Margaret Ch 3

Sister Bennet was the bane of my life. At 40 she seemed to be much older and she had an imperious air and manner of speaking that, frankly, irritated me beyond words. She was, however, a fantastic Theatre Sister. Nothing escaped her and her attention to detail was phenomenal. It was just that she always seemed to find the thing you hoped she wouldn't. She wasn't good looking but nonetheless turned people's heads with her erect posture and immaculate grooming. Years ago she would have been a matron and terrorised nurses, doctors, patients and visitors alike.

I was just leaving at the end of my shift when she poked her head out of her office and asked me to look in.

"How are you?"

She had never asked me this before in 3 years working for her and I immediately worried that something was going on.

"Fine, thanks."

"I need to speak to you. I know you think I am hard as a manager but," and she motioned with her hand that I should not protest, "but I care only that we provide the best for our patients. Lately your mind has been elsewhere. The incident with the swabs?" I had nearly miscounted blood soaked swabs in and out of a patient's wound, a cardinal sin. "I want to know why."

Well, I suppose I could have told her about Margaret but I had a feeling she wouldn't either understand or approve.

"Sister, I am sorry. You're right, of course. I have been distracted; just some domestic things. I will try to keep my mind on my work."

"See that you do. You have hurt your lip." She said this with an air of professional interest rather than concern. "Let me look." She stood as I protested it was nothing and approached me. "A bite."

"Yes, Sister."

She sniffed. "You should be careful. Don't be late in the morning." And she swept out of the office, leaving me feeling silly. She seemed to manage to do that all the time.

*

When I got home (actually Margaret's home but even after this short time it felt like my own by this time) the flat was empty and I showered and changed before doing some tidying away and getting Margaret's dinner ready. I love cooking a roast and we rarely ate such a large meal but I wanted to give her something special. Beef, rare and pink with all the trimmings. A big, strong red wine and cheese and coffee to finish. That, I hoped, would please her.

At 6.30 she burst through the door. As always she carried a large briefcase and a pile of papers. A busy solicitor, she always brought work home. I never did. Before Margaret I had been studying for my promotion exams but now, well, they didn't seem to matter.

I went to the door and helped her with her things. She kissed me, gently, and kicked off her shoes.

"Something smells good."

"G and T or wine?"

Gin and please, I beg you, make it a big one."

"I will. Sit down and rest for a while." She didn't, but followed me into the kitchen and watched as I prepared her gin. Lime and lemon, ice then gin and then tonic.

"What's this all for?"

"You, Margaret." It was that simple for me. I told her about Sister Bennet and the world's shortest bollocking and her cursory examination of my lip.

"She a domme too?"

"A vampire," I said and turned to my Yorkshire pudding. "Asexual and determined to prove it."

"I doubt it." I felt her hand on my shoulder and stood still. "Good boy, " she murmured and reached between my legs to cup me in her hand through my trousers. She touched my erection lightly and said, "Irresistible." She kissed my neck and began to massage me. "Not yet, my lovely. So much to learn." She nuzzled my neck and caressed my swollen penis. Licked behind my ears and rubbed me.

"Margaret….."

"No."

She turned me around and let me lean against the worktop. She put both hands in my crotch and kissed me.

"Please?"

"No."

She undid my fly and reached in. "Wet," she said and looking at me with the raised eyebrow she pulled me out of my trousers. Abruptly, she pulled away.

"Leave it like that and finish dinner."

*

I served dinner with my cock variously hanging or standing out of my trousers. The zip sometimes rasped against it and I felt ridiculous. Margaret barely seemed to notice it, or the wet mark around my groin.

"Lovely beef," she said over coffee. "Does Sister Bennet excite you?"

"God, no. She's an ogre."

"What am I?"

"You're…well, you're Margaret."

"I bet she doesn't make you walk around with your cock hanging out of your trousers." She laughed and enjoyed my embarrassment. "Do you feel silly?"

I did, but it was what she wanted.

Before I could answer she told me to run her a bath. I went to the bathroom and set the taps running, the room filling with steam and the scent of her bath oils.

She came in, still dressed, and told me to go the bedroom, undress and kneel by the bed and wait for her. I did, leaning on the edge of the bed and reading a book. This was, I was to learn, a mistake.

"Did I say read?"

"Er, no but…….."

She was wearing a long, dark blue nightdress. It was silk I think and slit up the side so that when she moved, her thigh was visible. The top was cut low and held over her shoulders with thin straps. Her hair was loose and fell over her shoulders. Her sharp features seemed softened by the low light and her hair falling around them. There was, however, no mistaking the steel in her voice.

"If I had wanted you to read a book I should have told you to."

I was still kneeling by the bed, leaning on it and looking over my shoulder at her. I was, to be fair, a bit confused. This didn't seem like a major sin.

"I didn't……."

"Why are you here?"

"For you."

"No, why here, on the floor by my bed? What is the purpose of this exercise?

"To wait for you?"

"No. To think about me as you wait for me. To be in my bedroom and wait for me, thinking only about me."

"I didn't understand."

"Sit on the bed."

I sat and she came close to me. She looked down at my penis, flaccid and lying between my thighs.

"Had you been doing this properly, that would have been poking your eye out. As it is….." She flicked her fingers derisively and told me to stand and turn. I did.

" I am going to teach you. It may take a long time but I will." She hit me hard on the buttock with something I later learned was a belt. She hit me again and again. "You will learn that there is a reason for everything, you just have to look for it. Do you understand?" The belt struck again.

"I think so."

"Good."

She stopped the beating and gently touched my arse. I had not cried out, even though I felt like it. It hurt like hell and I felt it was unfair.

Margaret got up onto the bed and sat, leaning back against the pillows piled against the headboard. She made herself comfortable and spread her long nightdress around her.

"Kneel on the bed at that end," she pointed to the end near her feet, "and stroke yourself."

I did so and was amazed by my reaction, I was immediately erect. I was also close to orgasm.

"Margaret…."

"I told you, you will learn. You will cum when I want you to. It is not for you but for me, understand?"

"I don't see how I can……."

"It's simple, you must." She took a book from her bedside table and began to read, occasionally looking up and raising her eyebrow questioningly if I looked like I had stopped. I am rather ashamed to admit that my interest in masturbating waned in the light of her apparent indifference and as my interest flagged, so did my erection. This was mistake number two.

"I told you, you will learn, and learn you will my love." Margaret said this barely audibly as the magazine fell to the floor. "Everything has a purpose, even if you can't see it. Come here." She patted the bed next to her and I moved up to sit beside her.

"I am not teaching you how to prevent yourself cumming, I simply require it. You have to find a way. I want you to so you will. If you fail it is simply because you don't look hard enough. It's exactly the same with me telling you to kneel down there and stroke yourself, if your erection fades because of lack of attention or because you cum, you have not tried hard enough. I wont teach you how, merely demonstrate that you have to do it for me. Lie down on your face and put two pillows under you stomach."

With two black scarves she tied my hands to the bedhead. They were not tied tightly, I could have pulled away easily but I realised this was intentional. Margaret thought about everything.

She knelt beside me and I watched as she slid her hand through the side slit in her nightdress and followed its progress, slow and gentle, to her groin. I could only imagine what was happening under there until her hand slipped out and she put two glistening fingers to touch my lips. The eyebrow lifted and I opened my mouth and took them in, revelling in the taste and scent. She seemed to caress my mouth, then withdrew them and the hand slipped under her nightdress again.

When it next emerged it did not come to my lips but slipped between the cheeks of my backside and I felt her press against my resistance. I looked at her in surprise, she knew I had never had, or wanted anything to do with anal sex. She pulled the nightdress to one side and I could now see her pussy, lips swollen and open, the pink entrance shining with her liquids. Her other hand slipped to it and she mirrored the actions of one hand with other, pressing at herself and me at the same time and, it seemed, to the same effect.

She did not speak. As she overcame my resistance she slipped deep into both and, to my horror, I found that I was cumming after only a few seconds.

"Margaret……"

"I know, lover. Wait a few moments longer." I closed my eyes and thought of anything I could rather than the sensations and conflicts I was experiencing. She worked at us both and then, smiling, she leant down close to me ear, her hair caressing my naked shoulder.

"Now, my love."

*

She returned from the bathroom and I was still spread on the bed as she had left me. She had changed into another nightdress, white and demure. She untied me and pulled me to her to hold me.

"Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"It will become clear."

She spread her legs, lifted her nightdress and said, "Love me."

I did.