by Monica Belle
She was a little taken aback, but responded, letting her lips open under mine until we were kissing openly, our tongues entwined as we explored each other’s breasts and pussies. I’d have finished her off like that, gladly, but she knew what she wanted and quickly pushed me back down. Now there was no need for pretence. I’d shown her what I was and, by kissing her, admitted my own feelings to myself. I pulled off her panties and got to work, licking busily at her clitoris with my head trapped between her stocking-clad legs and my hand between my own thighs, my bottom stuck out to show off my smacked cheeks.
Soon she’d begun to gasp and her hands had gone to her chest and my hair, holding me firmly in place as I licked. Knowing she was about to come I put everything into her pleasure, telling myself it was only right when she’d handled me so well, taking no nonsense about having my bottom smacked, or having it done bare, or letting her strip me and touch me up, or licking her afterwards. As her thighs tightened around my head that thought was uppermost – that she’d taken me to somewhere I’d never been and then made me say thank you by applying my tongue to her pussy. It was only right, a thank you for the spanking she’d given me, for realising that my place was over her knee or kneeling at her feet, but for my ecstasy to be perfect I had to submit myself to one final humiliation.
Vanessa had come, and I was once again busy with my own sex, close to a second orgasm. She realised and didn’t try to stop me, merely passing some casual remark to Julian about what a slut I was. He was watching, fascinated, and I was determined that he’d see what I was about to do, my tongue poking out, to trace a slow line down Vanessa’s sex lips as I picked up the pace rubbing my own pussy, to lap up the juice running from her open vagina, and lower, to tease the smooth bar of hard flesh below her sex, and at last to touch the tight, wrinkled star of her anus, first with my tongue, and then with my lips, my second orgasm exploding in my head as I deliberately, lovingly, kissed Vanessa Aylsham’s bumhole.
Chapter Three
I KNEW I OUGHT to be furious with Julian, for bringing somebody else into our relationship, for scheming to have me treated in such a grossly undignified way, not even bothering to consult me before I was spanked in front of him and then made to lick Vanessa out. It was impossible. I got my full share of guilt and doubts afterwards, but I only wanted to hold him for comfort. He might have taken matters out of my hands in a way that most people would find utterly unacceptable, but I knew I would never have agreed to it and he had not only led me to a wonderful experience but finally made me realise what for years had been nothing more than a very dirty, very secret fantasy. Without him it would probably have stayed that way.
There was no row, no spat of accusations. I simply went for a long walk on my own, along the river bank and the lonely paths among the reed beds, allowing myself to slowly come to terms with what I’d done and accept that the pleasure far outweighed any moral issues, at least so long as my behaviour remained a secret between Julian, Vanessa and myself. That seemed likely, at least to judge by the conversation we’d had afterwards. Henry Aylsham, it seemed, had some rather unusual tastes, and while they didn’t go into details, it was plain that while Vanessa satisfied him he was quite unable to satisfy her. Julian had been doing that since a few days after his arrival, apparently with Henry’s full knowledge and even approval, but, when I’d come onto the scene, the arrangement had no longer worked. Vanessa had actually been very reasonable, agreeing that Julian should be faithful to me if that was what I wanted, but openly stating that she wanted to share me and had done since the moment she caught us at it. Not that she’d planned to spank me, a rude detail sprung entirely from my own dirty mind, but she had wanted to take charge, and mostly, especially, to have me on my knees while I licked her. Smacking my bottom had been a bonus which she’d enjoyed, as she had the unexpected kiss on her bumhole. For her, that was what sealed it, proving that I was everything she’d hoped I’d be and rather more.
The next few days passed in a haze, with my work a pleasant routine, the Hall a beautiful stage and my life focused on sex in a way it had never been before. With previous boyfriends there had always been that period of delirious bonking, when you just can’t get enough of each other, but this was different. Julian made me feel more sexual in myself, more aware of my body, and more attractive. He focused on me both as Chloe and as a sexual being, obsessive over my legs and breasts and bottom and pussy. I’d always been taught to think of men like that as thoroughly dirty, and he was, but as I’d been discovering very rapidly, so was I.
In fact it went beyond dirty, because not only was I doing things which would have had most of my friends talking about psychiatrists, but they had a very definite occult edge. The way Julian handled me was wonderful, but when it was in the folly, with my body laid out at the centre of the pentagram, the candles burning all around me on their skulls and my breasts and belly marked with wax, it was exquisite. I couldn’t get enough, and for all my lack of belief in the symbols and rituals we were using, they gave sex an exciting, illicit edge. Julian felt the same, enjoying what we did for the sense of mischief it brought almost as much as he did for the pleasure he took in me.
Both of us were keen to be more inventive. I’d taken to going nude in the evenings, and in having occult symbols inscribed on my body in wax when we made love in the folly. Julian had taken to his boots, and had me sew sheep skins onto them in such a way that his long, powerful legs were encased in shaggy wool from his upper thighs to his ankles. The effect was magnificent, and as he stood there in the yard outside the kitchen, just visible at the edge of the light with the evening sky behind him; it was all too easy to imagine that some strange creature had come for me. He was naked but for the boots, his cock stirring as he watched me, his wonderful dark eyes drinking in the contours of my body, so that I felt naked before him although, for once, I’d kept my clothes on to do the sewing.
I ran on impulse, out into the yard, dodging past him to flee across the back lawn. He followed instantly, chasing me through the twilight, across the lawn and into the woods. I hadn’t realised just how dark it would be and slowed abruptly, laughing as I picked my way down the path, knowing full well he was going to catch me, and what would happen. The trees closed in, the crunch of his hooves on the leaves came behind me and a thrill of fear hit me, half real, half playful. I tried to go faster, stumbled, went down, and the next moment he was on me, his big hands gripping my hips to lift me into a kneeling position.
He just fucked me, my dress turned up, my knickers pulled down, his cock rubbed to erection between the cheeks of my bottom, then inserted. I could barely see, only dim shapes around me, but all the while I could hear his breathing, deep and urgent, and feel him, his hands and cock, all human, all masculine, but also the wool that encased his thighs, soft, ticklish fur touching the backs of my legs and my bottom, first gently as he got himself ready in my bottom slit, then pressed firmly to my flesh as if I were being fucked by the Devil himself, up to his balls in my pussy.
It had been a great experience, but only one in a long series, and nothing like as strong as being spanked by Vanessa, or my first time on the altar. Julian seemed to take particular pleasure in it though, and I got it again the following evening, on the moonlit lawn in front of the house with the sky open all around us as I was humped from behind with him on my back, just as if he’d been a real goat. The next morning Vanessa came round and greeted me with a firm smack to the seat of my jeans. It was like an electric shock, going straight to my head and straight to my sex, and had Graham not arrived a few minutes later I would have undoubtedly ended up back over her knee.
As it was I was left on a high all day, thinking rude thoughts of spanking and pussy licking, so that I did the tour in a bit of a trance, not really paying attention to individuals in the group. No sooner had they gone had I stripped off, to spend the evening nude, although to my frustration Vanessa and Henry had gone out together. I got chased again though, caught and fucked on the front lawn
for the second night in a row.
The next day was quiet for me, with Vanessa and Julian in Norwich and only eight people on the tour. Later that evening when Julian called me upstairs, just as I was about to start dinner, my automatic assumption was that he was after sex. He wasn’t, but was sat at his computer, fully dressed, staring in rapture at the screen.
‘Look.’
I came behind him, to peer over his shoulder, my mouth slowly opening at the image on the monitor. It was a very bad photo, blurred with camera shake and a long exposure, but there was no mistaking the shape of the Hall as seen from the trees on the bank, nor that a couple were having sex on the lawn, she pale and naked with her full breasts lolling down and her mouth wide in ecstasy, he apparently half human and half goat, his muscular buttocks showing bare above thick white fur.
‘That’s us!’
It was, undoubtedly, posted on somebody’s blog with only the tantalising heading that more would be revealed. Julian nodded his agreement and, for a long period, we stayed staring at the screen, the full implications of the picture slowly sinking in. We’d been watched, and photographed, by somebody hidden among the trees. Finally Julian spoke up.
‘Last night, do you think, or the night before?’
‘I don’t know. It could have been either. He was so close though!’
The photographer had been just yards away, peering from the bushes with their camera, peering at us, at me, naked on my hands and knees as I was fucked. It was an alarming thought, frightening but exciting too, and made me wonder how many other times in my life I’d been seen or photographed in the nude or in some other sexually provocative way without ever knowing. Julian was more practical.
‘So he was in the bushes at what, between 10 and 11 o’clock? He wasn’t there by chance, so he must have been spying on us, which means he expected to see something. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes, and either he’s got more photos or he’s coming back.’
‘Both, probably, but I think this was shot with a phone cam, and not even a very good one. Maybe he was with the tour in the afternoon, found the prints or the folly and decided to hang around to see what was going on?’
‘Maybe. How did you find it, anyway?’
‘The picture is called Candle Street Hall. Hang on.’
He called up the name of the image and began to search, quickly returning to the blog.
‘Yes. It’s a phone cam image. Come on, there must be some way of working out which night that was.’
‘I don’t know. I was distracted.’
‘Me too, but there must be something. I’m sure we were further away from the trees the first time.’
‘Maybe, but even if it was the second time there were nearly 20 visitors that afternoon and we don’t even know for sure if he was one of them.’
‘That’s true. Let’s see what else is on his blog.’
There was very little. We couldn’t even be certain the photographer was male, although we had both automatically assumed he was. The blog writer called himself The Inquisitor and catching us was what had made him set up the blog. Aside from a lurid background apparently pinched from Hieronymus Bosch’s The Delights of Hell, that was it. Julian finally gave up, turning me a wicked grin as he sat back in his chair.
‘One thing’s for sure. He’ll be back.’
I glanced towards the window. It was still light, the trees touched with the first golden glow of evening, a scene both tranquil and beautiful but which now held a hidden and exciting menace.
‘He could be out there now.’
‘Maybe. Shall we give him a show?’
His wicked grin had grown broader still and he plainly thought nothing of going out for sex in the knowledge that we would probably be watched, and photographed. I wasn’t so sure, excited but also scared and embarrassed, with a lump in my throat so big I found myself unable to speak for a moment. Yet we had already been watched and Julian was big, and strong, not at all the sort of person a peeping Tom was likely to challenge, although I was definitely not going out on my own. A new thought struck me.
‘There were only nine people this afternoon. If he is around, he might well have been one of them.’
‘That’s true. Do you remember them at all?’
‘Not really, no. They were just visitors, one family, two couples and three guys together. He’d be on his own, wouldn’t he?’
‘Probably, not necessarily. But remember, we don’t really need to identify him, and we definitely don’t want to catch him or scare him off. We want him to post, and that means giving him something interesting to see.’
‘Maybe we could let him follow us to the folly?’
‘That would be a good start.’
He didn’t elaborate, but the implication of his words was that we would go further. I wasn’t sure if I could, at least not unless he simply ignored my qualms, just as he had when he got Vanessa to spank me.
‘It’s not easy for me.’
‘I know, but you’ll be OK.’
He kissed me and took my hand, to lead me downstairs. I kept my dress on, and even going about my normal routine in the kitchen there was a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. It obviously made sense to act normally, and yet I was struggling not to peer out at the garden and woods, now bathed in rich golden light with long shadows making shapes on the lawn and among the trees, every one of them a lurking voyeur to my imagination. Julian, as always, took everything far more easily, excited but not in the least scared.
I poured wine, my hand trembling as I filled the glasses, and I very nearly dropped them when I caught a movement outside the window from the corner of my eye. It was only a rabbit, come out to feed on the lush grass at the edge of the lawn. I told myself that if the rabbits were out then the watcher probably wasn’t there, a thought that brought relief but also disappointment. It was also a thought I wasn’t going to share with Julian, because for all my fears I didn’t want to do anything to put him off.
We ate and drank, talking quietly and listening all the while with the door to the yard wide open so that if a rabbit thumped or a bird called out alarm we would hear. There was nothing – only the usual evening sounds – and my confidence gradually increased with the wine we were drinking and Julian’s own certainty in his ability to cope with any problems. By the time it was dark I was ready for mischief, just so long as he was by my side, and it was me who finally lost patience with waiting.
‘Shall we go then?’
‘Yes, but I’ve been thinking. We don’t actually know what he saw, do we? It’s possible he saw us from further away – Black Dog Lane even – and came to investigate. He may even think what he saw was for real.’
‘Maybe. I suppose so.’
‘I hope so, and if so I don’t intend to do anything to change his mind. I want him to think I appear in the folly, so I need to get there with my boots. Go out the back and walk around to the front lawn, naked, or in just your panties, if you prefer. If he is watching then that’s sure to distract him.’
‘You want me to go out alone?’
‘Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll be nearby, and you’ll never be far from the house.’
I swallowed hard, considering the route he wanted me to take, out through the yard, around the northern end of the house and across the front lawn, naked or near naked. The moon was up, so strong that even with the kitchen light on we could make out the trees beyond the yard. I’d be clearly visible to anybody watching from the trees, and if I’d also be able to see anybody who came at me, that was very little consolation.
‘Couldn’t I just stand at the front door or something? I don’t mind being naked, but we don’t know who this guy is. He might be dangerous.’
‘Not when he knows I might be about, especially not if he thinks I’m the Devil.’
‘If he thinks you’re the Devil then he’s got a hell of a lot of guts just coming here.’
‘That’s true, but anyway, there’s no point in you st
anding at the front door if he’s watching the back.’
‘Won’t he know we’re in the kitchen anyway and guess it’s you?’
‘Maybe, in which case he’ll just find our behaviour puzzling, which is always a good thing. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s not there at all.’
I responded with a glum nod, keen to help but not at all sure about what he was asking me to do. He poured the last of the wine into my glass and sat back, silent. I took a gulp, and another, wishing I was braver, both personally and as an exhibitionist. Julian waited, patient but obviously intent on making me do as he wanted, and it was that calm certainty of purpose that finally persuaded me.
‘OK, I’ll go, but if I call out come quickly.’
‘I’ll be there before you know it. Nude or panties?’
‘Nude.’
It was what he wanted, I could tell from his voice. He was watching as I stood up and peeled my dress up over my head, kicked off my shoes and pushed down my panties to stand naked in front of him, feeling more than a little like a lamb sent to the slaughter. I cupped my breasts to show off to him and in an effort to feel good about going bare outdoors, but I was trembling badly as I walked to the door.
Outside the night was warm and still. The air still smelt baked from the heat of the day and the leaves of the moonlit trees were barely stirring. I could hear the road in the distance, loud now that everything else was quiet, and a lone engine somewhere off beyond the village. Nothing moved at all. I glanced back to Julian.
‘Go on then, and come back through the house, then walk down to the folly. Set up the pentagram, chant, or play with yourself or something and I’ll appear as if by magic.’
‘OK.’
I stepped out into the night, driven by his enthusiasm and my need to please him. With every step I expected a figure to detach itself from the shadows or the flash of a camera to explode in my face. Nothing happened, but my fears grew stronger as I moved away from the house, out onto the lawns, only to lose my nerve and dash for the front door, running as fast as I could, barefoot over the grass and absolutely convinced I could hear heavy male footsteps pounding behind me.