Country Life Ch 05 1

The Letter.

The summer had finished.

I was starting my final 'Honours' year at University. This comprised a single lecture at 9 am every morning and a term of individual projects to repeat a published method, which we were expected to complete successfully. Not everyone did! After Christmas we were each - all 8 of us - to be assigned to individual faculty members for a research project.

In the meantime I continued to work at The Manor when I had time. Lady M. exercised the hunter and I made myself available to help if asked. She was - as usual - very pleasant, chatting with me about many different subjects, keeping me up-to-date with Sophie's activities. Apparently Sophie was on a short-list for a position at GCHQ, a government computer centre near Cheltenham, starting next July.

Sophie rarely came home and Lady M. rarely spoke about her son Mark. From time to time I noticed she gave me a quizzical look when she thought I wasn't looking. Nothing was ever said about that evening in Sophie's room. I wonder how much she knew - or guessed.

I was studying quite hard just before the Christmas break and was unsure if I would have time to spend at The Manor. I had my project outline from a new faculty member, Dr. Alastair McKenzie, and I wanted to read up around the work over the holidays. Still, there was time for the odd weekend of gardening, since everything growing slowed down so much in winter. One Thursday in early December I phoned to say I would be there the next day: Mrs B. said she would pass on the message.

I dropped my books in the den and started to dig out the annuals left in the borders, then I trimmed the lawn edge and pruned some laurels bush beside the drive. That took until supper and Mrs B had made a stew.

The stew was so good! And I was feeling good as well.

After supper it was too dark to do anything but hit the books for an hour or so after gardening and a shower.

On the doorpost to the den was a pink envelope labeled 'Peter': I pulled the drawing pin and opened the door, switching on the light, to read the note. It was from Lady M.

"Dear Peter," it began,

"This is difficult for me to write, but I feel I must. And I must ask you to burn this after reading: I trust you to do the honourable thing."

"You know of my relationship with Sophie, and she told me you were the mystery man in her bedroom, for which I thank you most sincerely."

"You are aware that I have had a difficult marriage with an absent husband, and that since Sophie turned 18 I have sublimated my desires with her. I am not assertive by nature and we have fallen into a kind of dom/ sub scene, as little as we know of it. I am not naturally attracted to women but I do need human contact, so long denied me. Sophie knew and respected that."

"Sophie has other relationships to build and I need someone. I am asking you - imploring you - to consider becoming that person, my dom. I know I am old to you - old enough to be your mother - and you may find the idea repulsive. But please consider it, I beg you. If you agree we can learn as we progress."

"After you have read this and decided, please burn this letter. If you agree I will be in your bed tomorrow at 9 o'clock. With Sophie's help, I have bought some things from the internet and a shop in Bristol, to get started: they will be in a bag beside the bed."

"If you are not interested or repulsed by this suggestion, please pin this envelope on the doorframe, with or without 'No' on it. I will never mention this again."

"I am embarrassed to write this. Part of me hopes you will say no and then we can go back to our old comfortable ways. But I so dearly want and need you: there is nobody else."

"Sincerely yours - sir,

Margaret De Vere."

I read it a second time. What was I to do? Obviously I had absolutely no experience of what was being asked for. Sophie must have told her mother about being tied in the stable and manhandled. Surely they didn't think this was serious dominance and bondage? And what was the difference? I had some reading to do on the web.

Wait a minute! What was I thinking? That I was going to go through with this? Did I want it?

There was no doubt it my mind that Lady M. was a desirable woman, at least to me. I had masturbated many times to thoughts of having her. Yet I had only seen her body the one time in Sophie's bedroom, and I was so confused at that time I hardly remember what her body looked like.

I know she has a beautifully serene face, an engaging smile, generous lips and a creamy complexion. Wavy dark hair to below her shoulders. Makeup? I don't think so: she always looked so fresh and flushed after riding the hunter. Her breasts were not large: probably 35 or so, and her waist 26 or 28. But then, what do I know about women's bodies?

Regardless I would say she is a knockout, at least to me.

What do I know of the dom/sub scene? Don't you need to be a bit strange to become involved? On the other hand, would I ever get another opportunity like this? If I don't follow this, at least give it a try, I may regret it for the rest of my life.

Perhaps there are sites on the web - well, I'm sure there are. I must read.

This was my frame of mind at that point. Lady M needed me, desperately it would seem, and she had been so good to me for so long: time to pay my debts! I left the doorpost bare, and spent the evening on the web but not with science. I burned the letter.

My sleep was fitful and I was up by 7. I tidied my mess in the den and walked around the back garden checking out the pond, the reeds, waterlilies and carp. Not much to do there. I noted that the roses around the pergola needed trimming. The stone wall backing on to the lane was finished, and I realized I was marking time until breakfast at 8 with Mrs B.

At 9 Lady M. phoned to say she would ride: no indication of anything out of the ordinary, so I busied myself in the tack room with the hunter.

"Thank you Peter" said Lady M. when she appeared, smartly dressed in full riding gear, "I'll see you later after my exercise," and she was off.

Everything was so normal: did I imagine that letter and the request? I began to wonder. I tidied the borders around the house and sprayed some weeds poking through the gravel. As she predicted Lady M was gone for just over an hour and when she dismounted she handed me the reigns and said:

"Can you handle him by yourself today Peter? I have some shopping to do in the village." She looked straight at me and I replied "of course."

The day passed slowly and I was looking for things to do. I decided to work on the outside doors and window frames of the stables, a big job but necessary: it should have been done last year. Wire brushes and sandpaper were in the tool shed so I got to work. That occupied the morning. In the afternoon I stained some parts and oiled others - it looked quite good, though it smelled a bit.

Late in the afternoon I had a shower off the scullery, changed and went into the kitchen where Mrs B. had left me some dinner in the oven. I was surprisingly hungry. After I had washed up my dinner stuff I fired up my computer in the kitchen and tried to study for an hour or so. Fat chance!

I was consumed by the porn and bondage sites, making notes of what different writers said about dom/sub relations. It seemed there was no hard-and-fast rule. I decide to make it up as I went along.

At 8.45 I rinsed my face and hands, cleaned my teeth and gargled with mouthwash. I thought to myself:

"What if she isn't there, it's all a great hoax, and all this is for nothing?"

As I walked around the stables I could see a dim light flickering in the den window. I opened the door silently and looked in: there was candle on the table and a person in the bed, covered with a blanket and facing away from the door.

I closed the door pulling down the latch firmly and turned to see the duffel bag on the table.

I emptied the contents on to the table and inspected the items: several pairs of clamps some looking very much like the hose clamps from the lab. There were several strips of leather about an inch wide, some joined with stainless steel rings, a triangular piece of leather with laces along two sides, several dildos, gags, two bras, and sleep masks. There were velcro strips and several coils of soft rope. There was also a flogger and other pieces I didn't recognize. Among the pieces was a receipt giving the address of the shop and - wow - the cost!

I had a roll of quarter inch latex tubing, a selection of rubber bands and my own, coarser rope. I stood there in the candlelight, looking at the collection and the figure in my bed: she had not moved. The space heater was on and the room was warm.

I pulled down the blanket: she was naked. She had also put sheets on the bed. My sleeping bag had been rolled up and put above the bed. I lifted her head and placed the sleep mask on, securing in with tape.

"Please sir, don't hurt me too much," she whispered.

I smiled to myself but said nothing.

The red foam ball gag was next. Was this the same one Sophie had? It had leather straps above and below the ears to retain it.

I rolled her on to her belly and placed the leather triangle on her back, an armbinder. I placed her arms in position and slowly laced up the binder but not too tightly. Then I rolled her on her back and placed a pillow under her shoulders to keep her weight off her arms.

"You will call me sir, I will call you Em. Do you understand? Nod!"

She nodded.

What next? The legs, I think. I raised her up and pivoted her legs over the side of the bed. Then I took two strips of toweling and wrapped them above her knees and ankles, securing them with a Velcro strap.

That was the bondage bit.

I pulled the ball gag down over her chin and kissed her gently on the mouth. Her lips were silky without lipstick. Her tongue sought mine but I retreated and replaced the gag. What a good kisser she was. She seemed to relax a bit.

I left her there while I looked at the jumble of leather on the table. I was looking for a breast or body harness. I pulled the leather strips apart: there were three separate units of pieces held together with rings and quick-release catches.

I raised the smallest one: I thought I could get it on her without removing the armbinder. The upper loop went over her head, the triangles fitted around her breasts and the side straps closed with quick-release tabs behind her back.

She looked superb! Like a fetish doll.

I adjusted the leather straps under her breasts to emphasize their curvature and provide uplift. Then I pulled the above-breast straps down her back and shortened their lengths.

I stood back and admired my work. She looked delicious, sexy and in need ... of me?

Em looked fantastic, anyway.

Her breasts had a nice upward tilt with a pink areole and a flat, bright red nipple.

I knelt in front of her and placed my hands on her waist, much as I had in Sophie's bedroom. I ran my fingertips up her ribcage to where the armbinder leather fitted over her shoulders, then across her collarbone and around her neck. She gave a little shudder. I ran my fingertips down the middle of her breastbone, still not touching her breasts, then under the fleshy parts by the lower leather straps.

She breathed in, deeply.

I ran my fingers along the side of her breasts and across the tops, avoiding the areoles. She shivered. Then I leaned forward and kissed her navel.

I straightened up and put my hands by her armpits and leaned forward to kiss her nipples, first one and then the other. That surprised her and she hummed, pushing her chest forward. I backed off. I licked one nipple and let my fingers touch the other, then alternated the action on both. Gradually the nipples came alive and after a few minutes they stood out like pencil erasers.

Success! But this was more like making love than being a dom.

I reached back to the table and picked up two small elastic bands. I stretched one and wrapped it around a nipple causing her to squeak. She tried to move away: I did the other one. She breathed heavily.

This was the pain part - though I don't think it hurt that much. I looked at her: she was beautiful.

And I was hard.

I took my clothes off down to my boxers and knelt on the bed behind her. Then I reached around and cupped her breasts, letting my fingers run across the undersides of her breasts just touching the leather straps. I let my thumbs reach up to her nipples and delicately touched them. She moved forward, wanting more. I pulled her backwards on to the bed and adjusted the pillow.

Pulling down her gag, I touched the tin of lip-balm with my pinkie and applied a little to her. She ran her tongue around her lips. I blew on her breasts then on her neck.

Then I kissed her.

She kissed me back, searching for my tongue.

Not much of a dom, am I?

I ran my tongue down the valley between her breasts and on to her belly button while I reached up and rolled her trapped nipples between finger and thumb. She started to roll to get away but there was nowhere to go.

I shuffled down the bed and knelt on either side of her knees. Reaching forward I kissed the inside of her thighs, even though they were held together. I put my hand over her pussy and ran my middle finger along her slit.

Yes, she was wet.

I let my finger slide up and down feeling the soft slippery folds. Then I leaned over: I could smell her arousal so I let my tongue do the work of my finger. This was a first for me, and all of the stories I had read on the web didn't do justice to the feeling I experienced. I was as hard as a rock.

I kept licking for several minutes and Em raised her hips towards me, wanting more. I pushed my tongue in as far as I could, running from bottom to top where I had read the clitoris should be.

Lo and behold: right at the top was a little hard nub. I tickled the nub rapidly with the tip of my tongue and Em twisted as if to get away. I held her firm with my hands under her thighs so I could suck on the nub and tongue her at the same time.

She pushed up towards me, mewling. Then she went rigid.

Success! I had brought her to orgasm; I was proud.

I held her for a while then I removed the sleep mask and started to undo the armbinder.

Em kept her eyes closed but whispered:

"Please sir, leave it on. Just hold me."

We lay together on the bed, my arm around her shoulder, and her head on my chest.

"Thank you" she said, "that was wonderful."

Within a few minutes were both sleeping. My boxers had a large patch where the precum had leaked but my cock still took a while to deflate.

After maybe an hour I woke up and undid the laces holding the armbinder in place. I dropped the binder on the floor. Em reached one arm around and across my chest. I moved my head down to nuzzle her hair: it smelled nice and lemony. I pulled the blanket and sheet back over us and drifted back to sleep.