A Gentlewoman's Dalliance (3 page)

Cool fingers settled on her newly revealed skin, the distinct points of fingertips easily discernable. Slowly, slowly, the specialist tested the pliancy of the muscle there.

“Firm, too. I must compliment you on the condition of your body, Mrs. Brigstock. Do you take exercise?”

“I, er, very little, actually, Mr. Holcombe. Just a little walking on occasion. I should do more…. I…I think I may purchase a bicycle. I have a friend who cycles and she speaks very highly of it.”

What am I babbling about?

But Benedict ignored her chatter, and suddenly, and with no further warning, he set about her.

He began with lazy, rhythmic pats, little more than that, as if warming her up for the main attraction.

But then, a pat became a gentle slap.

And a slap, a sharper blow…

And before she knew it, Mary was receiving an accomplished spanking.

Oh, it hurts! It hurts!

And it did.

For all his effete looks and his smooth, well-kept hands, Benedict Holcombe was far more stringent and more rigorous than he appeared to be. Swift, hard wallops fell across the entire acreage of her trembling, churning rear, and Mary moaned and yelped yet more with every stroke.

It was painful, far more than she'd anticipated, sharp and hot. Yet somehow, within the space of mere moments, Mary realized to her astonishment that she was lifting herself up time and time again, her bottom rising to meet the spanks, instead of trying to wriggle and squirm away from them.

“Oh, well done, Mrs. Brigstock, well done,” purred her disciplinarian. “You're clearly something of a stoic as well as a sumptuous beauty.” He punctuated his compliment with a particularly stinging slap.

“You flatter me, Mr. Holcombe,” said Mary through gritted teeth, even as another blow fell. He was belaboring her buttocks with the precision of a metronome, and covering every inch with sizzling fire.

“No, he doesn't. You are beautiful. Especially in this condition.”

Despite the relentless spanking, Mary's attention snapped back to her husband, still in his chair. Leonard's demeanor wasn't quite so relaxed now. He sat farther forward in the chair, inclining toward her, his eyes fierce and avid, an expression of raw desire upon his face. The way he seemed to devour her made her sex ripple, aching with emptiness. And a yearning to be filled by her husband's cock.

Oh, Leonard…Leonard…

Sensations. Emotion. Pain. Lust. All combined into a maelstrom that tossed Mary's dazzled spirit hither and thither. Her body seemed to be exploding with energy. She bucked about across the desk, first pushing up her rump for Benedict's strokes, then bearing down in an attempt to grind her aching cleft against the wooden edge beneath her and massage the sensitive pearl of her throbbing clitoris. If she hadn't been holding on to the far side of the desktop with both hands, for fear of tumbling off it, she would surely have reached under her belly and rubbed herself to a fast and furious crisis.

As it was, a particularly heavy slap knocked her hard against the unforgiving desk and her sex quivered, right on the brink, almost there….

“Leonard!”

Mary barely recognized her own voice. It was hoarse and cracking, yet it rang with desperation…and command.

Her husband sprang toward her, pushing the younger man aside in his own desperation. All semblance of the louche, relaxed observer was now gone, as if it had never existed, and her dear husband inclined over her, his breath a hot zephyr against her neck and shoulders. “My dear…my dear, what is it?” he breathed, his voice as rough as hers as the cloth of his evening coat brushed her ravaged buttocks and she let out a hiss and jerked against him. “Was it too much? Oh, my darling…should I have restrained him?”

“No! Not that…” Panting hard, Mary surged again, arching and twisting and pressing her pain against her husband's thighs and loins, stirring her own heat and glorying in the hardness she found there. “But I'm burning up, my darling. I need you in me…please fuck me!”

“Of course, my dear… Yes!” Leonard made to slide a hand beneath her, to grip her corseted waist and pull her upright, his intention obviously to escort her to their bedroom.

“No! Here! Right now. I cannot wait.”

For an instant, Leonard went still. Would he balk? Just a few feet away stood Benedict Holcombe, silent and watchful.

A breath later, her husband's growl of passion made her almost forget the younger man. “Oh, Mary…my darling Mary,” Leonard gasped in her ear. “You are magnificent! A goddess of love…my own perfect Venus.”

Her heart light with relief and love, Mary twisted around again, struggling to share a messy, awkward, ill-aimed kiss with her husband over her shoulder. She found only the corner of his mouth, but it was sweet, honey-sweet for all that, and against her simmering bottom, she felt him fumbling with his linen. He struggled for a moment, and she could swear she felt a fly button or two burst off and go whizzing across the room, but then she felt first the brush of his hand, and then the press of his hard, familiar flesh against her hot, spanked skin.

“Oh, yes, my dearest man…oh, yes.” Reaching behind herself, she met his fingers with hers and they tangled. Laughing both, they guided his member toward its natural harbor together. “That's it…push it in…ooh…ooh…yes!”

More by blind luck and hunger than measured judgment, Leonard slid home. It was far from elegant, but Mary groaned, loving the sensation of her husband's penis filling and stretching her. Even if it did mean that his clothing rubbed mercilessly against her sore bottom, buttons and seams digging in cruelly as he thrust into her. As he gripped her by the hips, his strong thumbs were unremitting, too, but the streaks of torment only fired her all the hotter. Bucking like a frisky pony she dished her back and pressed ever closer to him to make a better fit.

“Yes, my love, yes…oh, that's splendid,” growled Leonard, plumbing her deeply, then holding still, into the hilt. “You are the warmest, most heavenly haven. This is paradise, my dear…paradise….”

For me, too, my dear, for me, too.

And yet still there was another observing angel, and as Mary rocked and heaved, and Leonard reciprocated with powerful forays of his own, she turned again to glance toward their watcher…and found he was no longer watching them.

Benedict Holcombe had disappeared, left the room without either of them even being aware of his departure. For a moment, a pang of disappointment gripped her and Mary stilled. But then the faint odor of lime, her Leonard's tantalizing shaving lotion, tickled her nostrils.

Oh, my darling, forgive me.
You
are here…you are here, inside me.

Fired anew, she wriggled, churning her pubis against the desk as Leonard swung his hips and found an ever sweeter spot within her channel. Her sex fluttered, almost at the point of crisis, but somehow, in the back of her brain, a cool observer to match Benedict himself still had the ability to think and question.

Did you desire me at all, Benedict? Or is it simply the act of punishment that stirs you? If that?

Shaking her head to dislodge the shade of the specialist, she gasped and moaned, teetering on the very Rubicon's edge.

Or is it even my handsome Leonard who piques your lust and you cannot bear to see him swiving a woman?

Strange questions that elicited strange, fragmentary visions. Peculiar musings like a mist, unstable and transitory. When Leonard reached beneath her belly, rummaging for the seat of all her pleasure, the ability to think finally dissolved like fog, too.

Her husband circled his fingertip, and rocked his hips, bumping and knocking against some hidden secret place, and as he ignited her, Mary's mind went truly blank. Pleasure flooded her, heart and soul and body, and in ecstasy she convulsed, shrieking out.

“Leonard! Oh, my love!”

Her only awareness was heat and bliss now…and Leonard pounding. And pounding and pounding and pounding as he found his heaven with an enormous shout of triumph.

 

“It was unfortunate that Mr. Holcombe left so precipitously,” Mary observed later as her husband snuffed out the candle at their bedside and then rolled toward her to kiss her good-night.

“Would you have preferred him to remain, my dear?” There was an intriguing note in her husband's voice, and the kiss, when it came, was more ardent than she'd been expecting. After all the excitement of the evening, and all their pleasure and cavorting, she'd assumed a tranquil settling down now that they were finally in bed together.

Would Leonard indulge her desires yet further? Heat roused again in her loins, even after the joys they'd both shared so recently. Did her husband share a yen to explore yet more of her foibles? It seemed so. His cock was hard when her hand brushed against his nightshirt.

“Yes… I thought I might, um, dally with him a little,” she said in a cautious voice. Men's sensibilities, and their perceptions of their manhood, were notoriously fragile in a way that only women understood, and the very last thing on Earth she wanted was to hurt or make her husband unhappy. But they'd sworn honesty to each other and her curiosity was undeniable. Leonard knew that she was filled with inquisitiveness.

“Dally, eh?” Leonard seemed to be challenging her.

“Yes, my dear, but
only
that.”

In the darkness, she felt him relax and her heart melted. After all these years, he still prized her above all women and could be a possessive husband as well as an indulgent one.

“It would only be a little bit of naughty fun, dear husband,” she went on. “You know my curiosity…and how lately I've been eager to try new things.” As she spoke, she reached for his hand and placed it at the juncture of her thighs, reminding him of those certain new things. “I would never lie with another man but you, Leonard.” She pressed her mouth to his, squeezing his fingers, with hers, against her puss. “I'm just interested in feeling things and seeing things.”

Leonard laughed heartily, shaking his head. “You're a most remarkable minx, my dear. Just what is it that you want to see that you haven't seen before?” This time, he drew her hand to his crotch, where she discovered a monumental erection.

“Well, I would rather like to observe our young specialist's ‘accoutrements,' if that's amenable to you, my dear?” She paused, giving her husband's own accoutrements a daring frisk. “Even though I can't possibly imagine that he would be more favorably blessed than this.”

“Sly, flattering hussy,” growled Leonard. His hips lifted, then he gently shook her off him before rolling her over onto her back.

Hauling up her nightgown, and giving her a kiss, he mounted her for another delicious ride.

 

Am I ready? Am I ready?

Mary's nerves twittered as she heard the doorbell ring, a few days later, and anticipated the second appearance of her “specialist.”

Astonished and overjoyed, the Brigstock servants had been packed off for yet another evening jaunt—the circus this time—and once again the house was empty but for Leonard and herself. Her husband's quick step upon the stairs told her he was answering the door—which was a good thing, considering the garb that she'd chosen for this evening.

There would be no pretence this time. No social dance of dinner and conversation. There were no two ways about it. Benedict was here for her erotic dalliance, and that alone, and approaching voices on the stairs made her heart thud. She took up her brandy glass and downed the snifter all in one.

Ah, the fire of it…it warmed her mouth and throat and belly, stiffening her resolve. But it wasn't nearly as hot as other fires that would soon be burning, those delicious conflagrations that would rage in her intimate zones.

When Leonard ushered in their guest, Mary nearly laughed out loud. Not from nerves, or her own apprehensions, but the look of sheer astonishment on his face. How splendid; she'd shocked him, just as she'd planned. Leonard's grin over the young man's shoulder was a picture, too.

“Good evening, Mrs. Brigstock,” the specialist said warmly, his poise recovered as he reached for her hand and raised it dashingly to his lips. “You're looking especially handsome tonight, I must say. That's a very becoming robe that you have on.”

“Yes, isn't it? A gift from my dear Leonard…a reward, you might say. For pleasing him.” She batted her eyelashes and saw Leonard's smile widen and his eyes roll at her brazenness.

“A drink, old man?” her husband offered.

“Oh, yes…splendid… A whisky and soda, please,” answered Benedict, even though both his gaze and that of Leonard's remained upon her.

And now you're both speculating on what precisely lies beneath this.

Mary ran her fingers over the blue silk of her sash as her husband busied himself with the tantalus and she settled herself demurely on one of the long chesterfields, arranging her legs so she might flash the men a glimpse of her ankle and perhaps a little more.

Her new robe was a wrapper
à la japonnaise,
a self-indulgence purchased from an exclusive
modiste
patronized by Sofia Chamfleur and several of the other Circle ladies. The silken fabric was delicate and luxurious, as fine as air, and formed to her body in an enticing way, almost as much a caress as Leonard's—or Benedict's—fingers might have been.

Studying her toes in her new satin slippers, Mary sat quiescent, drinking in the air of erotic speculation as the men consumed their whiskey. Two sets of eyes—one warm and brown, one cool and blue—seemed to emit rays of desire that swept over her through the silk. Rays that gathered at the tips of her breasts and at her groin.

“Might we begin?” she inquired after a little while, when she could bear the wait no longer. Her fingers were tingling with the desire to touch herself, and both her nipples and the pit of her belly ached and ached. Her lust was new, like an electrical force, yet so familiar.