Notebooks of the Young Wife (28 page)

The weeks following our grand finale were, as could have been expected, a little flat. Occupied with mundane if essential business for the Library I was unable even to revisit the House, and the mood was not improved by the news that Tamsin intended to resign from her post. Having hit it off with Mo, the PA had decided to throw in her lot with the camerawoman’s scheme of producing s/m erotica tailored for a female audience.
Folie à deux
or an idea whose time had come? I didn’t know then, and the verdict is yet to be delivered as I write; either way Tamsin was not going to be easy to replace. So I was not in the best of humours on my return from viewing an exceedingly dull collection at Bodiham House, when Dominic greeted me with something of a smirk on his face.

‘I made an appointment for you, boss. Saturday morning at eleven. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Should I?’ Something was afoot and I was quite happy to let him draw out his moment of disclosure.

‘No, far from it. Do you remember that old battleaxe of a teacher, Miss, er...’

‘Marston, if memory serves. Don’t tell me she wants a heart-to-heart.’ Dominic’s grin broadened.

‘Not her, but the peachy girl she had in tow.’

‘Ah yes, rather dragging her feet.’

‘Well, she seems to want back into the lion’s den. Something about an offer to show her more of the instrument case.’

‘Mm, Becca Miles. Very tasty, and by the end she did seem to be warming to the experience in more ways than one. Shame you won’t be here, Dominic.’

‘Actually, I could do with putting in some extra work on those new lists.’ I chuckled at the slightly pink earnestness of the expression. The poor boy had missed out the last time with the old dragon in the outer office.

‘By all means, feel free. Nothing wrong with a little discreet eavesdropping. But now I feel a plot hatching, and you can reward me by getting a line to Ardingley End. I’ll take it inside.’

The boy was happy enough to fall in with my little plan. I knew he’d been occupied with his new friend, but I guessed, correctly, that he would not pass up the chance to take part in the training of a female novice. I plead not guilty to any charge of matchmaking: what I had in mind was more that he could use a bit of hetero input and she could benefit from an entry point to stimulating weekends in the country.

On the day the boy had been collected from his train and installed in good time for the arrival of our visitor. She was even prettier than I remembered, and the skirt was perceptibly shorter and tighter than before. For his part the boy was quite fetching with his mop of hair and black roll-neck giving him a Gallic air. The girl glanced at him curiously after we’d shaken hands, so I hastened to explain.

‘Some young men, Becca, seem to require correction on a regular basis, my boy here being one of them. So I have taken the liberty of inviting him to take part today. It will, I hope, make for a stimulating demonstration, if of course you have no objection.’

‘No, er, none at all.’ She looked a little nervous, but not unduly discomfited by his presence.

‘Good.’ I had already selected what I intended to use on them both, and passed it over for her inspection. ‘I believe I showed you the Lochgelly before. It is a serious instrument, but I believe that a girl with a real interest in the world of corporal discipline deserves no less. Do I have your approval?’ I was putting her on the spot but I wanted to leave no room for misunderstanding. She licked her lips, staring at the three-tongued piece of leather in her hands, then held it out to me.

‘Yes. Though may I ask how many strokes? I mean, I think I’m up for it anyway, but...’

I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. ‘Of course, dear. The boy needs a sound dozen, but I wouldn’t think of giving a first-timer more than six. Naturally, they will be good ones.’ When she nodded in acceptance I turned to the boy. ‘Right, lad, let’s have those trousers off and you over the desk.’ He obeyed without a word, and I spent some time lifting and tucking in his top to make sure the hardness of his penis was not lost on young Becca. ‘Okay, boy, get a good grip. This is going to hurt.’

There is something supremely satisfying about the way heavy supple leather strikes the naked buttocks, at the same time lifting and embedding itself in the yielding meat. That day I excelled myself with the force and accuracy of my strokes, so that when the last had fallen a dark crimson rectangle, sharply defined, clung like a wet cloth to the swelling mounds. The boy, too, rose to the occasion. Though his pain was clear to me from the intensity of his gasps and grunts, he remained exactly where I’d put him. Becca looked a little pale, but I pressed a jar of herbal cream into her hand with a brisk air.

‘Come, girl, he deserves a little reward for taking his punishment like a trooper. Rub it in well now.’ After a diffident start she was soon massaging the abused flesh with dedication, and when she was done her own complexion had turned quite pink. When the boy straightened up I took hold of his stiff cock and stroked it, catching the clear drop that oozed from the tip. ‘It seems the aftercare went down a treat.’ As was his way, he was looking down saying nothing while her flush turned as red as his behind. But she managed a laugh and I felt confident her embarrassment would soon pass once I was out of the room. But first, there was her delectable behind to deal with.

‘Now, Becca, I think the skirt should come right off. And if you can take up the same position...’ I waited while she unzipped the garment and stepped out of it, then took it from her. She bent over and I folded up her blouse while admiring the way the bottom filled out the lace-trimmed silk of the knickers. When they came down I was pleased to see the crotch visibly damp, and allowed myself to run a hand over the exposed cheeks. ‘Go with it as best you can and keep these relaxed, dear. Now, are you ready?’

‘Yes, I suppose. I mean... yes.’ She took the first two with only a little squeak, but I laid on the third as hard as I could and she shot up with a yell, clutching at the injured parts. But almost at once she dragged her hands away and went back down. ‘Oh sorry, sorry. Please, give me that one again and I’ll try harder.’

‘Certainly, sweetie, if you say so. So that’s four to go.’ I made each one count, but she found her resolve and stayed put to the end. I let her rub for a minute, then pushed her gently over once more and handed the cream to the boy. ‘Right, I’m going to leave you to it. Take your time, you won’t be disturbed.’ Nature could take its course for I had needs of my own that were becoming rather insistent.

Dominic was waiting just outside the door, which was standing ajar, and I wasted no time. Inside his pants I found the rampant organ I was looking for, hauled my jeans down and went over, bum in the air. We were in no need of lubrication: with practiced movements he worked my cunt until I oozed and dripped with lust, then pressed himself against the tighter hole above. There are few sensations in my experience to match that moment when the muscle opens, half-willing, half-protesting, to allow access to the head of an invading cock.

So my story ends in as regrettably lewd a fashion as it began, though this time there were no interruptions from unexpected callers. Only the Keeper of the National Rare Books, bare-arsed across her own desk, enjoying a wonderful protracted buggering by her handsome secretary...