Country Pleasures

by Bond, Primula

  ‘He obviously knew a willing victim when he saw one.’ Janie stretched her leg out and poked her toe into the dead ashes in the grate. She peered into the empty fireplace to see if there was any kindling or firelighters, but there were none. ‘I’m getting colder by the minute,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not, I can still feel that slap now. You should try it. All the blood and heat concentrates in one place. One moment my buttock was hot from the slap, the next minute it was cold from the air in the room, and then he smacked my other cheek hard and this time the heat was reaching everywhere. It was like fingers prodding me all over, inside and out. I could feel addiction coming on. I reckoned if straightforward fucking wasn’t on offer, then this would do fine. After all, penetration’s something I can do for myself – as could you, Janie.’

  Janie was still poking her toe around the grate. ‘What?’

  Sally attempted a mid-air spin and landed on the sofa.

  ‘If you’re determined to be a spinster, you have to learn the art of self-penetration, like I was doing, right there with my fingers in front of him.’

  ‘I’ll have to get logs later,’ said Janie, purposefully ignoring her friend. ‘It’s too cold.’ She turned and saw Sally shaking her head at her. Janie curled her arms around her knees. ‘I heard you, Sal. The art of penetration. I couldn’t, not in front of someone else … and I’m not determined to be a spinster.’

  ‘Prove it. Or else you’re doomed to use the vibrator forever and ever.’

  Janie shifted on her chair and picked up her glass. She felt hurt by her friend’s comments but did her best to hide it.

  ‘A man would be nicer, obviously,’ she muttered.

  Sally got her breath back from the dancing, and took a slug of wine. They both looked out of the window. It was still gloomy out there, even though the rain had eased off slightly and it was not yet tea-time.

  ‘Where does Ben-baby keep his ties?’ she asked.

  ‘No idea, Sal. We really should leave his things alone.’

  But Sally had already skipped out of the room and up the stairs before Janie could stop her. She heard the floorboards crack and complain above her head as Sally scampered about. She could see the ceiling bend slightly in the middle. Let her rummage, she thought. It was keeping her amused, and in any case Sally’s story was having an extraordinary effect on Janie, whether she liked it or not. Where those early tremors had been, tickling and fussing round Janie’s pussy, there was now a low pulse inside her, throbbing like the regular ticking of a clock.

  Suddenly Sally was in the doorway, a collection of silk ties draped over her arm. She selected one, rolled one end round her hand, then cracked it in the air like a whip. The sound sent a shock down Janie’s spine, and Sally’s face lit up.

  ‘This was his next trick,’ said Sally excitedly. ‘Penetration wasn’t on the agenda yet. I could demonstrate the whipping technique on you, if you like?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Well, we’ll use this poor cushion, then. The sound of the tie cracking tells you a lot about how it feels. He just brushed the tie over the backs of my knees and down to the soles of my feet while I waited for the next hit. Then he flicked the tie across both my buttocks. It left a red stripe of heat burning – doesn’t quite sound the same across a plump cushion, I know – then he raised his arms and brought both ties down once, twice, three times, like this, like this, like this, each time on an untouched area. I expected it to hurt every time, but it just … sizzled … electrifying.’

  Sally cracked the ties a couple more times, like a circus master, then collapsed onto the sofa, laughing and out of breath.

  ‘Did he have any other tricks with the ties?’ Janie asked as she leaned down to put another CD into the machine.

  Sally leaped up again, now fizzing with energy. She started to raise her shoulders, pulling at the neck of the jumper so that it stretched wide enough to slip down her arms to her wrists. Then she wriggled until the jumper slid down her like a sheath.

  ‘Imagine that I’m now standing in a puddle of white chiffon, with absolutely nothing else on.’

  ‘OK, I’m imagining,’ Jane humoured.

  Sally parted her legs again. Her haunches swayed to the music and she let her fingers stray down over her stomach, then fan out to grab at herself again. Feebly she made as if to knock her fingers away, but her pelvis only tilted to push itself against the flattened palms of her hands.

  ‘You’re looking more heated than he did, Janie. But then, at last, as I was standing there starkers, I glanced at the tight black jeans and saw a nice big bulge. So I kept on jerking my hips, swaying, threatening to start the fingering again.’

  Janie’s body was reacting to Sally’s words and actions. Her cushion was clamped up hard against her crotch, her own pussy convulsing whenever Sally mentioned touching hers.

  ‘And then he was right in front of me and had my whole bush in his hand, still holding me at arm’s length with the other, and every one of his fingers was up inside me, probing like – well, like I’d imagined his tongue might do.’

  Janie’s sex gave a restless spasm as Sally paused. She ground herself into the cushion to try and ease the growing excitement.

  ‘What happened then? Was that it?’ Janie asked impatiently. The rain was running down the windows now instead of bashing at them, and the wind seemed to have eased a little.

  ‘He was just keeping the engine running. I wanted to do something for him, feel him up, touch him …’

  ‘But you’d already given him a floor show to remember.’ Janie spoke faintly, feeling moisture seep through her trousers onto the palm of her hand.

  ‘You’re right, but still he was in no hurry. It was like he was measuring me or something, because he whipped his hand away and then he hitched me up the bed and tied my hands to the wooden rail at the head. Then he produced the ribbon that had tied up the gift box. To be honest, by now I didn’t care what he did so long as it felt good. He slid the ribbon round me like this – I’m going to demonstrate on you.’

  Sally brought one tie round behind Janie’s shoulder blades and tied it in a tight bow over her breasts. Janie gasped as the tie drew them tightly together so that they were constricted in a kind of harness that cut straight across the nipples.

  ‘It looks far more sensational on you, because your tits are so much bigger,’ Sally remarked, pulling the tie tighter. Janie felt her breasts swell under the restraint. ‘Really titillating, don’t you think? They kind of struggle against the tie, but love it at the same time.’

  Janie couldn’t speak.

  ‘I haven’t tied it as hard as he did. Imagine it: your tits should be straining now against the tie but they’re totally trapped so that they seem to grow larger every time you take a breath. My nipples escaped over the edge of the tie and poked straight up into the air. It was like wearing a tiny corset. Then he selected another tie, and started playing with it down here, like this.’

  Sally started working the tie between her legs, rubbing it back and forth along her pussy and down between her buttocks, gyrating over and around it like a stripper using her stockings or feather boa for a prop. Janie could see that the tie was actually making contact with the crotch of Sally’s jeans as it ran back and forth, and the tip of Sally’s tongue came out and flicked across her mouth.

  ‘The friction was unbearable, rough and sweet at the same time, like rubbing flint on flint to make a fire,’ she gasped, still moving with the tie.

  ‘Like my boys making their fire in the wigwam,’ Janie murmured weakly, swaying unconsciously in a mirror of Sally’s movements. Her breasts began to throb heavily.

  ‘One thing the tie round my tits did do was make me breathless. Are you finding that? I could only take in short gasps of breath because it had pulled my ribs in as well. I was almost hyperventilating, though I could still control it, and my head was light with oxygen. I suppose that’s what getting high is like, sniffing hairspray or whatever. Anyway, everything yo
u are seeing and feeling becomes bright and exaggerated, like a cartoon. And then it all stopped with the tie, as if he was switching me off like a machine. Except that I had to keep on going, although my wrists were tied up, I had to keep rubbing myself against the sheets to keep the feeling.’

  Sally jerked to a standstill, hooked one finger inside her fanny and tugged at the crotch of her jeans, which had ridden up right inside her crack.

  ‘Ben would never wear that tie again if he knew what was going on now!’ Janie said. She reached down to pull her trousers away from herself, and found that the crotch was soaking. She hoped it was hidden behind the damp cushion.

  ‘You should make a special point of selecting it for him,’ Sally cackled, ‘and point out the wet patch while you’re at it!’

  She bounced back onto the sofa, smoothing her hand a few more times over her fanny. Then she shook her hair back, grabbed her wine glass and drained it. Her eyes gleamed across at Janie.

  ‘Oh, yes, I almost forgot,’ added Sally matter-of-factly. ‘Then Mastov showed me his hard-on.’

  ‘I thought it was never going to happen!’

  ‘There I was, tied to the bed, and he lowered himself down over me, and got his dick out: it wasn’t long, but it was thick, and throbbing.’

  They both squealed with laughter. Janie was sure she would give herself away any moment. Her knickers were sticky and she was breathless with mentally enacting Sally’s story. As Sally kept reminding her, she hadn’t been with a man for years. She couldn’t even remember when she had last felt remotely aroused. Sally always said it was because Janie was too romantic, expecting a knight to come galloping along on a white horse waving his sword, instead of a real sweaty man rolling up in an Aston Martin waving his hard-on. But until now, Janie had refused to worry about it. She was perfectly happy in her world of friends and paints and the odd flirtation but, if that was the case, why was she so turned on now? Perhaps it was the cottage, the rain, the weird twilight falling over the afternoon, or Sally’s way with words. Whatever it was, she had virtually creamed herself in the chair and she was utterly confused.

  ‘So much for your man-free zone,’ Sally said, waving the wine bottle around. ‘I’ve brought Mastov right into the room, haven’t I? By the way, you can unleash the tits now, unless you’re happy like that!’

  ‘I wondered why I was feeling so light-headed.’ Janie chuckled, flushing. As she undid the bow and loosened the tie, her breasts bounced forwards heavily. They seemed to expand with the freedom, but the tingling ache inside them only increased. She wanted to be alone, to hold and massage them or, better still, to have someone else caress them.

  ‘Don’t look so serious!’ Sally exclaimed, as she made to refill Janie’s glass. Janie put her hand over it to stop her. ‘You’ve enjoyed every minute, don’t deny it. Look at you. Colour in your cheeks at last. I think I’ll stop there for today.’

  ‘You can’t stop,’ Janie protested. ‘What about Mastov’s tongue? You got the teeth, but what about the tongue he promised you?’

  Sally started to laugh.

  ‘The secret of good story-telling: get them engrossed, then leave them in suspense!’

  Janie uncurled her long limbs from the chair to stand up. She was shaking. She put her glass on the mantelpiece and once again looked at herself in the mirror. There was a hectic flush along her cheekbones, her mouth was hanging open and there was a knot just behind her navel which felt as if it was unravelling, strands of unaccustomed excitement trailing down through her stomach towards her groin.

  ‘Yeah. It’s a good story. I guess you could say it’s woken me up a bit,’ she said slowly, tugging her shirt down and looking at her friend in the mirror behind her as if for the first time. ‘We’re old mates, but I don’t know what you get up to in bed, and you know I don’t get up to anything. It was so graphic. Is it always like that?’

  ‘Darling, I’d forgotten how naïve you are.’ Sally chuckled. ‘I know you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. You’re too happy to adore people from afar. There are so many men out there, and every one of them is different, and there’s so little time!’

  ‘But you’d do it all again? With a stranger, I mean?’ Janie persisted, hands gripping the mantel.

  ‘With the slapping and the ties? Oh, yes, if I ever see Mastov again. He certainly showed me a thing or two. I’m obviously not as much a woman of the world as I thought.’

  ‘So are strangers always the best?’

  ‘Not necessarily. They just allow you to be more outrageous.’

  ‘There’s so much to discover, isn’t there?’ Janie murmured, looking again at her reflection, and still shaking. She was breathing fast, and standing up made it worse. The strands of excitement had twirled down to her groin, reaching through her like fierce tentacles hooking onto her sex and tugging at it, parting the soft lips. Sally’s description and dancing had conjured up the same sensations inside Janie that she knew her friend had experienced. Delicious sensations. She wanted to keep hold of them, bottle them, build on them if she was alone in her bedroom, perhaps. But now wasn’t the time.

  The two women listened to the rain for a moment, Janie staring down at Sally, Sally lying back on the cushions with her eyes shut.

  ‘Remember, it was you who asked me to spill the beans, and with the beans all sorts of sexy thoughts have spilled out as well, haven’t they? Admit it,’ said Sally, suddenly opening her eyes and staring questioningly at her friend. ‘You’re feeling all horny after what I’ve told you. But we’re here in sunny Devon to commune with nature, get away from it all, banish all thoughts of big warm hands, flat hairy stomachs, hot throbbing dicks, wet tongues, all that caper. So there’s no need to tell you the rest of the story … right?’

  Janie pushed herself away from the mirror and faced Sally.

  ‘Right. I mean it. No hot throbbing anythings. We won’t find them down here, anyway. Let’s leave Mastov and his tie collection in Holland Park, shall we? For the next two weeks, it’s just going to be the two of us.’

  ‘Absolutely, sergeant major, whatever you say. And now it’s my turn to bark orders. If we’re forbidden the real thing, you can be the man about the house, and go and get some logs.’

  2

  It was still raining, and much darker by the time Janie got herself psyched up for going outside. She shrugged on one of the enormous hooded raincoats that hung in the hall, making a big deal of undoing the latch and clucking at the appalling weather.

  ‘No dithering,’ Sally warned from the relative cosiness of the sitting room. ‘I’m going to find another bottle of wine.’

  ‘Keep it on ice then, will you?’ Janie said. ‘I’m feeling kind of restless. I could do with a stiff walk.’

  ‘Horny, you mean! God, I should talk dirty to you more often.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Janie said, ignoring the truth of Sally’s comment. She put on a wholesome air. ‘Here I go, into the wind and rain, hunting and gathering.’

  Sally waggled her fingers dismissively and sprawled out on the sofa again, one leg hooked over the arm. Her petite hand slid down the front of her jeans as she absently stroked her stomach and started to doze. She had switched off already and was probably dreaming up another colourful scenario, but Janie was as jumpy as a sack of fleas.

  First, she searched outside the cottage but, as she suspected, there were no logs to be seen. Ben might own this little place, but he was the most impractical person she knew. She walked on down the uneven garden path and opened the gate. An enormous willow leaned over, brushing her face with its long silvery leaves and sending drops of rainwater down her neck as she passed. The garden was so overgrown that a passer-by would never know there was a cottage there unless they looked really hard, which was how Ben liked it. The gate led straight onto a pitted driveway, which in turn led up onto the narrow road that ran up from the sea towards the nearest town.

  Instead of making her way along the road, Janie walked straight across the driv
e in her huge borrowed gumboots. She felt through the thorns and found the gap in the hedge where she and her cousin used to punch and scrabble their way through to the farmer’s land. It would take forty minutes or so to go round by road, and only about ten minutes across the field. No one would see her. She’d be there and back with some logs in no time. And if not, they’d have to go down to the beach tomorrow and gather driftwood.

  The wine was making her ears sing, and Sally’s adventure threaded through her brain, words and images popping like bubbles in front of her eyes. Chasing up behind the words and images was a new, sharp hunger that pierced and twisted in Janie’s consciousness. As usual, Sally was right. This must be sheer frustration for her friend, she thought. She supposed this strong feeling was usually dormant or non-existent, but now it was so acute that it hurt.

  She started to stride round the edge of the field towards the farm. There were no crops planted there this year, only tufts of tall meadow grass and clumps of mud. The owners were letting the farm go to ruin. Janie looked down at her boots as she walked, her friend’s erotic play re-enactment still vivid in her mind. Sally was sex-mad, they’d always joked about that, but seeing her dancing and showing what went on between her legs was like peering through a keyhole and being unable to tiptoe away. Rushing away from the cottage made no difference. She could still visualise the steamy scene in the London flat, the silk ties flicking like whips over Sally’s supine body while she bent over the bed. Janie could go further than that. She could see herself lying on the black sheets, her own legs spread open, her own naked breasts tied up, her own nipples singing with the excitement and the cold while a stranger stood over her, unbuttoning his trousers.

  Sally was rocking the boat by introducing all that sex. Janie had been planning a long quiet summer with no drama and no hassle. But then again, she should have known better than to expect a quiet life once that little she-cat was at large.