Author's note:
This follow on to 'Where is this Leading' that was recently published. It might be best to read that first, but this does stand alone as an erotic tale.
I do not apologise for using the same opening in this as I did in that.
I could hardly believe it. I had never been 'into older men' yet here I was just a year after my divorce in bed with Jon who was older than my dad. Yes, Jon was well into his fifties, maybe even early sixties. That did not, though, stop him being an amazingly good fuck and probably the most interesting man I had slept with and maybe had ever known.
He was an actor. Not tremendously successful, but a face that when seen in a film or on TV, would make many people say, "I know him who is he?" Recently though, he had not had much acting work. He had become rather old fashioned and there were just too many actors around with his looks, acting style and voice. He had become known as, what all in the profession dread, unfashionable. Fortunately, he had done a voice over for a kids TV programme and had taken a percentage of the take. As luck would have it that became a computer game and he has made a stack from that.
He was not the most attractive of men. He was balding, somewhat overweight and was probably no more than five feet six or seven. None of that was of concern to me. I do not choose my men on looks or physique. What is between their ears is far more important to me than what they have between their legs or how they look.
To earn the additional money he needed to maintain his fairly lavish lifestyle, as well as paying for his three ex-wives, he did some lecturing at the college I was attending as a mature student and we immediately hit it off. That was mainly due to me having produced at university the Joe Orton classic play "What the Butler Saw." Jon had once starred in that and had a love for it as I did. So, after one of his, highly entertaining, very interesting and really quite motivational lectures, he asked me about my production.
That led to me staying behind chatting to him about it.
That led to us having a drink in a wine bar down the street, near to the British Museum.
That led to us agreeing to have dinner a few days later.
That led to him fucking me in his flat in Camden Town and
that led to......................... well read on and you will find out.
*
I had never really been into pain as part of sex. Of course there had been the odd bite or suck that was a little too hard and sometimes my ex, during our twenty years together had applied too much pressure when squeezing my breasts or pinching my nipples, but nothing severe and certainly nothing that had been planned.
With Jon, my mature actor lover, it was the fact that it was planned that created the huge expectancy and anticipation. That was added to by the unknown. How it would go, what would happen, how he would do it and just how much pain there would be for me? I found those the most intriguing aspects as I had waited the few days for it to happen. Was it really going to happen, I asked myself several times? Was I really looking forward to being hurt, being smacked or spanked? I was not quite sure which was the more evocative word. The one that made my pulse race more as it came into my mind. Which was it, spanked or smacked, that gave me the stronger jolt when I thought to myself?
'He's going to spank me.'
'He's going to smack my naked bottom.'
Jon was going to do that not only because he was into BDSM, but also because I had asked him to.
During those few days between agreeing to it and now getting ready for it, I had said such things to myself many times. Sitting in front of my laptop as good as naked, masturbating myself and admitting to Jon that I enjoyed the mild smacking he had done so far, I had thought of little else.
Since my divorce I had become interested in the more deviant aspects of sex, although I had experienced very little. My interest had started when I was cruising round the net when I was waiting for my divorce. Obviously, Fifty Shades helped, poorly written book though it was, and I watched a film called The Secretary with Maggie Gyllenhaal. For a time, it seemed that practically everywhere I looked people were being spanked, women were wearing nipple clamps and just anyone who was anyone had a butt plug.
From the moment I had said to him, "Oh Jon I want you to spank me. I want you to spank my bottom," it had become in my mind a totally accepted fact that he would do just that. Before I met him, it would have been an outrageous proposition, but now it was becoming an inevitability, I suppose.
"There are a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house," Jon had told me on his mobile as he was driven by private car from Heathrow. I could hardly hear him for he was whispering, presumably to avoid the driver hearing him
"Ok, what's that?" I had asked. "But could you speak up a bit please?"
"I'll call back in half hour or so, had said rather curtly.
When he called back, he was speaking at his usual volume. He had a rich deep voice that I am sure has talked him into many women's knickers, including mine.
"It's theatre Chrissy, sex is all about theatre, role-playing and acting."
"Is it?" I asked enjoying as I always did his flights of fancy, but not really believing him and seeing it as just another branch of his seduction technique
"Yes to get the maximum from it we have to go outside our normal roles, we have to be someone else. Like actors, we have to lose our inhibitions, do things we would not dream of when unaroused and ask for whatever our heart, prick or cunt desires'
I found his rambling narratives fascinating and I hung onto his every word. I had got used to him using such basic words and fortunately he used them appropriately and not as adjectives or as derogatory descriptions; I hate anyone being described as a cunt!
"Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up."
"What? Er, um why?"
"You need to look and feel as young as possible."
I did not really understand why, but I went along with his requests. On the tube from Loughton via the Bank to Camden Town and on the short cab ride to his house, though, I did wear a hat so I could hide the pigtails that otherwise would have hung down my back well past my shoulders. I had not worn my hair like this for such a long time and it was actually quite good fun pleating it. I had showered and had washed, and dried my shoulder-length, blonde hair. I was sitting, dressed just in my panties, in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished and I had put tight rubber bands around the ends, I glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the hairstyle had taken years off me, I just wish it had, but I think it made me look younger than my forty-five years. For some reason that I did not understand, the young girl look of the plaits with the clearly womanly look of my bare breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Jon meant about playing roles!
"Let yourself in," he said when I called him from the cab. "Go to that small back bedroom on the first floor and you'll find what you have to wear there. It's all lying on the bed or hanging up next to it. There is everything you need so don't wear anything you've got on now. Is that clear Chrissy?"
"Yes Jon," I replied quietly not wanting the cab driver to hear me.
"Did you manage the pigtails and remember no make up?"
"Yes, yes I did," I mumbled very quietly feeling very embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything.
"Fantastic. So when you are dressed, and ready and do take your time come to the back room in the basement where I will be waiting for you.
Now that the time was as good as here for the cab was pulling into the road where he live, I did begin to feel very nervous. Nervous about perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly an essential aspect of corporal punishment. Nervous about the contrived, almost cold-hearted way he had arranged this and nervous about whether that would reduce the pleasure. After all I had always had my best sex when events happened spontaneously. And nervous also about my reactions and whether I would get the kicks I expected and Jon promised.
Maybe most nervous, though, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Jon in pushing out my boundaries. I was going further than I had been before. That also made me nervous for I wondered whether it would mean that if I didn't like what I found, I might not be able to revert to "normal" sex? I thought that I would probably be ok for I had handled my forays into girl/girl sex quite well and despite now having quite a few experiences with a three different women I had not become a lesbian or a penis hater.
Hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger was a blouse and a skirt.
It was a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front.
A short, pleated skirt with a that was little like a kilt with red, blue and green the predominant colours. As I picked it up I could feel that the plaid wasn't as heavy as the real tartan, in fact it was quite lightweight. Holding it against me, it came no further than half way down my thighs.
There was a pair of white, lacy-topped hold-ups and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes.
The only other piece of clothing was a pair of panties. There was no bra.
The panties were full and high waisted. So from that perspective they were modern. I picked them up and held my hand inside them. Being made of a pink, loose weave net, I suppose it was, they were as good as completely see through.
I was getting into it. I was understanding more and more what Jon had said about CP being a ritual as he has when we had agreedto dothis.
Dressing quickly I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from an approaching middle age, conventional, business woman in her forties to a young girl looking rebel who was about to have her arse smacked and then Lord knows what done to it.
