The Ministers Wife Ch 03 1

Isobel And The Headmistress

This is from a series of stories set in North East Scotland in the year 1910. The parish minister and his wife are an extremely hedonistic couple. However the stories printed here will feature his wife and her companions only. Some of you may be unfamiliar with the word, 'Manse.' Quite simply, it refers to a house inhabited by a parish minister and his family.

Having finished her household tasks, and with her husband off to visit one of his far-flung parishioners, Mrs Isobel Hardy, the wife of the reverend John Hardy, decided to go for a walk. It was a beautiful afternoon early in the summer of 1910, and Isobel naturally wandered down by the riverside. It was always a lovely walk, but especially lovely on a hot day like this, when a soft, cooling breeze wafted across the slow-moving waters.

There was a path of sorts, but much overgrown with disuse, so Isobel was quite surprised when turning a bend in the path she saw a solitary figure sitting under a tree by the riverbank. On drawing closer she realised it was Miss McRobb, the village schoolmistress, who like many schoolteachers of her day was unmarried. She was about 5' 5"tall, her dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense practical way; a good looking woman in her late twenties, or early thirties, Isobel wasn't quite sure, but she was sure that the schoolteacher was a woman she would like to bed. 'Good day, Miss McRobb,' she said. 'Isn't this weather absolutely divine?' The headmistress nodded in agreement, putting down the book she was reading

'Yes indeed, a glorious day. Come and sit beside me if you have the time Mrs Hardy,' she invited, gesturing to the travel rug spread on the grass. 'It would be nice to talk to someone other than children for a change.' Isobel sat as invited, for although Miss McRobb attended her husband's church, somehow they'd never had much chance to engage in conversation, and Isobel was keen to learn a little more of the lovely Miss McRobb.

They made general conversation of the light variety until Isobel asked what Miss McRobb was reading. Isobel was surprised by the reaction this brought, for Miss McRobb blushed furiously, and looked very evasive. 'Oh, it's nothing, nothing at all, not something you'd be interested in Mrs Hardy,' she spluttered quickly. Isobel could see she was plainly embarrassed. Was Miss McRobb reading something a little improper she wondered?

'How old are you if you don't mind me asking Miss McRobb?' asked Isobel, changing tack.

'I'm 32,' she answered, 'but please, call me Mary.'

'Very well, but only if you promise to call me Isobel; I feel we are going to be good friends and can dispense with such old-fashioned formalities don't you think?' Mary agreed at once. 'You are around the same age as me,' Isobel continued, and I'd like to think of us as modern women of the world,' and again Mary agreed. 'So, nothing you are reading could be shocking, or distasteful to me. Forget I am the minister's wife, and see me as a like-minded friend, eager for knowledge and intelligent conversation.

God knows, there's little enough of it round these parts,' Isobel finished. Mary slowly reached for the book and offered it for Isobel's inspection. 'The Poetic Works Of Sappho,' Isobel read aloud, and again Mary blushed. 'To be honest, and maybe I'm showing myself as a bit of a Philistine here,' said Isobel, 'I found it all rather boring.'

'You've read it?' said Mary, completely taken aback, shock and surprise showing in her features.

'Oh yes, years ago,' Isobel confessed. 'I'm not quite the shrinking violet some would suppose a minister's wife should be.' They both laughed at that, and Isobel continued, 'Oh dear no, I've read some fascinating and enlightening books Mary that would make the elders of the kirk blush.' Again, they both laughed. 'I remember reading somewhere that the devotees of Lesbos used to...' and as if thinking better of it, Isobel let her voice slow and peter out. 'Well, perhaps not,' she said after a pause. Mary sat there, eager eyed.

'Oh, go on Isobel, I'm all agog. You must tell me, now that you've piqued my curiosity,' Mary pleaded. Isobel shook her head slowly as if trying to decide whether to impart her forbidden knowledge. 'Oh, please tell me,' Mary said, taking Isobel's hands in hers, imploring her.

'Well,' she said, drawing it out, making Mary all the more eager, 'I read that the devotees of Lesbos removed all, how shall I put it,' she mused, 'all evidence of hirsute growth from their bodies.' Mary's mouth fell open.

'Mrs Hardy,' she exclaimed, clearly shocked at the revelation and once again blushing furiously. Isobel laughed.

'Oh Mary, you look so lovely when you blush, it's quite the most endearing thing. Have you never tried it yourself?' she teased.

'Mrs Hardy,' Mary exclaimed, 'I'm... I'm... I'm shocked. Never, never... the thought has never even occurred to me,' she added.

'Oh Mary, you're such an innocent. Many cultures throughout the world practice depilation. It's not the slightest bit strange, and it's wonderfully cool and hygienic at this time of year,' she added. Mary said nothing, and they both sat there for a while unspeaking. Isobel could see that Mary was thinking, and didn't want to interrupt her thought processes. Eventually Mary looked up.

'Wonderfully cool - do you mean?' she left the sentence unfinished. Isobel nodded, laughing. Mary started giggling too. 'Oh, dear me,' she managed to get out at last, 'you're such a wicked woman for a minister's wife.' They both laughed even more. Eventually, the laughter died off and they sat quietly for a few moments, Mary obviously thinking again. 'How...?' she pondered, a puzzled look on her face.

'I shave it,' Isobel answered. 'First of all, I trim most of it off with scissors until there is only a short, uniform stubble, and then I shave the rest off with one of those wonderful little safety razors introduced by Mr Gillette just a few years ago. It leaves the skin wonderfully smooth, and it looks marvellous - you must try it sometime.' Again, Mary blushed to the roots of her hair.

'Oh Isobel, I couldn't. It seems wickedly depraved,' Mary said. 'I don't even own a razor, where would I get one? I'd probably cut myself too, oh no, it's too much to contemplate. Isobel laughed.

'Methinks the lady doth protest too much,' quoted Isobel. 'I have a razor, so you could borrow mine, and I don't get cuts, because my husband shaves it for me.' This further revelation shocked Mary even more.

'Isobel, you're shameless,' she blurted out. 'The very thought of you... you... and the minister. My head is spinning.' Isobel reached over and hugged her.

'Oh, deary me Mary,' she soothed. 'It's only a natural thing between man and wife - nothing to get in a tizzy over. It's all a bit of fun. You really should be very bold and modern, and try it for yourself.'

'I admit I am intrigued,' Mary conceded at last, 'but I've no husband as you may have noticed. I just know I'd cut myself and probably do some permanent damage, no, no, it's quite impossible,' she finished. They sat there again saying nothing in the warm afternoon sun. The only sounds were the buzzing of the occasional bumble bee, the birds, and the soothing sound of the river flowing past, until Isobel at last broke the silence.

'I'll do it for you,' Isobel said finally, with a wicked smile on her face as if the thought had just occurred to her. Mary giggled.

'I couldn't possibly... I mean... show myself to you like that. I'd die of shame and embarrassment,' she protested. 'No, it's out of the question.'

'Rubbish, we're both girls, we both have the same "equipment" there's no need for shyness. We can't let the outmoded ideas of the nineteenth century stop us doing what we want in this modern age. You're coming back with me to the manse this instant - it's only a five-minute walk away. Come on now, gather up your things, you're coming with me,' and as she spoke she jumped to her feet, gathering up the travelling rug and walked back along the path with Mary behind her, protesting, but without any real conviction in her voice.

'What about the minister?' Mary said anxiously as they neared the manse.

'Far from home,' Isobel dismissed that obstacle. 'We'll be finished long before he gets back. Stop worrying - it's the twentieth century, you're a modern independent woman, and beautiful too. Don't dwell on what you can't do, think of what you CAN do, be positive Mary.' Isobel drew a bunch of keys from a pocket and opened the back door of the manse, and locked the door behind them.

The manse was pleasantly cool and shady with the sound of their shoes on the polished wooden floors the only thing to break the silence. Isobel put on the kettle to heat water and dumped the travel rug in the hallway. 'We'll need some warm water,' she explained. Mary had gone silent, almost as if in shock. After a few minutes, Isobel poured some hot water into a white enamel basin and said, 'Come on Mary, it's time to meet the twentieth century,' and started up the stairs. Mary watched her mount the stairs, hesitating for a moment, then started up the stairs herself.

Isobel's bedroom was large airy, south facing room, with sunshine streaming in the through the window. The main feature, which dominated the room, was the large brass bedstead, flanked by two bedside cabinets, with Isobel's dressing table in front of the window - and a matching mahogany chest of drawers and wardrobe completed the furnishings. 'This is a lovely room,' Mary remarked looking round. Isobel meanwhile placed the basin of hot water on the rug beside the bed, and going over to her dressing table, took scissors from a drawer.

Mary felt so nervous; she could feel her legs trembling, suddenly aware that her breathing was fast and shallow. She was tempted to refuse, and just leave, yet something, something she couldn't quite understand held her back. She felt very strange, frightened, nervous, her stomach churning, but realised suddenly that she liked this feeling. She heard herself ask, 'What do you want me to do?'

'You can just leave it all to me if you wish?' Isobel suggested, and Mary found herself nodding. 'Very well, just sit on the edge of the bed and we'll get started, shall we?' Isobel said, sounding very matter of fact. Mary sat down, feeling stranger by the minute. Isobel reached for a pillow and placing it behind Mary suggested she lie back and close her eyes until it was all over.

Isobel couldn't quite believe her luck. She'd somehow managed to lead the lovely Mary quite astray, to the point where she was lying on her bed about to let Isobel trim and shave her pubic mound. Isobel thought that Mary may well be led further astray in the next half hour or so if she had her way. Aware that the seduction was not yet complete, she slowly lifted the long skirt higher, revealing shapely, stocking clad legs, up over the knees, past lacy garters until the skirt was waist high.

Mary's eyes fluttered open, and she started to say something, but Isobel took command, saying, 'Hush now Mary, trust me. Just close your eyes again and enjoy the experience.' Mary closed her eyes and realised she

was

enjoying the experience even though she felt so embarrassed, especially when Isobel started to remove her undergarments, but yet she lifted her bottom off the bed to help Isobel in her task. Her stomach lurched again when Isobel pushed her legs apart, exposing her private parts. She could feel herself trembling, and a strange tightening in her chest as her legs were gently pushed further apart still.

Isobel's next words made her feel a little better when she said, 'Oh Mary, you look quite divine, so beautiful, and nothing to feel ashamed about.' Isobel and the scissors went to work removing the dark, curling hair, until at last Mary was denuded, leaving her labia more exposed than it had been since puberty. Isobel studied Mary, observing the large fleshy lips, slightly open now, with just the merest hint of the moisture within beginning to seep out. Mary's own innocent excitement, plus Isobel's trimming of her pussy, with the occasional pressure on the clitoral area had served to lead Mary further down the path to seduction.

Mary felt very strange indeed. She'd never experienced anything like the feelings now emanating from her core. She'd become so sensitive; aware of every touch of Isobel's hands, the scissors trimming and clipping, her legs pushed wider still to reach the hair of her groin. Sometimes when Isobel had touched her she desperately wanted more, but was too embarrassed to say so. 'You look marvellous,' Isobel said quietly. Mary heard splashing as Isobel worked up a lather in her hands, then a warm slippery sensation as Isobel massaged the lather into her genital area.

Mary gasped out loud with pleasure, and Isobel triumphantly continued to rub all around Mary's pussy, more than was strictly necessary, to accomplish the job. At last Isobel decided to continue, and began to shave all around the soapy vagina. Mary's pelvis was moving restlessly, unconsciously wanting more of Isobel's knowing touch, but Isobel once again spoke quietly to Mary. 'You must stay absolutely still my dear, this is the delicate part now.' She slowly shaved around the labia, into the groin at both sides, over the fleshy pubic mound until Mary was as smooth and naked as a new-born babe.

Mary felt as if she would burst; there was some wonderful mystery here, quite beyond her limited experience, and she wanted these sensations to go on, never stop. 'I'm just going to wash all the remaining soap away,' Isobel explained as Mary felt more warm water, but cooler now, flood her mound and labia. 'Now I'll dry you and check that I haven't missed any bits,' Isobel explained, as she patted Mary dry with a towel. Of course, this, 'checking for missed bits,' gave Isobel ample opportunity to handle and stimulate Mary's pussy, and Mary already at fever pitch responded, hesitant at first, but responding none the less.

Isobel knew now that this beautiful and obviously wet pussy was hers for the taking. Under the guise of checking for smoothness, she pulled the thick fleshy lips apart, releasing a flood of viscous fluid which ran down into Mary's puckered bottom. Casting caution to the wind, she wet her thumb and spread the juice up over Mary's clitoris. Mary moaned out loud at the first touch, and her bottom began to move up and down, seeking more contact with Isobel's hands, and Isobel was delighted to oblige, stroking, squeezing and rubbing, until Mary was lost in the sensations emanating from her pussy.

Her eyes opened in surprise as she felt Isobel's fingers open her and push inside, but here was even more wonders and she fell back, gasping for breath, whimpering and mewling as the pleasure grew and grew. She was unaware of Isobel's head between her legs so when the even more exquisite touch of Isobel's tongue brushed gently and lightly over her clitoris she was completely swept away. A strange and insistent pressure growing and growing suddenly burst, and she felt herself lifted, soaring on waves of pleasure such as she'd never known before. The strange new pleasures gradually subsided and faded, leaving Mary feeling warm and content. She wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but slowly reality intruded, and she opened her eyes to see Isobel kneeling between her still parted legs.

'Oh Isobel,' she whispered, 'what have you done to me?' Isobel smiled.

'I've simply introduced you to the mysteries of Lesbos, which you were reading about my darling,' she explained, getting on the bed beside Mary and taking her in her arms. Mary hugged her back, as Isobel kissed and pushed her tongue between Mary's other lips. Mary soon kissed Isobel back, and they lay there luxuriating in each other's arms for some time. Isobel took the lead again, and began to undress Mary, who started to protest until Isobel rubbed softly between her legs again, slipping two fingers into the wet crevice and gently stretching, letting her thumb slide wetly over the swollen clitoris.

With a quiet moan of surrender Mary forgot all about resistance, and Isobel, between stroking and kissing, completed the undressing, revealing the loveliest small breasts with huge nipples. Isobel sucked on the nipples and areola and again Mary felt the most wonderful sensations as Isobel suckled, squeezing her breasts and fingered her pussy. Mary was a most eager and responsive pupil, and very soon was thrusting herself instinctively against Isobel's invading fingers as another orgasm swept away any lingering doubts she may have entertained.

Lying there, Mary watched through half shut eyes as Isobel undressed. Finally, she blurted out, 'Oh Isobel, you're so beautiful, like some Grecian goddess.' Isobel laughed at that, and as she finished undressing Mary noticed that Isobel had a fine natural growth of hair where she herself was now smooth and naked. 'Isobel,' she exclaimed, 'you lied, you tricked me, and you're not shaven at all.' Isobel got on the bed quickly, this time with her legs astride the lovely Mary, who was looking between Isobel's legs as if mesmerised. Isobel leaned over and kissed Mary firmly on the mouth.

'Yes, just a little white lie to get you into my bed, but aren't you so very happy that I did?' she said, her voice low and husky with arousal. Mary started to reply but just then Isobel kissed her, tongue searching for Mary's, and nothing could be heard for the next few minutes but the sounds of kissing, heavy breathing and moans of pleasure from both women. Taking Mary's hand in hers, she led her down between her legs where her wetness was oozing forth. 'Touch me please Mary, make me as happy as I've made you.'

'I don't know how,' Mary said in an anguished tone. 'I've never done anything like this before. Please show me how, please.' So, Isobel led Mary's eager fingers into her wetness, showed her where her clitoris was, how to part her lips, to rub and spread the wetness gently over her clitoris for ultimate pleasure.

'Oh yes Mary, that's it,' she gasped as Mary stroked and probed at her pussy, 'that's right, oh yes, that's so good.' Soon, words were lost to her as pleasure reduced her to incoherent moans and mewls of delight. She shuddered as her ecstasy swept all before it, until at last she fell over to one side, where she took Mary in her arms and kissed her passionately again. 'Thank you my darling. That was so good; you're a quick learner,' she said praising Mary, who just beamed with happiness.

'You're a good teacher,' Mary whispered, 'and I should know.' They both smiled and kissed again.

'There will be other lessons, if you want to learn,' Isobel promised, and Mary nodded, playing experimentally with Isobel's nipples. She looked a little crestfallen when Isobel stopped her. 'You're making me very, very happy doing that, but regretfully, "Here endeth the first lesson," as they say. It's getting late and my husband will be home soon - we must get dressed,' and so, reluctantly it has to be said, the pair dressed, taking time for much embracing and kissing until at last they were, 'respectable,' once more.

Mary looked back at Isobel standing at the manse door, her lips still tingling from the last kiss. Her thought were in turmoil as she waved goodbye. In the space of just a few hours her life had changed radically - she knew she'd never be the same again. As she thought of the afternoon's events on her walk home she realised she was still very excited and growing more excited by the minute. She felt very strange, her shaven vagina yet another new sensation that kept her mind firmly between her legs. She wondered if, when she got home, she touched herself the way that Isobel had touched her, if it would still feel as good. With that thought now foremost in her mind, she hurried home, locked the door behind her and ran upstairs to her bedroom.