Chapter 23
The day visiting St Melangell’s shrine marked the centre point of their summer together, and the following weeks just saw Isabel blossom even more and regain all her healthy muscles, and flexibility. She began to practice yoga as she’d done it for years, and showed Bryony how to move from one pose to another. She was pleased to have something she could offer back to the girl who had cared for her so well and given her so much therapy.
The only reason Isabel wasn’t as gloomy about their personal future as Bryony was that she simply refused to think beyond the immediate. It had taken her so many months of regret, and a lake full of shed tears to stop living in the past, and her academic writing and current book’s subject took so much of her mental energy about the future of the planet, that she had no mental resources left to dwell on anything. All she knew was how good the present felt with Bryony, on her arm, or in her bed.
She assumed she’d be a total disaster for Bryony long term, that the girl was far too young and too talented to be tied down to someone eighteen years her senior, and pushing a wheelbarrow of experiences and failed relationships. She was simply grateful that someone so beautiful, so kind, so clever, and so sane should choose to like her enough to have sex with her.
Oh and also do all their housekeeping, act as her nurse and physiotherapist and even type up her book! She didn’t dare ask for any more.
One thing she did want to do for Bryony was to celebrate her birthday which must be coming along soon. She waited until the girl was in the shower one evening, and then quickly opened her wallet to search for her driving license. It showed Bryony’s date of birth, August 16th, and she popped it back and closed the wallet, before Bryony emerged from the shower. It was the Friday of the following week. They must definitely do something special.
Bryony walked across the room, a towel round her body and another round her hair, looking as gorgeous as ever.
“Here, why don’t you let me dry it for you? Holding the dryer will be good for my arm muscles.”
Bryony smiled in agreement and went to fetch the hair dryer, then she sat at Isabel’s feet in front of the sofa, and let the older woman rub her head and put the dryer onto full power, holding it in one hand, while she let the blonde hair spill out and tumble down through the fingers of her other hand. It was so wonderful to have the ability to do it again.
“I’m thinking of cutting my hair off, to make it a bit butchier, what do you think?”
Isabel reverted to her original stance of ice-queen.
“Don’t you dare! It’s lovely hair. I would be seriously displeased if you cut off even an inch. In fact I think I might measure it to make sure you don’t sneak any of it off.”
“Or what about a tattoo? Wouldn’t that be a good thing to show I’ve come out?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. If you want to suffer needless pain, I can provide that for you without ruining your skin for life.”
She gave Bryony’s hair a sharp little tug to show she meant business.
“Ow! Oh very well. If you put it like that.”
Isabel continued for a few more seconds and then declared Bryony’s hair was dry. But having her sit at her feet, her naked shoulders within reach of her mouth was more than she could resist.
She put down the hair dryer, and then with both hands flipped away Bryony’s bath towel and grabbed both her breasts from behind. When Bryony’s head flew up and back in surprised response, Isabel bent over her and took her mouth in her own, twisting the girl’s body round. Her intention had been to pull Bryony up onto her lap, but instead she found herself brought down to the floor, so they were both lying on the hearth-rug, laughing.
“It’s a bit grubby down here. I haven’t vacuumed for a day or two. Let’s go to bed”, said Bryony.
“All right. I wouldn’t want to get your nice clean hair all dusty again. But as for your stupid ideas on tattooing, I think some serious punishment is needed. Come on!”
She literally pushed Bryony through the bedroom door, and slammed it shut. Bryony was naked now, and vulnerable. Her eyes shone and she trembled slightly.
“You can start by doing your handmaid thing, and undress me. I need full freedom of movement for what I plan for you.”
“Yes, Isabel.”
She went over to Isabel and slowly undid the buttons running up her shirt-waist dress. Then she lifted it up, as she had done so many times before, and pulled it away from Isabel’s shoulders. But this wasn’t a caregiver’s move. Bryony’s eyes were as bright and predatorily as Isabel’s ever were.
She stared into her eyes and stood very close, then leaned behind her and unclipped the light sports bra she had started to wear.
Isabel’s breasts gleamed in the evening light. The nipples were beautiful tight rosebuds as they tightened automatically whenever Bryony gazed on them. She ran a finger down each breast, meditatively gazing at them as they quivered.
“Stop that! You don’t do anything unless I tell you. You’re in real trouble tonight, Bryony. Tattoos indeed!”
There was a moment’s silence, while they enjoyed the tension. Then Isabel pointed to the floor.
“Kneel! You can take off the rest of my clothes from there.”
Bryony obeyed and knelt directly in front of Isabel, who could now stand as straight and as strong as anyone. She was only wearing a light waist slip and silk panties, so Bryony’s task was not exactly arduous. She tugged down the slip until it fell to the floor, and then delicately lifted each of Isabel’s feet in turn to step her out of it.
Then she put her hands up behind Isabel and pulled her panties off over her backside, just until they rolled under the buttocks. She then put her head against the front of the panties and took the front in her teeth. When they dropped forward an inch, she cheekily nipped Isabel’s mound of Venus and then slipped her finger just inside, rubbing her erect clitoris and forcing her hand past it, further inside the folds. If she was going to get spanked, she might as well make it worth Isabel’s while. Isabel was soaking wet.
Isabel groaned, but refused to submit. She pulled Bryony’s hand away, and held it against her underwear. “Just take them off!”
Bryony pulled down the panties completely and was delighted to see how drenched they were. She could tell that Isabel was more than ready. But Isabel had regained the upper hand now and was determined to use her power.
“Now lean over the bed and put your butt in the air. Higher! I’m going to have to teach you a little lesson about bad ideas. Where did you say you thought you’d like a tattoo?”
“I didn’t, but how about on the left cheek?”
“Oh, let me see, How about here?”
Isabel’s first stinging slap was light enough, but Bryony still jumped in the air, and could feel the mark of her fingers across her bottom.
“It would take a lot more pain than that if you got tattooed. What a silly girl you are.”
And the hand came again, harder this time, and the pain spread a little further. Bryony felt the arousal go straight through her. This was incredible.
“Maybe the right side would be a better choice,” she whispered.
“You want to find out?”
Isabel actually came forward now and took a proprietorial grasp of Bryony’s long hair which she wound round one hand. Holding her tightly she pulled her other one back and then gave an almighty slap, dead centre on Bryony’s right buttock.
Bryony squealed, which earned her another hard slap, followed by three more.
“This is hurting me more than it’s hurting you.” Isabel felt she wasn’t lying, as she shook out her tingling hand. She looked at the red flush across Bryony’s buttocks, and thought she had administered enough pain for now. Bryony was still pinned down by her hair and bent over the bed.
“Now repeat after me, “Darling Isabel, I promise I will never get tattooed.”
“Darling Isabel, I promise I will...”
There was a pregnant pause and so Isabel just
gently stroked a finger right across her bottom, warning of more punishment.
Bryony felt herself almost flood with so much juice that she didn’t dare make things any more intense. “I promise I will never get tattooed.”
“Good. Now get into the bed and wait for me. I’ll go and lock up tonight.”
Isabel walked swiftly out of the room and Bryony heard the key turning in the main door. Not that they needed to lock the door, but it had become a little ritual. She went to lie on the double bed, face down because her bottom really felt on fire, but she was as sexually aroused as she could stand, and she knew Isabel felt the same.
As soon as Isabel returned to the bed, Bryony grabbed her lover by the waist and pulled her towards her like a wild thing. But she felt Isabel flip her over and then dive straight south towards the end of the bed.
“Open for me!” Isabel was still in dominant mode, kissing her inner thighs and pulling her knees apart. She bucked her hips up so that the feathery touch of Isabel’s lips could connect with her vagina and remove the ache which ran there from top to bottom. Isabel now lay upside down on top of her, her beautiful ass right in front of her eyes, so she followed suit and pulled Isabel’s legs apart and buried her head underneath her, licking her out. They were near enough the same height to make it work beautifully.
So Bryony learned something else which gay women could enjoy in bed and without the need for any toys at all. She didn’t need to dream of orgasms any more. Her employer provided them as a benefit in kind, and the number 69 would never just stand for the local bus route anymore.
***
After their first successful ‘games night’, Bryony kept teasing Isabel to ‘punish’ her again, but she seemed unwilling for some reason, and pushed them back onto the book schedule and the need to concentrate on work whenever Bryony plagued her or tried to lure her into the bedroom.
The book was going well, they were well ahead of Isabel’s schedule, and she knew Isabel was due to have a period again, so maybe that was the reason, but Isabel’s sexual fire had definitely cooled down. It bugged Bryony and she tried to figure out what she could do. Then she remembered Isabel’s little fantasy, the one she had said she was still ‘polishing up’.
On a trip to town for grocery shopping, she saw a sign in the local clothes shop, reminding customers of the need to stock up with school uniforms for their children before the end of August. Discounts were available on all the uniforms for primary and local secondary schools.
A feeling of pure wickedness went through Bryony, and while Isabel was perusing a selection of political weeklies in the newsagent’s shop next door, she sauntered inside the outfitters’ and bought a white shirt in a size smaller than her own, a little pleated grey skirt, and a school tie. She had no idea which school uniform she was pillaging for her proposed little drama, but it didn’t matter. She paid cash for the clothes, and exited with them hidden in a paper bag.
“What have you bought?” asked Isabel, a copy of both the Spectator and the New Statesman under her arm.
“Oh, nothing, just some underwear.” It was the first time she had lied to Isabel, but she felt it was justified for the fun she could provide later.
When they reached home, she hid the bag in her room, under the bed cover, and busied herself with lunch. They took it outside, sitting in the shade under the tree.
“It’s your birthday next week,” said Isabel, out of nowhere.
“How do you know?”
“We witches have all knowledge at our disposal. What would you like to do?”
Bryony rolled her eyes naughtily.
“Apart from that! I’m serious. This will be my treat. What would you like to do? Where would you like to go?”
Bryony thought back to all the unhappy and disappointing birthdays she had lived through with her Granny, who had thought a game of Pass the Parcel and fish-paste sandwiches constituted an adequate party. Her eighth birthday had been the worst, when her mother was on her deathbed, and a promised trip to the sea-side at Skegness had come to nothing.
“I think I’d like to go to the seaside, to a proper beach, with sand, and somewhere we can swim.”
Isabel’s eyes sparkled and she looked happy.
“Then I think I know just the place. Have you ever been to Abersoch?”
“No.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go. I saw a picnic basket in the pantry. Let’s take a really old fashioned British picnic, complete with ginger beer, and spend the day there. Does that sound a good idea for you?”
“Yes Isabel!”
Bryony went inside to pack away the rest of the shopping, and the remains of their lunch, and Isabel thoughtfully surveyed the view.
She knew Bryony was a little puzzled by her sudden reticence to indulge in their rather gentle and domestic version of S&M sex, but the girl hadn’t heard the very definite upbraiding Jane had given her on the phone a few days ago, while Bryony was occupied typing up notes, and editing her current chapter. Jane had obviously been thinking about them since she had returned home to Bristol, and had built up quite a head of steam.
She had given Isabel the fruits of all her reflections, and they weren’t pretty. She claimed Isabel was selfish, over-sexed even, and was only interested in her own sexual gratification. She was also unstable, and completely oblivious to the long term misery she would inflict on this perfectly innocent girl who had no idea what sort of relationship she had fallen into.
If Isabel cared for her at all, she needed to step back and let her down gently. She should show her that their sexual attraction was a fleeting, temporary thing, and that she should view it as just a summer fling.
Jane had no idea just what Isabel and Bryony had really been up to in the cottage, but she was convinced it wasn’t healthy.
She had then put another spoke in the wheel, urging her not to go to live with Ted and Claire for the autumn, but to join her in Bristol. She lived alone, her house was quite big enough for Isabel to have her own room, and they could be house-mates for as long as Isabel needed. It would be like old times! Wouldn’t it be more fun?
This phone-call had really shaken Isabel, and set her back on her heels. She was still vulnerable and fragile enough to half believe what Jane said, and the last thing on earth she wanted to do was to hurt Bryony.
She had not dared to make plans for the future. Probably Bryony would want to tank back to university and submerge herself in her final year’s training, anyway.
So what Jane said made sense. She probably was bad news for the girl, she didn’t deserve her. Her only comfort was that at least Bryony now knew she was gay, and could embrace her sexuality with someone her own age. But parting from Bryony without the promise of seeing her again very soon, would be much worse than ripping off a sticking plaster from her heart. How could she ever be strong enough to let her go?
Isabel struggled for days, and nights, as Bryony wrapped herself around her and tried to entice her into all the naughty things they both loved to do. By the day they went down the hill to do the shopping, she had definitely decided to be a good woman for once, and just concentrate on helping Bryony have a lovely birthday. Then she would manage a gentle transition away from their more extreme games into just gentle cuddling, and saying goodbye to each other at the end of August. That was the theory, anyway.
Chapter 24
Towards the middle of August the weather broke and there were more showers than before, but the day of Bryony’s twenty-fourth birthday gave them a clear sky, with full sunshine and a warm breeze. It was going to be a perfect day for visiting the seaside. Isabel was determined to spoil her, and for once insisted she stayed in bed while she went to make tea and bring her a cup.
Bryony smiled at her when she accepted the drink and looked at her mistress, wrapped in her blue dressing-gown with her hair standing on end above those beautiful clear blue eyes.
“I am so happy today. This is going to be my best birthday ever!”
“I ho
pe so; at least I hope it will live up to those you had as a child.”
“Isabel, you have no idea!” Bryony could feel a tightening up of her stomach muscles even at the mention of her early years. She was still burying so much away, and had realized that the feelings around her mother’s death were threatening to escape from their tomb more and more frequently.
She couldn’t understand it. Isabel was filling her life with love and excitement and yet those childhood memories she hadn’t recalled for years were now seeping up to the surface, totally on their own. The last thing she wanted was for them to spoil today’s pleasures. She bounced out of bed as soon as she had drunk her tea, and bagged the shower first.
Isabel let her. She took the time to go into the kitchen and make their sandwiches, and then assembled the picnic. It was worthy of an Enid Blyton adventure story, with cheese and tomato sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, cakes and apples, and two old fashioned little bottles of ginger beer. Then she fetched the wrapped present she had bought for Bryony and put it inside the picnic basket and fastened the straps.
As Bryony emerged, all the work was done, everything on the table had now been cleared away, and Isabel was ready to take her own shower. When they left, Bryony simply picked up the picnic basket and put it in the back of the car without opening it. She fed the word Abersoch into her phone, and set it on the dashboard.
Isabel sat beside her. She wore navy slacks with a red belt and a striped blue and white top. She looked adorable to Bryony, who wondered how she would be able keep her hands to herself all day. Then, just as they were about to leave, she gave a little yelp, and turned off the car key.
“What?”
“Swimsuits and towels! We forgot. I’ll run back in and get them.”
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