Read A Gentlewoman's Dalliance Online

Authors: Portia Da Costa

Tags: #Fiction, #Short Stories (Single Author), #Erotica

A Gentlewoman's Dalliance (4 page)

“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.


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.

But when she looked up into Leonard's eyes, the bubbles of pleasure began to stir, and with them the kinetic urge to rock and wriggle and clench herself around him. And with that returned her awareness of their surroundings, and the stranger who was watching from the nearby chesterfield.

As Leonard started to thrust in a long, deep rhythm, Mary arched her body, leaning right back against the top of the desk and lifting her hips to meet him. She gripped hard on to the mahogany edge to give her purchase, aware that the action lifted her breasts to greater prominence. More exposed than ever, her nipples ached for attention, and as her husband was holding her hips, in order to control the way he swived her, it was to their guest that Mary found herself inclining.

Her eyes engaged with Benedict's and she passed her tongue across her lower lip, then rolled her shoulders. She didn't say,
Come to me…
but it seemed she didn't need to. Tall and dark, he rose from the chesterfield and crossed the room.

Mary captured Leonard's gaze, and gave him a wink and a creamy smile. Then closing her eyes, she surrendered to pleasure, and sensation…and the attentions of two very fine men.

Leonard continued fucking her, and even though she could no longer see him, she could feel the absolute focus of his efforts. Holding her tight, he thrust and shoved, his strokes sometimes long and slow, other times short and rough; and the way he swiveled his hips and rocked made her closed eyes cross. Despite their years together, he was revealing new zones of pleasure.

Benedict used his hands, and he was as clever at creating delight as he was with pain.

Cool fingertips explored her breasts, searching and tantalizing, traveling as lightly at first upon her as a feather. Mary flexed her spine, lifting her rib cage to encourage him. She wanted more from him, more pressure and a harder, wilder handling. No delicate bloom she, she wanted a rough and ready experience—everything rich, unfettered, savage even. A testing to her limits and perhaps beyond.

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