The Lady of the Manor Ch. 02


The Lady of the Manor — Chapter 2

Claire, the Estate Manager, knows about Thomas and the Viscountess…


The dowager Viscountess Baythorpe’s parting shot to me had been: “and don’t forget, Thomas: rough and dirty”.

I heard nothing from her for a few days, during which I contemplated her last remark with a mixture of stomach-churning anticipation and nagging doubt. I’d had a girlfriend at university who liked a bit of light bondage during sex. Nothing heavy, just being tied loosely to the bedposts with scarves or stockings. But I’d never handled a girl roughly before, let alone spanked them. And that is precisely what I’d done to her Ladyship at our last encounter egged on, I may say, by the lady herself. She had clearly enjoyed it and her last remark indicated that she wanted more of the same — or maybe something more extreme. So how far should I go? It wasn’t my natural inclination. Not only that, but I was also starting to like Caroline very much; the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. And I had to bear in mind that she was in her late fifties, maybe even early sixties. I was beginning to see that beneath that rather brittle aristocratic exterior there was a touch of vulnerability. And more than just a touch of wildness brought about by a lifetime of repressed sexual desires. And just what did she mean by “dirty”? I did a little on-line shopping to cover some eventualities and waited to hear from her.

On Friday I received a text that seemed to leave no doubt:

Dear Thomas, I’m so, so, sorry for the short notice again! Can you possibly come over on Sunday evening? I do hope so! I’ve been thinking about last weekend almost non-stop, and resisting the temptation to… well, you know. So I’ll probably be a little wild. Maybe more wild than last weekend so you might have to be very firm with me!

Caroline xxxxxx

Ps — bring your things for an overnight stay, although I’ll have to kick you out at seven again.

I walked across the fields to Baythorpe Manor that Sunday evening, a knapsack on my back with some clothes and toiletries and the few things I’d purchased on-line. The weather was close and thundery after a long dry spell and the cows in the fields were all supine.

Viscountess Baythorpe must have been waiting in the hall, because she answered the door about five seconds after I’d rung the bell. I entered her ancestral home and she closed the big oaken door behind me and leaned back against it.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting until Sunday night. That was naughty of me.’ This was delivered in a meek, subdued tone and I realised that our play-acting was starting now. I said nothing but stood looking at her leaning against the door. She looked good, her figure outlined to perfection by an expensive-looking grey silk cocktail dress complemented by grey stockings and matching three-inch heel court shoes. Her ash blonde hair was shining and she’d applied her make-up with her usual care, perhaps slightly overdoing the eye liner. Her full lips were a glossy red and she’d painted her fingernails to match. Yet again I was bowled over by this spectacle of mature, feminine, aristocratic perfection.

But now was not the time to compliment her; now was the time to be firm. Rough. I walked over to her and pulled her away from the door, grabbing a handful of her hair and tilting her head back, kissing her mouth, forcing her lips open with my lips, pushing my tongue into her mouth, licking her teeth and gums, mashing our lips together. With my free hand I grabbed one of her buttocks and thrust her hips against mine, rubbing my erection against her crotch.

I released her and stepped back. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide open. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked, quietly.

‘You’ve been messing me around, haven’t you?’ She nodded slightly. ‘So I’m going to punish you.’ I pointed to my knapsack on the tiled hall floor. ‘There’s a pair of handcuffs in there. Get them out.’ She bent over and unzipped my bag. ‘They’re underneath that other stuff.’ Where I had deliberately put them; I wanted her to see the “other stuff”. It would excite her, perhaps unsettle her. I saw her pick up a purple latex butt plug and look at it before putting it back. Her hair was shielding her expression from me. She did the same with the bottle of lubricant and the bundle of nylon straps and clips.

‘These?’ she said in a small voice, holding up a pair of pink metal handcuffs. They wouldn’t have held a determined person for five seconds, but that wasn’t the point. The implication of restraint and control was just as potent.

‘Yes. Now put your hands behind your back.’ She stood up and did as I had told her and I clipped the cuffs on, noting that she was now breathing in ragged gasps, clearly very aroused. I zipped shut the knapsack, slung it over my shoulder and took her upper arm firmly in my hand, propelling her towards the staircase.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked again as her high heels clattered across the hall tiles.

‘You’ll see,’ I said as we ascended to the first Escort Şişli floor and I hustled her along the corridor to her private quarters.

‘Those things, in the bag,’ she began, nervously. ‘The rubber thing… is it…’

‘It’s a butt plug.’

She flushed. ‘No! you mustn’t! You can’t put that up my–‘

‘Shut up,’ I told her, opening the door and shoving her through. Once inside I dropped the knapsack by the settee and sat down, pulling Caroline down over my knee and holding her there with a hand on her back, feeling the silkiness of her cocktail dress and the warmth of her body on my thighs, her hands still secured behind her back, fists clenched, knuckles white against the red of her nails.

She wriggled and kicked her stockinged legs. ‘Please don’t hurt me, Thomas. I’m sorry I messed you about.’

With my free hand I raised the hem of her dress and delivered a ringing smack to her bottom. ‘Stop struggling.’ She moaned and went limp and I pulled down her black silk cami-knickers to around her knees, exposing her gorgeous pale buttocks, bare apart from the suspender straps. I stroked her bum cheeks for a minute or two, building up the tension, then I smacked her again, hard, leaving a red imprint. Then more stroking, running a fingertip up and down the crack of her arse, across her rosebud. She flinched as I made contact with the little puckered hole and I smacked her again, on the other buttock. Then more stroking and touching and another smack. By the time I’d delivered four slaps to each cheek her buttocks were bright red. I felt momentarily guilty but Caroline had said she’d stop me if things went too far and she showed no signs of doing that. On the contrary, she was clearly very aroused. During my stroking I’d briefly explored her pussy and it was open and sopping wet. I’d even smeared a little of her juices onto her sore buttocks as a kind of salve. Now I reached for the knapsack.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, tremulously.

‘I’m getting out the butt plug,’ I replied, ‘and the lubricant.’

Her voice was a whisper, her breathing fast and shallow: ‘You mustn’t use that thing on me, it’s too big.’

I ignored her and opened the bottle of lubricating jelly, squirting a dollop of the sticky, viscous fluid onto my fingertips and smearing it around her anus. I could feel that she was tense so I was very gentle as I pushed my middle finger slowly into her rectum. ‘Thomas, no! That’s my private place!’ This protest, delivered in her cut-glass accent, increased the eroticism of the act and reminded me that I was pushing my finger into a Viscountess’s arse! I withdrew it and added both more lubricant, and my forefinger. Pressing gently I worked the tips of both fingers in and inserted them slowly to the second knuckle. Caroline whimpered and said ‘no’ a couple of times, but without conviction. She’d relaxed and was breathing evenly.

I pushed deeper until both fingers were fully in then I rotated them slightly, working gently in and out before removing my fingers and reaching for the latex plug. Her Ladyship must have realised what was coming because she tensed up again. ‘Oh God, Thomas, please don’t.’ I ignored her again and lubed up the plug, grasping it by its base and working it between her bum cheeks, touching the tip to her crinkled hole, pushing gently, keeping up a steady traction.

This was new ground to me, although probably not for Caroline. She’d intimated that there had been a few wild nights when she was at university and afterwards, before she got married. The closest I’d ever got to anal sex was pushing the odd exploratory finger into a girlfriend’s arsehole. So I’d gone carefully with my fingers and I was going even more carefully with the butt plug. The tip was no wider than my middle finger but the widest section was nearly as thick as my erect penis. And erect it most certainly was. Caroline must have been able to feel it pushing into her stomach as I violated her anus.

The tip went in easily enough and the gradual taper made it easy to push in, expanding her sphincter, opening the ring of muscle as the lube-shiny latex made its way into her rectum. Then she relaxed again, the anticipated pain not having materialised, yet, and I pushed the plug in to its thickest bit and beyond. She cried out briefly and her buttocks clenched, then it was in and her sphincter was closing around the base.

I stroked her arse cheeks for a few minutes while she got used to this thing inside her, filling her anus. Then I roughly pulled her knickers back up and helped her to stand up. She looked a bit shaky and her mascara had run, making her look older, more haggard. The butt plug seemed to have brought tears to her eyes, but if she didn’t want me to stop then I wasn’t going to spoil the game by asking her how she was. She looked at me, nervously, then flinched as I hefted the knapsack and grabbed her upper arm, pushing her towards the bedroom door.

Inside her bedroom I sat her in an upholstered Queen Anne chair, next to the bed, still handcuffed, her face flushed with excitement Sultangazi escort and nerves. She watched in silence as I made a show of getting the bundle of straps and buckles and clips out of the rucksack and sorting them out on the big four-poster bed. The pillars at each corner were just made for attaching bondage equipment and within a few minutes I’d got everything sorted out and in position. If she was expecting me to drag her to the bed, then I surprised her, by stripping off my clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the big chest at the foot of the bed. My cock was iron-hard, the glans purple and engorged and leaking pre-come in strings over my cock and pubes. I walked over to the chair and grabbed a handful of her ash-blonde hair, forcing her head to my cock. ‘Now suck me off,’ I said, thrusting the head between her red lips. She closed her mouth around my penis and I started pushing in and out, causing her to gag slightly. The whole scene was out-of-this-world erotic. Unbelievable, almost, that this was happening to me. I felt my climax approach and slid my erection out of Caroline’s mouth.

‘Stand up,’ I told her. It was difficult for her, being handcuffed, but she managed it and stood in front of me looking tense. I half turned her and released her hands. ‘Now strip. Leave your stockings and garter belt on.’ She did as she was told, saying nothing, not meeting my eye. When she was finished she stood in front of me, one arm across her breasts and her other hand trying to cover her pubic bush, looking the picture of the violated middle-aged maiden. I snatched the arm away from her breasts and fondled them roughly, mauling the soft globes, tweaking the nipples between thumb and forefinger. She cried out as I clamped my fingers on her nipples and I threw her onto the bed, on her back, then knelt over her, securing her slim wrists with straps, clipping the straps to the restraints on the bed posts, pulling the straps tight and stretching her arms out above her head. Then I did the same with her legs, leaving her spreadeagled and powerless, her sex exposed for my pleasure.

I spent some time fussing with the straps, tightening here and there, building up the tension. She pulled against her straps, testing their restraint, finding little room for movement. ‘What are you going to do to me now?’ she asked, plaintively.

I climbed onto the bed and started stroking her pussy, running my fingers through the silky hair, finding her outer lips with my fingertip and tracing the opening, feeling the wetness of her secretions. Then I smacked her cunt firmly and she squealed and arched her back and pulled at the straps. ‘Oh God, you bastard.’

‘Language,’ I warned her, stroking her pussy again. Then I smacked her again and she cried out and pulled furiously at her restraints. So I smacked her again, and again and she stopped fighting and lay there whimpering, flinching at each blow. Her twat was now as red as her arse and I felt another stab of guilt which I managed to suppress by the simple expedient of kneeling between her outstretched legs and thrusting my seven inches into her cunt, feeling the tightness of her titled twat grip my cock, feeling the heat and liquid surround my rigid meat.

I fucked her hard, ruthlessly, for about ten minutes, long, hard thrusts, the Viscountess writhing and moaning beneath me, arching her back to meet my thrusts, before the signs of impending orgasm made me slow and withdraw. I spent some more time squeezing her breasts and biting her nipples and making her squeal some more, then I knelt over her and shoved my cock in her mouth and started fucking her face as she looked up at me with eyes wide open, pupils dilated. After a couple of minutes of this oral violation I took my meat out of her mouth. ‘Time to turn you over,’ I said.

‘No, you mustn’t,’ she whispered, ‘that’s too dirty, and you’ll hurt me with your great big penis.’ She evidently knew what was coming but I ignored her again and unclipped her legs then her arms. She was limp and unresisting as I rolled her over and secured her face down, fussing with the straps again until they were so tight she could hardly move. Then I climbed off the bed and picked up the tube of lubricant, aware that she was watching me from the bed, her head turned towards me. I made a big show of squeezing the sticky jelly on my cock head and rubbing it around, masturbating myself slowly and shamelessly. Inside I was a seething mass of stomach-churning anticipation and nervous excitement. There was no longer any guilt; I knew exactly what the Viscountess wanted, and she was going to get it.

I climbed back up onto the bed and positioned myself between her stockinged legs, marvelling at their slim perfection. Then, slowly and carefully, I pulled out the butt plug. It was more difficult than I had anticipated. The suction action was strong and I had to pull quite firmly, with a twisting motion, as if I were uncorking a bottle. Then it was out, shiny and lubricated but with no mess on it. Supporting myself on one arm, and gripping Taksim escort bayan my cock with the other hand, I lowered myself down until the tip of my glans touched her arse crack. I rubbed it up and down, smearing lubrication and seeking her final, most private hole. I pushed gently and she gave a little scream. ‘A bit higher,’ she gasped. I went up her crack a tiny bit and pushed again. She cried again. ‘Higher!’ I moved up a bit more and pushed and she relaxed and I guessed I’d found the entrance to her rectum. I pushed harder, keeping up a gentle traction, as I had when inserting the butt plug. But this was different; the thickest part was the first in and I was concerned that I would really hurt her. But Caroline made no complaint apart from a gasp as I pushed even harder and found, almost to my amazement, that my cock was actually going into her arse, stretching the muscle ring to accommodate my cock head, taking it in and closing around my shaft. Slowly, slowly, feeling the sphincter tight around my meat I entered her rectum to my full extent and, for the first time in my life, felt the grip of a lady’s anal sphincter and the soft, warm envelopment of her rectal walls.

Words can barely describe the thrill I felt at that moment. I was seven inches deep in the anus of an attractive and sexy older woman and a member of the peerage to boot. It was the stuff of fantasy, happening in the here and now. Beneath me Caroline was quite still, breathing in great gasps, trying to calm herself and accept my cock inside her rectum. Slowly, slowly I withdrew an inch or two then pushed back in. Then further out and in until I was fucking her with about six inches of cock, stopping just before my glans popped out of her and pushing, thrusting back in. She started moaning as I built up speed, my cock pistoning in and out of her tight hole, making faint sucking and squishing noises.

It was heaven on earth. I wanted to fuck her anus all evening and into the night but my orgasm was building and this time there was no stopping it. It tingled through my balls and cock and up my spine and crashed through my cortex like a firework display. It was so intense it stopped all thought and reduced my existence to a singularity — a cock fucking an anus. I pumped and pumped my spunk into her rectum and underneath me she screamed and pulled at the restraints, tears running down her cheeks.

Then I was done, the orgasm faded and I fell over her, spent and empty. A great lassitude overcame me and I felt like closing my eyes and sleeping on Caroline’s back, but I raised myself and slowly withdrew from my titled lover, a faint “plop” audible as my glans was ejected by her contracting sphincter. I climbed off the bed effortfully and went to the bathroom to wash, leaving the Viscountess still strapped to the bed, a bead of spunk visible on her rosebud. When I returned she was still motionless, her eyes closed, her breathing normal. I unclipped her hands and feet and lay down beside her. She turned to me and snuggled in under my arm and I drew her to me and stroked her face and neck and her back. Now I could ask her.

‘Are you ok? Was that alright?’

She looked up at me. ‘I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was… indescribable. I came three times. Once when you were in my bottom. I never thought that would happen.’

‘And I didn’t hurt you?’

‘Yes, you hurt me. When you spanked me and when you penetrated my anus. That hurt quite a bit, but it was a sharp pain, over quickly, and then — wow! I never thought it would feel so good. So big and intrusive and dirty and so, so erotic. It was thrilling, Thomas. All those years I spent fantasising while I was getting ten minutes in the missionary position once a fortnight. What a waste.’

‘You mean you’ve never done that before?’ I asked, surprised.

‘No. You’ve just taken her Ladyship’s anal cherry.’

‘And you’ve just taken mine,’ I said, grinning. Then we were both laughing then kissing and rolling together on the bed happy to be in a secret and erotic relationship, tasting such forbidden fruits.

Afterwards we went downstairs and foraged in the kitchen for some supper which we ate at the big scrubbed-pine table. Then we took a bottle of wine back to bed and lay together sipping and talking quietly.

‘There’s something I need to say, Caroline,’ I said tentatively.

She looked at me. ‘That sounds a bit ominous. Is it something I’m not going to like?’

‘No, at least I hope not. It’s just that I was happy with tonight. No, that’s silly, I was delirious with tonight, but I don’t think I’d want to do anything more extreme. I wouldn’t be able to hurt you more than I have done tonight.’

She smiled. ‘That’s fine, darling. It’s about the limit of my fantasies too.’ Her face took on a distant expression. ‘Maybe there are a couple of things…’ I pressed her but she wouldn’t say what those things were. So we finished the wine and made love very tenderly and with consideration for the Viscountess’s sore buttocks and then we slept as a thunderstorm swept the farms and villages around and boomed over the house. At one point Caroline crawled into my arms and we slept again as the storm spent itself and dawn came up over the soaking fields. And, as before, I rose soon after dawn and left the house and walked back over the wet pasture to my little bungalow on the edge of the woods.

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