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House Rules

Page 12

by G. C. Scott


  Richard saw there her own arousal. He knew that she had been excited by her domination and by the pain she had caused. Ingrid had said that Margaret was frightened of sex, but that wasn’t the whole story. This was what it took to arouse her. The power over others was the most powerful of aphrodisiacs to her, Richard now knew. He lay still, holding her gaze, challenging her to go further, to surrender to her own arousal, to use his body for her pleasure. The moment seemed to go on for ever.

  Still holding his gaze, Margaret stood slowly and began to remove her dress. She seemed to be in a trance. Her hands moved slowly as she groped behind her back for the zipper to her dress. The sound of the zipper as it purred down her back was loud in the silent room. She stepped out of the dress and let it fall to the floor, then stood before him in her underwear, inviting him to stare at her.

  Richard saw a beautiful woman standing beside him, her body outlined by the filmy clothing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as she unclasped her lacy bra and allowed her full, rounded breasts to fall free, rising and falling to her rapid and shallow breathing. The nipples were hard and crinkly with excitement. When she stepped out of her pants, the crisp blonde curls of her pubic mound seemed to be charged with electricity. He heard the static hiss as the pants slid down her legs. Then she stood erect again, clad in nothing save her stockings and suspenders, once again inviting him to stare at her, flaunting herself before him, knowing that he was helpless and that it must be she who did anything, if anything was to be done. She stood so long that Richard began to believe that this was just another demonstration of her dominance, that she would walk away from him, leaving him aroused but helpless.

  Margaret broke the tableau, moving to the bed. She knelt on the bed, straddling him, then sinking down until her weight rested on his thighs. Richard felt a thrill as the sheer nylon of her stockings brushed his legs, and the warmth of her flesh touched him. He felt her pubic hair against him like an electric shock. Margaret slowly sank forward, so that she was lying on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest, the full length of her touching him. The scent of her was in his nostrils, the warm salty smell of her arousal strong in the air. He shifted and felt his cock brush her. He couldn’t stop the shudder that passed through it, and him, at the contact.

  Margaret pressed herself against him, seeking as much contact as possible, shifting her hips so that her pubic hair touched his cock. She gasped at the touch, her eyes opening wide. A faraway look came across her face, as if she were momentarily in another world. Then her look changed, and she smiled down into Richard’s eyes.

  She rolled off him and turned on the bed so that they lay head to foot. This time when she straddled him, her cunt was raised above his face. He could see the warm pink of her labia hidden between her legs, smell her musk. He groaned behind the gag, wanting to be able to caress that secret place with his lips and tongue, to taste her arousal in his mouth. Margaret raised herself until she could sit down over his mouth. She moved until her cunt was directly over the hard rubber inflation valve, then lowered her body until she could rub her cunt against it. At the same time she took his cock in her mouth.

  Richard groaned helplessly as he felt himself surrounded by the heat of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue, the sudden sharpness of her teeth as she first caressed him and then nipped him warningly as he writhed on the bed. He lay still.

  Margaret continued to rub her cunt against his gag, becoming more excited by the moment. Richard could see her labia and the pink flesh between her cunt lips. The smell of her was strong in his nostrils, exciting him even more. It was almost impossible to hold still, but he dared not move. He wished he could at least use his teeth and tongue to arouse Margaret to the point where she could not hold out any longer. He wondered what she would do in that case, whether she could resist her own urges. Or would want to.

  Abruptly Margaret broke the impasse herself. With a loud moan she tore herself away and stood up beside the bed, looking down at Richard with agitation. Her eyes were narrowed and her cheeks flushed. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, the nipples erect and crinkly with excitement. She appeared to hesitate, as if deciding whether to throw herself over the brink. Richard looked up at her, wanting her, feeling still her mouth, her teeth and tongue on him, but he managed to keep his glance neutral, knowing that he had to let her make the decision, let her see him waiting helplessly for her to come to him. The sight of her arousal sent a powerful message to his cock, which stood erect and seemed to throb with a life of its own.

  She decided with characteristic suddenness. She climbed once more on to the bed, this time facing him, straddling his legs as she reached for his cock. Still, at the last moment, she hesitated, as if afraid to carry out her decision, then she settled down against him, guiding him inside her.

  Richard held still, although the sensation of being engulfed in the liquid fire of her cunt was well-nigh overwhelming. He clamped down, holding himself back from orgasm by sheer willpower. He knew Margaret would be displeased – to say the least – if, after agonising over her choice, he were to deprive her of the full enjoyment of it. And he knew that it would be an error to let her see that he knew she was surrendering, behaving like any other woman on heat. He didn’t want her to break off for his own reasons as well. He wanted her too, even if he could not reach out to touch her breasts, kiss them, pull her down and fuck her.

  But Margaret was nothing if not aware of the situation. She lay atop him, her breasts crushed against his chest, rubbing them against him as she aroused herself further. She clamped down on his cock, and he gasped as he felt her strength. Margaret moaned again, closing her eyes as if to blot out what she was doing, to deny her enjoyment of sex as she had been doing all along. Then she began to move, raising her hips and arching her back as she rose and fell above him, riding him, fucking him as he wanted to fuck her but was prevented from doing by his bonds.

  Margaret came abruptly, the cry of pleasure seeming to be torn from somewhere deep inside her. Richard, restraining himself from his own orgasm, was studying her face, concentrating on her reactions as a way to control his own. Her saw her face go slack as her orgasm swept through her, her head thrown back as she rode the wave of her pleasure. Then, curiously, a spasm of anger crossed her face, and she flushed with something like embarrassment, having been seen to lose control. To him it seemed that she was still fighting her body’s needs.

  The moment, and the look, passed. Margaret appeared to make up her mind to go on, having gone this far already. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to appear indecisive or weak in his eyes. Or she might just be enjoying his body, enjoying his helplessness and her dominance. Richard thought fleetingly that it might please her if he too appeared to be lost in the experience of sex with his mistress. Not that he would have to pretend very hard. So the question became, how long should he hold out? He didn’t want to end this too soon. He was enjoying her too much. And he knew that he dared not show greater restraint than she could, now that she had come this far. She would be angry – embarrassed – and the consequences of that might be painful. But most of all, he didn’t want to offend her in her most vulnerable moment. He wanted her to enjoy the experience as much as possible. And, of course, he wanted to enjoy it too.

  Margaret, meanwhile, seemed to be having no such complicated thoughts. She was having, instead, a long series of orgasms, moaning and thrashing above him, grinding her hips against him as if she would pound him into the mattress. Richard, seeing her excitement, lost control of his own body, so that he spurted inside her, emptying himself into her as Margaret cried out in her own release, her scream loud in the room. She shuddered as he did, then abruptly relaxed, lying slackly on top of him as if drained of all strength.

  She lay for a long time, so long that Richard thought she might have been sleeping. He took that as a sign of her satisfaction and, indeed, of some sort of trust. She had let him see her at the moment when she lost control of herself, so Richard felt as if th
ey had shared something much more intimate than the mere joining of their bodies. But he would never be able to mention it to her. She would not like to be reminded of her surrender. He knew he would have to keep this secret for her. He was strongly attracted to Margaret, had been since the first time she ordered him to be restrained at Helena’s apartment, and he didn’t want to do anything to cause her to lose face before others, as she would if he betrayed this moment. If his hands had not been tied behind his back, he would have put his arms around her and held her close.

  But if his hands had not been tied, would she have surrendered herself to him? Probably not, he thought. Probably her pleasure had come partially from knowing that even when she was most vulnerable, he was unable to exert any control over her, or even touch her body with his hands. This was her way of maintaining control over him. And Richard knew that his reaction to her had been heightened by this very helplessness to influence events.

  He knew that when she recovered, Margaret would resume her role as mistress, and he would be under her control as before. He would be made to put on the maid’s outfit, the tights and the corselet once more. And he would once more be her servant, subject to her whims, her whip and her unpredictable moods. She might even be more severe than she had been, attempting to re-establish her position of dominance. And he would be excited as before by being made to wear women’s clothing, the tight garments reminding him of his position and the whip letting him know who was in control. But they would both remember this moment as well, and things would never be exactly the same between them.

  Margaret stirred and opened her eyes, looking straight into Richard’s face and seeing there a mirror of her own sexual release. She raised herself on her arms and looked down on him, as if to impress upon him the necessity of keeping silent. Richard nodded, unable to give any verbal reply, and she looked relieved. She stood up, still looking at him. Silently, she began to dress, once more covering the body he would have liked to touch. But the message was clear: she was in control, he was the servant again. Margaret finished dressing and gathered the rest of her belongings: the whip, the bicycle pump, the remainder of the rope. She turned without a word and walked into the hall, shutting the door behind her and leaving Richard bound and gagged on the bed they had shared.

  He lay still as the sound of her footsteps faded and died away. The aroma of her perfume and the smell of her musk clung to his body. The air was cool on the damp patches, reminding him of the heat of her as she lay on top of him and rode him so relentlessly. He felt regret that it was over, but nothing was for ever. And he knew that there would be other times. But for now, he could only lie and wait for the next development. It was hours before Margaret relented and sent Marie to untie him.

  Six

  Richard did not see Margaret again for several days. He wondered if she was avoiding him, not willing to face him after their shared intimacy. He thought that would be a pity, but at the same time he realised that a complete relaxation of her aloofness would remove some of the mystery, and a good deal of the authority, which made the exercise of discipline so exciting to him. Of course, it was also possible that she was busy with her consultancy, meeting her mysterious clients and helping them to handle their affairs. And earning the considerable sums which made it possible for her to operate the training establishment of which he was a part.

  But Margaret out of sight was not necessarily Margaret out of mind. Three days after their encounter, several packages arrived for him. Going to his room after lunch, he found them on his bed. Inside he found more dresses, of the type more suitable for public wear. From that he inferred that the time for his first errand in Margaret’s courier service (which he had privately dubbed cash-and-carry) was drawing near. Margaret, he guessed, thought him ready to appear in public. Hence the new wardrobe. He was much less sure of that himself, but at the same time he knew that he would have to face it at some time.

  The second package contained more underwear for him: slips, tights and corselets similar to those chosen for him by Ingrid from her shop in Soltau. There was also a note from her. She said that she was keeping busy but thinking of him fondly. She would, she said, be on the lookout for a way to have him visit her again soon. Her note said nothing of Helena, which was a relief. Helena had said that Ingrid didn’t mind sharing him with her stepdaughter, but it was a relief to have confirmation from Ingrid herself. Jealousy could lead to unwanted complications.

  Ingrid told him to examine the alterations she had made to the tights and corselets on Margaret’s instructions. ‘The purpose of the alterations to the crotch area will become clear when Margaret returns,’ Ingrid had written. Richard didn’t know if Ingrid was genuinely ignorant or simply being mystifying. He looked at the corselets and saw that a small hole had been made in the gusset, the edges neatly stitched. He saw the hand of Ingrid the dressmaker in the work. The gussets of the tights had been similarly pierced, the holes here being surrounded by small patches of thin leather, glued to both sides of the material with fabric glue. The holes in both garments had been made to coincide with one another, but Richard had no idea what Margaret might have had in mind when she ordered these alterations. It was typical of her, though, to keep him wondering what she might do next.

  Richard laid aside the altered garments and opened the third package. It contained several pairs of shoes in various styles, their only common features being the stiletto heels and the ankle straps. Richard guessed that the former were to keep him on his toes, while the latter were intended to keep him in the shoes in case he stumbled.

  Ingrid’s note continued, ‘Margaret has given me the impression that she will be bringing you to the shop soon, for further instruction, I presume. I am looking forward to that. I have in mind some further instruction she might not have thought of. Hope to see you soon.’ It was signed, ‘Love and kisses, Ingrid.’ The closing sounded almost girlish. Richard wondered if Ingrid was beginning to trust his repeated assertions that age didn’t matter to him. ‘P.S.,’ she had written, ‘I know you can’t reply to this – house rules. But think of me until we meet.’

  Yes. He would. In the meantime, he would put the new wardrobe away and wait to see what plans Margaret had made for him. He wondered, too, if she would be jealous or angry if she learnt of his liaisons with Ingrid and Helena. Best to keep silent, he concluded.

  There was also the matter of helping Helena get free of Margaret’s hold over her. It might be more difficult to keep that promise now, after what he and Margaret had shared, but he had made a promise to help find the evidence Margaret had hidden somewhere in the house. What better time than now, when he was least likely to be caught by the keeper of all the secrets? Helena would then be free to go her own way, back to England with him. He had imagined taking her back to the lonely old house where he had lived for so many years. So – to work, to make it all happen.

  Since Marie had revealed the location of the safe, Richard had checked the information. The loose stones he had spotted in the dining-room hearth had, on closer examination, confirmed it. The mortar was not so even as it was around the other stones. If Margaret hadn’t almost caught him trying to examine the stones the first time, he might have found what he was seeking then. He would take the opportunity afforded by her absence to complete the task now. He only had to think of a way to separate the cook and the keys.

  Originally he had planned to slip a drug into her brandy one evening so that she would sleep while he searched. But there had been several problems with that plan. For one thing, he had no access to anything resembling a sleeping draught. Maybe in time Ingrid could help with that, but even then he had no experience of drugging anyone. In movies and novels it was always easy, a matter of slipping something into the victim’s drink and waiting for it to take effect. Afterwards, they always recovered without any ill effects. But he was no doctor. How much should he use to ensure results without administering a lethal dose?

  In the end, the solution had come to him in a sudden
flash. While cleaning the dining room, he had seen several bottles of brandy and vodka in the drinks cabinet, along with practically every other kind of drink anyone could want. Margaret must have been keeping it all to entertain clients. Richard simply chose two half-empty bottles, one of brandy and one of vodka. Mixing the vodka with the brandy had nearly doubled the alcohol content of the latter. He need only make sure the cook got the right bottle at the right time. She might wake up with an awful headache in the morning, but people seldom died of hangovers, even if they thought they would.

  He took the bottle to the kitchen and substituted it for the cook’s brandy bottle, which he knew was kept in a cupboard over the refrigerator. He had nothing against the cook, an attractive woman of about thirty whose only fault, from Richard’s viewpoint, was an overzealous attention to her responsibilities as Margaret’s deputy warder. This evening, he decided, would be a good time. It was necessary that he avoid being locked into his room. Joining the cook for a drink or two would solve that problem, so long as he managed to get the cook drunk while remaining sober himself.

  While substituting brandy bottles, Richard took the opportunity to locate a lump of beeswax which was kept in the kitchen among the cleaning materials. The wax was used to give a soft, polished effect to the furniture that Margaret liked. He had used it himself in his domestic chores. Now it would serve a different purpose.

  That evening, Richard volunteered to do the washing-up and to help tidy the kitchen for the evening. Ludmilla, the cook and housekeeper, was glad of the help. It was only a short step to suggesting that they share a drink when they were done. Luck is with me, Richard thought, as they sat down and Ludmilla poured from the doctored bottle of brandy. He hoped that she would not notice the difference, and that he could keep from drinking too much. Accordingly he sipped his drink, while Ludmilla drank more normally.

 

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