was astonished. Her editor's PR efforts had resulted in a rash of photo opportunities for Kay. She had appeared in everything but The Financial Times. Kay had insisted that pink didn't suit her.
"What about her? I haven't heard anything these last few days, not since we got back home."
Maggie told the story. Long before the end, Charlotte was shaking with barely suppressed giggles.
"Who'd have thought it of old Kay. Dark horse, she is. You didn't tape that news broadcast by any chance, did you?"
"Well, as a matter of fact ... you'll have to come over and see it sometime."
Charlotte looked at her watch. "God, is that the time? If Maxwell doesn't get me home in half an hour, I'm going to be skinned alive. Jacqui's a treasure, but she still isn't lactating." She stood up, and conversation in the restaurant ceased.
Maggie sighed. "Off you go, then. Don't worry about the bill, I'll see to it. Hey..."
Charlotte stopped and turned round.
"You didn't say when..."
"Can you call me next week? Wednesday or Thursday would be my best days."
"But that's a whole week! Charlotte!"
Maggie was talking to herself. She sat down, feeling the curious stares from the surrounding tables. Outside the window, Charlotte was manoeuvring her bulk into the Mercedes. It shot away into the traffic and was gone.
 
 
  The three busty models scarcely glanced at Maggie in the chemical-smelling corridor as they made their giggling, jostling way into the dressing room. Maggie half recognised one of them, although the name wouldn't come. She could remember the measurements, but not the name.
Duncan was in the armchair in the studio, prostrated as usual. Busty women had this effect on him. Geoff was tidying up the camera bench. He glanced at Maggie once, then looked away immediately, as if frightened of what he might see in her eyes. She went on through into the finishing room where Debbie was operating the print trimmer.
"Hi, Debs."
"Hi, yourself," said Debbie coolly, not taking her attention from her work. She tidied up the stack of prints, knocking them into a neat pile, then laid them at the back of the bench and took another roll of uncut prints.
"Isn't that usually Geoff's job?" said Maggie desperately.
"Usually. He's busy. And he's not feeling one hundred per cent. I offered to help him out."
"Poor old Geoff."
"Yes, you could say that." Debbie stopped trimming for a moment, straightened the trimmer on the bench, looked briefly and directly at Maggie, then resumed her mechanical task.
"Debs? What's the matter with everyone?"
"Matter? Nothing. Should there be?"
"Geoff didn't say a word to me. And you're not exactly a ball of fire."
"Oh, really. Hadn't noticed. We're rather busy. Excuse me." She pushed past Maggie, opened a cupboard, rummaged about inside, then closed it again before returning to her pile of prints. Maggie watched her for a while, feeling stirrings as she watched the woman's strong fingers operating the trimming machine. Then she wandered away, out of the finishing room. Geoff was just coming out of the corridor into the studio. He stopped, as if he was considering turning round and running off, but realised it would look ridiculous.
"What's going on?" Maggie asked him directly.
"Going on? Nothing." His face looked puffy round the eyes. Maggie reached out to touch his face, then withdrew her hand as he half turned away. "I've got work to do. We're running late ..."
There was a parking ticket on Maggie's windscreen. She ripped it off savagely and slumped behind the wheel. Fifty yards up the road, a uniformed figure watched her with a certain relish. She chonked the car into gear and shot away from the kerb.
 
 
  "Ready? I'll sit on the bed, then you can undo the velcro. Okay? Now!"
Jacqui took a firm grip of the fastening at the back of Charlotte's new bra. "It is still so stiff, Madame. Ah, ou! Voilà!" She ripped downward, and kept pulling until the twelve-inch long strip of velcro was released and the heavy back panel of Charlotte's latest Danby bra was divided into its two halves.
"Hold tight, Jacqui!" Charlotte cried urgently, and pulled her powerful shoulders back to ease the load as the French girl tucked her fingers into the special pockets sewn into each side of the back panel, and held them as close together as she could. Slowly, she relaxed her arms and allowed the two halves to pull apart. Charlotte sighed, feeling the harness-like grip of her bra gradually releasing. "Okay, I'll slide the shoulders down."
"Ooh, Madame. Still even 'ze new bra rubs your shoulders and makes them red and sore." Softly, she caressed Charlotte's shoulders with her cool touch, feeling her mistress's great body shudder beneath her fingers. "I will bring you your bedtime drink, Madame. Excuse me, please."
"Don't be too long, Jacqui. Don't hang around in the kitchen."
Jacqui grinned quickly over her shoulder.
"I will be no more than five minutes, Madame. Do not go to sleep without me, non?"
She sashayed from the bedroom, her broad rump wiggling noticeably from side to side beneath her extremely short skirt.
Charlotte slid herself round so that her back was against the headboard. Freed of the great bra's support, her breasts, still in their sack-sized cups, rested in her lap. Carefully, she restrained them, while allowing them to slide down on the bed to each side of her body. She couldn't reach the ends of the cups to remove the bra completely, but she was able to free the two halves of the body band from behind her, and tug them free from beneath the colossal weight of her breasts. That felt so good. It tickled.
Since giving birth to the twins, Charlotte had got her figure back. In fact, she had lost the stupendously huge mound which was her two strapping baby girls, and almost immediately regained her relatively trim waistline. However, her breasts, which had been steadily increasing in fullness throughout her pregnancy, had instantly filled out to a size which simply beggared belief.
These days, if she took her bra off, Charlotte was unable to walk. Despite her great body strength, she just could not shift the ponderous bulk of her breasts which, despite being undeniably firm and taut, descended to below her knees. And all this was without the milk, which made them even bigger and heavier, and at the same time painfully tight and full.
"'Ere you are, Madame. 'Orlicks, made specially by Mrs Grummit!" Jacqui turned the mug on the tray so the handle faced Charlotte.
"That woman must think I'm a grandmother, giving me Horlicks at bedtime. I hate the stuff." But she stirred it happily enough, and raised the mug to drink deeply. Then she took one of the chocolate biscuits and dunked it expertly through the creamy foam. "Mmm. You know how to spoil a girl, Jacqui!"
"Spoil, Madame?" Jacqui wrinkled her nose and looked worried, until Charlotte grinned at her and put her mug down.
"Come on, young woman. Help me get the rest of these clothes off."
With a sigh of pure lust, Jacqui did as she was told.
 
 
  Charlotte lay on her back without any bed covers. Jacqui snuggled between her strong thighs. With her mammoth breasts stretched out to each side of her hips, Charlotte wasn't about to go anywhere. She reached down and held Jacqui's tousled head gently between her hands, and the young French girl responded, as Charlotte knew she would, by lapping higher up with her tongue. That tongue, so pink and pointed, was also extraordinarily long. Some of the things the girl could do with it made Charlotte wet just thinking about them. She thought about them.
"Just there, ma cherie, oh, yes! More, please!" Charlotte writhed, held captive by her own body, so only her lower half was free to move. Her hips thrashed helplessly, trying to force herself down on to the probing tongue, the bobbing dark-haired head down there between her legs.
One baby woke up, thought about things for a few seconds, then demanded her supper. Not to be outdone, her twin sister added her voice.
"Oh, shit! Playtime's over. Go on, Jacqui, there's a love."
The nanny was already on her way to the adjoining room, and the volume of sound increased as she came in, a baby in each arm. She made encouraging French noises and bounced them gently. The twins still wanted supper, but they decided it wasn't perhaps as urgent as it had been. They quietened down and their cries became mere token yells of indignation.
The sound level dropped by three decibels as Jacqui handed Lucinda down to her mother, who had hauled herself into a sitting position. Meanwhile, Jacqui was offering one of Charlotte's breasts to Felicity. As soon as the child was latched on and sucking noisily, propped up with pillows, she took the first baby from Charlotte and gave her the other teat. With a quick check to see that both little girls were happy and feeding, Jacqui made herself comfortable between Charlotte's thighs again, grinning up happily at her mistress.
"Another half an hour!" sighed Charlotte with a lascivious expression. A wonderful, throbbing tingling was building up in her breasts and loins. As her babies suckled on her teats, Charlotte could feel the moisture trickling cool against her upper thighs, and she shuddered as Jacqui quickly freed one hand to trap a dribble of her nectar and place it in her mouth.
Charlotte closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the rising tide of her arousal. It must be a spring tide, she thought. It's getting higher than ever. Higher than ever! "Oh, my God, no! Please, ooh, yes! Jacqui! Jacquieeeeeee!!"
 
 
  Down in the kitchen, Maxwell adjusted his position in the overstuffed armchair beside the mighty kitchen range. Lucy, the diminutive scullery maid, straddling him with her curiously powerful thighs, leaned forward and wobbled her plump breasts in his face. She didn't have to lean forward very far. Not very far at all.
Charlotte's cries carried down the stairs to them, faintly but unmistakeably.
"What you reckon, Maxwell?" The girl gave an extra wiggle and one nipple plopped obscenely over the low neck of her blouse. She plugged it into Maxwell's left nostril and giggled. "Is the mistress better than me, or what?"
"Stop it, get it out of there!" Maxwell removed the girl's extraordinarily large appendage and sighed helplessly as she tugged down her blouse and flopped the other one out as well.
"Better than me, or what?" Both nipples, unbelievably long and thick, sprouting out of enormously puffy dark brown areolae, waved hypnotically in front of Maxwell's face. He concentrated hard on them. Anything was preferable to looking at the little scullery maid's face. Apart from being a little on the plain side, she looked no more than eleven, which was distinctly unnerving.
"You're better than her," he assured her.
"How much better?"
"She's not even in the same street as you!" Maxwell crossed his fingers behind the girl's back. Lucy had raised herself slightly and was feeling with one hand beneath her, concentrating on something. She seemed to be fumbling with the well-stuffed crotch of her cotton panties. To his alarm, Maxwell realised what was happening. Too late. The scullery maid, with football-sized breasts on a frame of substantially less than four feet six, raised her exquisite backside a couple of inches, then slammed down on to the poor chauffeur.
"Oops!" she said. "I missed!"
Maxwell was cross-eyed with the pain of it. His erection had melted away like a snowflake on a kitchen stove.
"It weren't my fault," the girl whined. "If you was a few inches bigger, that wouldn'ave 'appened."
 
 
  "Did you hear a shout just then?"
Charlotte had recovered from her most recent ecstatic orgasm just in time to hear Maxwell's squeal of agony from the kitchen.
"It sound like Maxwell, Madame! Perhaps Lucy sat on his coq."
She actually pronounced it like that.
"I love the way you say that word, darling. Say it again!"
"What? You mean 'coq'? Oui?"
"Oh, oui. Yes. Say some more rude words, Jacqui."
"Ou, Madame. You make me blushing, I get so 'ot! What do you want me to say? Pussee? Con? Cunt, Madame?"
Charlotte's pulse rate was on the rise again. "I think the babies are full up, Jacqui. They are falling asleep on my breasts. Bedtime for babies. Then I think it's bedtime for Mummy and Nanny, too? Oui?"
"Ooh, Madame!"
Her juices flowing in ever-increasing floods, Charlotte watched the nanny tending to the babies needs with practised skill. Soon, soon, the girl would take off that ridiculously short skirt and that tarty little apron and that tight, tight T-shirt, and reveal those braless little pointed French titties. Then she would be wearing only her black stockings and those black silk French knickers of hers, and Charlotte would ask her to come over to the side of the bed and just stand there so she could smell the sharp, tangy sweat of her body. She would tell Jacqui to raise her arms, and the girl would smile because she knew why Madame asked her to do this.
And she would raise her arms above her head, and Charlotte would gasp as she did every time she took in the mind-blowing sight. "Your armpits are even hairier, I swear it, Jacqui!" she would say. "They are like two furry black kittens. Now, love, take off those horrid knickers!" And Jacqui would bend slightly, teasing her long fingers through the thick, furry trail which led down from her hair-stuffed navel. She would hook her thumbs into the elastic at the top of those baggy silk panties, and push them down just a few inches, revealing the rounded bulge of her little chubby belly, and unbelievably, the mass of dense black curls reaching so far up her stomach. Down a few more inches, and more riches would appear, a spreading jungle, a veritable rain forest of pubic hair. Finally, the silk would flutter down Jacqui's parted thighs to pool at her feet and the young nanny would step out of them, but Charlotte would be unaware of the fact, as she would be unable to remove her eyes from the girl's crotch, where a rug of fine curly fur spread far to the sides of her groin, reaching right out as far as the little peaks of bone, and from there, cascading down between her still parted thighs in an impenetrable jungle to be swallowed up by her stocking tops.
Jacqui's long fingers would disappear as she plunged both hands into the shag-pile carpet of her pubic thatch. Not even the faintest glimmer of her moist pinkness would be visible through the luxuriant growth, but Charlotte knew it was there. She would be able to smell its sea-shore fragrance even above Jacqui's honest peasant sweat - even above the musk of her own arousal ...
"They are asleep, Madame. Will zere be anything else?"
 
 
  end Chapter 7