She knew the temptation of all that cash would be too much for him, especially with the car waiting outside, so she said, "You tidy up down here, my dear, and clear away the dishes, while I go upstairs and get ready for bed." She knew just where to hide the money, in a place he'd never look.
At the door she turned to look at his crestfallen face and said, "Cheer up dear; I'm going to put on my ‘naughty nightdress' just for you!"
"Thank you, my darling, I shall be as quick as I can," said Grant, turning away to collect the cups and hiding his tears of frustration from her eyes.
When he came out of the bathroom, some twenty minutes later, he found that her confidence and authority were both fully restored.
"Right, young man," she said, standing upright in a low-cut sheer silk nightdress that barely reached her knees, and showed her breasts to great advantage. She had a small leather riding crop in her hand, and cracked it against a muscled thigh as she said, "Tonight, I am the Mistress of the Hounds, ready to ride to the Hunt. You can start off as my faithful groom, and later I'll see what other roles you're good at…"
CHAPTER 31
When Grant heard Beryl's domineering voice telling him she was now the Mistress of the Hunt, and then commanding him to slowly undress before her, and to arouse her while doing so, he realised that this is what his sex-life for the past dozen years had been leading him towards.
From when Joyce seduced him as a teenager, followed by all the bossy female lovers since, right up to his recent sex with Joyce, Edna, and now Beryl, he had subconsciously been seeking women to dominate his life.
That is why his relationship with April failed; she was too subservient to his wishes, agreeing with almost everything he suggested, both in and out of bed. He was not physically attracted to Beryl at all; her narrow face and mean lips made him shudder, although her breasts were something else, and were perhaps her one redeeming feature.
Her forceful attitude this past week, making all the decisions and telling him what to do and when to do it, placed him under her control. He didn't have to think, or plan anything, because it was all done for him by Beryl, and he'd enjoyed it.
He felt totally released, and put all his thoughts and energy into taking off his clothing in a way that would please and excite Beryl. He realised that the sudden removal of financial worry from her life, now allowed her to be the person she'd always desired to be, without fear of loss or recrimination.
Furthermore, he knew that in his willingness to please her, she had the perfect subject to liberate her from years of male domination, and he waited with mounting excitement to see what form this release would take. He did not have to wait long.
Crack!
The whip bit into his thigh through his trousers, and he felt the hot pleasure from the pain rising through his genitals. Each crack of the whip made his balls tingle with pleasure, and his erection began to harden.
"You're too slow and not the least bit exciting. Now let's see something to arouse the Mistress of the Hunt!"
Grant turned towards her, letting his trousers fall to the ground so she could see the shape and size of his erection pushing against his underpants.
"Stand still, and do not move," said Beryl, turning the crop over in her hands, and rubbing thick handle along the bulge in his underpants and then caressing his balls until she rubbed it hard between his legs. She dropped it an inch down his thighs, and then brought it up sharply to give his testicles a solid whack.
She leered into his face and said, "That is only a taste of what's in store for you, if you don't give me the ride of my life."
He stood as still as he could, showing little emotion despite the pain in his balls, because for some reason he didn't understand, his erection seemed to be getting harder – so hard it was beginning to hurt, and he wanted to remove his underwear. The wavering crop made him decide against a move, so he waited for instructions.
"Continue to undress, and then lie on the bed with your head on the pillows and your arms and legs outstretched towards the corners."
Glancing at the old brass railed bed with the four corner posts topped with gleaming bras balls, and guessed what was coming. He relaxed on the pillows, and glanced down at his wavering penis, as the excitement grew deep inside.
Beryl gave each limb a whack with her riding crop after she tied it to a bedpost with the knotted lengths of old string she'd brought up from the kitchen. When he was securely tied to the bed, she stood between his open legs, nudging his cock with her crop and then with her foot.
"Having a big dick makes you men feel so strong and powerful, but we'll see how strong you really are, tonight." She stood astride his face, giving him a fine glance of her bony knees and muscled thighs, rising to a pair of pink panties. It gave him some pleasure to see the moist patch on her pants, and realised she was getting roused by her actions, and he couldn't wait for his penis to drive inside that waiting pussy – now just a foot or two above his head.
He saw Beryl's arms take the hem of her nightdress and pull it over her head and then drape it back and to over his face. She then knelt down until the wet patch of her panties was inches from his face, and she went lower inch by inch until he felt the fabric on his mouth.
"Kiss my knickers!" she said, leaning backwards to give his waving penis a tap with the crop. "No, harder, I can't feel anything." She ground her pussy hard into his face, and Grant felt he was going to come with excitement, but didn't need her warning to know that would not be a good idea.
When she stood up astride his face again, he wondered what was next, and was not surprised to see her remove the panties and then stand still while he stared up at her pussy.
"What you're looking at Grant is the Altar upon which you must now pray for forgiveness for your past sins. I am talking about the evil sins of giving your body to other women, of putting your cock in other vaginas. Tell me this will never happen again – ever!"
He was only too pleased to oblige, because at this moment there was nowhere else he'd rather be, and there was nobody else he rather be with. He said, "I promise, my darling, that from this day forth you are the only woman in my life, and your Altar is the only one for me!"
"You may now kiss the Altar," she said, lowering her pussy onto his mouth.
He pushed his tongue deep inside and felt the delicious taste of her juices seeping from his mouth as she rocked around his face, her thighs gripping his cheeks with surprising strength. Her moans were soft at the start, but quickly became louder when he found her small clit and began nibbling on it with his lips and then licking it.
"The Mistress of the Hunt is now ready to ride to the Hunt. Is the Groom ready for me to mount my steed?"
"Yes Mistress."
She eased down his chest, and rubbed her moist pussy across his cock, bending it backwards until her body passed, and then it sprung upright once again. This was so exciting to Grant, who'd never even imaged such sex, and he knew his hardest task was to ensure he didn't experience an orgasm first.
With great precision she placed her pussy over his cock, allowing the glans to ease inside, and then raising her crop high she cried, "Tally ho, off we go!" She dropped her body onto his, fully encasing his long penis in her tight pussy, and with a couple of hard whacks to his side with the crop, she started rocking on his cock.
Up and down, she went, then round in circles for a bit, before rocking from side to side and finally up and down, over and over again. With frequent yells of "Tally ho!" and less frequent cracks with the whip, she increased the tempo minute by minute.
Grant hand never had sex like this, lying almost immobile except for occasional thrusts with his hips to drive his cock inside her willing pussy. But each drive brought a growl from the Mistress of the Hunt, who gave him a hard crack with the crop on his side, which was now glowing red.
The problem was, all this pain together with her furious fucking, was bringing on his climax and he tried to will it away, but her increasing rhythm together with ho
wls of lust and excitement, only encouraged his orgasm. When she gave one final howl and collapsed across his body, completely spent, his cock spurted hot semen into her already wet vagina.
He waited for her anger, but she lay still with her head on his chest, and saying nothing. This gave him some comfort, and he guessed the transgression had been forgiven. After a few minutes she raised her head, and without looking him in the face she climbed up his body until her dripping pussy was over his mouth.
She dropped the pussy onto his mouth and said, "The naughty groom will now clean the Mistress of the Hunt's vagina, not leaving one drop of moisture.
At first it was a pleasing experience to lick and swallow the mixture of her cum and his semen, but the enjoyment soon faded and he struggled to stop himself from gagging. He knew that would bring about a scalding he didn't wish to experience.
Finally, she rolled off his body and picking up her nightdress, she left for the bathroom without a word or a backward glance. He could hear the water splashing, and he needed to pee; the thought of a hot bath filled his mind, and he waited patiently for her to return and free him. All the time, his bladder filled and he struggled to retain his urine.
Instead, he heard her go downstairs to the kitchen. She returned five minutes later with an empty milk bottle, which she shoved roughly over his penis.
"Now piss into there and don't spill a drop."
With great relief he let the flow of hot pee gush into the bottle with a loud splash.
Crack!
The unfurled riding crop whipped across his chest with such a crack it stopped him from peeing, and he looked up at Beryl.
Before he could speak she whipped him across the chest again, and said, "Slower, or you'll fill the bottle and wet the bed."
It took him some time to coax his penis to start peeing again, and he found it difficult to control the flow to a level that didn't bring further cracks of the whip, but he was finally done.
She placed the hot bottle against his face and said, "Next time you disobey my command, you shall drink this piss. Do you understand?"
"Yes Mistress," said Grant, wondering where all this came from. He knew Beryl had a problem with men, from the chats with Cyril about her actions at work, but this was more like a hatred of the male species. Worse still, he was now the object for that hatred.
"Don't forget, then," she said, standing the bottle on the bedside table not two feet from his face. She walked over to the doorway and said, "I shall sleep in the other room tonight, while you repent your sins." She turned out the lights, leaving him in complete darkness, and slammed the door as she left the room.
The last thing he thought about before he fell into an uncomfortable sleep, was that female domination had its darker side…
CHAPTER 32
Three weeks later, Cyril served champagne at dinner to April and Joyce. "Just a small glass for you my dear," he said with a broad smile to April, "But a full glass for you, Joyce."
"What are we celebrating?" said Joyce, wondering what was in his mind.
"At four o'clock this afternoon, the hated Beryl Bainbridge and her so-called fiancé set sail from Southampton for the sunny shores of Australia – never to return, I trust."
"Well, I'll drink to that," she said, raising her glass and clinking with the glasses of both April and Cyril. "Perhaps our lives can settle down, now."
"Mmm, I think so," said Cyril.
"Darling, you're not telling me something; what is it?" said April, looking up inquisitively at his face.
"Well, you know that cottage you fell in love with, around the corner all those months ago; today I bought it for you as my Wedding present."
"Oh Cyril, thank you so much, I do love that place. Can we go and see it again in the morning?"
"He took a bunch of keys from his pocket and put them on the table before her and said, "All the paperwork's not complete yet, but the agent said we can have access to plan the renovations."
"That's marvellous, don't you think, Joyce?"
"Well, naturally it is for you and Cyril, but what do I do – live alone in this mausoleum?"
April laughed gaily and said, "Don't be an old grouch, of course you'll come and live with us. There'll be plenty of room."
"I know there will, but it's not fair on you both. You need to settle down together, without having me to worry about."
"I need you to help take care of the baby, when I have to help Cyril out with the business."
Joyce gave a sniff and said to Cyril, "How's the search for offices coming along?"
"Rather slowly, they're all too small, too large, or too pricey."
"Why don't you convert the Bainbridge house into offices?" said Joyce, who'd been thinking about that idea for some time. She didn't like the idea of Cyril selling it at a loss in this depressed market, and it was in an ideal location.
Cyril glanced at April and said, "I did think about it, because of its location and good parking for visitors, but I'm not sure I can use the dwelling for business purposes."
"I think you better find out, because it is the perfect place with plenty of room for expansion. Why, you could even have a crèche there for the baby!"
They all laughed and clinked their glasses together again.
When April and Cyril settled down to watching television, Joyce went up to her bedroom and made her way into her private sitting room. Sometimes she needed to be alone with her thoughts, and tonight she was feeling lonely. Seeing April and Cyril so happy together made her just a little jealous, also, so she left them alone before they could sense her mood.
An hour later, April came into the room. "I've just come to say goodnight, Joyce; I'm feeling tired after all the excitement of the new house and office."
"I'm sure you're going to love it there, it is a wonderful house."
"Thank you, Joyce; I do hope you decide to stay with us…"
"I know you do, but since coming up here I've been thinking of my place in Peacehaven; the last tenants have moved out and I may spend a few months there. Perhaps doing it up, if it needs working on."
They were quiet for a couple of minutes and Joyce went back to sorting out the pile of old photographs on her lap.
"Look at this old photo; it's my parents on the honeymoon in Jersey."
"That's a lovely photo, don't they look happy?"
Joyce picked up another photo, looked at it for a moment and then slipped it beneath the pile on the small table.
"What's that photo you're hiding from me," said April with a laugh, "Come on, is it your secret beau?"
Joyce didn't answer but pulled it out from under the pile and gave it to April.
She looked up as April gasped, and then pushing the photos to one side, sat on the sofa with her hand to her mouth as she stared at the photograph.
"What is it, girl? That's only me and Arnold on our wedding day."
"Oh Joyce, I don't know what to say."
She looked at April's red face and saw tears in the corner of her eyes. She put her arms around her and gave her a squeeze, wondering what could have upset her. Perhaps it was because the divorce papers hadn't come through yet, despite all Cyril's negotiations with the Registry Office, who like so many places ‘owed him a favour', and she knew April would like to marry Cyril before the birth of their baby.
Finally, April looked up at Joyce and said, "I want to tell you something, but don't be angry with me, if I'm wrong."
"What on earth are you talking about, sweet child, I can never be angry with you, so speak your mind."
"Well, about a week ago we had a transfer from a nursing home in the midlands that was closing down. It was a man who I think was deaf and dumb; he never spoke to anybody, just sat on a chair all day staring at something in his hands. He wouldn't let anybody look, and when they came near him, he put it inside his pocket bible."
She stopped to look up at Joyce.
"Go on, don't stop now, I'm just getting interested."
April continu
ed, "One day I was tidying his bed while he was in the washroom, and his bible fell onto the floor. An old worn photo fell out, and it was a couple at a wedding, but there was a tattered hole where the woman's face was.
The man returned and took it from me ever so gently and put it back into his bible. He showed me another hole in the cover of the bible and for the first and only time he spoke."
"Well, don't stop now, what did he say?"
"That hole is where the German's shot me, and shot my wife in the face, right through the bible. She saved me from being killed, because the bullet never reached me, and the bible was in the pocket above my heart."
"Why, my dear girl, that's a lovely story. Why on earth did you think I would be upset?"
"Because the photo in his bible is exactly like this one of you and Arnold!"
Joyce felt the room spinning around, and she grabbed April's arm. "Get…water," was all she could manage to say, before collapsing onto the floor.
When she came to, she was on her bed, with both Cyril and April holding her hands.
"Are you feeling alright, Joyce, or shall I call for the doctor," said Cyril.
"How long was I out?"
"Just a few minutes, I shouted for Cyril, who was on his way upstairs, and he carried you onto your bed," said April, with a worried face.
"Then don't worry," she said, patting April's hand and giving Cyril a squeeze. "I just had a shock, that's all. I'm fine now, but where's that water?"
April laughed, and passed her the glass.
"Did you tell Cyril the story you told me?"
"No, there hasn't been time…"
"Well, tell him. And try and tell him exactly as you told it to me."
CHAPTER 33
The next morning, the three of them had a quiet breakfast with very little conversation, and once they'd cleared away the dishes, Joyce said, "Come on, then, let's all go to the nursing home and meet this mysterious stranger."
In The Name Of Love Page 14