A Gentlewoman's Dalliance

by Portia Da Costa

  Her husband circled his fingertip, and rocked his hips, bumping and knocking against some hidden secret place, and as he ignited her, Mary’s mind went truly blank. Pleasure flooded her, heart and soul and body, and in ecstasy she convulsed, shrieking out.

  “Leonard! Oh, my love!”

  Her only awareness was heat and bliss now…and Leonard pounding. And pounding and pounding and pounding as he found his heaven with an enormous shout of triumph.

  “It was unfortunate that Mr. Holcombe left so precipitously,” Mary observed later as her husband snuffed out the candle at their bedside and then rolled toward her to kiss her good-night.

  “Would you have preferred him to remain, my dear?” There was an intriguing note in her husband’s voice, and the kiss, when it came, was more ardent than she’d been expecting. After all the excitement of the evening, and all their pleasure and cavorting, she’d assumed a tranquil settling down now that they were finally in bed together.

  Would Leonard indulge her desires yet further? Heat roused again in her loins, even after the joys they’d both shared so recently. Did her husband share a yen to explore yet more of her foibles? It seemed so. His cock was hard when her hand brushed against his nightshirt.

  “Yes… I thought I might, um, dally with him a little,” she said in a cautious voice. Men’s sensibilities, and their perceptions of their manhood, were notoriously fragile in a way that only women understood, and the very last thing on Earth she wanted was to hurt or make her husband unhappy. But they’d sworn honesty to each other and her curiosity was undeniable. Leonard knew that she was filled with inquisitiveness.

  “Dally, eh?” Leonard seemed to be challenging her.

  “Yes, my dear, but only that.”

  In the darkness, she felt him relax and her heart melted. After all these years, he still prized her above all women and could be a possessive husband as well as an indulgent one.

  “It would only be a little bit of naughty fun, dear husband,” she went on. “You know my curiosity…and how lately I’ve been eager to try new things.” As she spoke, she reached for his hand and placed it at the juncture of her thighs, reminding him of those certain new things. “I would never lie with another man but you, Leonard.” She pressed her mouth to his, squeezing his fingers, with hers, against her puss. “I’m just interested in feeling things and seeing things.”

  Leonard laughed heartily, shaking his head. “You’re a most remarkable minx, my dear. Just what is it that you want to see that you haven’t seen before?” This time, he drew her hand to his crotch, where she discovered a monumental erection.

  “Well, I would rather like to observe our young specialist’s ‘accoutrements,’ if that’s amenable to you, my dear?” She paused, giving her husband’s own accoutrements a daring frisk. “Even though I can’t possibly imagine that he would be more favorably blessed than this.”

  “Sly, flattering hussy,” growled Leonard. His hips lifted, then he gently shook her off him before rolling her over onto her back.

  Hauling up her nightgown, and giving her a kiss, he mounted her for another delicious ride.

  Am I ready? Am I ready?

  Mary’s nerves twittered as she heard the doorbell ring, a few days later, and anticipated the second appearance of her “specialist.”

  Astonished and overjoyed, the Brigstock servants had been packed off for yet another evening jaunt—the circus this time—and once again the house was empty but for Leonard and herself. Her husband’s quick step upon the stairs told her he was answering the door—which was a good thing, considering the garb that she’d chosen for this evening.

  There would be no pretence this time. No social dance of dinner and conversation. There were no two ways about it. Benedict was here for her erotic dalliance, and that alone, and approaching voices on the stairs made her heart thud. She took up her brandy glass and downed the snifter all in one.

  Ah, the fire of it…it warmed her mouth and throat and belly, stiffening her resolve. But it wasn’t nearly as hot as other fires that would soon be burning, those delicious conflagrations that would rage in her intimate zones.

  When Leonard ushered in their guest, Mary nearly laughed out loud. Not from nerves, or her own apprehensions, but the look of sheer astonishment on his face. How splendid; she’d shocked him, just as she’d planned. Leonard’s grin over the young man’s shoulder was a picture, too.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Brigstock,” the specialist said warmly, his poise recovered as he reached for her hand and raised it dashingly to his lips. “You’re looking especially handsome tonight, I must say. That’s a very becoming robe that you have on.”

  “Yes, isn’t it? A gift from my dear Leonard…a reward, you might say. For pleasing him.” She batted her eyelashes and saw Leonard’s smile widen and his eyes roll at her brazenness.

  “A drink, old man?” her husband offered.

  “Oh, yes…splendid… A whisky and soda, please,” answered Benedict, even though both his gaze and that of Leonard’s remained upon her.

  And now you’re both speculating on what precisely lies beneath this.

  Mary ran her fingers over the blue silk of her sash as her husband busied himself with the tantalus and she settled herself demurely on one of the long chesterfields, arranging her legs so she might flash the men a glimpse of her ankle and perhaps a little more.

  Her new robe was a wrapper à la japonnaise, a self-indulgence purchased from an exclusive modiste patronized by Sofia Chamfleur and several of the other Circle ladies. The silken fabric was delicate and luxurious, as fine as air, and formed to her body in an enticing way, almost as much a caress as Leonard’s—or Benedict’s—fingers might have been.

  Studying her toes in her new satin slippers, Mary sat quiescent, drinking in the air of erotic speculation as the men consumed their whiskey. Two sets of eyes—one warm and brown, one cool and blue—seemed to emit rays of desire that swept over her through the silk. Rays that gathered at the tips of her breasts and at her groin.

  “Might we begin?” she inquired after a little while, when she could bear the wait no longer. Her fingers were tingling with the desire to touch herself, and both her nipples and the pit of her belly ached and ached. Her lust was new, like an electrical force, yet so familiar.

  “You’re very eager, madam.” Setting his glass aside, Benedict seemed to have regained the self-possession that she’d shaken. He was taking charge now, the specialist again, composed and level. “I’m not sure I’ve ever known a woman so lacking in control of her carnal appetites.”

  Well, that’s a white lie, sir, if you’ve ever had cause to service the whims of either Arabella Southern or Prudence Enderby!

  Nevertheless, Mary nodded, her breathing shallow.

  “We’d better do something about it in that case, then, hadn’t we? Don’t you agree, Leonard?” the dark young man observed to Mary’s husband.

  Leonard met his glance, his brown eyes bright and eager. As luminous, Mary guessed, as her own eyes were.

  “Kindly assume an appropriate position, Mrs. Brigstock.” Benedict rose from the chesterfield where he’d been sitting, and even though he didn’t precisely go through the pantomime of flexing his fingers in readiness, he nevertheless ran the side of his thumb against his palm as if assessing its hardness.

  “Of course,” Mary replied, suppressing her grin, and her triumph. With a showmanlike panache, she flipped her sash unfastened, and slid her arms out of her robe as she rose, too. As the garment slithered free of her body and pooled in a whisper at her ankles, she drew in a breath.

  As did Benedict and Leonard, both men gasping.

  Apart from her navy satin corset, her slippers, and her stockings and her baby-blue froufrou garters, Mary was naked.

  “Bravo, my dear, bravo!” cried Leonard, his eyes popped wide. She hadn’t warned him of her plan, but Mary could see from the way her husband licked his lips—as if she were a prime beefsteak dressed with his favorite Hollandaise—that he
approved.

  “Magnificent, Mrs. Brigstock,” concurred their companion, an unmistakable glow in his eyes, too.

  See, young man. You can still be surprised, for all your expertise and experience. We middle-aged matrons can have fire in our bellies, too.

  “I see your exhibitionistic tendencies exceed even my anticipation, madam,” the specialist went on as Mary walked boldly toward the desk, head up, chest out, hips swaying in as alluring a lilt as she could manage. Perhaps she did look a tad absurd, slinking about like an odalisque when she was a long-married woman and mother of a well-grown son, but the sensation was so much fun that she didn’t care.

  Pausing with her fleece just touching the burled mahogany edge of the desk, she half turned toward her admirers, reached up to pull out the few carefully placed pins that maintained her coiffure and shook her hair free over her shoulders. Leonard loved the gleam and swish of her thick, wavy, dark brown tresses, and she didn’t see why Benedict Holcombe shouldn’t have a chance to admire them, too.

  Then, a naked goddess who paid only lip service to her role as a submissive, she assumed her pose, her body draped across the blotter and the desk, her rounded bottom neatly framed by the bands of her garters and her corset.

  Take a good look, gentlemen. Shifting her thighs a little, she teased them with the view, while over her shoulder she watched Benedict approach. His fingers were like a homage when they touched her, cool and precise. But as they glided across her skin, they provoked fire along their progress.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, Mary pressed her hot face against the blotter, unbearably stirred, but not knowing what it was that moved her the most. Was it Benedict’s hand, or Leonard’s close scrutiny? Or was it her own power and her delight in her exposure?

  All of it. It’s all of it. Oh, heaven help me…

  The clock on the mantel ticked. The fire in the grate crackled. The springs in the chesterfield creaked a little as Leonard, too, shifted position. Was he aroused already? She suspected as much. And closer to home…was Benedict aroused, too? Mary edged along the desk, trying to press her thigh against the specialist’s narrow pelvis.

  “Uh-oh,” he warned, and she almost keened with hunger. It didn’t seem possible that she could be more stirred and excited than on their first thrilling encounter. But she was, great God, she was. It was near unbearable, and she couldn’t keep still. Her hips began to move again, her pelvis circling helplessly, massaging her mound against the desk.

  How on earth could she be so wanton? Should she moan with lust, or simply giggle at the utter absurdity of it all? All she knew was that being a sensualist was second nature to her now. Both Leonard and she were happy voluptuaries, reborn.

  And when, in a stern voice, he said, “Mary!” it was really a salute, not an admonishment.

  “So lewd…so very wicked,” concurred Benedict, the young specialist, and his slow fondle suddenly became the first smack.

  “Ooh! Ow!” Mary jerked, her legs kicking. How it hurt! She’d expected just a tap, a slow buildup, but this was fierce and it caught an acutely tender spot. The underhang of her curvaceous left buttock was almost sizzling in an instant, and a matching strike, on the right, made her hiss.

  Why does pain excite me so? What is it that turns something so nasty into something so very wonderful?

  It was inexplicable to her, yet some low, ancient part of her brain seemed to understand it. Despite the fact that she’d always been the first to spring a tear over a stubbed toe or a needle-pricked finger, and she’d bellowed vehemently for ether during childbirth.

  Benedict’s spanks fell upon her with all the regularity of the grandfather clock’s tick out in the hall. Slap. Slap. Slap. Wallop. Wallop. Wallop. Fire raining down and making her desperate and ravenous. She moaned for a kiss, for a caress, for dark pleasure in whatever form it came.

  Serve me! Satisfy me! Fulfill me!

  She wanted to shout it out as royal command, but all that came out were broken moans and whimpers. Her hips churning, she edged apart her rounded thighs, casting a slanted glance toward Leonard, where he sat on the nearer chesterfield, glass in hand but too mesmerized to drink.

  See me! Look upon me, both of you! I’m a woman and I’m beautiful…I’m what you want.

  The blows still fell upon her bottom, circling around and around, imbuing every inch of her tender skin with tingling heat and a pulsing, pounding energy. Lifting her haunches, she flaunted herself to her admirers, shamelessly revealing her glistening nether folds as she met the falling hand that struck her flesh.

  But when the specialist faltered, she nearly crooned out loud with triumph. She’d affected him with her antics; she’d got the better of him.

  “Perhaps I may take a turn?” Leonard suddenly inquired, setting his glass down with a thump on the lace cloth-covered surface of the small table beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty clear idea of it now.”

  It was Mary’s turn to falter, to still in her squirming. Oh, how she wanted this! The disciplinary hand of her dear, beloved husband.

  “Of course.” Benedict stepped back, rubbing his hand. Over her shoulder Mary studied him closely, the tingling in her bottom suddenly forgotten. The handsome young fellow appeared superficially composed, yet something in his pale eyes revealed his inner agitation. When he caught her gaze, his lips quirked and he nodded slightly.

  Acknowledging defeat? Oh, how delicious…

  “Brace yourself, my dear!” advised Leonard, taking the specialist’s place. He sounded cheerful and excited and Mary’s heart sang. In the first instance, her husband hadn’t wanted to do this. He’d had reservations, and a reluctance to hurt her, not really understanding yet the sweet paradox of pain and pleasure. But now, thanks to the services of handsome Benedict Holcombe, he’d seen the light, and was ready to embrace the game and indulge her with enthusiasm.

  “Yow!”

  Mary let out a high yelp when the first spank fell. Lacking the specialist’s experience and finesse, Leonard’s strike was rougher and only half made contact. But still Mary bared her teeth and jerked her hips. Her husband was her truer master, the one she’d longed for. As he got into his rhythm, she quivered inside with pride in him.

  “Shall I leave?”

  At first, the words didn’t register. But a moment later, they filtered through the red, excited haze, and Mary craned around sharply on the desk toward their source.

  “No! Stay!” she cried, her eyes flashing to Leonard, looking so flushed and handsome with his sleeves rolled up and his sandy hair already a little awry. His eyes were hot and wild, but he grinned back at her, nodding not in agreement but in awe and admiration.

  Gazing back at him with a sultry smile of her own, Mary churned her bottom enticingly, and Leonard rewarded her with a few more stinging slaps.

  “Yes…yes…” she gasped, opening her thighs an inch or two more, offering more of a target and a temptation alike while at the corner of her vision, Benedict subsided onto the adjacent chesterfield…to watch.

  “Enough of this!” cried Leonard. “You are a temptress and a houri, Mrs. Brigstock, and I shall have you!” He threw himself over her back, his clothing rubbing her sore bottom and flanks and making her moan. “A wanton hussy like you deserves ten times the mastering that our friend and I have given you, but alas I’m too hungry for you to wait…. I’m compelled to fuck you now, not a moment later.”

  “Oh, yes, Leonard, please do!” Mary laughed and wriggled against him, despite the burning ache in her simmering buttocks. The mahogany of the desk felt solid against her puss, and she rocked herself on its edge in an attempt to get relief, all the time reaching back to clutch at her husband’s body while she braced herself. Her sex was yawningly empty, silently crying for him.

  “Wicked, wicked woman!” He growled against her neck, nuzzling her hair and her throat as she twisted her wrist around and managed to squeeze his cock. “You’re shameless….” His voice caught as she massaged him through his trousers
. “You’ll pay for this, madam!”

  With that, Leonard backed off her, clasping her by the shoulders and turning her over on the surface of the desk, then clasping her thighs and sliding her right to the edge.

  The ravaged surface of Mary’s bottom felt as if were going to burst into flames, and she keened like a she-wolf, rocking and squirming anew. Hooking her hands under her own knees, she gripped hard and raised herself, lifting her crimson buttocks clear of the desktop.

  “Have mercy, husband,” she gasped, “have mercy…. If you fuck me hard it’ll make me forget the pain.” Whether that was the truth or not, she little cared. She just wanted his cock. “Oh, please, Leonard, put it in,” she begged more softly.

  “With pleasure, my dear incorrigible wife. With the greatest of pleasure.”

  Once more, her husband attacked the fastening of his trousers. This time he managed to reveal himself without sending any flying to the four corners of the room, but there was more hastiness than elegance in the exposure. Within a few seconds he had his member in his hand and was guiding it toward the heart of the matter.

  Mary wriggled even closer to him, even though the action made her hiss between her teeth. The discomfort of her spanking and the intensity of her desire were balanced as on a seesaw or a knife edge, but her lust for Leonard was coming out the clear winner.

  “Oh…oh, yes, my love,” she sighed as he presented the thick, warm crown of his cock to her entrance. Astonishingly, he seemed bigger and hotter than ever before, and as he pushed in, it was an effort, and he stretched her. Dropping her haunches around his hips, she grabbed hold of the panels of his embroidered waistcoat, and hauled herself toward him, and him toward her, to bring them closer.

  By her efforts and his own, they meshed their bodies, Leonard pushing in, deeper than deep, invading her thoroughly. She could almost imagine he was touching her very heart.

  For several long moments, they rested still, just as they were, completely joined, the world collapsed only to the awareness of their nested genitals and the hot glow in Mary’s hind parts that warmed them both somehow. Passion was in the stillness, yet was also energetic, like a pan of rich liquid on a hob, warming and warming and warming but not yet in motion, not yet simmering or boiling.